<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Blackadder ITC;"><span style="font-size: 175%; line-height: 116%;">Keira Grauwald</span></span></div><br/><div style="text-align: justify;">The patrons streamed in, and the Inn was soon buzzing with chatter - about the hanging, about whose daughter was finally set to be married, about tonight's dinner. In the back of her mind, Keira was disturbed by how normal murder was. Because that was what it had been, in her eyes; the cold blooded murder of Eliza. She still couldn't wrap her head around the thought that the kind young woman should have dabbled in witchcraft. Justus seemed to read the look on her face. He touched the brim of his hat to her, and took another drink from his beer. <br/><br/>"Quick, before Simon notices I've left him with his mother," said a voice, and Keira looked up to meet the slyly grinning face of Thomas Hamswick. He laid out a few coins on the counter and glanced over his shoulder, just in time to see Absalon Myers make his entrance. He hadn't lived here for that long, yet he had already managed to make himself a reputation of unreliability and an excessive fondness for alcohol.<br/><br/>Keira topped off Absalon's proffered tankard and raised an eyebrow. "All right, all right, I heard you the first time. Here you go," she replied, handing him back his beer. She scraped the coins off the counter; they landed in the little box she used to collect them in every day with a satisfying <span style="font-style: italic">clink</span>. "Today's fresh bread, fetched it right from the Sterling's just this morning, and some nice oxtail soup. That good enough for you?" It would have to be, she wasn't about to cook a special dinner for anyone, unless the Lord should decide one day to stop by her inn. It could never hurt to be on good terms with that family.<br/><br/>"Burning seems to me a cruel way to get rid of someone, witch or not," she said as she placed a bowl of soup and a wooden spoon in front of Absalon. Thomas Hamswick nodded in agreement as he kept his eyes focused on the window, probably scouting for any appearance of his wife and son.<br/><br/>"They're still people, after all," he said, "and while she might've murdered, Eliza was still a sweetheart."</div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #376534">▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼△▼</span><br/><br/><span style="font-family: Blackadder ITC;"><span style="font-size: 175%; line-height: 116%;">Simon Hamswick</span></span></div><br/><div style="text-align: justify;">Faced with the threat of an earful, Simon had unquestioningly accompanied his mother to the smithy, and it wasn't until they got there and he put two and two together that he realized his father had slipped off. Emma tutted angrily.<br/><br/>"It's just like him, you know? Ugh, go find your father, Simon. I will just wait here with <span style="font-style: italic">all six</span> horses and get everything done, like always. Probably sitting at the Chicken, pouring ale all over his beard, like always..."<br/><br/>Simon hastily left his mother and her muttering behind - when she was in that mood, it was either stay and eventually become the target of her annoyance, or escape to find someone else to fill that space. The latter option was always preferable. He did go back to the town square, but not because he wanted to find Thomas right away. The swinging body was of much more interest to him. Now that the deed had been done and the spectators had gone their separate ways, you could get much closer to the gallows. Simon stared blankly at Eliza's body. Flies had already begun swarming around her left arm stump. Her neck looked too long, somehow. Feeling sick, he hastily turned away, just in time to spot the back of father Avery moving away.<br/><br/>Simon didn't quite understand why he started to follow the man.</div>