With her hands folded in her lap, Smile sat inside the tightly packed church and scanned the congregation. Like her, the rest of the visitors were clad in fineries - blue dresses and suits, just as her intelligence had told her; breaking with both the church of Bravelle’s children and the Orders of Ideals. To compact and solidify this curious observation, she saw no signs of any approved religious symbols. On the contrary, the symbols she saw contrasted anything she’d ever seen - curved growths spurted from trees along a forest floor, a kneel man wrapped in tentacular growths and a child carried away on a golden throne; all finely crafted paintings along the walls, but unapproved nonetheless.

The young preacher was, according to the Captain, a part of the local Administration - a frightening prospect, solely based on his excitement alone. He would shout, scream and not make a single reference to the book of Bravelle, to any of the Order scriptures or the Governor- curious ommittences that marked him as highly suspicious.

After his interlude had ended, he stepped up to the podium while straightening the white, fluffy rosette between the lengths of his blue dress suit jacket and flashed a bright-white smile around the congregation. His neatly combed, black hair remained impeccably still as he began: “My Siblings- we have been blessed with more communion. Yesterday, I spoke to The Mother - do you know what she said to me!?” He roared the last bit. Thankfully, Smile had practiced enough emotion to feign a smile and grin as she joined in the crowd’s chanting of “tell us!”

He slammed a fist into the podium and continued: “She thanked us for our sacrifices!” The crowd cheered - men roared, women clapped and children whistled ear-piercing shrieks from between their fingers.

“Today, like any day, she has provided us with her Mana - our town’s lifeblood and our feed! All the while, the Despot would have us believe that his protection is preferable to hers!?” The tone suddenly shifted to a disgruntled murmur at the mention of the titular name - not that it was difficult to tell whom he spoke of.

“Her children have told me that he has sent his devils to us - just this day, they were wandering the town. Masked fiends who would seek to harm her and defile us for what they perceive to be crimes!”

More booing.

He ran his hand through the steadily undone hair - the sweat of his scalp dissolving the wax congealing the black strands together. He grinned a mocking smile as he went on to say: “We banded together in Cadia as lost lambs - driven from our homes by his war and his extortion. We lived our lives in the fields - slaving away to receive his pocket money! Well, I say ‘to Hell with the Governor! To Hell with the false God!’ Smile joined in on cheering in the insanity - already forming her report at the back of her mind.

This. Was bad.

----------------------------------------

Jarek and Logan had already decided that their next stop would be the Administration, but at ten in the evening, neither of the two imagined they’d be capable of reaching the fine administrators at their office.

Therefore, they did what any other sane, bored men would do and strode to the Captain’s office to reminisce, reconcile and consume liquors from Jarek’s personal stash.

Jarek’s daughter - Mara - had lit the fireplace and brought a tray of meats, biscuits and fruits up to her father’s office, lingering at the bookshelf as the two men got seated and spoke of their favored works of literature - mostly regarding the destruction of Monstrum.

Logan raised the mask slightly so as to not reveal to the young, dashing woman that he had a mouthful of horrific teeth as he ate another cube of neatly salted, smoked and diced meats - his leg nearly entirely recovered from the earlier ordeal.

“- I told the bastard right then and there that I wanted out of the Citadel. Mara wasn’t thrilled about the decision, but I think she came around to it once she saw the fields outside the town.” Jarek chuckled, dabbing the spirit-scented drool from the corner of his lips. Logan chuckled courtly and nodded, only for Mara to interject: “I was glad to see the riding-hounds, more than the town. I’ve never seen a field-setter before coming here - they were always my favorite. Cadia and the surrounding areas are where that race is from, right? Dad’s told me you got one.”

Logan turned to look at the until-then timid, blonde woman by the bookshelf. Her long, slender legs ended somewhere beneath a uniform-olive skirt and, in combination with her dapper suit-jacket, white shirt and tie, he had to admit… she was quite beautiful.

He nodded. “To an extent. One does not own a riding hound - least of all the setters. We’re companions, joined under the same cause - fighting the same battle. That said, I’d trust him with my back more than if I was his ‘owner’.” Her eyes lit up at the sharing of this piece of wisdom. Jarek glared at his daughter as he informed: “His name’s Zeke. And no, we’re not having a hound in our house.” Logan had to tip his head - impressed that the veteran had such memory, but such was the power of trauma.

“S-Sir… can I ask, what brings you to Cadia? We haven’t really had any Spawn here.” She questioned cautiously, only for her father to scold: “Mara - that is none of our business-” Logan raised a hand, disarming her father before retorting:

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“I really shouldn’t say, but… I could make a trade. Information for information, that sort of thing. You tell me why you were scared of me and I’ll hint at why I’ve come here - if it stays between us.” He imagined it didn’t matter anymore. The guilty knew they were there and in so knowing, knew that they were already on their trail.

She seemed somewhat startled as she stepped forwards and bowed down.

“T-The Ghasts… I’ve heard you were all monsters. Killers that are just as likely to kill us as the Spawn. And… well, your mask’s pretty scary.” He could scarcely disagree - that was the intent.

“Most of us are more likely to kill our own men than the enemy.. I’ve been known to, certainly. But off the field of battle, I’d like to think we’ve gotten an undeservedly bad reputation - you met my charming friend, yes?” She smiled warmly - obviously stricken by his faceless charm. If only she knew…

“So… she’s just your friend, huh?” She lowered her left brow and winked her right eye, earning her a hearty chuckle from the Ghast and a stern glare from her father.

