Chapter 10
Dawn in the Sanctuary no longer carried the terrifying silence of those first days. Now, the air was filled with the hum of human machinery that refused to stop. As the sun began to break over the Georgia forest, I watched from the porch railing. To an outside observer, this place would be a living anachronism; to me, it was the cradle of what was to come.
The integration between my Northern warriors and the survivors of this world was a slow process—at times painful, but fascinating to witness. It wasn't merely a coexistence born of necessity; it was an exchange of essences.
Near the stables, Torgad supervised the morning training. It was a scene that summarized the state of the Sanctuary: Glenn and T-Dog were practicing with wooden spears, trying to keep pace with two Northern giants who moved with a lethal economy of motion. Initially, the Atlanta men had viewed my warriors as brutes—remnants of a barbaric age. But after seeing them dispatch entire hordes without spending a single bullet, fear had transformed into a fervent desire to learn.
"Do not strike with your arm, men of the south!" Torgad roared, correcting Glenn's posture with a shove that nearly toppled him. "The weight comes from the earth; it passes through your core and is released at the tip. If your arm tires, you die. If your will wavers, you are food."
Glenn nodded, wiping away sweat. There was a nobility in his effort; he was no longer the errand boy from Atlanta. He was seeking the strength of the North to protect what he loved.
On the other side of the yard, under the shade of a great oak, a quieter but equally vital scene unfolded. Carol sat on a log, surrounded by three of my most seasoned warriors. The men, whose hands were covered in scars from a thousand battles against ice and steel, held children's books with a delicacy that was almost comical. Carol was teaching them to read the letters of the old world.
To my men, Carol was a figure of immense respect. In their world, women who survived and maintained peace were seen as givers of life and order. The fact that she, who had lost so much, dedicated her time to "giving them eyes" to see the knowledge on the page filled them with a silent gratitude.
"Al-li-ance," one of the warriors pronounced in a gravelly voice.
"Very good, Joren," Carol said with a soft smile. "An alliance is what keeps us alive."
This was the true forge of the Sanctuary. The survivors provided knowledge, technique, and logistics; the Northerners provided discipline, strength, and unshakeable protection. They had learned that the "walkers" of this world were a minor nuisance compared to the nightmares of the North, but the survivors taught them that even the smallest nuisance could be deadly if they lowered their guard. They called each other "brothers" not by blood, but by the purpose I had instilled in them.
I descended the porch steps and walked among them. My presence always caused a respectful silence, but it was no longer the silence of terror—it was the silence of recognition. Seeing Carl run between the legs of the warriors while they made complicit faces at him, I felt that pang of concern that never truly left me.
Every one of these people was my responsibility. Their lives were bound to my will. By opening trade routes with Vickery, I was exposing my refuge to the outside world. I knew that out there were men who would not understand the Law of the Sanctuary; men who only saw resources to be plundered. My people were prospering, but prosperity is a beacon that attracts wolves. I had to ensure my walls were high enough and my warriors lethal enough so that the price of attacking us was total annihilation.
I called Rick, Daryl, and Shane to the center of the yard. Shane approached with an attitude that would have been unrecognizable only two days ago. He no longer walked with the arrogance of one who thinks he knows everything; his gaze was focused, his movements precise, and his submission to me was absolute after his journey through the infinity.
"The trade with Vickery is only the first step," I began, looking at Shane. "Martha and her people have returned to their village, but the road is not safe. I want a vanguard to secure the route and establish our presence there."
Shane took a step forward, briefly striking a knee before speaking.
"Allow me to lead the escort, Valthor," Shane said, his voice stripped of its old venom. "I have seen what is out there… the immensity you speak of. This world is small, but it is our foundation. I want to ensure nothing threatens it. I want to see Vickery with my own eyes."
I looked at Shane. His conversion was real. His ambition was now aligned with mine; he wanted to be a Baron of this new world, and he knew the path to that title began with service.
"You shall go, Shane," I decreed. "You will take Jarl and four of my best warriors. Daryl, you will be the eyes of the expedition. Your vision can now detect danger before the danger even knows you exist. I want no surprises on the road."
Daryl nodded, adjusting his crossbow. His eyes scanned the horizon with supernatural clarity.
"I can see the trail Martha's wagon left," Daryl said. "It's still fresh. If we leave now, we'll be in Vickery before nightfall."
Rick observed the scene with a mix of pride and caution. He would stay with me to continue implementing the pillars of the Law and oversee the expansion of the crops.
"Be careful out there," Rick said, placing a hand on Shane's shoulder. "The world isn't what we remember."
"I know, Rick," Shane replied, looking at him with a strange lucidity. "But now I know what truly matters."
The vanguard departed at noon. Jarl and the four Northerners went on foot, moving with an endurance that would allow them to run for miles without panting. Shane and Daryl led the march. As I watched them cross the palisade, I felt the weight of the crown. I was sending my men into the outside world, to a community we barely knew, to secure a future that only I could see in its entirety.
"May the shadow of the Sanctuary cover you," I murmured to myself.
I turned back to the rest of the village. There was much to be done. The forge needed more charcoal, the books needed to be studied, and my people needed to know that—no matter what lurked in the darkness of Georgia or in the cracks of the Omniverse—their Sovereign watched over them.