"Cleansing the kingdom," Sera mutters. "With an axe."

"We need to move," Garrick says. "Before they start looking for more heretics."

"Where?" I ask.

"East wall. There's an old smuggler's tunnel. Leads outside the city."

We turn. Walk away from the square. Away from the crowd. Away from the headless body.

But we don't get far.

We stop at the edge of a rooftop. Looking down.

The main street is below. Wide. Cobblestone. And it's full of them.

Men in heavy gas masks. Helmets shaped like cheetahs. Metal teeth. Glass eyes. Heavy spiked maces in their hands.

"The King's Hounds," Garrick whispers. "The elite guard."

They march in perfect lines. Slow. Synchronized. The glass eyes of their masks scan the streets.

"Look at them," Sera says. "They're not just guards. They're an army."

"Where are they going?" I ask.

"To the arena," Corvin says. "The king is holding a public execution. The Hounds are providing security."

Bukh shifts his weight. "So the only way to the tunnel is through a street full of those things?"

"Through or around," Garrick says. "And around is blocked by the cathedral."

We watch. The Hounds march. The crowd parts. No one speaks.

"They haven't seen us," Sera says. "Not yet."

"So we wait," Garrick says. "We wait until the execution starts. When the crowd is loud, when the Hounds are focused on the arena... we move."

We wait on the roof. The Hounds march below.