That they must all behold this event, the Eldest Priest said to the congregation of the Villagers at the entrance of the shrine the instant he realized many had looked elsewhere and empathy shrouded upon them like a cloud of rain.
That they looked up unto the offender who had mocked their tradition, he said aloud again. For pity they should not be rendered, mercy they should not give. Only that this tiny scoundrel kissed the ways of their forefathers in the buttocks and in his confidence called it nonsense.
More so had he become a deterrent to others who may want to emulate him. Who had birth the thought to go against the tradition of their land. To go against the tradition was to go against the king. Or him, who had wanted to go against the king or his command. For the king is rightly the tradition and so shall he, a male born out of a woman, or a female out of a woman, meet his doom.
