Bishop Begromob

A man in dark clothes with a silver cross hanging around his neck passed through the busy square. Many looked his way but he did not return any gazes, and seemed to be instead gazing insistently straight ahead through his black rimmed spectacles. A film of perspiration was noticeable on the man's heavily lined forehead, and he moved slowly, with effort. At one point a man in a white polo shirt asked if he was alright and whether he needed help, but the bishop ignored him. When he had crossed the square, he moved into a patch of shade, and slowed his pace. The dark clothes he wore were darker still at each armpit.

He turned slowly to face the way he had come and watched a squabbling couple across the square shout at each other, one of them dropping their sunglasses. He spoke a single word, and the buildings at the far end of the square suddenly exploded, fire bursting from within them, and engulfing those nearby. Amid the sounds of screaming the buildings fell forward roaring white noise as they collapsed. Fire blossomed.
"Are you Bishop Begromob?"
The voice distracted the bishop, and blinked in the sun. He had lost his train of thought. He turned to look at the young man who faced him with a small smile and red eyes.
"I am," said Begromob, turning his gaze to look back at the far end of the square. The young man also turned his head, his smile disappearing and his forehead creasing. He looked at the busy line of buildings opposite them, and then back to Begromob.
"Are you ready?" he asked, looking at the bishop's intent stare and curled lip.
"Yes, I'm ready," said Bogromob, still staring. After another moment he looked away, and allowed the young man to lead him towards a cafe. Casting a last look back at the opposite side of the square, Bogromob muttered a single word under his breath.