Logan, Michael and Abraham had sworn they’d sleep for days after the torturous night. With the help of his old Master, Abraham had plucked pieces of glass and used all his power on sealing their wounds - a clumsy job, compared to Isaac’s skill. But as the old man had said, he would be getting far more practice with these kinds of procedures from that day onwards.
As he awoke in the barrack in bloody sheets opposite to the bunk of his brethren, he prayed to the Lord Bravelle he would not be getting this type of practice. He was drained of stamina, blood and power - agonized even to move. Yet something had dragged him from his profound slumber, something that had made his heart palpitate and race quick enough to make his ears pound with fright.
The bell.
Without a word, the three slung their old, dilapidated clothing on and hobbled down the stairs, grunting with every agonizing step out into the courtyard to see that the rest of the town’s inhabitants had gathered around two dark forms in the plaza.
Horrific flashbacks of Ethel’s would-be hanging flashed before Abe’s eyes as he took his place next to his brethren and looked across the congregation gathered around Logan and Luna.
Logan held Luna’s rifle at his side and, judging by the state of the bell up above, he hadn’t taken the time to find the rope swinging it. Holes of bullets riddled the metal bell - an unusually destructive choice for their until-then gentle visitor.
“People of Anza-” Logan began, his voice louder and darker than ever - authoritative beyond anything the boys had come to expect from him. The crowd’s murmur immediately died down as they heard it - it was the voice of a Commander, not a visitor. “The problems with your powerstation’s worse than you’ve anticipated. The Devilspawn have taken it and are using it as a breeding ground to create a Behemoth.” A common gasp spread about the congregation, but none objected. Instead, Mrs. Wellwater raised her melodious voice to ask: “Aren’t we safe here? We’re so far away from the lowlands!”
Logan shook his head, his mask glinting in the rising sun over the wall. “You're right. The regular Monstrum can't make it this far... but this isn't a regular monster. The station’s well inside the range for a Behemoth to attack the town. I declare a three-kilometer zone of alienation around that lake - meaning, it’s cut off the only route of evacuation to another walled town. We’ve got no choice but to fight it. I wish we did, but we don't.”
The last words he spoke with a humility not befitting of his station, but Luna could tell that it was genuine. As could the boys at the back of the congregation.
“But you’ll protect us, right?” Another hopeful female voice spoke from the back. Logan did not nod nor shake his head. Instead, he clarified: “I’ve killed Behemoths. Many. I’ve seen the gestation pod and I can confirm I’ve never seen this form. I could meet it in the field, but there’s a high chance it’d kill me before moving here to continue the assault. That’s why I’d like to ask for your help.”
The crowd fell deathly silent, more with puzzlement than fright.
“I want you to support me from the wall. My associate has looked over your cannons - they’re old, but she can repair them with your help. Every able-bodied man or woman should learn to fire - cannons, rifles and all.” Next to the boys, Ethel swallowed and looked to Logan with the eyes of a devoted follower.
Bear took to voicing: “The powder’s old, so’s the bullets. We’d have misfires.” As if expecting the question, Logan immediately turned to look at the warrior.
“The gestation’s not complete. Right after this conversation, I’m heading south and sending Zeke north. I’ll need to borrow your hounds to retrieve as much gunpowder as I can get my hands on. I’ve already written a communique for Zeke to deliver.”
Bear huffed a long exhalation, narrowed his eyes and looked to the dawning skies ponderously.
Under the silence of the crowd, Luna took a step forwards to speak - her eyes hidden beneath her hood.
“Many of you don’t know me and the ones who do, haven’t known me long. But the Monstrum took everything from me - they killed the love of my life, they ruined my home and they took a part of me I’ll never get back… I don’t know you very well. And I don’t know Logan very well. But I know them well enough to know they won’t stop until every last one of us are dead. Look at us - we’re still hiding, after all this time. You said it yourself, Ethel, you’re starving up here - we had the same problem, I bet a lot of people do. It’s not about being worried we’ll be taken or killed outright - I’m more worried what’ll be left of you if you decide to keep hiding. So don’t ask him to go out there and fight it alone… please - fight with us. Show me that you haven’t given up - that we’re not doomed to hide until we starve to death.”
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Abraham took a limping step forwards to nervously chime in: “I-I’ll fight. They killed my parents - just last week they killed Mister Wellwater. If Logan dies out there, it’ll come to finish the job. And I’d rather fight with a winning chance than get killed in my bed.” Logan nodded his acceptance.
