Revolutions

118 - Legido

All around you, the unfinished settlement of Aitzabal stirs with a nervous energy. The dawn is a thin line of light barely slicing through the thick veil of night. Haphazardly constructed huts lean into each other for support. The ground is littered with tools and materials, remnants of projects abandoned in the rush of preparation for the journey ahead.

The settlers grimly move about the camp, anxious about what awaits them. Even the animals seem to sense the shift in the atmosphere. The restless movements of the horses and livestock mirror the unease that permeates throughout the settlement. Every heartbeat is a countdown to the moment when you will leave the relative safety of Aitzabal and step into the wild, marching toward the unknown of Xiatlidar.

The bedroll next to you rustles as Iker finally rises. Throughout the night, your longtime friend snored and slept soundly—something you feel he hasn't been able to do since arriving to this new land. While the noises of his slumber kept you awake for most of the night, you feel you were unlikely to sleep much anyway.

The looming trek to Xiatlidar kept you up and staring at the stars. The talk from Iker about what's occurring in the other settlement has your stomach tied into knots. 'Tyrannical rule'? 'Criato and Ulloa just as brutal'? 'People forced to work without rest'? 'Low morale and people suffering'? This does not sound like a place anyone should want to travel to willingly.

Yet Captain Lema is adamant about heading north, to reunite with the other Legido explorers. To him, Xiatlidar represents a vital link in the chain of command and survival. The tales of oppression and hardship do little to deter him—if anything, they fuel his drive to establish order, to impose the will of the Legido upon these lands, no matter the cost. It's in the way he speaks of Criato and Ulloa with a hint of camaraderie and understanding. They are cut from the same cloth, men who believe in the mission above all else.

Iker sits up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as the morning in Aitzabal comes into focus. "We're really going to go to Xiatlidar?" he asks. You have no response. You're just as disappointed about this as he is.

It takes you no time to collect your belongings. You haven't had a chance to establish much of a home here, yet you feel mournful about leaving it. You're not sure what kind of reception you all will receive upon your arrival, but you fear what you'll find when you get there. If it were up to you, you'd stay here, even if the creation of the settlement has gotten off to a rocky start.

The sun hasn't made much progress, barely peeking over the horizon before you all depart. The cheerful birdsongs and stirring creatures—the sounds so different from the animals of your homeland—stand in sharp opposition to how you all feel inside. The only one eager to travel to Xiatlidar, Captain Lema urges everyone from atop one of the few horses to pick up their pace, even before you've left the settlement behind. His excitement is reminiscent of the moment land was discovered after what felt like an eternity at sea. Yet no one else seems to share in his enthusiasm.

The settlers move in a somber procession. The early morning light casts long shadows, stretching across the terrain like gnarled fingers. Each step feels labored, the soil beneath your feet seeming to pull you down. Faces are drawn, eyes fixed on the ground, as if seeking solace in the familiar texture of the dirt and leaves.

Captain Lema's commands slice through the stillness, but they feel hollow, like the echo of a bell in an empty hall. His fervor is a lone flame in the encroaching gloom, but even his spirit cannot lift the pervasive sense of dread. The trek ahead is a march toward an uncertain fate—every settler seems aware of this.

As the journey north continues, there's an unease settling over you and Iker like a heavy fog. The oppressive silence only heightens your anxiety. Ever perceptive, Landera decides to break the tension.