Little did they dream that they were chanting his requiem.
The sun had not yet risen but had reddened the east with his signal of approach.

Belton was stationed upon the knoll, his face toward the coming dawn.

With his hands folded calmly across his bosom, he stood gazing over the heads of the executioners, at the rosy east.
His executioners, five in number, stood facing him, twenty paces away.
They were commanded by Bernard, the President of the Imperium.

Bernard gazed on Belton with eyes of love and admiration.

He loved his friend but he loved his people more.