“She used to be my apprentice a few years back. But yes, we are now friends and colleagues, however estranged.” He damned how the spirits always made him speak more eloquently.

She took a confident step forwards and leaned towards him with a fraction more caution before asking: “And you said… you’d tell me what you were doing here.” Logan had never been one to run his mouth - especially when these people might be the enemy. Still. He motioned for the meats on the table and spoke: “What meat is that?” She smirked sideways, disappointed at his avoidance of her question.

“Prime beef - you won’t find anything better. I’m told Cadia has the finest in the land.” Jarek proudly stated, only for the Ghast to slowly turn towards him and question: “Really, now? I’d love to see these cows - where are they, exactly?” Jarek opened his mouth to speak, only to fall silent as he realized he hadn’t a clue what to answer.

“And, despite the lack of cows and pigs, Cadia is now flooding the market with beef and pork.” Jarek and his daughter both seemed confused at the train of thought. Finally, he deliver the coup de grace and spoke: “I’ve eaten enough Monstrum-meat to know what it tastes like. Cadia is exporting it en masse. This is Monstrum-meat.” Logan reached across the desk and took another cube before fitting it into his mouth.

Jarek and his daughter both turned around and immediately began to retch, shouting obscenities and for a brief moment - hopeful denial seemed likely. Sadly, that drained away as soon as they saw the Ghast again.

“Then stop fucking eating it!” The girl spoke between her steadily less dry heaves.

“It’s perfectly good meat, Mara. Almost human, but without the guilt trip.” That’d teach her.

“G-Good G-God… Logan, what the hell - are we infested with the geneseed now!? We’ve been eating that meat!” Logan cocked his head as Mara finally began to spew out bile. He kept chewing the meat and shook his head. “No. Contrary to popular belief, gene-seeds are relatively rare. Besides, heat and salt kills it.”

He was happy that regurgitation did not bother him, for as Jarek rose back up to the chair - his eyes bright red and his cheeks silken white, his daughter remained by the bookshelf, spilling her guts.

Jarek slammed his fist onto the desk and roared a protest: “Have you found any implications on who’s responsible for this!? I’ve fed this to my daughter!” Logan shook his head.

“Sorry, not yet. Whoever it is… they’re capable of killing Monstrum. Does anyone spring to mind? Someone with a lot of bullets, maybe?” Jarek grabbed the handkerchief and rubbed his mouth. “None that I can think of. With the volumes you’re talking about, it’d have to be an impressive warrior with access to Spawn - none of which we have in Cadia.” Logan wasn’t thrilled about the dead end, but it was as he had expected.

Jarek glanced over at his daughter still heaving on the floor and spoke: “We’ll figure this out tomorrow. I just need to know that my daughter’s safe - she’s not infested, right?” Honestly, Logan hadn’t even thought of the possibility that infestations might’ve been a possibility. But the creep would have to be quite large to be able to spawn so much meat on its own - it simply wasn’t likely that they were farming villagers for Hive-seeds.

He got up from his chair and walked over to run a comforting hand over the girl’s ornately donned hair. To be safe, he took off his glove and watched her eye his fingers with amazement - the sharp, dark, triangular claw-like nails tipping his fingers stroked against her neck as he attempted to feel any form of infestation.

“No infestation. But you’ll want to look at the eyes.” He gently raised her up and stared through the slits of the mask and into her blue irises. “No squirming, no undulations - nothing. You’re clean.” He informed. She wiped her mouth as she caught glimpse of his red and black eye through the narrow slits and grabbed hold of his arm.

“W-Wait - are you sure? You only touched my head - what if it’s in my stomach? Or in my tits?”

“Mara - watch your mouth!” Jarek scolded his daughter; both equally pale and disturbed by the preceding events.

“They usually-” he was surprised more than anything, when she grabbed hold of his arm and forced it around her waist in a pathetically limp hug. He politely took a step back, only for the girl to step closer and narrow her eyes to stare through the mask while saying: “O-oh, Sir G-Ghast - p-please make sure there’s no monster in me.” Jarek’s pallor turned to a seething red as his daughter continued to embarrass them.

“You’re fine, there are no monsters inside of you-”

She darted close to his head with impressive speed - fast enough he nearly reflexively reached for his gun, only to her a playful whisper in his ear: “Maybe there should be?”

He was glad Jarek could not see his face - his eyes were wide and his mouth hung agape at the courageous advance.

The station of ‘Ghast’ he knew appealed to a great many of Cradle’s youth - he had read some of the smutty literature himself. But rarely had anyone dared to approach him so directly and actually flirt with him. Especially in front of her father.

“D-down, girl!” Jarek shouted.

Before he could speak to his defense, hurried steps outside preceded the unannounced opening of the door and there, in her dark glory, Smile stood and saw the spectacle and for a moment, Logan held his breath and awaited whether she would admonish him or laugh at him. Instead, her wide-eyed mask shook back and forth as she spoke to captain Jarek: “Captain. I need to send an urgent communique to the Citadel. Do you have a long-distance telepath or a messenger bird I may use?”

Whatever bemusement Jarek had had when it pertained to the spectacle, it drained away as he heard her strict tone.

“Of course - we don’t have telepaths, save for myself… nothing for distance communications, but we have birds. Is this pertaining to the case? What is-”

Finally, she turned towards Logan and said: “We’re going to need more men.”