Mason waited in a chair like all the others as the players filed in and took their seats around their circular table.

My motley crew of knights, Mason thought, knowing the old Arthurian legends were always horseshit. It was supposed to indicate 'equality'. But soldiers and kings weren't equal, no matter how round you chopped the wood.

When it came to men and violence, someone had to be in charge. And if that person was too weak or too lenient it meant people got hurt, and killed, both soldiers and civilians.

Mason sat in silence until the mood got right. He'd brought Streak and had the increasingly giant wolf sit behind him, gnawing on a few bones with teeth so sharp now the bones usually just snapped.

People were laughing and joking as they came in. Pretty soon they found Mason's eyes and stiffness and the sound of Streak chewing and the smiles withered away, the conversation died.

When they were all seated and quiet he finally looked up, meeting the eyes of the players one by one. Even Rebecca.

"You all having a good time?" He kept his voice subdued. A few players exchanged looks. A few fought nervous smiles. Mason nodded and shrugged.

"Let me tell you how I spent my week. I crossed about three hundred miles. I tried to save an old druid from a giant the size of this hall. But it caught me, beat me near to death. Then it chained me and dragged me across the forest, which I guess it planned to do for a thousand years."

He tried not to see the horror and concern in Rebecca's eyes.

"It's dead now." Everyone jumped as Mason clattered the green gem on the table. "This is going to upgrade the settlement again." He closed his eyes and activated it. The two options flashed before his eyes, just as Rosa said.

The first was a power just for him—the ability to summon some elementals like the giant had. The cooldown was huge, and the elementals didn't last long. He'd suspected it'd do something similar and knew he wouldn't really need it.

In the long run, they wouldn't matter much. Already he'd been able to destroy them or avoid them. He suspected his power would only grow until he could rip such things apart in seconds. They'd be a distraction, but little more.

Option two was something like a mine. Mason saw elementals moving in and out of the earth carrying ore and dirt, stacking it in piles. He wasn't sure exactly how they'd operate, but the possibilities were obviously incredible, and it meant they didn't have to build it themselves, or risk the dangers of the mountain. He clicked accept, and the system blared across the settlement, warning of imminent changes in an hour.

Mason let the silence linger, then looked at the others.

"This isn't actually a game. This isn't a summer camp or a work trip or a weekend get-away." He stared long and hard at Garet and Tommaso. "The behavior of the people around this table is going to be the difference between life and death. For you. For the civilians. For all of us. We need each other at our best. Not drunk. Not idle. Not fighting over fucking girlfriends."

Garet clearly wanted to say something, but he met Mason's widening eyes and clamped his mouth shut. After another little silence, Mason sighed.

"We're making official guard duties. You'll get rotating schedules and when you're on duty there's no alcohol, there's no fraternizing. Even when you're off duty I suggest you keep the drinking to a minimum except for special occasions. Don't worry, I'll be talking to Billy, so you won't have to manage yourselves. It just won't be available."

A lot of eyes were finding floorboards now. Eventually Tommaso cleared his throat and spoke up.

"No offense, eh boss? But Blake always gave us a say. Are you patron permanently now? Some of us can handle our drink better than others, and no reason to lose our cool over a girl..."

"This isn't a discussion." Mason cut him off, then, for the first time with something approaching acceptance. "Blake might not survive that tower. So you'd best stop worrying about what Blake said." He fought the emotion that clawed its way up from his gut, blinking it away. "You people didn't want the CEO. Well now you get the general. Army rules. Army punishments."

He leaned forward.

"There's three times more women in this camp than men. At least. That should be enough to keep things easy, but now it's time for some fucking order. There's no sharing. A player picks a willing civilian, that's it, the civilian is off limits until that player says otherwise. You break the rules, you get punished. Let me summarize: you’ll be getting new duties, no alcohol or women on duty, and no sharing civilian women. Any questions?"

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Garet finally met Mason's eyes.

"And what if a bunch of civilians pick one player?"

Mason frowned at that. Monogamy had been invented for a reason. It more fairly divided the most important 'resource' a society had, and made more loyal men. It beat the other systems, simple as that. But for now they had plenty of women to spare...

"Three max," he said. "If you're some kind of masochist who wants more women than that, hell, I don't know...we'll put it to a player vote."

He got a few smiles at that, fortunately. But the mood was pretty somber. No one liked getting their ass spanked, especially the ones who hadn't deserved it. Mason took a deep breath, knowing he needed something positive to end with.

"We have a real chance here," he said, meeting as many eyes as possible. "To survive. To make something worth surviving for. But we need to get serious. I'm going to clear the last tree, and then I'm pretty sure I can literally teleport. I have more knowledge of the forest now. We're going to set up leveling teams. Dungeon teams. Recruit more people. I know I said it's not a game but it also sort of is. And we're going to fucking win. But I need every single one of you at your best. Sharp. Focused. Loyal. You understand?"

