News of the witch-burning spread throughout the entire city at once.
In this dark and chaotic era, people's thoughts were tightly constrained. The princes and nobles could perhaps pass the time with garden parties, hunting trips, and endless banquets, but commoners had almost no entertainment at all. Under the dual pressure of the Human Church and the nobility, any act of emotional expression could be branded as "witchcraft." This extreme "purification of thought" instead gave birth to an even more extreme and twisted outlet for pent-up emotions: hunting witches.
From early morning onward, the sky had been overcast. Layer upon layer of leaden clouds shrouded the city, then hung low over the horizon like a cover. The feeble sunlight could not pierce the clouds, managing only to leak through the gaps between them in a hazy halo that could no longer illuminate the earth. Cold winds mixed with dampness swept through moldy streets and roads flowing with filthy sludge, filling the air with the stench of decay.
Under the dim daylight, the entire city seemed filled with lifelessness. The foul weather appeared to be an ill omen. Some elderly people went out into the streets, gazing at the low-hanging clouds as they prayed incessantly and recited the names of the Holy Spirits. They recalled the superstitious tales that had circulated for ages—of devils hiding beneath the city, death heralds wandering at night, ghosts weeping in little attics, and the cemetery outside the city that supposedly vanished mysteriously whenever a heavy fog descended. They believed the weather at least foretold that one of these evil forces was at work, and thus warned their families not to venture outside at such a time.
Yet to most people in the city, the burning of a witch was still more enticing than bad weather.