Stegran, still carrying the child with one arm, grabbed Jaina with the other. The streets were filling quickly with soldiers, and he meant to get them somewhere safe. Fast.

‘Goddess,’ Jaina thought, ‘there are so many soldiers...’

She let herself be guided by the man, though it felt more like being yanked, as he tugged and pulled her through the chaos. It was hard to keep up with him, and she nearly stumbled several times. But Stegran’s strength was enough for the both of them; he kept her from falling and kept her moving.

“There!” he cried. He released her arm and pointed at the Scribe’s Quill, a guildhall for scholars, scribes, and bookbinders. Several people were running inside, the door held open by a middle-aged woman with a determined look on her face and blood dripping down her forehead.

Stegran never hesitated, just kept moving until they were safely inside. Camdyn remained with them, barely a step behind.

The guildhall foyer was already full, the masses pushing deeper and deeper into the chambers and parlors. Dozens of Brightholme citizens made space, all trying to give as much room as they could, each just as shocked and terrified as Jaina was.

“We won’t last long here,” she heard Stegran say, as if intentionally disavowing any notion of safety the harried people might have harbored. He handed Jaina the child without a look or a word as he began scanning the hall.

She couldn’t register what was happening. It was insanity. Jaina looked down at the child—a little girl, she now realized—and noticed her wide-eyed terror. There was a natural instinct inside her to comfort the girl. But she found she couldn’t. She didn’t think she could even speak.

The girl buried her head into Jaina’s shoulder. She must have seen the same fear in Jaina that she was feeling and decided it was better not to look. Children had a way of pretending the bad stuff away. Jaina envied her.

Somewhere deep down Jaina knew she had to get a hold of herself. But she found she couldn’t do that, either. Her breathing was fast and heavy, her entire body trembling. Events were overwhelming her, and she felt like she was about to drown in an ocean of full-blown, out-of-control panic.

“Hey!” A hand grabbed her by the shoulder. She recoiled and shrieked and would have dropped the little girl if the child’s arms hadn’t been looped so tightly around Jaina’s neck.

She locked eyes with the man, and for a second she didn’t recognize him. He grabbed her other shoulder with his other hand, and the thick length of chain binding his wrists together jingled and stretched taught against the child’s back.

Camdyn Caskbrew, the man she was sentencing to exile—‘No, not me, the Godknight, the Elders, not me, it’s not my fault’—regarded her with concern.

“You okay?” he asked her. “You need me to take the kid?”

“What?”

‘Take the kid?’ she thought. ‘And do what with her?’ But then she saw the father in Camdyn’s eyes, and remembered that he was a good man. He had seen Jaina trembling and near panic and was worried about the child’s well being. Only trying to help.

“You… you could have escaped,” she said to him, her voice barely more than a whisper.

The suggestion seemed to puzzle him. “Escape? Why would I do that? My home is under attack.”

‘A good man,’ she thought…

His concern somehow managed to calm her, at least a little, allowing her the chance to regain a semblance of her wits.

“No, Mr. Caskbrew,” she said, replying to his original question. “Thank you. I have her.”

He snapped off a nod and gave her a quick, reassuring smile, then made his way towards one of the adjoining parlors where a group was forming. And there was Stegran, right in the thick of it all.

“We should stay here!” she heard.

“We should run!”

“We should surrender!”

“Where is the Godknight?”

“We should fight.”

The group quieted and turned their full attention towards the man who had suggested they fight. Jaina felt both proud and dismayed—and not at all surprised—to see it was Stegran.

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“Fight?” someone asked, sounding as if the very word were foreign to them. And why wouldn’t it be? These people had never had to fight. Outside of Stegran and a few bar fighters like Camdyn, were any of these people even capable of fighting?

“That’s absurd,” someone else objected, and the whole group once again erupted into argument. Stegran stood tall in the center of it all, towering over all of them. His hands were outstretched and moving gently up and down. He was doing his best to keep them calm and maintain some semblance of control.

A huge crash buckled the guildhall to its foundation. The argument ceased, replaced with yelps of surprise. It was a harsh reminder of what was happening right this moment just outside the door. And a declaration that this was no time for debates.

