The audience nodded at him, some bowing their heads while others clasped their hands as he walked down the stage, slowly but steadily.
Without a word, he turned down, past the vases of pink rose flowers till he got to the extreme of the wall. And from there, he put his hands on the staff again, muttering some words of prayer before putting out his left hand to push the round edged door. Once he did that, promptly, he stepped in, shutting the door and in so doing, locking away all the indistinct mumbling and chattering that came from both the passing crowd outside and the people inside.
His new surroundings was not much to make about. He faced a cold wall that seemed to look down on him, it's stone constituents telling of age and many stories that had once happened in here.
Stories he ha
