The Redoubt, an ancient crumbling fortification as the man had said, stood on the outskirts of town, a jagged outcropping of stone and timber that sprouted from the earth like a wart. Five or six other men were standing at its entrance, in various states of distress as the party drew nearer; one of them had his head in his hands as he sat on a low wall, while another was visibly irate as he swore and punched at the Redoubt's walls.

  "Husbands and fathers of the taken," the man who had first approached them said. "We were the first ones here after the attack."

  "How many people were in here?" Rebecca asked.

  "About three dozen. Thirty-eight, specifically."

  They entered the structure and stepped into the lone room inside: a large hall, lit only by a few slits that filtered daylight into the space. A layer of dirt and scrappy grass lined the floor, as the building was so ancient the old stone floor tiles had long worn away; all around the large room, Henry could see evidence of hastily abandoned personal belongings and small bundles of food, as if the missing occupants had been forced to hastily abandon the shelter.

  He spied Praetorus stooping down to closely inspect the dirt; for once, he was thankful to have the tracker along, if only momentarily. The archer's dubious agenda and loyalty still weighed heavily on his mind.

  "See anything?" Henry prodded the archer, making no attempt to mask the agitation in his tone. "Anything you'd care to share, that is?"

  If it ruffled him whatsoever, Praetorus showed no sign of it. "Yes. The missing townspeople were here. But it seems they were forced out, many of them dragged." He pointed to a few drag marks near the entrance. "The door was bashed in. I do not see any blood or broken weapon fragments. Whoever it was that forced them out, did so swiftly and without bloodshed."

  "Any estimates on how many attackers there were?"

  "At least a dozen." The archer indicated to some footprints. "These marks were made by different shoes, those with hobnails on their soles. They are lighter. Notice how shallow the imprints are." He glanced at the initial man. "Has anyone else entered this room before we arrived?"

  The man shook his head. "No. You're the first ones in here."

  "I need more clues." Praetorus motioned for Henry to follow him. "Henry. A word."

  Rebecca and Arthur shot Henry a glance, but the squire motioned for them to stay put. Keep an eye on everything. He followed the archer to a more secluded corner, away from the others.

  Praetorus turned to him, his blank face betraying no emotion as he spoke. "Henry. I wanted to give you my opinion in private."

  "Because you don't trust the others?" Henry folded his arms.

  "No. Because I trust you." Praetorus paused. "I... was wrong to use you before, to deceive you from my true goals. I want to apologize."

  "A little late for that, aren't we?"

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  "Even so. I believe you are the best one to confide in, other than Diana."

  The squire cocked his brow. "Why me?"

  "Because you were right. Your suspicions proved correct, and you have not strayed from your path." His face visibly relaxed, startling Henry. "We have both maintained the paths for our own goals. But you have not sacrificed your morals, your code, for your quest's sake. As I have."

  Henry was taken aback. "That's... nice of you to say?"

  "I also believe you are the best option to lead us." Praetorus nodded towards Arthur and Rebecca. "Arthur is... hotheaded. Impulsive. He is skilled, but lacks discipline."

  "And Rebecca?"

  "She has potential. But she needs guidance. Your guidance."

  Henry unfolded his arms, pondering his words. "... I see. What about Lyla or Diana?"

  "Diana I trust, but her allegiance is to her Lady. As for Lyla, I do not know her that well." He looked at Henry directly. "You have proven yourself capable, even with my interference. And I cannot trust myself to hold to our shared goal without your help as well."

  The squire frowned. "That was awfully candid of you. Are you sure you're alright?"

  A sheepish look materialized on Praetorus' face, as if he were embarrassed by his candor; in spite of his mature demeanor, Henry realized he was still a boy. They were close in age, but seeing Praetorus' expression now, the squire saw that the archer was at least a year or so younger than he.

  "Never mind. I appreciate it, Praetorus." Henry smiled and put his hand on his shoulder. "If you trust me, then it's mutual. But we have to start working together if you truly do trust me."

  The young archer nodded, his face returning to its stony expression. "I will. Count on it."

  The two of them stood in silence for a second, before Henry coughed and withdrew his hand. "Right. So, you were saying about your observations?"

  "I believe the undead took the townspeople from here. The footprints I mentioned were likely made by soldiers' boots, but they are too light to have been worn by the living." Praetorus' impassive face turned grim. "Rebecca may confirm my theory if she can detect any magic here."

  Henry nodded, and the two of them rejoined the others in the center of the room.

  "Do you sense anything here, Rebecca?" Henry asked.

  The mage's face grimaced. "I do. Necrotic mana, everywhere in here. I think the undead may have been here as well."

  "Why would the undead abduct all of these townsfolk here, but try to kill everyone in town?" Arthur pondered, his brow furrowed. "If anything, it would have been easier to nab people during the chaos of the attack."

  Diana frowned. "I think I may know. Unholy magic such as this requires immense fuel to sustain. Pure, undiluted life force. Women and children are not only easier to control, but their souls tend to be more clean, children especially."

  Arthur snorted. "What, dragons don't like us men?"

  "Men are more... impure." Diana winced. "Sorry. I meant, they are more prone to impure influences. Rage, bloodlust, greed, and so on. Dark magic, ironically, works more efficiently with pure sources."

  "What about all those undead men we fought?"

  "Kindling, I would wager. The dragon probably took any source it could get its hands on when it first woke." Diana looked at Lyla. "I think your knights may have fueled it most. Impure as they all have been, living energy is a far better source of energy than feeding from the dead."

  "You mean..." Henry felt a chill run down his spine.

  "Yes. The dragon intends to feast on this banquet of pure energy." Diana shook her head. "I would say, it would take about... a day? If my memory serves right, the unholy practice of draining the life forces of a few dozen should take no longer than a day, at most. At least, that's what my studies have said."

  "That sounds right," Rebecca chimed in. "If the dragon is trying to extract as much pure energy as it can, it's trying to be careful. That gives us just a bit of time to search for them."

  Arthur scowled. "The whole attack was likely for them, then. The assault on the town must have been a diversion, a trick to ensure all the women and children were gathered here, ripe for the taking."

  "Then there's no time to lose." Everyone looked at Henry; the squire's face was grim with set resolve. "We can't call for help in time. So we'll have to go it ourselves."