Gaius filed into a rather large auditorium, his white cloak billowing alongside the other lecturers. For the first time since he’d entered Heritage Basestation, a runner had come along early in the morning, requesting for his presence in the depths of the camp. After making sure Nakama was aware of his absence, Gaius left with the runner, who led him through checkpoint after checkpoint to a building so opulent Gaius couldn’t believe that it belonged to the beastfolk.

            He glanced around and saw some familiar faces.

            “Lecturer Ziegler.” He nodded at the golden-haired lecturer, who was still wearing her labcoat even in such a place. Gaius briefly debated with himself the merits of pointing that fact out, and then decided not to. “Do you know what this meeting is for?”

            “No.” She folded her arms. “It was quite surprising, although I must say that the runner was more surprised when he nearly got drenched by a mixture of mine. Hohoho.”

            The little boy smiled weakly. Changing the topic, he said, “Do you know what place this is?”

            “This? Why, dear boy, it’s the Congress.”

            “The Congress? Isn’t that a name given to a body of administrators whom we call senators?”

            “Textbook definition, eh?” She smiled, and Gaius felt a weird warmth chase away the lingering chill. “It’s also the name of this building, since most of us dislike naming things.”

            Gaius shuffled his feet slightly. Nalus must have felt somewhat alienated by the general inability by the beastfolk to name things, which was why he dropped by so often. The little boy made a mental note to accompany the Campmaster’s son in a game of naming in the future, if only to make sure he didn’t feel so lonely. Or at least have Nakama do it in his stead.

            She was more sociable than him, after all.

            Smiling at the Apothecary lecturer, Gaius lapsed into a companionable silence. As they sat side-by-side, observing groups of men and women alike enter the place, Campmaster Magnus walked over.

            “Lecturer Ziegler,” said the Campmaster, “I apologise for dragging you away from your research, but this gathering is defined as an emergency under our covenant.”

            “I gathered as much,” replied Lecturer Ziegler. “Given the events that transpired, you calling us here is inevitable.”

            Gaius wanted to complain about unequal treatment when he heard the first half of Campmaster Magnus’ words, but the second half had shut him up. What kind of agreement did the Apothecary lecturer have with Heritage Basestation, to the point that she could apparently ignore normal calls for meetings? It was an interesting question to consider, but before Gaius could walk down that line of thought, the Campmaster had turned to address him.

            “I realise that this is your first time here, but we do hold meetings on the regular. It just so happened that before we could even have one, an emergency has forced us to convene.”

            “No sweat, Campmaster Magnus, but does a little assistant lecturer really need to be here?” Gaius asked.

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            “You’re not just here because you’re an assistant lecturer, you know.” The Campmaster puffed out some air. “Well, I better not spoil the surprise. It’s starting now, anyway.”

            A chill descended upon the auditorium as a familiar figure walked out, flanked by Major Degurechaff and Warmaster Chamberlain.

            The Gatekeeper. The masked man, who always spoke first, as the Harvesters prepared to enter Heritage. Gaius had done some research on the man, but no one could even agree on what kind of mask he wore, or the colour of it, let alone any concrete piece of information about the Gatekeeper.

            Hell, Gaius wasn’t even too sure of the colour of the Gatekeeper’s flowing robes. He was quite sure it was white, until Lecturer Ziegler’s words about how that was a nice navy blue caused him to doubt itself. There was some power at play that stopped people from taking in his appearance, from committing it to memory. At least Gaius could remember how Paragon Ortega looked like, which was rather telling of certain things.

            The masked man stood on the stage, and the effects of his presence silenced the audience within a second or two. Seemingly satisfied, he said, “Esteemed men and women of Heritage Basestation, I hope you had a nice sleep last night.”

            Gaius repressed his urge to curse out loud at these words, a sentiment clearly shared by virtually everyone else, and then turned his attention back to the Gatekeeper’s words.

            “Today’s gathering is to inform you of the decision the Congress arrived at, in light of the…Last Star’s words.” The air around him trembled at the mention of Nox. “There are, broadly speaking, two actions we can take, depending on whether Paragon Nox’s words are true or not. If they’re true, we will complete the exodus to the Wildlands by next week latest; if not, we will crush the Southern remnants where they stand.”

            His speech ended, and a slight wave of uneasy chatter spread across the auditorium. The oppressive presence had receded slightly, and Gaius had the feeling that it was on purpose — the Gatekeeper wanted everyone present to voice out their opinions.

            “That’s so reactive,” Lecturer Ziegler muttered.

            “You think so too?” Gaius frowned at the Gatekeeper. “There’s probably something deeper to his words though. Why else would he actually call a meeting just to tell us these words?”

            “What am odd way of thinking, but I guess it is to be expected from you.” The Apothecary lecturer glanced at the white cloak draped around Gaius. “They call you skilled in treading through politics, and I am beginning to see why.”

            “You give me too much praise, Lecturer Ziegler.”

            “How humble. Ohoho.”

            The chilly presence from the Gatekeeper suddenly intensified, and the auditorium fell into silence once more.

            “Of course,” said the Gatekeeper, “that’s what we’re going to do on the surface. But in reality, thanks to the hard work of the Harvesters and the foresight of the Congress, we already have enough gems to overpower the spatial seal from the apparently deceased Capricorn.”

            “The ether cores, in particular, have proven instrumental in our progress.” His gaze swept the auditorium, and Gaius felt, for a moment, that gaze linger on his body for a tad longer than it did on the others. “Normally, we would have asked the Harvester who turned in these cores how to harvest them, but there’s no need now.”

            Gaius felt an odd flutter in his chest. Somehow, the feeling that he’d lost something was taking his mind by storm.

            “The ether cores, according to Senator Alexandre, are extracted from beings of pure energy. Of course, this information was gathered from the Harvester himself, so he will be remunerated accordingly later.” The Gatekeeper paused for a moment, and then continued on to say, “The secondary purpose of this gathering, is to therefore inform everyone present of the new policies for this week’s Harvest.”

            A chill ran up Gaius’ spine at these words.