It turned out that Walter and the others were half-right.

Looking in the houses, Benton and Sylva discovered that there were survivors; many were locked in the houses with no way of escaping, and many were too afraid to leave when presented with the opportunity.

However, when all the survivors were brought to the village square, Sierra voiced the concern that everyone else instantly realized.

"Why, there ain't a grown-up soul 'mong these kids!"

She spoke the truth; every person gathered together there were of varying ages, teens, children, even the cries of infants could be heard. But of the remaining villagers, it seemed that Benton and Sylva were among the oldest.

"Can't be…" Sylva gasped, "There has to be at least one adult here! Oh, there just has to be!"

Eisner marched out of the town hall, his expression dire as he wiped his hands on a stained rag. "If it's adults you're looking for, I think I may have found all of them in there."

Sylva tried to push past him. "Are they all right? Where…?"

Eisner grabbed her and put her at arm's length, but wouldn't meet her gaze. "Sorry, love. You don't want to go in there. Not something we should be exposing you to."

"Let me go! If this is some kind of joke…"

"Sylva!" Benton was at her side, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Keep your voice down; the other villagers don't need an excuse to panic."

Sylva opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again and nodded. She backed out of Eisner's grip and both teens made their way to Sierra and Walter, who were both encompassed in their own conversation.

"Without any elder 'round here, these kids won' last th' season," Sierra whispered.

"Then what do you suggest we do?" Walter crossed his arms and kept his gaze on the children. "The local garrison needs to be informed, and I have no intention of watching a bunch of kids for heaven knows how long."

"We could ask th' nearest village t' take 'im in."

Walter shook his head. "We can't transport so many. Besides, no farming village would accept so many children; it'd be nigh impossible to feed them all."

Benton spoke up. "Can't the Duke do anything about it? We could ask him to send some soldiers and farmers to help get the village back together."

Walter's reply was an exasperated sigh. "We could ask him, but even if he listened (Which, given the disposition of the gentry lately, who knows?) it would take a while for anyone to show up. We couldn't expect these kids to keep it together that long."

Benton smiled. "Don't underestimate my friends." He took a step forward towards the group. "Harlan! Where are you? Harlan!"

From within the group, someone called back. "Whozat? Benton?" A teenage boy of medium build emerged and closed the gap between them. "What's going on?"

"We're going to go see the Duke; how do you feel about being in charge of the village for a while?"

"What?" Harlan fell back a step. "Me? Take over the village? But I can't… I mean… I-I could, but… but I…"

And he says I underestimate them, Walter thought dryly.

Benton patted the air with his hands. "Harlan, relax. Listen, as far as we know, the larder wasn't touched, and should have enough food to keep you guys fed for a long time. Just make sure it doesn't run completely dry, keep the other kids from panicking, try and maintain some of the fields, et cetera."

Harlan opened his mouth in protest, but Walter spoke first. "Listen, Harlan was it? Right now it's a godsend that these kids haven't begun to panic and run around like pack animals on stampede. Rest assured, however, that this godsend will wear off. When that happens, they are going to defer to someone, and that someone is going to have to be you for now. It will do no good if you show them you're just as scared, do you understand?"

Harlan said nothing for a long time, constantly looking back to the children. "All right," he said at last, "tell me again what I need to do."

Eisner held the rag over his face as he skirted around the fallen inside the town hall. He stopped behind Bartholomew, and gazed at the book in the shaman's hands.

"The town ledger?"

The shaman nodded, and then cast a sad eye over the bodies. "They are going to have to be burned; there are too many for burials."

Eisner grimaced under the rag. "Right. So we cart the bodies outside and…"

"No, that would take too long. That and it would unnerve the children. 'Tis better if we move the brigands in here."

"You mean…"

"I do." Bartholomew gazed up to the rafters, "This place will be the pyre. We should prepare accordingly."

That night, the entire town gathered outside to watch the town hall burn to the ground. The building, thankfully, was a fair distance apart from other buildings, so there was no worry that the town would catch fire. Eisner, Bartholomew, and Sierra, however, were still on alert.

Sylva wailed; Walter tried to comfort her, but found he couldn't say anything. Eventually he stalked off to find Benton and Harlan standing together. He put a hand on both of their shoulders. "The children still defer to you," he advised, "Don't shed any tears while you're in their sight; save them for when you're alone.

With that he walked off. The boys turned to face each other, both holding back tears. "I don't need to cry," Benton announced defiantly.

Harlan looked back to the fire. His voice broke. "Neither do I…"

And they both stared at the impromptu cremation, stubbornly holding back tears.