Enya rubbed hard against one of her eyes. She always hated offices. Candlelight made her eyes ache when she was reading. What made it worse, was reading through old orders and records. They were like slodging through mud. Something had been itching in the back of her mind since the day she had set foot in Talkro, though. Since the day she had gotten a good look at Aurie’s scar. Since she saw that tree.

  There was something about the way Captain Gerard looked at her that also made Enya’s brain do summersaults. He was around her too often for a Monastic Captain, too familiar. That was why she had stepped on his toes, so to speak. None of his records were allowed to leave with him to the Preston-Vorner camp.

  The candles were already burnt nearly out. Enya shifted another finished ledger to the pile beside her chair. Nothing so far. Lists of guildsmen and their wages since the reconstruction, acquisitions, a few repairs, nothing out of the ordinary. His personal journal would be the one thing she would have to go through a tedious process of judicial hearings to get her hands on. That itch. Something had to be there.

  She lit the wick of the replacement candle over the old one before shoving it down into the holder. A long yawn made her rub both her eyes this time. Two more ledgers and she was out of records to go through. If what she wanted to know wasn’t there, she would have to go directly to Captain Gerard and exact her authority over him. He was in his position when it happened, why were there no records of the event?

  She slid the next ledger in front of her. ‘Roster of the Talkro Expeditionary Engineering Cohort.’

  She let out a long sigh as she opened it. A red ribbon marked several pages in, likely the separation between the Baron’s forces at the time and the Cathedral Cohorts. It began with the Cohorts. Many of the names she skimmed over, she recognized. Each column was as it should be. Their names, ages, their ranks at incorporation into the deployment to rebuilding Talkro after the flood, their assigned smaller unit organization, their specializations. Some were engineers, a few were smiths, fishermen, tradesmen, basic combat arms. And, lastly, a column that was—as expected—completely blank on the first few pages: Circumstance of Departure/Death.

  There was a knock on the door.

  “Enter,” Enya flipped the page, running her fingers down the next as she continued breezing through the names. Still, nothing out of the ordinary. Perhaps she was mistaken.

  One of those from her own Order of Burkhan Khaldun stepped in. “I thought maybe you’d want some coffee,” Cleric Park had two steaming cups, one in each hand.

  He held one over the dimly lit desk for her. The candle barely lit his square face and thin eyes that always seemed to smile even when she knew he was angry. Tonight, he was in a good mood. She could tell because he brought her coffee while it was still warm. She took it from him with a thankful smile and he pulled a chair to sit across from her.

  Enya took a sip and let it linger for a moment before swallowing. The man could make coffee, that was for certain. “God bless you for making this for me.”

  “God bless you for working while off duty,” He raised a brow at her after drinking a bit of his own. “What are you doing up so late? You have a trainee.”

  “Tomorrow’s the festival,” Enya set the cup down and continued running her finger down the ledger pages. “She’s Regent for the day.” After a moment, she looked away from the ledger. She needed to rest her eyes anyway.

  Like her, he wasn’t wearing his armor but was in the cotton undershirt and trousers. He had his riveted mace belted at his side, while she had her sword, but otherwise, they were both in their off-duty uniforms of the Paladinate.

  He rested his cup on a leg that was crossed with the boot ankle over a thigh, “What are you looking for?”

  “The Regent has a scar from having her throat cut,” Enya leaned back in her chair, taking her own cup with her. “The tree by the river on the Clevlan Towers’ side is where I think it happened. And I’m pretty sure it was under our watch.” She took a sip before tilting her head, “Well, Captain Gerard’s watch.”

  “The Guards handle petty crimes and murders, though,” Park blinked at her.

  “This village,” Enya leaned back on the table, back over the ledger, toward him, “Has been under the influence of that Abbey’s evil for generations without anyone knowing for a long time. The Paladinate and the Diocese brushed it off as a harmless village too stubborn to convert.”

