Harold let the silence sit for a moment longer, then nodded once to Garrick and Carter.

  “That’s all for now,” he said. “I’ll follow up after you’ve spoken with Hale.”

  Garrick inclined his head. Carter hesitated, reading Harold before turning to the door. The guards outside straightened as they passed, the keep’s murmur returning as the door closed.

  Harold waited until their footsteps faded.

  “Send Anil in,” he said.

  One of the guards stepped away, disappearing briefly. A moment later, Anil entered the room with a calm step. Harold moved around the table to greet him, extending a hand for a handshake. As their hands met, Harold's grip was firm, his eyes locked intently with Anil's. While his expression remained welcoming, there was a subtle probing in that gaze, a silent test of Anil's resolve. “Take a seat. I just wanted to meet you properly outside the council room and give you a chance to speak about any concerns you have in private.”

  Anil sat with a small smile, and Harold assessed the slim, assured man.

  Harold smiled at the man, “This isn't a test. If Margaret vouches for you, then I’ll take her word for it.”

  Anil settled into the chair, hands folding neatly in his lap. “I appreciate that,” he said. “Margaret doesn’t offer praise lightly. I try not to make her regret it.”

  Harold laughed quietly. “That already puts you ahead of most people. She’s a fearsome woman.”

  Anil’s smile widened just a fraction. “I find survival encourages good habits.”

  Harold nodded, letting the moment breathe. The faint scent of pine from the nearby forest mingled with the smell of coffee brewing. “How are you finding the Landing so far? You came on the second wave, didn’t you?”

  “I did,” Anil replied. “After your oath, Margaret caught me up. Now I see why we’re ahead of other Lords—everyone’s building together, usually in one place. There’s urgency here. It’s hopeful to see people unite when things are bad, especially with daily deaths posted on the forums.”

  “That’s accurate,” Harold said. “It’s growing faster than it should and yet not quite fast enough for my taste.”

  “And faster than most systems are designed to handle, we are gaining people at a pace I can scarcely believe we are keeping up with,” Anil added.

  Harold’s expression shifted, the casual edge easing into focus. “That’s what I wanted to talk about. How much progress have you made since taking over?”

  Anil nodded as a stack of rough paper was set down in front of him, choosing to rest his hand on the one on top.

  “Most of it’s already moving,” he said. “It's not smooth, but it's progress.” He gave a small, tired smile. “Every day feels like we’re building the road while walking on it.”

  He looked up at Harold. “Records and citizenship are furthest along. Ismail’s tracking system works—deaths, arrivals, departures. It’s now consistent.”

  He hesitated, then added, “One of the young couples is expecting a child, the first one here.”

  He let that sit for a heartbeat before continuing.

  “The oath framework is drafted,” he said, tapping the binder lightly. “It needs your approval on the language before we make it real. Until then, everyone from Earth is flagged as provisional citizens rather than left in limbo. It’s imperfect, but it’s better than pretending status doesn’t matter. Formalizing this oath will grant citizens not only the right to participate fully in our governance but also access to crucial resources and protection under our laws. Without it, they remain on the sidelines, unable to contribute or fully benefit from the society you envision. If this works out being a Citizen of the Landing will be something everyone aspires to.”

  He shifted. “Labor and rotation took longer. Lia’s token system works with Caldwell’s help, but disputes still land on desks. People understand but continue to test it.”

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  A faint shrug. “We expected that.”

  “Once we formalize the oath and citizenship, enforcement will get easier. The oath will address current problems but also create new ones we can't predict yet.”

  Anil folded his hands. “Justice is stable. Judge Menendez has procedures for hearings, witnesses, and sentencing. But he lacks depth. One judge can carry a settlement but not a city.”

  He looked directly at Harold. “He’s asked to speak with you. Not urgently, but seriously.”

  There was a brief pause before his expression softened.

  Anil continued, "Culture and morale surprised me. Kora’s done well. Communal meals, rest, small celebrations for milestones—nothing elaborate, just enough to remind people it’s a place to live. The Tatanka rides, in particular, have resonated deeply. They are more than just recreational for some of the people here. And have even helped a few people gain perks related to remaining calm.”

