At the large training ground behind the castle.
There were teenagers of about fourteen to sixteen years, wearing black trousers, black shirts, and black boots, with unsheathed swords or guns in hand, practicing with one another since their instructors weren't around at the moment.
Some of the students would stare every now and then in the direction of a branchless tree with Wilfred hung on it and blood running from his gunshot wounds, then forming a pool underneath his feet.
While the others stopped to gossip and rejoice in his misfortune.
"The tyrant has finally fallen, what a relief"
"Yeah, right? I almost thought he would forever terrorize our lives"
"Yeah, he parades himself like the master and creates fear in our hearts by threatening to have the weak among us killed when he finally becomes the master. His arrogance and conceit are overwhelming. I hate him"
"What happened to him?" Juliet asked.
