Order didn't announce itself.
It settled in.
The first guard rotation began at dawn.
Rook selected them personally—not the strongest, not the loudest, but the ones who followed instructions without argument. Two per shift, armed but restricted, their authority limited to enforcement inside the boundary.
No heroics. No intimidation. Just presence.
Lena oversaw the transition without ceremony. She showed them where to stand, when to switch, what not to do. When one of them asked what to do if someone resisted, she answered simply.
"Call it in."
They did.
Rook introduced the rules the same way he built everything else—clearly, and once.
Entry hours were posted at the boundary:
Morning. Evening. Closed at night.
Work quotas followed. Nothing extreme. Everyone worked. Everyone ate.
Food distribution came last.
Two meals per day. No hoarding. No exceptions.
The first conflict happened before noon.
A man refused to give up an extra ration he'd hidden beneath his bunk. Voices rose. Hands tightened. The guards froze, unsure.
Lena stepped in.
She didn't shout. She didn't threaten.
She took the ration, set it on the table, and looked at him.
"You get what everyone gets," she said. "Or you leave."
The man glared. For a moment, Rook thought it might turn violent.
Then the man sat down.
The ration went back into circulation.
No punishment followed.
No spectacle.
The message spread faster than any announcement could have.
By afternoon, the System began updating on its own.
[Morale: Stabilizing.]
[Productivity: Increased.]
[Territory Output: Exceeding Local Average.]
Rook reviewed the metrics from the cabin, eyes narrowing slightly.
They weren't just improving.
They were outperforming.
From the watchtower, Lena spotted movement at the edge of the forest—figures that didn't approach, didn't linger openly. They watched from distance, changed positions, disappeared and reappeared hours later.
Scouts.
Not desperate.
Interested.
She reported it without embellishment.
"They're measuring," she said.
"So are we," Rook replied.
As evening settled, the Territory interface pulsed again—different this time. He opened it, frowning as a new panel appeared, bordered in unfamiliar glyphs.
[Safe Haven Evaluation: Pending]
No details. No timer. No explanation.
The panel remained locked.
Rook stared at it for a long moment.
Then he closed the interface and looked out over the valley.
Guards on rotation.People working without shouting.Food distributed without bloodshed.
The shape of authority had taken form.
And the System was watching.