“What happened?” Hadrian asked, keeping his voice calm, not wanting to do anything to stop the cleric from revealing his tale.

“They arrived late, around midnight, because his wife was about to give birth and their travel was slow. His name was Naron and he traveled with his guardian, Tramus Dan, and Dan’s young apprentice, whose name I sadly can’t recall. I saw them to their rooms at the boardinghouse and your father sent me in search of a midwife. I found a young girl and sent her ahead while I set out to find what supplies were needed.

“By the time I returned with my arms full, I saw a company of Seret Knights coming up the street, searching door-to-door. I was horrified. I had never seen seret in Ratibor. They reached the boardinghouse before I could.

“They found it locked and beat on the door. There was no answer. When they tried to break in, your father refused them entry and the fight began. I watched from across the street. It was the most amazing thing I ever saw. Your father and his apprentice stepped out and fought back-to-back, defending the entrance. Knight after knight died until as many as ten lay dead or wounded on the street, and then came a scream from inside. Some of the seret must have found a way into the building from the back.

“The apprentice ran inside, leaving your father alone at the door to face the remainder of the knights. There must have been a dozen or more. By wielding two swords in the shelter of the entrance, he kept them at bay. He held them off for what felt like an eternity, and then Naron appeared at the doorway. He was mad with rage and drenched in blood. He pushed past Dan into the street. Your father tried to stop him, but Naron kept screaming, ‘They killed her!’ and threw himself into the crowd of knights, swinging his sword like a man possessed.

“Your father tried to reach Naron—to protect him. The seret surrounded Naron and I watched him die on their swords. I fell to my knees, the blankets, needle, and thread falling to the street. Your father, surrounded by his own set of knights, cried out and dropped his two swords. I thought they had stabbed him too. I expected to see him fall, but instead he drew the spadone blade from his back. The bloodshed I witnessed up to that point did not compare to what followed. Tramus Dan, with that impossibly long sword, began cleaving the seret to pieces. Legs, arms, and heads—explosions of blood. Even across Lore Street, I felt the spray carried on the wind like a fine mist on my face.