  That made Park’s brows crinkle. “In the center of Christendom?”

  “Exactly,” Enya shook her head. She looked down at the ledger between her elbows. “Think about it. There were six cohorts at that Abbey at one time, all vanished, seemingly overnight, right next to a tiny pagan village, and everyone thought they just walked away? For a hundred years, nobody investigated it. That alone makes me scared to my bones of what we’re going to face when we go in there.”

  “And that has to do with what you’re looking for, how?”

  Enya shook her head, “When she touched her scar, I felt something at that tree. Residual. Not the kind you feel when someone is murdered at a tree, but what is felt when evil itself uses it. It was used when Aurie’s throat was cut. I don’t know how, but I think maybe to restrain her. I’ve heard of that being done by powerful demons. And that family is being targeted by one of the most powerful of them.”

  Park was now leaning over the table with his coffee in hand. “Let’s go through it, then. Give me the pieces.”

  Enya smiled. Of all her troops, he was always the best to bounce ideas off. Her puzzle solver.

  She went over everything she knew. The wounds Aurie had were battle wounds, but Aurie had never been in battle and Aurie never told her what had happened. Sliced throat, stab and puncture wounds across her torso and back, and it looked like she had been gutted. There was even a spot on her head where her hair had thinned, not from age but from hair follicles being drawn out just far enough that they clung but would never be strong again. Signs of torture. And the psychological signs of it were also apparent, Enya told him. Then, there were the signs all across Talkro, taking into consideration the family being targeted by you-know-who on top of some other coincidences that, put with everything else, no longer sounded like coincidences.

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  “Tell me I’m seeing stars when it’s just candles in windows,” Enya winced as Park took up the ledger of names so she could look through the next one, which was a record of the fort construction materials.

  “No,” Park was flipping through it with pursed brows. “You’re onto something. Look,” he turned the ledger around for her and pointed. Scattered across the page, the last column had written, ‘Missing, Desertion, Death, Whereabouts Unknown.’

  Enya’s jaw tightened. “Count them. Those are Monastic Knights.”

  “I see twelve, thirteen,” He flipped the page, “More. No Clerics. Why aren’t there Clerics?”

  “Olivier refused them. Only reason those knights went is because they were the Captain’s own Order and unattached to the Cathedral. They’re Holy Sepulcher knights, same as the King.”

  “Holy Sepulcher,” Park puffed his cheeks as he handed the ledger back to her. “This might be a rabbit hole you need the King at your side for. We all know how the Holy Sepulcher reacts when another Order gets in their way.”

  Enya flicked her brows, “Good point.” Then, as she regarded those names, folding a strip of ribbon into it to mark the page, “What would you do?”

  Park shook his head. “Maybe question Gerard. See if you can glean something from him. Ask for his statement on the incident, by protocol. He’s a Monastic, it is what we would need to ensure we properly cleanse that area of whatever remains there and search for the remains of our fallen. Get any other witness statements from the others here, find out what exactly took place.”

  “My biggest question out of all of it is,” Enya blinked, “Why weren’t they already recorded?”

  “That might be the biggest question,” Park let out a long sigh. “But is more likely due to Captain Gerard’s laziness than anything else. You know how he is.”

  “I haven’t worked with him very long, but I am aware of his reputation,” She shook her head. “Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”

  “I’d go tonight,” Park shrugged. “This is Paladinate procedural command and those were Paladinate men.”

  Enya narrowed in agreement. “Get me an escort and suit up.”

  By the time Enya had on her coat and tabard with the purple cross and five-pointed star with a downturned crescent moon at its base over a field of green for her Order, Park had a group of six other clerics waiting with her horse in the bailey.

  She climbed into the saddle and led them out the gate across the bridge into the village. The cold was nothing compared to the heat of the rage that was fueling the questions running through her head the short ride to the camp beyond the village.

  Once they found their way to Gerard’s tent, they got off their horses, barely taking a step before he met them with pursed brows and rubbing sleep from his eyes.

