Days turned into weeks as the Anzanites waited for the caravan from Citadel and when it finally arrived with food, wares, reinforcements and engineers, the town appeared transformed. Joyous laughter, evening feasts - more food and drinks than anyone in the mountain home had ever laid their eyes on was consumed nightly and, with the new growbeds and strains of plants from the Academies of Citadel, it seemed it could be a long time before the people would willingly eat nutrifungus again.
Despite the celebrations, the mood in the belltower overlooking the busy arrival platform was dour and somber. There, a pair of black-coated forms with porcelain masks stood at attention next to one-another, eyeing the happenings below with the attention worthy of their station and their characteristics. One mask was particularly noticeable to most of the Anzanites. Wide, round eyes over a mute mouth designated Lorum as one of the Governor’s Eyes - a subsection in the mysterious order tasked with gathering intelligence on interior matters. The second, a grinning, bemused mask acted as a representative of His Hands - administrators to oversee upgrades and rehabilitation projects as Cradle continued to grow stronger as a whole; a task which the previous Ghast-administrator had thoroughly failed.
“He’s awake. Done fucking already?” The administrator’s smooth voice spoke - his tone well representing the grin of his mask as Logan appeared up the hatch in the floor, his own mask of wrath visible for both his colleagues to see.
“Busy days.” Logan muttered, closing the hatch in his wake to nod his companions a silent greeting. Without another word, the three took their place to fold their hands behind their back and look out across the transformed town.
It had become a bustling place now that the reinforcements from Citadel had appeared in full, with men, women and children constantly streaming up and down the stairs - on their way to and fro the caves to offer their assistance in improving the Farms. Heating-systems, powergrid-upgrades and improved growing capabilities were but some of the new Administrator’s plans for the mountain home and, despite Logan’s initial reservations, he had to say that they were shaping up to be good additions to the town.
The grinning mask nodded to the massive blade of a windmill disappearing out the gate between the hands of fifty men and informed: “Few days more and it’ll be in order. This is only the start, of course. This town’s been due for His Care for a few years now… I only wish they could’ve sent a competent administrator instead of that bastard Serpennius - we could’ve been done by now.”
“May he forever burn.” The wide-eyed mask spoke - her voice as unnerving as the first time Logan had heard it, but he had long since accepted that her ranks made anyone’s skin crawl.
“Well, I’m glad he sent you this time around, Faust. I’m not that into the politics, but how’s the welfare going?” Faust, the Administrator, likely grinned as widely as the mask did as he received the question.
“The total population of our Cradle is booming and interior trade is finally beginning to take shape. Investments like these are nothing compared to what Citadel benefits from having a well-functioning infrastructure. There are, of course, still those who refuse His Aid.” Logan chuckled - they were well aware how he knew that better than anyone.
The wide-eyed mask turned towards the Anzanite veteran Ghast and spoke with her flat voice: “The Governor thanks you for your service - as always. He assumes you are going to Longmire and has asked you to deal with some problems along the way. I would-” Logan raised a hand, nodding, before answering: “Yeah, but I’ll need it in writing. I’m not sure how long we’re staying there, but I’ll have time while they learn from Jorn. Also... it's nice to see you, too, Smile.”
The Administrator looked over at Logan’s mask of bared teeth. “We? They? Most curious - are the rumors true? You’ve taken up new apprentices, Commander?” Logan nodded a single jerk, but it was the wide-eyed mask that would answer in his stead: “The Logoric girl and a Miraculist priest.” He could never get used to that habit of theirs - hoarding information, only to spew it out when not even asked.
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The Administrator nodded and took a step closer to the bannister. “Another Logoric? Rare breed. The Governor will be pleased to hear it. As for the priest… is this the one named Abraham?” Logan straightened his back and looked to his two colleagues in turn before giving them an agreeing bob of his head.
The Administrator continued with hesitation: “He’s immensely powerful. A good fit for your ranks, surely, but… I met him. He looks to be in a lot of pain.”
The feminine, flat voice chimed in from the side: “Dark, dark eyes. He has the hunger for blood and nothing else. He is scarred.”
Logan could scarcely disagree. He looked to the stairs, where he could see Abraham’s small, dark form still resting his head against the wall of one of the smaller hovels of the town as the Administrator began:
“Commander, if I may ask… are you sure about your plan? The Frontier is relatively peaceful these days and your estates in Citadel are gathering dust. If anyone’s earned a retirement, it’s you. Even during the Purge, the Forces couldn’t push into those Hives-” Logan raised a silencing hand and turned over his shoulder to glare at the presumptuous Administrator with a dire warning.
“Don’t assume numbers equals strength. I don’t care how long it takes and I don’t care how many tries I have to make. I’ll rest when I’ve burned every last Spawn in Cradle and only then to refresh me for the Frontier. While that Hive still stands, Behemoths will keep appearing and people will continue to feed the beast. We may own the land now, but that can change - quickly.” The Administrator nodded, but the Governor’s Eye betrayed his feelings by conveying: “You frightened him, Commander.” Logan could not help but chuckle at the flatness of her voice. He had missed Smile, despite their bitter history.
“Sorry, Faust. And thank you, Smile - I really wish you’d have been here earlier. Imagine the fun we could’ve had with the other administrator.” He could tell she was smiling, though he didn’t know how. Perhaps she truly was one of the few who could pierce the psychic shielding, after all.
“Before you go, Commander. The girl. She feels like you - does she also have a symbiote?” He’d never gotten used to Smile’s directness and froze upon hearing the question. For all their time together, she was still an unnerving enigma. It was only a question of time before the rumor would spread that there was another, but he’d have hoped there was still time. Logan jerked his head sideways at the administrator, who was quick to excuse himself with a salute and disappeared down the hatch in the floor, leaving the two colleagues atop the belltower.
“She does, Smile. Her name’s Luna.” The wide, round eyes bobbed up and down in a mimickery of human expression. “I see. The one who received your seedling.” He reached up for his right eye to verify it.
“The one and the same.” Her wide-eyed mask turned over the bannister to instantaneously lock on the long, black coat where a woman’s voice could be heard arguing with a lavishly clad engineer about heat exchangers.
“Fascinating… That is the fourth symbiote I’ve ever heard of. Is the morphotype like yours?” Logan didn’t know what to say. As always, she knew the right questions - questions he would’ve asked. But that aside, she’d be quick to report her findings to the Governor and as friendly as they were, Logan was not sure the time for that was upon them yet.
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen it yet. Smile, I-”
“This is a conversation between friends, Logan. And as friends, I’d like to voice a request for caution.” The flatness of her voice betrayed no emotion, just as intended. Nothing about Smile was unintentional - from the way she held her back unnaturally straight to her puffed-out, meager chest; she had it all planned out.
“Unless you’ve seen it integrated, I’d advise you don’t take it for granted that it is. As valuable as she is to you, I can tell you are endlessly more valuable to us - all of us.” He scoffed, resenting the accusation he had any value at all. With value came function and with function came duty. He had already made it clear that he had no duty to them and she knew it.
“Consider the advice taken. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll need to go pack. The journey to Longmire’s long and dangerous, so I’ll take some of your ammunition.” He informed and turned for the hatch - surprised he hadn’t heard a single protest.
That meant something.
He was sure of it.