The silence after the confrontation was heavier than before, thick with the unspoken echo of the shotgun blast and the chilling thud of Rex's arrow. The illusion of a simple, safe restoration project was gone, shattered as completely as the quiet of the afternoon. They were a fortress, and they had just been tested.
Rex did not let the fear fester. That evening, he called not a general gathering, but a smaller, more focused meeting in the gatehouse. The fire was lit, and around the table sat Jean Delahaye, Kaelen, Elara, and a still-trembling Monsieur Dubois. Rex had insisted the accountant be there. They needed to know the numbers.
"The world has found us," Rex began without preamble, his hands flat on the wooden table. "It will not be the last time. The man with the shotgun was a probe. The next one will be harder."
Jean grunted, swirling a cup of rough red wine. "The gate is strong. But it is just wood and iron. A determined force with the right tools could break it. Or scale the walls where they are low."
"The walls are your domain, Jean," Rex said. "I want a full assessment of our defensive weaknesses by tomorrow. Every crumbling parapet, every section that can be climbed. Priority for repair shifts from aesthetics to defense."
"It will be done," Jean said, his expression grimly pleased.
Rex turned to Kaelen. "Weapons."
Her eyes were alight with a cold fire. "The longbows are a deterrent, but they take years of training. We need crossbows. They are faster to train with. I can make them. I need more steel. I also need to start producing arrowheads and bolts on a large scale. It is no longer a hobby."
"Make a list of what you need. Dubois will ensure you get the resources from our supplies," Rex said. He looked at the accountant. "Dubois, this is now your primary focus. Allocate whatever Kaelen and Jean need. Everything else is secondary."
Dubois, his face pale, nodded vigorously, his fingers nervously tracing the edge of his ledger.
"Elara," Rex's voice softened slightly. "We must assume we will have casualties. Not just bruises from falling stones. Arrow wounds, blade wounds, trauma. I need you to expand the infirmary. Train assistants. Madame Dubois, Liana—anyone with a steady hand and a strong stomach. Your stockpile of medicine is no longer for scrapes and fevers. It is for war."
Elara met his gaze, her professional composure a mask over the worry in her eyes. "I understand. I'll begin training immediately."
"This is a council," Rex stated, looking at each of them in turn. "You are my lieutenants. You see the threats and the needs that I cannot. Your voices matter here. But when a decision is made, we are one. There is no dissent outside this room. Is that clear?"
There was a round of nods. They were scared, but they were also empowered. He was not dictating; he was delegating immense responsibility. He was making them partners in their own survival.
Kaelen leaned forward. "We also need to think about offense. Not just defense. We can't sit behind these walls forever, waiting to be besieged. We need scouts. We need to know who and what is out there."
It was a bold, aggressive suggestion. Jean looked at her, surprised, then slowly nodded in agreement.
Rex considered it. She was right. Isolation was a temporary strategy. "Agreed. But not yet. First, we make our home a citadel. Then we look beyond our walls."
The meeting continued for another hour, a rapid-fire exchange of needs, ideas, and grim realities. It was no longer a discussion about rebuilding a castle. It was a war council planning the defense of a nascent nation.
As they filed out, each burdened with new and urgent tasks, Rex remained by the fire. The weight on his shoulders felt different now. It was shared. He had centralized authority, but in doing so, he had distributed the load. He had given them a stake not just in the work, but in the strategy.
Avalon was no longer just his dream. It was their mission. And they had just taken their first, conscious step from being a refuge to becoming a stronghold.