A strange, tense quiet settled over the region in the days that followed the ambush. No reprisal came from the Brutes. No further messengers arrived from Marius's group. It was as if the forest itself was holding its breath, waiting to see what the new power in the castle would do next.
This period of calm was not wasted. The act of violence, while traumatic, had forged a new, harder unity within Avalon. The Newcomers, in particular, worked with a fervor that bordered on devotion. They had seen their protector's will made manifest, and they were no longer just grateful refugees; they were citizens defending their home. Felix, once a potential troublemaker, had become one of Kaelen's most diligent assistants at the forge, his strength put to use pounding metal instead of making threats.
Rex used this time to drill the militia. He divided the able-bodied men and women into shifts, running them through relentless exercises. They practiced with the crossbows Kaelen produced, learning the slow, methodical process of cranking them and the kick of the release. They drilled with the spears, practicing a simple, brutal thrust-and-withdraw motion against straw dummies. There was no finesse, only the brutal economy of survival.
It was during one of these drills that Rex noticed Liana watching from the sidelines, her sketchbook in hand. She had been tasked with chronicling their efforts, but her drawings were more than simple records. She captured the strain in a man's shoulders as he held a spear, the focused determination on a woman's face as she aimed a crossbow, the way the light glinted off the newly forged spearpoints. She was documenting the birth of an army.
One afternoon, she approached him, holding out a single sheet of paper. It was a map, but unlike her previous ones. This was a detailed, annotated diagram of the castle's outer walls and the immediate surrounding area.
She pointed to a section of the forest to the south-west. "They are there," she whispered. Her voice was still soft, but held a new certainty. "Marius's people. Two scouts. They watch the drills."
Rex felt a chill that had nothing to do with the weather. He had suspected they were being watched, but Liana's artist's eye had pinpointed them. Her talent was proving to be a form of magic.
"Show me," he said.
He followed her up to the bell tower, now mostly repaired and offering a commanding view. She didn't point, just directed his gaze. It took him a full minute to see it—the barest flicker of movement, the subtle disruption of a shadow that shouldn't be there. Professional. Patient.
"They've been there for two days," Liana said. "They change shifts at dusk."
This changed everything. The Brutes were a blunt instrument. Marius's group was a scalpel. They weren't just waiting; they were learning. They were studying Avalon's routines, its defenses, its capabilities.
That evening, Rex altered the patrol routes and the drilling schedules. He created false patterns, had militia members pretend to struggle with weapons they handled with ease, and made a show of inspecting a section of wall that was already strong, all while secretly reinforcing a weaker, hidden section Liana had identified.
He was no longer just building a fortress or training an army. He was engaged in a silent war of information, a chess match against an unseen, intelligent opponent. The calm was not peace; it was the eye of the storm. And with Liana's keen eyes, he had just gotten a glimpse of the storm's intelligent, watching heart.