“They’re everywhere,” Stegran told them. Everyone’s attention was trained solely on him now, and Jaina saw the natural born leader emerging. He was calm and collected, rational and reasonable, right when those qualities were needed the most.

“They are everywhere,” someone agreed. “What chance do we have?”

“It’s not about that,” Stegran countered. For a second, his eyes met hers, and for that second Jaina felt blessed to have him. “We know the Godknight is coming. Whatever is keeping him away has to be worse than this, or he’d be here now. I’m sure he’s doing everything he can to get here. He will come.”

Stegran went on, “All we have to do is keep them occupied. Make them fight us, rather then slaughtering our helpless brothers and sisters. Maybe the people will even rally around us to help.”

“So…” another voice spoke up. “We stall?”

Stegran nodded. “Stall. Yes. But not just stall. Make them understand that we’re made of sterner stuff than they gave us credit for. That there’s more fight in us than they’re ready for. That we’re not just going to roll over and die. No. We take the fight to them!”

The group murmured among themselves. Stegran only gave them a beat to consider. “I’m going. Anyone going with me, form up at the entrance.”

He turned towards a frazzled guild member clutching an over-sized book to his chest. “You! Weapons.”

“W-weapons?” he asked, the word as foreign to him as “fight” had been to the others.

“Anything,” Stegran said patiently. “Anything we can hit them over the head with.” That drew a couple of laughs. They were coming around. Jaina felt it, the energy in the room shifting. Stegran was getting through to them.

The guild member finally understood what was being asked of him and ran deeper into the guildhall, followed closely by some helping hands. Stegran made his way back to Jaina.

“She okay?” he asked, nodding towards the girl. He rubbed Jaina’s arm warmly, reassuring her. It helped. The all-consuming panic was disappearing, replaced by a steady but reasonable dread.

Jaina nodded. “Just scared.”

“You’ll take care of her?”

“Stegran, wait. You can’t do this. It’s crazy. You can’t just… just…”

He bent down and kissed her gently. “I have to, Love. You know I do.”

She grimaced. Of course she knew. But it didn’t make her feel any better or stop her from pleading anyway.

“Please! Don’t do this! I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t,” he countered firmly. “He’s coming, Jaina. He is.”

“But what if—”

“He’s coming.”

She lowered her head in silent defeat.

“Fine,” she whispered. She lifted her head and said, as sternly as she could manage, “But the second he gets here, you get back here. To me. Understand?”

Stegran grinned and raised his hands in surrender. “Completely.” He kissed her again, a little harder, a little longer.

The commotion from outside was growing louder, likely closer. Jaina couldn’t see what was happening, but the screams mixed in with the sounds of battle were enough to remind her how dire the situation had become.

The guild member and his helpers returned with a hodgepodge of makeshift weapons. Tools, frying pans, kitchen knives, hammers. Stegran spotted his choice immediately and stepped away from Jaina to grab it.

He returned with a long, heavy sledgehammer in his hands. He lifted the handle, and dropped it into his open hand with a satisfying thwhack.

“Isn’t that thing too heavy?” Jaina asked him. He just grinned.

“The weight feels good. Will help me get some force behind my swings.”

“Stegran—”

“Okay, everybody,” he shouted. “Gather around. If you’re staying, move deeper into the guild. Find cover, a place to hole up until the Godknight gets here and it’s safe to come out. The rest of us…”

He walked to the entrance door and stood facing it. He stayed that way for a long moment, Jaina staring helplessly at the back of his head and the ungodly weapon in his hands. When he turned, he gave her a single quick wink and a confident smile.

“Let’s go!”

Jaina was startled by the sudden battle cry that erupted among those ready to follow Stegran, a larger group of men and women than she had expected. The door flew open and they stormed out, yelling and holding their makeshift weapons high.

She only had a moment to see what was happening outside before the doors closed behind them. What she saw was chaos. A sea of black and red swarming over everything and everyone.

Behind her, those who had stayed hurried away deeper into the hall. Jaina was left with just the child and a handful of others, every one of them as anxious as she was. And all she could do was wait.