1448 There were exactly twelve seats for guests at the festive table and exactly twelve representatives of the boyar families were invited this morning to the Easter feast. And everyone sitting at the table was bursting with pride, after all, the Supreme Council included twenty boyar families in total. And it was obvious that not everyone was invited. The Lord stood up and raised his cup, "For honor and justice!" Something flashed, darkness fell. The same yard and table, untouched food, the Lord was still sitting on the throne, but the chairs around him were empty. But the stakes behind him were no longer empty, the air was saturated with the acrid smell of fresh blood, it flowed down the pale, twisted bodies, covered the entire stone floor. The groans of people were heard all around, still alive, but already losing life, slowly, drop by drop. One of the most terrible executions. Exactly twelve stakes for twelve special guests. Representatives of the boyar families whose seals were affixed to the death sentence of his father and brother, twelve traitors, because of whom his relatives died a terrible, painful death: buried alive in the ground. The Lord stood up and slowly approached one of the victims, victim's wide eyes were glazed over with pain and horror. "Traitor... The blood of a traitor is the sweetest!" He raised his hands to the dull gray sky and exclaimed. “Let there be a feast!” The king clung to the warm neck of the guest and began to drink his blood, it spread all over his body, giving the dead inside at least a temporary feeling of life, feeding, fertilizing the black darkness inside him with the rapture of accomplished revenge. A noise was heard from the other side of the yard and suddenly a girl about two years old jumped out there. “Tata” Eyes swollen from crying for a long time, cheeks flushed and a voice ringing with despair that bounced off the indifferent stone walls. The daughter of one of the traitors.