The brilliant sunset, lovely as it was, couldn't mask Henry's growing anxiety as he looked to the mountain once more. He lost count of how many times he had shifted his gaze to it again within the last half-hour alone, each time hoping to see a sign of the missing two. Diana and Rebecca were safely back at the inn, while Henry had remained near the town's edge, hoping to catch sight of the two coming back from the mountain.

  His heart listed as memories of him waiting for Sir Gallant resurfaced as well; he had done nothing then, for far too long, and the knight had paid the price for it.

  Henry's grip on his belt tightened; he won't make the same mistake again, not this time.

  He needed a weapon, and he knew precisely where to get one.

  Approaching the stone keep still flying the Knight chapter's colors, Henry was surprised to see the drawbridge lowered and the torches lit. He frowned; when had the Knights returned?

  He had kept watch all day since returning, and nobody else had come down from the mountain. Who had returned to the keep?

  As he stepped foot on the small drawbridge, a lone figure emerged from the inner keep, scratching his hair.

  Henry froze, his eyes wide. "Arthur?"

  Arthur, still dressed in his gaudy red and gold gambeson and running his hand through his hair, waved at him nonchalantly in return. "Oh. Hey, Henry."

  The squire remained frozen for a second, stunned with disbelief, before he marched across the drawbridge and got right up in Arthur's face.

  "'Hey'? THAT's all you have to say to me, after everything that's happened?!"

  The knight-apprentice grinned lopsidedly, a sheepish expression scrawled across his face. "Well, yes. Among other things." He cleared his throat. "Look, I know you're mad. And angry. And you possibly want to kill me, or at the very least, beat me senseless again. But, I just want to say that-"

  He wasn't able to finish before Henry crushed him in an embrace; the squire could feel him exhale in surprise, the air rushing out of his lungs like a balloon.

  "Oh. You're not mad?" Arthur tried to grin at him, his face blue from the smothering hug. "You're-you're choking me!"

  "No, I'm unbelievably furious," Henry replied, holding Arthur for a few seconds longer to make his point. He finally released the knight-apprentice, who wheezed deeply. "But I'm also relieved to see you back, alive and well."

  "Miss me that much?"

  "In a way. I invested too much of my skin and health to save your behind for you to die so stupidly." Henry crossed his arms. "You were saying?"

  "Hm? What do you mean?"

  "Don't try to wriggle out of it again." The squire looked at him expectantly. "I'd like to hear it from you this time, in full."

  Arthur's face flushed as red as his gambeson as he struggled the next few sentences out of his mouth. "I, uh... I want to say... well, that is, what I was trying to imply, is that-"

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  "Yes?" The squire tapped his foot. "Spit it out."

  Arthur took a deep breath, before exhaling. It was a full five seconds of this before he finally spoke. "I'm sorry. I was wrong, and I was stupid. I should have gone with you and Rebecca as I was supposed to, not go off on some vainglorious whim."

  They stood there in silence for a full ten seconds.

  Arthur raised his brow. "Well? Was that enough ego death for you?"

  "Oh, plenty." Henry smiled. "Just savoring it, is all. I'll probably never hear those words again."

  The knight-apprentice smiled as well. "I'll hold you to that. Did you and Rebecca get what you came for?"

  Henry grimaced. "Not quite. It's a long story." He eyed the keep. "And you. How'd you find your way here? Did you meet up with the Knights of this chapter?"

  "That's a long story as well." Arthur shook his head and bade for Henry to follow him. "We can catch each other up inside."

  That night, after they had swapped stories, Henry fetched Diana and Rebecca from the inn and brought them to the keep. Rebecca's condition had improved drastically, most notably having lost her lisp; fortuitous timing for their reunion with Arthur, Henry noted.

  They gathered around the strategy table in the keep's main hall; Henry noticed Lyla, the squire Arthur had mentioned, keeping back from the group. Her arms were folded across her chest as she leaned against the stone wall, eyeing everyone with wariness.

  As Rebecca, Diana, and Arthur were engaged in lively conversation, Henry walked over to her, extending a hand. "Hello. I'm Henry, Arthur's squire friend."

  Lyla stared at his hand for a moment, before tentatively shaking it. "Lyla."

  "I'm sorry to hear about your master, Lyla." He looked at her reassuringly. "I know how it feels."

  "Thanks. And I'm sorry about yours, too." She released his hand, folding it back into her chest. "I heard about Sir Gallant not too long ago. Never thought I'd live it myself just days later."

  "It's hard. But it gets easier." He leaned on the wall beside her. "What was he like? Your master?"

  "Sir Otis?" Lyla smiled faintly. "Brash. Crude. The men loved him, but what soldier doesn't love a leader who can drink them under the table?"

  Henry laughed. "He sounds like a real charmer."

  "Oh, he was a boor. It was a wonder how he got chosen to lead our chapter." Lyla's expression hardened. "But he knew when to separate work and play, when to take things seriously. When the village leaders brought the necromancy issue to us, Sir Otis took them at their word. He mustered us, said he only needed five of us to go with him into the Mountain to slay the necromancer. Every single one of us stepped forth. And I'd do it again."

  Her expression broke slightly as she struggled to fight the rising tears in her eyes. "You know what his last words to me were? 'Go... before I taint your memory of me.'" She stifled a sob, as Henry put a hand on her shoulder. "What he turned into, that split second before I was able to finish him... I'll never forget it."

  Henry let her silently weep for a few moments; aside from her sagging shoulders, her mourning was subdued, muted. He could see her attempt to keep her face as hard as stone, but her bitten lip and streaming eyes betrayed her. After a couple minutes of letting her grieve, he gently spoke.

  "From what you've told me of him... it seems your memories of him are still pure, untainted." She turned to him, puzzled. "Nothing will change the fact that he was a good master, even in his final moments. What you killed wasn't him; he had already died."

  A loud noise momentarily interrupted them; Arthur was trying to juggle a set of daggers as Rebecca tried to stop him, while Diana still had her hand on the mage as she shouted at Arthur. The silly scene caused both Henry and Lyle to smile, before Arthur's juggling inevitably resulted in him howling with pain as one of the blades cut his palm.

  "I misspoke," Henry said. "Your master still lives."

  Lyla frowned. "What do you mean?"

  "He lives on, through you. You're his legacy. As I am Sir Gallant's." A weight seemed to lift in his chest as he said that aloud. "Honor him by living up to his ideals, not his words."

  The female squire nodded pensively. "...Thanks. I will." She cocked her head. "How old are you again?"

  "Hey, I'm still a squire." Henry grinned. "C'mon. Let's join the others before Arthur sees the halberds."

  The pair rejoined the rest of the party at the table, where Diana was now scolding Arthur as she held a glowing palm on Arthur's. The knight-apprentice was mock-crying in an overly dramatic fashion, hand over his eyes, as he bemoaned the apparent pain and suffering he was enduring.

  Classic Arthur. Henry smiled, turning to the table; it was only for a split-second, but he caught Rebecca staring at him, a strange expression on her face.