"Amen." Carl said with an encouraging smile, and Phuong, Alex and the new man McGregor gave the table a few knocks.

"Alright. Well. Dismissed, or something. Carl will have the schedule in a day or so."

The room cleared out, with Carl throwing Mason a wink and Rebecca giving him a 'come bang me' look he desperately tried to ignore. The bloody civilians were next.

* * *

The civilian meeting was an absolute clusterfuck.

First of all, there was way more of them. Second, Mason didn't know half their names, and was pretty sure he hadn't even seen a quarter of them. And of course they were 80% women. The general tone of violence and hierarchy was very much non-existent.

The civilians were clearly broken up into factions, some according to new world profession, others according to old world culture or ethnicity. There was essentially three main ones: a very obvious 'European' group, headed by the always annoying Mateo and his partner; the 'Sanctuary' girls led by Silvie (with some add-ons); and then a diverse group of craftsmen, who had the bulk of the civilian men, with no clear leader except maybe Hank the fisherman, or the blacksmith whose name Mason forgot.

The civilians entered with a cacophany of voices, and no matter how Mason scowled or stared (or how many bones Streak snapped), they just kept chattering and mostly ignoring him as they settled. He eventually tossed a hand and looked at Haley, who shrugged helplessly.

"Shut the fuck up!"

Rosa's apparently drill sergeant loud voice finally shocked the room into relative silence. Mason tried not to imagine the same volume calling his name in ecstasy, and gave her a grateful smile as he stood.

"Thanks for coming. There's a few new rules we need to discuss."

"New?" called Mateo. "We thought we were here to provide you with feedback. To voice our complaints about the players, the settlement, the 'rules', such as they are. We have many legitimate complaints about housing, food distribution, and patron points, which haven't been used at all, or indeed..."

"All that can wait," Mason interrupted, trying not to let his anger show. There was more than enough bloody housing, and now food. They had clean water and plumbing and even entertainment. They were in the safest, most beautiful place he'd seen in the damn apocalypse, surrounded by other people. And all they wanted to do was complain?

"It has been waiting, patron," said Mateo. "It has been waiting and waiting and pretty soon it will feel like I'm back dealing with the Spanish central government."

A few of the Europeans laughed at that, and Mason's patience reached its very limited end.

"Then by all means, leave," he said, without the hint of a joke. "Take your friends, and go. You'll all be given food and water and clothes. I recommend South. Winter is coming, and it's going to get cold. Avoid the mountains, also, they're filled with goblins. There's a few smaller settlements. I can draw you a detailed map."

Finally the room was quiet.

"But not a single player is going with you," Mason said with finality. "Different rules, you see. Players are soldiers. And as far as I'm concerned, a player leaving Nassau after everything we've been through is desertion. Deserters will be hunted down, and killed." He sat and took a breath. "Oaths have been made. Words have been said."

He had their attention now, he could see. And that was good. They needed to hear him. Really hear him.

"Civilians are different. But it's fair to say if you leave these people, this place, which has clothed and fed and housed and protected you, I won't be impressed. In fact I won't raise a single finger to help you. Ever again."

The strangled silence gave way to whispers before Mateo had the gall to keep at it.

"I don't much like threats, Mason. You’re a very young man, and we don't appreciate the kind of..."

"It's not a threat, Mateo. It's a guarantee. The players here are going to be risking their lives for you. Over and over. Some of us already have. We aren't your countrymen. We aren't your family or your friends. If you don't sign on the dotted line with us. If you aren't willing to sacrifice and suffer beside us in whatever way is required. Why the fuck should I care what happens to you? I'm not Blake. I don't give a shit about patron points or power. I care about loyalty."

That finally did the trick.

So Mason explained the new player rules. He explained that civilians could pick each other, too, and be off limits, but they had to make it clear, make it like a marriage. The more traditionally minded cultural types accepted it as only logical, and probably wise. The European types rolled their eyes and called it medieval and ridiculous and why should live by all the old sorts of norms when...

"It's note a debate," he said yet again, a fist on the table and his tone getting deadly. "These are the rules. Live by them, or leave Nassau. Clear enough?"

Mateo was still, incredibly, defiant.

"We're pretty tired of kings where I'm from, Mason. And we don't like tyrants."

Most everyone else looked understanding, or at least cowed, and Mason was out of words. He stood and walked towards the door, missing his brother terribly and sort of wishing he could lift Mateo and crush the life out of him right there. He stopped and looked at the man, and all the rest of them.

"Go home, then."

Then he walked out into the sun.