The newly expanded council's first meeting was a tense ballet of power and trauma. The great hall, once a symbol of Rex's solitary authority, now housed two distinct cultures forced into a single purpose. Marius, Lena, and Henrik sat with a wary posture, the memory of their shattered camp still fresh. Rex's original council watched them with a mixture of hard-won respect and lingering suspicion.
"The immediate threat is the Remnant's return," Rex began, setting the tone. "But our greatest vulnerability is not our walls. It's our infrastructure. They targeted our water once. They will again."
Henrik, the Vanguard engineer, leaned forward. "Your aquifer is deep and secure. But the distribution is primitive. A single poisoned well, a sabotaged pump, and you have chaos. We need redundancy." He unrolled a schematic he had sketched. "A closed-system rainwater collection from all rooftops, filtered through sand and charcoal. Simple, low-tech, and impossible to poison from outside."
It was the first concrete contribution, a solution, not just a problem. Jean studied the plans, grunting in approval. "The masonry can be done. We have the hands."
"Good," Rex said. "Make it a priority."
Next was defense. "Their rifles outrange our crossbows," Kaelen stated flatly. "We got lucky. We cannot rely on boiling oil every time."
Lena, the Vanguard soldier, spoke up. "Their advantage is open ground. We negate that. Trenches. Caltrops. Deadfalls in the woods. We make the approach to these walls a nightmare. We force them to come to us on foot, slowly."
"A strategy of attrition," Marius added. "We have the food, the walls. They have to transport everything. We make this siege so costly they question its value."
The collaboration was working, ideas building on each other. But the true test came when the discussion turned to the Remnant's technology.
"The drones are the key," Rex said. "We need a way to blind them."
There was a long silence. Then, a soft, hesitant voice spoke from the doorway. Everyone turned.
Liana stood there, holding her sketchbook. She had been listening, unseen. "The forge," she whispered. All eyes were on her, but she looked only at Rex, her voice gaining a thread of strength. "Kaelen's forge... the smoke. When the wind blows the smoke across the courtyard, it is hard to see. What if... we could make more smoke? On purpose?"
The room was silent, processing the simple, brilliant idea.
Henrik's eyes lit up. "Smoke pots! We can make them. Damp straw, green wood, certain oils... it creates a thick, choking smoke. It would not just blind their drones' cameras, it would disorient their troops, mask our movements."
Kaelen looked at Liana with a new, profound respect. "I can forge the pots. We can have a dozen ready in two days."
It was a turning point. The quiet chronicler, the girl broken by the old world's violence, had offered the strategy that might save them from the new world's technology. The last barrier between the two groups seemed to crumble in that moment. The Vanguard saw the unique value in Rex's people, and Avalon saw that the newcomers' desperation had forged a sharp, practical intelligence.
The council meeting adjourned with a clear, unified plan: fortify the land, secure the water, and shroud the skies in a man-made fog. They were no longer just sharing a fortress; they were weaving their strengths into a single, resilient fabric. The first test of the united council was passed. They had found, in their diversity, a stronger whole.