The city had not slept well in the days since the gathering.
What began with one dead man in an alley spread like cracks in a frozen pond. The church wasted no time sending its white-sashed men into every corner of the city, knocking on doors, turning over carts, questioning commoners and merchants alike.
Spies and traitors—that was the word they used. Men and women were dragged from their homes under suspicion, their cries echoing through the streets at night. Most returned days later, pale and trembling.
Some never returned at all.
It didn't stop, no matter what part of the city you went to, even the city's gates weren't exempt from such treatment. Caravans that once came and went freely began avoiding the city altogether.
Grain wagons lingered at the outer villages instead of pressing through the gates. Merchants chose different routes and decided to avoid the city outright, fearing the hassle and risk that would come from trying to enter.
