The open courtyard was still in the feeble light of dawn. The assembled guards at rigid attention in tense silence. Not a one dared so much as twitch a finger. In front of them, Commander Dragin stood staring resolutely past them. Behind him, a gallows had been erected with ten nooses. A man stood at each noose, his head covered with a sack. Each stood at rigid attention, or at least as much as their bonds would allow. Their once fine guard uniforms had been reduced to rags. Any insignia, rank or other honor had been brutally torn from them.