April the 7th, 1521. For five days, Luther has been traveling in a two-wheeled Saxon

cart each day, inching him closer to his destination, Verbs, where Luther's trial awaits.

Yesterday evening, he and his traveling companions had been on the road to Airfort. When suddenly,

as per stern, the imperial herald riding immediately in front of them, stopped.

Coming toward them, half a mile ahead, he could see a cloud of dust.

Inside the cloud, metal blows red in the setting sun.

Luther and Armstrong lean out of the carriage to see why they've stalked. As they watch, dark shapes begin to emerge.

A company of mounted knights are rapidly advancing toward them.

There is no time to turn, no possibility of outrunning them. The knights draw alongside Luther's carriage.

This mounting, their commander, appears inside.

As the dust clears, he sees the person they'd come for.

Doctor Luther, welcome to Airfort. Allow us to accompany you to the city.

We have received word that there may be an attempt on your life by papal zealots.

The knights had been tipped off. There had been an assassination plot.

It was rumored that forces loyal to the Pope had planned to kill Luther before he had a chance to enter the city gates.

Flanked by the knights, Luther is escorted into Airfort as if he were royalty.

It looks as if nothing has changed.

As a younger man, he'd spent nearly a decade here.

First of the university as a student studying law, then in the monastery where he became a monk, the thought suddenly comes to him.

This journey to verbs had really begun here in Airfort 16 years ago. The fears.

The hours of anguished confession.

I am entwement. I must confess my sins. Oh, my sin, my sin, my sin.

...