The inquisition had been holding a meeting, a long one, too long perhaps. Anyone who was not preoccupied with their own duties were to attend. The monks had only been allowed into the inner sanctum to bring food and drink, and even the most patient among them were beginning to become irritated with the pace at which the meet seemed to be progressing. On that particular day, Brother Benjamin was hauling in the last meal of the day on a cart; a humble meal of bread and wine, as always. He knocked five times upon the door to the inner sanctum, twice with pause, and thrice with quick succession.
There was no answer.
He shook his head and knocked another seven times with short pause inbetween, and when there was once again no response he produced a brass key from the ring hung upon the cart, unlocking the door with a click. The door creaked open of it's own accord; with nothing to support her any longer, the gatekeeper's limp form slumped to the floor.
Brother Benjamin screamed, breaking his vow of silence, before high-tailing to tell the guard.
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I'll write a continuation of this in a bit.
