As the seconds and minutes passed, the sun climbed overhead, dispelling the last traces of morning mist and moisture.
The days of steady rain had certainly made their presence felt. Who would have thought that the final day of the instance would bring such bright, clear weather?
The sunlight was a little harsh, falling without obstruction across the broad stone-paved plaza in front of Harvest Church.
The plaza was packed with people, a sea of dark heads.
Every resident of Yorikof Town, rich or poor, highborn or low, had been gathered here in accordance with the golden decree. By status, social class, and familiar circles, people had naturally clustered into small groups of two or three.
At regular intervals, someone in clerical robes or a guard's uniform stood silently. Their faces were stern as their wary gazes swept over the crowd. Like invisible fences, they kept everyone penned within the plaza.
"Clang—clang—clang—"
The bronze bell atop the church rang out. Its deep, lingering tolls carried across the plaza, announcing that it was noon.
The crowd gradually fell quiet, and every eye turned toward the heavy oak doors of the church.
The doors slowly opened.
Several church officials in dark deacon's robes emerged first, their expressions solemn, then took up positions on either side.
Then the "Archbishop," clad in a splendid red robe and wearing a golden mitre, appeared in the sunlight, surrounded by senior deacons and nuns.
The face of Sister Tia, disguised as the Archbishop, looked both dignified and benevolent against the red robe. Her calm gaze swept over the vast crowd below.
The plaza fell utterly silent. Only the wind and the occasional muffled cough from somewhere in the distance could be heard.
"My children."
Tia spoke. Some mysterious art lent her voice the power to reach everyone