It didn't take much convincing to rally the remaining townsfolk to action, especially the husbands and fathers of the abducted. Henry counted no less than thirty people, most of them men but some women as well, who mustered to the party's call to arms at the town square.

  They were all artisans, craftsmen, traders; none of them seemed to have any meaningful combat experience, but their determined faces masked any doubts they may have had on what they were about to undertake. Still, despite their large number, they were untrained, inexperienced, and woefully under-equipped; against a dragon, Henry secretly wished their force was ten times this size.

  "Well, that's no shortage of volunteers," Arthur whistled. He turned to Henry. "What now?"

  "We arm them, give them some rudimentary training." Henry looked at Lyla. "Are there enough weapons in the armory for everyone?"

  "I think so," she replied, gazing over the large crowd. "I'm thinking... spears. They're easiest to handle, and quickest to train with."

  "Good. You, Arthur, and I can give them some quick pointers. We still need to discuss strategy, too."

  The six of them huddled together.

  "I'm thinking full frontal assault," Lyla suggested. "We overwhelm them with our numbers. The townspeople can punch through the undead for us, and we'll have a straight shot to the dragon."

  "Too risky." Henry shook his head. "And too costly. I don't want to lose more people than we'll save. Plus, the dragon may kill the hostages if we get too close so obviously."

  "And we still don't know how many undead are at its disposal," Rebecca added.

  "Exactly." Henry looked to the others. "Any other ideas?"

  "What if we made the dragon come to us?" Praetorus proposed. "We lure it to a battlefield of our choosing this time, fight it on more favorable grounds."

  "That's a start. But I don't know how we'll get it to leave its lair." Henry hesitated. "Everything's more favorable for it if it stays. It'll probably just send the undead instead."

  Arthur's face lit up. "I've got it! A two-pronged assault. The townspeople can attack the mountain directly, draw out the undead. While the dragon is focused on it there, we can sneak in through the other entrance."

  "'Other entrance'?" Henry raised his brow, then started; how else did Arthur and Lyla get back to town without his seeing them?

  "Yes, old boy, other entrance." Arthur smirked, but in a more playful manner. "Lyla and I have our own secret, too."

  Lyla began jabbing at him with her elbow, while Arthur yelped; Henry caught them both.

  "Focus. You can horse around later." The squire paused. "Actually... that's a solid plan, Arthur."

  "See? Devilishly handsome and clever." Arthur winked at Lyla, who rolled her eyes.

  "So, the townspeople will divert the undead, and we'll sneak in and strike the dragon directly," Henry summed up. "Any questions?"

  Diana raised her hand. "I will go with the townspeople. My magic will allow them a better chance against the undead."

  Henry nodded. "Good call. Just don't kill them too quickly; we need the dragon distracted."

  The cleric smiled. "I shall."

  Arthur frowned. "But what about the dragon? We'll need everyone's help to bring it down. Steel and a bit of magic alone won't cut it." He glanced at Rebecca. "Sorry."

  "Then we'll have to reunite somehow." Henry looked at the mage. "Rebecca, you'll have to stay near the entrance and send up a signal once the hostages are out. Diana, when you see the signal, you can push ahead with everyone straight to the dragon's lair directly."

  Rebecca tilted her head. "And if we don't find the hostages...?"

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  The group fell silent. It was grim possibility, but one they had to consider.

  "Give us one hour. If the first hostage hasn't gotten out then, then send up the signal for Diana anyhow. We'll assault the dragon together."

  They all nodded, their faces set. Henry could feel his heart beat anxiously as he spoke again.

  "Then it's settled. Diana, you'll go with the townspeople and serve as the bulwark against the undead. The rest of us will sneak into the lair through the other way, and find the hostages and the dragon." Henry looked around at them, but lingered his gaze on Praetorus. "The hostages come first. We need to get them out of harm's way before we engage the dragon. Understood?"

  The archer dipped his head. "I understand."

  Everyone murmured their assent, and Henry nodded. "Good. Let's break."

  While Diana spoke to the townspeople, Lyla, Arthur, and Henry geared up in the armory first. Lyla was still mostly equipped in her battle gear, so her needs consisted only of getting a fresh weapon and a shield on her back; Henry found a breastplate that was close to his size, and slipped it on alongside a pair of greaves and gauntlets.