  He opened the binder, flipping to a marked section. “Mobile administration teams are still planned. We sent out ready teams, but I won’t send more until the oath is finalized. Without legitimacy, they’d be undermined immediately. Syncing with our other villages is still in process, but I believe it won't take more than another couple of weeks to normalize.”

  He closed the binder and looked back up. "The foundation is there. The next few weeks are about turning habits into authority without breaking trust." He paused, then added, "Currently, we have around 15 grievances filed over the past month as people adjust to new systems and expectations. Addressing these will be key in bolstering this transition."

  “The Landing has expanded faster than we could train. Most arrivals are willing but untrained labor. We need time to consolidate as much as expand.”

  Harold listened without interrupting, fingers resting on the edge of the desk. When Anil finished, he nodded once, then asked evenly, “What if I told you to dispatch teams next week?”

  Anil didn’t answer immediately.

  He looked at the binder, then up. “I would do it,” he said. “Because you asked.”

  Then he shook his head. “And it would be a mistake.”

  Harold’s expression didn’t change.

  “On paper, we can staff two more villages. Names, rosters, administrators, tools, good intentions. But we can’t support them properly next week.”

  He leaned in slightly. “Most ready to deploy are still learning our systems. They'll act on instinct, and every exception will become a precedent.”

  He paused. “People follow rules because they trust the structure. Stretch it too thin, and it turns into improvisation.”

  Harold studied him. “How long do we need to do it properly?”

  Harold felt Anil weigh his answer. This was the moment he’d been waiting for, the point where people usually softened their words or tried to tell him what they thought he wanted to hear.

  “At least a month,” Anil said, then didn’t stop there. “Preferably two.”

  He held Harold’s gaze. “We haven’t secured those sites yet. Even if we had, preparation would still take that long: frameworks, staffing, and training to replace those we send.”

  He rested a hand on the binder. “Give me that time to finish expanding what Margaret started. If we move sooner, we’ll build villages—but they’ll be fragile.”

  He didn’t apologize for the answer.

  That, more than the number, was what Harold had been listening for.

  A soft knock sounded at the open door.

  Harold looked up. One of Margaret’s aides stood just outside, hands folded, waiting to be noticed rather than interrupt. When their eyes met, she lifted a folded note between two fingers.

  Harold motioned her in quickly; they had been instructed to inform him only of events like this that they thought required an immediate response.

  She crossed the room quickly, careful not to intrude further than necessary, and placed the note in his hand before stepping back out without a word.

  Harold unfolded it and scanned the contents once, then again more slowly.

  Another forum post from Lord Henri. The post dropped all pretense and bluntly warned of unchecked growth at the Landing. It claimed Harold’s expansion would soon make him unstoppable. Waiting for proof of hostility was foolish, it said. Consolidation was aggression. Those who failed to oppose Harold early would find themselves helpless later.

  Replies followed beneath it. Some cautious agreement, but many outright dismissals. More than a few were defending Harold directly, citing past guidance, forum posts, and the fact that he was the one selling the potions. He noted the pattern immediately. He believed the Henri supporters were clustered near the basin. The area around the Blackjaws to the north and Silverfin Lake to the east was dense with Lords, and a lot of time was spent by Margaret's people combing the forums to map the locations of the Lords around them.

  His eyes moved down the list of replies until he caught a familiar name.

  Lord Arjun.

  A measured reply, supportive of coordination and unity against overreach, and it attempted to appear reasonable on the surface.

  Harold exhaled and tried to recall everything he knew of Arjun from his past life—mainly that Arjun was willing to fight and had once allied with Henri. But did that mean they were truly aligned, or was it just circumstance?

  He’d hoped Arjun would be too busy for politics. Not with the Thresher King prowling the waters, not with survival demands. Apparently, that hope was misplaced.

  He folded the note back up and rested it on the desk without comment.

  Anil watched him, reading the shift in posture more than the paper itself. “Bad news?”

  “Predictable news,” Harold murmured.

  He tapped the note once with a finger. “I need you to recommend someone to be a diplomat.”

  Map of Blackjaw penisula