Once the two plays ended, the Dragon's chariot rolled forward once again, its golden wheels creaking softly over the cobbled stone, as Veyr smiled and clapped heartily for the performers, his approval evident in the way he nodded toward the crowd, acknowledging their efforts with the charisma expected of someone holding the post of the Cult's Messiah.
Valterri, however, did not share in the applause.
His eyes flicked across the market square, past the thinning performers and the slowly parting crowd, as he scanned each rooftop and shaded alley as though they concealed ghosts.
The tension that had curled in his chest before the plays had only grown tighter now that it was over, and though the road ahead appeared calm, something about the silence felt dangerous to him, like the hush before a storm no one had been told to expect.
*BOOM*
*CRACKLE*
*WHIZZ*
It happened all of a sudden.