  Arthur was more demanding, suiting up entirely in full plate; his gaudy gambeson served its purpose well this time, as the arming points allowed him to affix a pair of pauldrons to his shoulders and full cuisses and greaves to his legs, along with vambraces, gauntlets, and a solid breastplate. Henry assisted him with donning the armor, a familiar procedure that tugged at his heart as he did so.

  Just like I always did with Sir Gallant. He bit his tongue, holding back the familiar sadness that threatened to overtake him. As his fingers laced up and tied the armor to their respective points, he spoke with Arthur, desperate to distract himself.

  "You sure you've earned the right to wear this into battle?"

  Arthur scoffed. "Of course. I'm practically a knight already. Plus, I've got a pretty face to protect."

  Henry rolled his eyes. "We're going into caves and tunnels. I'm not sure full plate is wise."

  "And the dragon is in a huge cavern, which is space aplenty." The knight apprentice grinned. "Lyla's master was in full plate, and he survived the longest. Good odds for me, eh?"

  "If you say so." Henry sighed. "I thought we were going to be sneaking anyhow. Plate is loud."

  "I think I've got something for that," Arthur winked. "Or rather, someone."

  The squire raised his brow as Arthur waved to Rebecca outside the door; the mage entered, equally perplexed as Henry.

  "Rebecca. Sweet, dear Rebecca," Arthur crooned. "Would you please do me a ditty and cast a small enchantment on my armor?"

  The mage's face furrowed. "What kind of enchantment?"

  "Henry here believes stealth is our biggest ally in the caves. As you can see, or hear rather, my armor isn't exactly subtle." He smiled lopsidedly. "But what if you cast silence on it?"

  "What makes you think I can do that?"

  "Oh, I don't know. Maybe that apple you and the old boy walloped me with the other day?"

  Henry felt his face flush and burn as Arthur said this; in the dim light of the armory, he could see Rebecca turn beet red as well. The knight-apprentice laughed uproariously as he put his arms around their shoulders.

  "Oh, don't be silly! Of course I knew it was you two! You think I bought that silly story of some branch felling me?" He sniffed. "No mere branch would have the honor of felling a Braddock!"

  The squire cleared his throat. "That aside... I'm not sure if Rebecca can even do such a thing, with your armor at least. I think she can only work with small things-"

  Rebecca cut him off with a stare. "I'm perfectly capable of deciding that for myself, thank you." She turned to Arthur. "As for you..."

  "Well? Can you?" Arthur looked at her expectantly; the mage looked him up and down, silently sizing up his suit of plate.

  "Perhaps," she finally replied, rolling up her sleeves. "Two days ago, I couldn't produce so much as a spark. Last night, I bent fire. I'm sure I can manage something as simple as this."

  She held her hands out and murmured some sort of incantation under her breath; her hands glowed briefly with a faint blue energy, before she pulled them back and crossed her arms.

  "There. See if that worked."

  Arthur paced a bit in his armor, and to Henry's surprise and shock, the metal was completely silent; the plates would normally clank and creak atop one another, but now they produced no noise at all. In fact, the only noise Arthur made was from the rustling of his clothes and the crunching of his footsteps; the notion of a plate-clad warrior being completely silent unnerved Henry.

  "Rebecca, you're a queen." Arthur playfully leaned in to kiss her cheek, which she recoiled from as if he were a cockroach. "What, I can't thank you properly?"

  "You can thank me by never doing that again," she muttered. "Henry, I did the same for you as well. You don't have as much armor as him, but I thought any silence would be helpful."

  Again, Henry was surprised by the noiseless steel on his chest and limbs; he followed Arthur's suit and paced a bit as well, stunned by the lack of clanking or chafing of hard metal on cloth. It sounded as if he weren't wearing any armor at all. He turned to Rebecca and bowed slightly.

  "Thank you! I didn't know you-"

  "Oh, stop it. We're the same age, and I'm not your grandmother." She leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "There. Your price, and for good luck." With that, she turned on her heel and strode out of the building in a huff.

  Henry was frozen in place, doubly stunned.

  Arthur gave a low whistle, slowly sidling up to the squire. "Well. Eat my gauntlet and call me a pauper." He shot Henry a look ladened with jealousy and pride. "Beaten by my own squire, no less."

  Dazed, Henry turned to him. "I... I'm not your squire."

  The knight-apprentice laughed again and steered him towards the door. "Alright, if you say so, my prince. Let's go, we've troops to train and inspire."