  “Paladin Commander, what can I do for you?” Gerard’s shirt was only half tucked into his unbelted trousers and he was barefoot on the frozen ground.

  “I want to look at your Order records for the incident concerning the Regent’s attack by the river,” Enya eyed him as her clerics fanned around her. “I want witness statements from those involved and I want them before afternoon tomorrow. Especially about those you marked as unaccounted for.”

  He nodded, “I see. Come with me.” He motioned for her to come into his tent and ducked in.

  Enya turned to Park and the others with a cautious glance. Park shrugged at her. She mulled it over for a blink, then nodded and followed into the tent.

  Gerard was hunched over an opened chest he was piling papers and ledgers beside as he rifled through it. He handed her a thick book with a yawn.

  “Here,” he was squinting with one eye that was too heavy to open. “This has what I didn’t put in the Baron’s rolls. He didn’t need to know, they weren’t his men. They died honorably.”

  She took the book, staring down at it with a gaping mouth. There were parchments sticking from it. “What is this?”

  “Statements from the few who witnessed it,” Gerard moved to sit on his cot that spilled with layers of blankets. A single hanging oil lamp lit the cluttered tent that was now a mess of tossed equipment and papers from his chest. “None who engaged the boar or the bitch survived. The boar tore through eight of them before it reached the boy and his father. Picked them off in the woods. The ones who defended Aurie looked like they fought the good fight, but she was inconsolable after, never approached her about it. I lost nearly thirty that day, all good men. All Monastic Knights. I marked it for the Baron that way because any other way would have gotten this place flooded by his men which would have brought fodder for the Enemy. We needed Clerics and Priests. We needed Father Hagen’s Priory to do their plowing job.”

  Enya narrowed her eyes at him, “Explain why the attack happened in the first place. Why didn’t they remove her, flee?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” Gerard shook his head. “Everything went wrong that day. I had them guard the family. That was my orders. The women went to wash laundry at the river on the road where they could see them. The men went to look over their crops. Boar hit the men, the women were attacked by her. It was quick and brutal. Coordinated. You think I didn’t do an investigation? Trust me, I inquired into it. You can read it. It’s all there.”

  Enya lifted her chin at him. “If I have more questions…”

  “All you need is ask,” Gerard nodded at her. “Those men were my friends, Paladin. That family wasn’t the only one to suffer losses that day.”

  “I do have one thing,” Enya slid the book into her coat pocket beneath her tabard. “I want a newly written statement from you. All the details you remember—all your commands, extra tasks, orders, patrol routes, side comments, conversations you might have overheard, what they bloody ate during their meals, everything—and anything with the knowledge and hindsight you have now, included. And, I want details of your past and present relationship with the Regent and King as well.” That made Gerard’s expression become distant. “Don’t leave out any detail. You are being investigated in order to decide if your worth is equal to your rank and privilege.”

  “Is it because of this incident or is there something else on your mind?” Gerard raised narrowed eyes beneath pursed brows.

  Enya clenched her jaw at him. “You’re trusted by the King and are the Captain of the forces here. I want to make sure you’re worthy of that position under my command. I don’t know you but for your reputation under Baron von Strasse, and it wasn’t very good. That little oversight in the rolls didn’t help. You have those men as deserters when they died defending an undiscovered Paladin from the Enemy.”

  His eyes fell from her and he nodded distantly.

  “In my Order, that would land you stripped of your rank and flogged—if you were lucky enough to be considered salvageable. I wonder how the Holy Sepulcher reacts to such falsehoods, since they’re known for being far less compromising,” Enya intensified her glare. She pointed a finger at him, even if he wasn’t looking. “You have until midday. After that, it will no longer be a Field-level Inquiry. It will become a Paladinate one. It would behoove you to ensure it does not become the latter.”

  “Yes, Commander,” Gerard said before biting his lower lip. “Understood, loud and clear.”