The two captured soldiers from Marius's group changed everything. They were not brutes; they were professionals. Under the grim gaze of Jean and a still-energized Kaelen, they were stripped of their gear, bound, and locked in a storage cellar. They were Avalon's first prisoners of war, and they were worth more than gold.
Rex let them stew for a day, allowing the cold and the dark to soften their resolve. The following evening, he had them brought, shivering and defiant, to the gatehouse. He sat behind the table, the warmth from the fire not quite reaching them. Elara stood nearby, her presence a silent promise that they would not be mistreated... physically.
"Your names are irrelevant," Rex began, his voice flat. "Your value is your knowledge. And your value to your commander is your return."
The older of the two, a man with a grizzled jaw and a cold stare, spat on the floor. "We don't talk."
"You will," Rex said, utterly confident. He leaned forward, his eyes locking onto the soldier's. "You attacked our water supply. A smart move. But you failed. Your commander now knows we are stronger, and better prepared, than he thought. He also knows I have two of his trained men. How many can he afford to lose on probing attacks?"
The man said nothing, but his jaw tightened.
"I am not your enemy," Rex continued, surprising them. "The Brutes are your enemy. The winter is your enemy. I am a competitor for resources. And I am willing to make a trade."
This got their attention. The younger soldier's eyes flickered with a spark of hope.
"Here is the deal," Rex stated. "You will be fed and kept safe. In return, you will answer three questions, truthfully. After that, I will release one of you. He will take a message to your commander. The other stays as a guarantee of your leader's good behavior."
"And the message?" the grizzled man grunted.
"The message is this: The next time you send men to my walls, they will be returned to you in pieces. The time for provocations is over. I propose a truce. A defined border. Non-aggression. We have things you need. You have things we need. We can trade like civilized men, or we can continue to bleed each other until the Brutes pick our bones. The choice is his."
He let the offer hang in the air. It was a staggering shift from the previous threats. He was offering an off-ramp from the path to mutual destruction.
The two prisoners exchanged a long look. The older one finally gave a curt nod. "Ask your questions."
Rex asked his three questions, carefully chosen to gain tactical intelligence without asking for betrayals: the true size of the Brutes' force, the state of the northern quarry, and the condition of the main road.
The answers were given, grudgingly but honestly.
True to his word, the following morning, Rex had the younger soldier released. He gave him a small sack containing a loaf of bread, a wedge of cheese, and a waterskin.
"Deliver the message," Rex told him at the gate. "The life of your friend depends on it."
As the man hurried down the road, Rex turned to the small crowd that had gathered. He had taken a calculated risk. He had shown strength, then mercy, then pragmatism. He was no longer just a warlord; he was a statesman, playing a dangerous game with lives as the currency. The next move was Marius's. The future of Avalon would be shaped by the response.