Bear’s booming voice spoke with authority as he chimed in: “The town’s fighting with you. No one stands alone in Cradle - Ghast or otherwise, we stick together. We’re past being their prey. Whatever you need, we’ll give it.” Not a single citizen voiced an objection - in fact, they one-by-one signaled the salute of the warrior.
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Luna watched as Logan discussed something with the large man, the robed man and the boys. The people lining up to speak to him was growing ever longer - a fascinating thing. If she had had any doubts that the people here were different from Sitabee, they drained away as she saw those reverent eyes of theirs.
“I’m sorry about your home.” A gentle voice spoke from her side, shifting Luna’s attention to a pregnant woman in a loose, red, dusty dress. The Logoruum bowed her head and thanked her, wondering if the conversation had already ended. But judging by the approaching steps, she imagined it was only now beginning.
“Can I ask what it was called?” She questioned. Luna almost reflexively answered, but froze.
“I guess it doesn’t matter… I just wanted to ask you, miss, if it’s not too much… what was his name? The one you lost.” Luna found herself speechless - unprepared for anyone to approach her, let alone ask such intimate questions. But the woman went on to explain: “I recently lost my husband. That’s how Logan came to this town - he came to tell me Theodore had been… had been…” Choked sniffles made Luna straighten her hood until she could see the beautiful woman’s teary eyes. Her trembling lips appeared far less hopeful than her voice sounded. But even so, she did not hide her tears. She seemed almost… proud.
“Guy. His name was Guy.” She quietly murmured and drew her hood back down her face, forcing back those deep, dark memories.
“Guy… Guy would’ve been proud to hear you today. I wish I could’ve said something, too. That I could’ve cheered the people on, but I don’t think I’ll be able to fight.” Luna fell into deep musings. Proud? She imagined he’d have been proud of many things, but what would he have said if he could see her now - plotting a plan that risked a whole town.
“You can still fight the Monstrum, even if you don’t shoot a rifle…” Luna muttered. The pregnant woman cocked her head, wiped her nose and asked: ‘huh?’
“What Guy hated the most - what I hated the most was what they did to us. How they turned us hateful and afraid. We’ll fight with guns, but you can fight the longer fight. With the child.” She motioned for the woman’s belly and briefly wondered if it was akin to carrying her parasite - something living inside of her, strengthening her.
Mrs. Wellwater bowed down low and giggled, promising a proud:
“I will.”
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It was unusual to see Logan atop another hound, but Zeke had already darted off across the mountain - headed to a distant town to the north. The weary, ragged, old, starved dog on which Logan sat was far from majestic with its gray, patchy fur and missing teeth, but it stared at Luna with kindly eyes.
They stood in front of the gate, Luna patting the hound’s head as the town square bristled with life. Broken-down furniture, cut pieces of ancient paneling - big balls of stone, all being carried back and forth as the people prepared for battle.
“Was this the plan all along?” Luna asked, her lips curled into a smile.
Logan scoffed and asked: “Do I really come off that sinister?” She shook her head.
“No. Not really. You come off like a good guy, which I don’t buy.” He bowed atop the hound and chuckled.
“Good. There’s no such thing. Now, if you’ll excuse me-” She grabbed hold of his boot, her lips now turned into a strict frown.
“You’ll be back. And when you do, you’ll show me your face.” He reared his head with surprise at the sudden demand.
“Sorry, darling. The mask stays on. From what you told me, you’re already struggling with sleeping.” He spoke with bemusement, only to have her frown deepen.
“No, I need to see. I need to know who you are if we’re gonna be going to those ruins together. There’s something you’re not telling me - maybe about the symbiote or maybe about who you are… but I need to know.” His shoulders dropped.
“You won’t like what you see. You’ll wish you hadn’t seen it. You’re prepared for that?”
“Not at all. But it’s better than not knowing.”
Logan looked up in the morning skies, pondering the question.
“I’ll make you a trade, then.” She bobbed her head upwards in a common understanding that it was a discussion better saved for his return.
She made the form of the triangle mid-chest, only to see him make the same symbol over his left pectoral. Well-learned, as she had come to expect from the stone-faced man with the eternal leer. She watched him hobble off on his beast - followed tightly by a second, ragged hound - up the hill, towards the sunrise.
Just as she began to wish he would turn to look at her one last time, she saw a glint of the mask and swore she could see it smile ever-so-subtlety in the fierce grimace.