The title is supposed to be something like "Raising the Flaming Flags of War" but I'll stick with the NU version.
The man was burning.
A large log stood upright, underneath it a bunch of firewood. The man was fixed to the log with an iron chain. He was unable to move as the fire raged up the log and burnt his body.
Execution by fire.
The crowd was also on fire; fire of a different kind. Young and old, male and female, rich and poor, everyone was howling, their eyes wide open. Only three men and women had their faces tinted with a different emotional color than those around them.
“Come, flames! Rise up! This is purification! Absolution by the flame!”
One of them, a fat, middle-aged man in a gorgeous priestly robe, standing on an equally gorgeous podium, bellowed. His muddy voice seemed to echo in the crowd’s eyes.
“This man! To attempt to kill the brave men of the Holy Order! Only the devil could work such a thing. This man is a demon! Our anger is God’s anger”
Sweat and spit spattered as he intensely gestured. The crowd grew louder. Indeed, a funeral fit for none other than a devil.
Another of the three: a girl, looking down at the happening with an extremely pale face; dressed in a neat and elegant dress, and surrounded by knights, trembles.
“Thanks to the God! For gracing us with this honor, to defeat his greatest enemy. Thanks too, to the princess who exposed this demon’s plot! Bless her, who stands firm despite the loss of her beloved hero!”
The heat of the crowd turned towards the window behind which the princess lay, and she jumped slightly. A tremendous sense of dread overcame her.
“—I... I’m not responsible for... this...”, she practically whispered, “S—such a sickening thing...”. But no-one pays enough attention to her to catch her words.
The final one: she lays against the ground, held down by soldiers. Her expression is furious, barbaric even, and her eyes are bloodshot. If she’d heard the words of the princess, she might even have killed her.
After all, she was the only one who tried to save the man.
A boom sounded. The man, and the log holding him, had collapsed into the fire.
“Oh! Judgment has come! By our fire and our Lord, the demon has been destroyed!”
If this was an orchestra, the priest would be the conductor. He controlled the frenzy of the crowd with his hands and gestures and with his words.
“Let this day be a glorious memorial! Children of God, sing! Let us celebrate!”
The man’s helpers, white-robed figures, go around the crowd passing wine to the people. It seemed a festival—no, it was a festival. After the fire burnt its last flame, orchestral music started playing, and people began dancing.
While this goes on, several blank lines extend outwards the city. They are the canals and the sewers; they all merge into one large stream. It floods out of the city and into the surroundings, eventually reaching the ocean. Fish nibble on the downtrodden remnants of charcoal now, once man.
By morning, they emerge from the water with legs. Like gusts of wind, they traverse the fields and hills and find themselves in a rocky cave. Within, they find a large pot, and jump in.
“Souls burn and age... Souls fade and pass...”
A shadow within the cave takes shape, and a small figure wearing a hood appears. As soon as he bends down towards the pot, a mysterious green fire begins to lick the fish.
The color of the fire changes from green to blue, blue to purple, purple to yellow, as she continues with her incantations. The darkness within the pot simmers, but it is not hot.
It is magic.
Eventually the song dies, the figure dies, the fire dies, and the pot cracks open this story.
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