With bated breath everyone waited for Lord Mayor’s response. I was still fidgety on the brick, my eyes all glaring at Oril and the thick lips of Lord Mayor who had risen from his throne to make pronouncement. I could see the heavy venous hands of Jamole still clenched on his sword, and impatiently shaking to take a blow. Each time my bloodied eyes caught sight of his venous arms which had the sword; I would shut it and imagine what the hit of death would be like when one was beheaded.

I dared to steal a glance at Jamole, wishing I could give him a signal to come forth...