Lisa knelt in the mud outside the last knight's hall and saluted the lord who had just turned her away. She was a head taller than his guards, her armor a patchwork of dented plates scavenged from a dozen dead men. Her broadsword lay across her knees. Six warriors watched from the road behind her. Each had been refused by the same halls that refused her. She meant to build an order for people like them. But an order needs a roof, and she had none. The lord's steward waved her off. "Move along. You've no charter and no keep." Lisa rose. Her knees cracked. She looked back at the six. A one-armed spearwoman shifted her feet. A boy with a cracked shield would not meet her eyes. She could feel them slipping. By morning they would scatter to find work as guards or thieves. Warriors without a place to gather were just strangers on a road. She led them off the lord's land before dark. They made camp in a broken stone tower she had spotted days ago. Green stains ran down its cracked walls. Half the battlements had fallen. But the walls stood, and the roof held over the lower floor. No one had claimed it in years. "This heap won't feed us," the spearwoman said. "We can't hold a ruin we don't own." A voice answered from the tower's dark doorway. "You can if someone buys the deed." An old man stepped into the firelight. White hair stuck up in tufts. A worn leather vest hung open over a faded shirt. A gold medal rested on his chest. Lisa knew the mark on it. It belonged to a Knight-Commander, retired now for years. Gareth Thornwall. Every soldier had heard his name. He had once led armies the great halls now guarded. Lisa dropped to one knee out of habit. "Commander." "Don't kneel. My knees are worse than yours." Gareth studied the six by the fire. "The halls turned every one of you away. Same as they turned their backs on me when I got old." He spat into the dirt. "I've watched you get refused at three gates. You keep saluting the men who spit on you. Why?" "Because someone must still keep the oaths," Lisa said. Gareth was quiet a moment. Then he pulled a folded paper from his vest. "This tower and the land under it. I bought the deed this morning. It's worthless to a lord. It might be worth something to you." He held it out. "Take it. Fill it. I'll pay for grain and iron. But the order is yours. Fail, and it's on your head." Lisa took the deed. Her hand shook. The six were already looking at the walls now, not the road. "We have a home," she said. "Now I have to make it hold."