Many of the Kadrin peasants who called it home had somehow not expected it to. Smoke drifted up from some of the buildings, but came from chimneys, not the structures themselves. All was not well, but it was far better than they had feared. Some folk went to work that morning as if nothing had happened; most did not. The streets were hardly quiet, for soldiers in unfamiliar blue uniforms patrolled them in numbers, more for something to occupy themselves than out of any need for occupying the city. The few remaining Kadrin troops who had finally surrendered had been led from the city. No one had told the population just where those soldiers had been taken or what had been done with them. Soldiers spent the day knocking on doors and searching homes. They took anything that seemed likely to be used as a weapon, but were surprisingly restrained. Tailors’ scissors and cooks’ knives were allowed to be kept; even butchers’ cleavers were permitted. Swords and axes were confiscated, as were any bows found among the residents’ possessions.
