The gloomy underground plaza was packed with people who had come to hear the saint's acolyte speak.
The Preacher—that was what people called him now. Kalin considered it with interest.
In these turbulent times, people still regarded him as a standard and an example. It pleased him, and made him somewhat proud.
He understood, but still... when circumstances changed beyond one's control, a person always tried to preserve something.
Word of his planned speech had spread rapidly among Tyre's believers. Nervously, he looked toward the edges of the plaza for any sign of danger.
Perhaps the news had unfortunately reached people outside the faithful, which was why armed guards protected every route leading here. But he knew that if Ork soldiers appeared in force, not everyone here would leave alive.
They were taking an enormous risk, but Kalin had made it clear that he had to communicate with the faithful, spread the sacred word of the Eternal Father, and reveal the enlightenment she had foreseen was about to descend.
Fortunately, the Orks had already gone to all-out war with the heathens. Their focus was not on the city, greatly reducing the danger. That was also the main reason he had decided to hold another gathering.
Thousands watched him expectantly. He cleared his throat and turned to look at Quasimodo.
He stood behind a lectern, on a temporary platform built from stacked cargo crates. A portable communicator had been connected, allowing his words to reach the farthest corners of the plaza.
Though he knew his battle-tested voice needed no mechanical aid for everyone to hear him, the communicator's true purpose was to transmit his speech to those unable to attend the gathering. Technicians had connected the line to the broadcast network on a secret channel.
Kalin's words would echo throughout Tyre.