They didn't arrive all at once.
That was the first sign it wouldn't end well.
One person appeared near the boundary just after midday—a man with hollow eyes and a pack slung too low on his back. He stopped when he saw the walls, stared for a long moment, then sat down in the shade of a tree and waited.
Then two more.
Then a family of three, the parents exhausted, the child silent in a way that made Rook uneasy.
By evening, there were nine.
They kept their distance. Mostly.
Some talked among themselves. Some watched the watchtower. A few walked the perimeter, testing angles, pretending not to.
Lena returned before sunset, her expression tight.
"They followed the smell," she said quietly. "Food carries farther than you think."
Rook nodded. He'd expected this.
The Territory interface pulsed.
[Population Pressure Detected.]
[Housing Capacity: Exceeded.]
[Warning: Morale Instability Possible.]
He didn't open the boundary.
Not yet.
Rook addressed them from inside the line, voice calm, carrying.
"I don't have room," he said. "Not yet. Anyone who stays does so under rules and work assignments."
Murmurs rippled through the group.
A man stepped forward. Big. Broad shoulders. A weapon at his side he hadn't bothered to hide.
"You got food," he said. "You got space. Don't pretend you don't."
"I have limits," Rook replied. "And walls."
That earned a few laughs.
Not the good kind.
Night fell.
The group didn't leave.
That was the second sign.
Lena moved quietly to Rook's side. "They're not all desperate," she murmured. "A few are watching, not begging."
Rook's gaze tracked the same figures. The ones whispering. The ones circling wider than the others.
"Then they're not here to ask," he said.
The first trap went off just after midnight.
A sharp metallic clang echoed through the valley, followed by a shout of pain.
Chaos broke out instantly.
Someone screamed. Someone ran. Someone else laughed.
Then the rocks came.
One struck the palisade with a dull crack. Another followed. Shadows moved fast, reckless now that the line had been crossed.
[Territory Under Hostile Action.]
Rook didn't move.
Lena did.
She was already sprinting toward the watchtower ladder, bow in hand that Rook hadn't seen her retrieve. She moved cleanly, efficiently, loosing an arrow that buried itself in the dirt inches from a man's foot.
"Back away!" she shouted. "Now!"
Another alarm rang.
A second trap.
A scream cut short.
From the darkness beyond the boundary, someone yelled, "Rush them!"
That was the moment.
The moment Rook had prepared for.
And the moment Lena would either prove her worth—
Or confirm his doubts.