Dyralist did a good job keeping the goblins off our backs long enough for the employees to evacuate. Then, I later learned, he turned and torched the entire building, burning it to the ground with dragon flame, leaving nothing to the invaders but ashes and melted, scorched wreckage.

Joanna and I drove in fearful silence and tense speed, the pedal to the floor as soon as we got past the city limits, the highway still mostly open as few evacuation warnings had yet gone out; the goblins had simply pushed in too swiftly. I sincerely hoped my fellow citizens would be able to escape!

I clung white-knuckled to the wheel as we tore up the miles, heedless of the speed limit, passing slower cars aggressively and leaving them in the Feurdanf's dust, and soon enough I was pulling off the road, onto a little dirt road into the forest.

"Brad, what is this? Where are we?"

I looked over at Joanna and sadly said, "Home."

"Is that a castle?" she asked as the high stone walls came in sight, complete with an arched gateway large enough to admit a big rig.

"It's what a bunch of us could throw together in a few days. It's a place we'll be safe." I drove to a cleared area in front of the keep and parked the car, looking around. There were a few church members standing about, gawking at the sudden influx of unfamiliar cars. "Sit tight here for a sec."

"Brother Webb, what's happening?" one of them asked when I got out.

"The invasion's begun already. They tunneled up through the ground, just skipped the underworld gates entirely. My office had to evacuate, and I promised them shelter here."

"Does the congregation know?"

I looked at my phone. We were kind of out in the boonies here, but there was an æmail I'd gotten from Sister Tailor, an older lady who managed the church newsletter, before we'd driven out of range. The subject line said "EMERGENCY! Evacuate immediately."

"Yeah. They know. We should expect more arrivals soon."

The next few hours were a frantic bustle of activity as kith from all walks of life began to arrive. We quickly ran out of parking space within the walls and had to improvise an impromptu parking lot outside. Everyone needed to be divided up into housing, some single, others with families, and it quickly became apparent that, though we had planned for a congregation of 200, between my compassion and that of a few others we were going to end up with closer to 350 residents taking refuge here.

We had no beds, and precious few sleeping bags. Less than half the houses even had roofs yet. So I quickly started to put everyone with magical talent to work getting stone roofs shaped.

It was a bit after noon when Esott Daniels showed up, the first time, to my knowledge, that he'd been out here. He quickly took over the work of coordinating the construction work, and I was glad to hand it off to him; he knew how to lead teams far better than I did. He told all the available woodworkers to build bed frames as quickly as they could. When someone asked what for, he told them to just have faith.

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Around 2 PM, Brother Mitchell showed up with his big truck, the bed piled high with strapped-down piles of mattresses. He told us he was probably one of the last out, that the city had been overrun and the goblins were busy setting up barricades, and the only reason he got out at all was that "some big dragon" had smashed one and opened the road for him. No one inquired too deeply into the provenance of the mattresses he brought with him; we just started unloading and distributing them to the various houses.

There were questions about food, about water, about æthernet access, about who was in charge here, all manner of chaos. I told Kayla to go around among the gathered refugees and find ways to boost morale. She glowered at me like I'd just given her the worst job in the world.

Maybe I had.

Our little group, both emotionally and physically exhausted, worked hard throughout the afternoon to establish a livable shelter. As the sun began to set, we still had a large gateway open to the road, with no gate yet in place to bar it. We set paladins on watch atop the walls, just in case any monsters came too close.

Despite their vigilance, two men strode into the bailey side by side, neither looking particularly happy to be in the other's company. One was a squat, proud warrior in battered banded mail, white hair and beard framing a youthful face; the other a distinguished grandfatherly-looking type in an impeccably tailored business suit. Neither of them were quite what they appeared to be.

Dyralist strode up to one of the HR personnel. "How many made it safely here?"

She blanched. "I... don't know, sir. A lot of us."

"Find out."

"Yes, sir." She turned and ran off, trying to arrange some sort of count.

Meanwhile, church members were coming out and gawking at the two. I heard a lot of "Is that Sir Zephyr?" and "Who's that guy with him?"

Esott Daniels emerged from the crowd, walking up to Gareth. "Sir Zephyr, it is an honor to have you among us," he said. "You are welcome here."

He nodded. "Call me Gareth. Are you in charge here?"

The Esott wobbled his hand in a "sort of" gesture. "I am Jonathan Daniels, the spiritual leader of this community. I've spent most of my life preaching that the time of heroes is not past, that evil would arise within our day and that we must be ready to confront it. And now, at long last, the world has sent you." He squinted at Gareth. "You... are my god, and yet you are not at the same time. I don't know what this means."

"Don't call me a god, Esott," Gareth muttered. "I'm just an old soldier, as lost and dispossessed as anyone else here."

"If you are not the local lord," Dyralist asked him, "who is?"

The Esott turned and looked around, seeing me standing nearby. "That would be this young man here, Gentleman Brad Webb."

The dragon in human form gave me an intense look. "You," he rumbled.

I squirmed. "...me?"

"You know each other?"

"Yes. I am Dyralist, and this young... Gentleman?" He said the word with a note of incredulity in his voice. "Is one of my employees. He seems to have an uncanny knack for the bizarre and troublesome."

Esott Daniels nodded. "Your name is a well-respected one in Sharliya, Great Dragon. And Brad's is well-respected among my congregation. Were it not for his extreme generosity, this refuge would not exist."

"I am known in Sharliya, and throughout the Empire, for my business holdings," Dyralist grumbled. "And today has been a most unprofitable day." He looked between Gareth, Daniels, and me. "Gather up a small group of your most capable leaders, and I will do the same. We need a council to organize this fledgling village.

"Our civilization is being overrun; I estimate the Empire will crumble or surrender within a week. Perhaps it is fitting I find myself here. Your sect calls themselves Builders, and we are in dire need of rebuilding."

"Do you truly think that's possible, dragon?" Gareth asked him.

Dyralist looked him in the eyes. "Lost one, if nothing else, we can certainly try."

END OF BOOK 1

I DO NOT WANT TO DO THIS