Marius's departure left a silence that was louder than any threat. Rex's declaration of sovereignty was a line drawn in the dirt, a gamble that their walls and will were stronger than the gathering storm. The mood in Avalon shifted from productive growth to grim preparation.
Kaelen's forge became the nexus of this new purpose. The rhythmic cling-clang was now a constant, day and night, as she and two of the stronger Newcomers she was training worked in shifts. They were no longer making tools or repairing hinges; they were producing killing things. Heavy, brutal spearheads. Dozens of crossbow bolts with hardened steel points. And, on a separate anvil, a project that was solely hers: a long, single-edged blade she was crafting from the highest-quality steel stock, a personal sidearm of devastating potential.
Jean and Luc, with a crew of laborers, focused entirely on the walls. They built wooden hoardings—covered platforms that projected from the parapets, allowing defenders to drop stones or pour boiling liquid on anyone at the base of the wall. They reinforced the main gate with heavy iron brackets.
Elara, with Madame Dubois and a now-recovered Liana as her assistants, stockpiled medical supplies in strategic caches around the inner bailey. They rolled endless bandages, boiled linens for sterilization, and prepared poultices from the herbs in Elara's newly planted garden. The infirmary was ready for the butcher's bill of a siege.
It was during this frantic preparation that the calculus of mercy Rex had employed with the Newcomers was put to its first internal test.
One of the Newcomers, a sullen young man named Claude, was caught by Felix—the same man who had once confronted Kaelen—stealing from the food stores. It wasn't a large theft: a handful of dried apples and a piece of salted meat. But the law was absolute, and the crime was committed by one of the people they had taken a risk on. The entire community watched to see how Rex would rule.
Rex had Claude brought before the entire assembly in the great hall. The fire cast long, dancing shadows, making the scene feel like a trial from a much older time.
"The law is clear," Rex's voice echoed in the hall. "Theft from the communal stores is a betrayal of everyone here. The punishment is exile."
Claude, his face pale and defiant, spat on the floor. "You have so much! I was hungry! You keep us like slaves, working for scraps!"
A murmur ran through the crowd. Some of the original settlers nodded, their expressions hard. This was the ingratitude they had feared.
But before Rex could pronounce the sentence, Felix stepped forward. He looked older, the desperation in his eyes replaced by a weary resolve.
"Lord Rex," Felix began, using the title that had started to stick. "The law is just. But… I ask for mercy. Not for him," he gestured contemptuously at Claude. "But for the principle. You showed us mercy when we were sick and desperate. You gave us a chance. This fool has thrown that chance away. But if you exile him, you prove the cynics right—that your mercy was a temporary convenience. If you find another way, you prove your law is about building something, not just punishing."
He looked around at the other Newcomers. "We will make restitution. We will work double shifts to replace what he stole. We will vouch for each other. Do not let his failure be the judgment on all of us."
The hall fell silent. Felix's words had been unexpected and powerful. He had appealed not to Rex's compassion, but to his strategy.
Rex looked from Felix's earnest face to Claude's sullen one. Exile was the clean, simple solution. But Felix was right. It would sow fear and division. A different punishment could build loyalty.
"The law stands," Rex announced, and Claude flinched. "But the form of the punishment is mine to decide. Exile is a death sentence. Your life is still an asset to this community." He turned to Kaelen. "Master Kaelen. You need more hands at the bellows and for the dirty work. Claude is assigned to you. He will work under your direct supervision, for double the hours, until his debt is paid in labor. His rations will be reduced. If he steps out of line, you have my authority to discipline him as you see fit."
A look of grim satisfaction crossed Kaelen's face. "He'll wish for exile before the week is out."
Rex's gaze swept the crowd. "Mercy is not weakness. It is a tool. And like any tool, it must be used with strength and precision. Let this be a lesson to all. We are one community. Your failure is our failure. Your redemption is our strength."
The assembly dispersed, the outcome settling over them. It had been a masterstroke. Rex had upheld his law without creating a martyr or fostering resentment. He had turned a potential fracture into a reinforcement of the collective.
That night, as Rex walked the walls, he saw Kaelen driving a weary Claude at the forge, the young man's face illuminated by the hellish glow of the furnace. The punishment was harsh, but it was inside the walls. He was still one of them.
The calculus of mercy was complex, but Rex was proving to be a quick study. He was learning that to rule a kingdom, one had to be not just a warrior, but a surgeon, knowing when to cut and when to heal.