The priest waited until things settled. Lightning struck in the distance, followed seconds after by the roll of thunder.
“We have seen the Lord’s punishment. We have also born witness to His forgiveness. Know, you people who have been walking down a terrible path, that His arms are ever open. He is waiting for you. Today, you will be granted the opportunity to throw down your false idols, your demonic worship, and swear yourselves to the Lord of Light. All transgressions will be forgotten. Today this town dies, but tomorrow it will be reborn in the Lord’s Light!”
A procession began. People from both separate groups—but mostly from the left group—stepped forward. They walked to the priest, dropping their idols and symbols on the ground and spitting on them. To each, the priest offered a blessing and benediction.
The line moved slowly. Petro held Suzanne in his arms and together they watched. The baker passed, dropping a sigil of Mithras onto the ground, followed by two mill workers in dirty clothing. The butcher and his family, a whole procession of mine workers. Only a few of them had actual heretical items. Most just wanted to be close to the priest. To see him and to receive the Lord’s blessing. Any Lord would do for such people.
The line paused. Petro saw Hank standing at the front of the line. The boy whose father had been beheaded with the duke. Petro felt bad for him.
But then again, Hank had been the one who hit him on the hand. The one who bullied him. Even if it was only unintentional because he was bigger and stronger than Petro, it had hurt.
Hank was staring at the priest, hatred in his eyes. The priest waited calmly. The line was growing restless and a few people started shouting, asking what the holdup was.
Suddenly Hank ran forward. He grabbed the holy symbol hanging around the priest’s neck, and with a yank jerked it loose. A hush fell over the crowd and the priest’s eyes went wide in shock. Hank spit on it, then threw it on the ground.
“This is not my God! This is not our God! Our God is Mithras! Annis is an anus!”
Then he stomped on the symbol and picked up the Mithras sigil lying no the ground nearby. First there were murmurs. Then:
“He’s right!” someone shouted. “This isn’t our God!”
“We worship Mithras!”
“This is our town. How dare they come here—”
“We can’t take this—”
“—fight back—”
“—treat us like—”
People started shouting. People cursed. Some screamed for Annis, some for Mithras. Some just shouted to be heard. The priest narrowed his eyes, staring down at Hank. Several of the nearby guards had drawn weapons, but the priest raised his hand to stop them from approaching.
“Young man you have just made a grave mistake,” the priest said, stepping forward and reaching out. “I’m afraid that what you have done is unforgiv—”
As the priest laid his hand on Hank’s shoulder, it erupted into flame. His robes and skin caught fire like dried kindling, rushing up his arm to his body. It ignited as well, bursting into blue flame, and the priest began to scream.
Hell broke loose.
Everyone was screaming.
The priest stumbled into one of the guards, and fire spread to him as well. Both burning men ran about, and everything they touched erupted into flame. A commoner ran past, flames dancing across his body, and threw himself into a horse trough. Smoke sizzled out.
Petro and Suzanne backed away, still holding hands and looking for an escape. Several of the armed knights and Imperial Guards drew swords, shouting and slashing. Peasants fell. Others banded together and pulled knights down, pummeling them with sticks and stones.
Blood flowed in the streets.
