Council

They arrive at midday. Four groups. Forty people in total, give or take. Armed, wary, cold.

I watch from the wall. Hugh is in the courtyard, greeting each leader personally. He remembers names. He remembers details. The man who ran a council ward for a decade knows how to make people feel like they matter, because in his mind they do.

Kirsten leads the Balloch group. Older than Hugh. Silver hair, weathered face, the kind of calm that comes from surviving things that should have killed you. She shakes Hugh's hand and says something that makes him nod slowly.

The Drymen group is led by a man named Callum. Not our Callum. A different one. Young, intense, talks with his hands. He's already arguing about something before he's through the gate.

Killin sent two people. A woman named Mhairi and a man who doesn't give his name. They stand slightly apart from the others, watching. The woman has a crossbow on her back and a look that says she's used it.

"Who are they?" I ask Marcus.

"Killin's been hit worst. Lost half their people in a raid two weeks ago. They don't trust anyone."

"Smart."

"Maybe." Marcus watches them file into the hall. "Trust is all we've got right now."

---

The meeting is in the great hall. Too many people for the council room. Tables pushed together, maps spread between them, the smell of woodsmoke and bodies and cold stone.

Hugh stands at the centre. No throne. No podium. Just a man in a worn jumper with a map and a problem.

"Thank you for coming. I know the roads aren't safe. I know you're risking your people by being here." He lets that land. "I'll keep this short. We're all being hit. MacLeod, or whoever is organising these attacks, is picking us off one by one. Individually, we can't stop them. Together, we might have a chance."

Kirsten speaks first. "What does 'together' mean, exactly?"

"Shared patrols. Shared supply routes. Shared intelligence. If one settlement is hit, the others respond."

"And who decides when to respond? Who gives the order?" Callum from Drymen leans forward. "We're not handing over command of our people to anyone."

"No one's asking you to." Hugh's voice stays level. "This isn't a merger. It's a coordination. Each settlement keeps its own leadership, its own people, its own territory. We share information and resources. We agree on response protocols. That's it."

"You make it sound simple." Mhairi from Killin. Her voice is accented. Highland, maybe. "Nothing about this is simple."

"You're right. It isn't." Hugh spreads his hands. "But the alternative is what happened to Strathblane. Forty people. Gone. Because they were alone."

The hall goes quiet. Strathblane. Everyone's heard by now.

"What do you need from us?" Kirsten asks.

"Information. Patrol routes, attack patterns, resource levels. The more we know about the overall picture, the better we can coordinate."

"And what do we get?"

"Support. If MacLeod hits your supply lines, we send people. If raiders probe your walls, we reinforce them. Same goes for us. You help us, we help you. That's the deal."

Callum stands. "How do we know you won't use this to take over? Consolidate power? Put yourself in charge of everyone?"

Hugh doesn't flinch. "You don't. That's the honest answer. You don't know me. You don't trust me. All I can tell you is what I've done. I've kept three hundred people alive for eight months through the worst winter in recorded history. I've made decisions I'm not proud of. I've lost people I should have protected. I'm not offering you a saviour. I'm offering you a partner."

No grand speeches. Just facts. That's why it works.

The meeting goes on for two more hours. Arguments about resource sharing. Who contributes what. What happens if one group can't meet its obligations. Whether the alliance includes mutual defence or just mutual support.

The debates are sharp. People have real grievances. Drymen lost a supply cache to raiders last month and thinks someone tipped them off. Killin doesn't want to share patrol information because they don't trust anyone with their route maps. Balloch wants guarantees that Mugdock won't use the alliance to claim territory.

Hugh navigates it. He lets people argue until they've worn themselves out, then steps in with a compromise that gives everyone just enough.

By the end, nothing is on paper.

A room full of tired, scared people who've agreed to try.

---

After the meeting, I find Hugh by the north wall. He's alone, looking out at the dark. The visitors have been given rooms for the night. Tomorrow they'll go back to their settlements and try to convince their people that this is worth the risk.

"How'd it go?" I ask.

"Better than I expected. Worse than I hoped." He doesn't turn from the wall. "Kirsten's solid. She'll bring Balloch around. Callum's young. He'll either be our strongest ally or our biggest problem. And Killin..."

"Killin doesn't trust anyone."

"Killin's been burned. Literally and figuratively." He finally looks at me. "What did you see?"

I'd been watching the whole meeting. Hugh asked me to. So I watched.

"Callum's people are scared. They'll agree to anything that makes them feel safer, then resent the terms later. Kirsten's pragmatic. She'll hold the alliance together through sheer stubbornness. Killin needs proof before they'll commit to anything. Words aren't enough for them."

"What about us?"

"We have the strongest position. Best walls, most people, most supplies. The others need us more than we need them. That's both an advantage and a problem."

"How so?"

"Advantage because we set the terms. Problem because the others will resent us for it." I lean against the wall next to him. "We need to give them something. Not because we owe it to them. Because alliances built on resentment don't hold."

Hugh considers this. Then nods slowly.

"You're right. What do you suggest?"

"Share the patrol intelligence first. Give them our attack data. All of it. No conditions. That proves we're serious. Then ask for theirs in return. Even exchange. No power games."

"That's a lot to give away."

"It's information. We can always gather more. What we can't gather is trust. That has to be built."

He's quiet for a long time. Then: "You've changed."

"Have I?"

"A month ago you'd have said we should fortify and shoot anyone who comes near the walls."

He's not wrong.

"I've learned some things since then."

Hugh claps me on the shoulder. The same gesture as always. It means something different now than it did a month ago.

"So have I," he says.