The third hour after midnight arrived with a heavy frost that silvered the cedar shingles of the community hall roof. Inside the council room, the chill was held at bay by the glowing charcoal in the central fire bowl. But the tension around the long table had shifted from clockwork shape to the far more fragile register of human lives.
Paxa Sel stood beside Adra Pike, a thick, calfskin-bound ledger open before her under the lamplight. Across its wide linen pages were inscribed ninety-one names, arranged in neat households and annotated with ages, physical conditions, and trade assignments. It was the complete civilian census of Stonewake Citadel. It was compiled by Paxa and the rescued Alderfast miners during the preliminary check of Days One Hundred and Two through One Hundred and Four.
‘Condition Three of our promise,’ Kezra said, stepping to the side of the table. ‘Total civilian clearance. We must review every single name on this list before I set foot inside the gatehouse.’
Paxa dipped her quill in red ink and ran her finger down the first column. ‘Within the one-thousand-and-twenty-four-pace outer edge of Stonewake Citadel currently live exactly ninety-one non-combatant civilians. None of them are enlisted soldiers of the Cairn Host, none of them carry weapons. None of them have taken a royal oath of service.’
