"Bring him up."
With that order, two sheriffs burst out from the crowd, seizing the man from both sides and dragging him onto the stage.
"Do you have anything else to say?"
"My Lord! It wasn't me, it was them, they forced me..."
"Don't call me Lord, I have no subjects like you."
The man tried to plead, but Lance watched his performance with a heart as still as water, for his mercy had its value.
The Mendicant Monk and comrades were spared because the living were more useful than the dead.
It was clear that this fellow's only value was to demonstrate the price of betrayal.
"Since you seek purification, I will grant it," Lance said enigmatically, nodding to indicate, "Light the fire."
Then, under the gaze of the crowd, a pyre was quickly set up in the square, and the arsonist was tied to a cross.
At this moment, the man was trembling like a vibrating stick, unable to utter a word, a clear indication by the smell wafting forth that he had urinated in fear.
