(75 Days After the Fall of Juxta, Planet Wamir, Veyr’s POV)
Seventy-five days had passed since the fall of Juxta, and for Veyr, life on the neutral planet of Wamir had beco a delicate act of silence and survival.
Hidden beneath a borrowed identity and an aging face crafted through [Shapeshift], he moved among the crowd like a ghost blending perfectly into a world that wanted his head displayed on a pike.
However, he accomplished more than just surviving, for slowly, thodically, he began weaving a new web of loyalists and informants, as he created a new undercover organisation of his own.
Most mbers of this organization were Cult mbers who had been forced to abandon their ho planets.
People he could trust, that he recruited at random after observing their behaviour on the streets for several days.
However, a few were part of the old information network that the First Elder had set up on the planet, as he felt like he needed so local expertise to smoothen so more technical issues that ca with running such a network.
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*Step*
*Step*
*Step*
On this particular day, Veyr moved carefully through the streets of Wamir until he arrived at John’s Smithy, an old blacksmith’s shop that the late owner, John, had passed down to a Cult loyalist before his death.
After the compromise of the bakery, this Smithy now served as the new gathering place for Veyr’s growing organization, a safe haven hidden in plain sight.
For it was here that he called his people together every two weeks, holding quiet etings beneath the sound of hamr and fla.
"My Lord, it’s been sixty days since your last confird public appearance.
I strongly suggest that it’s ti for you to consider making one, just to remind our people you’re still with them."
An organisation mber suggested as soon as the eting began, as everyone nodded in agreent.
"My Lord, there are a lot of nasty rumours doing the rounds in the market.
So say that you were killed and buried under the rubble of Ixtal.
So say that you are already captured by the Righteous Faction.
I know that they are baseless, however, the fact that you haven’t been seen in a long ti makes them more believable."
Another mber added, as Veyr grabbed his chin in contemplation.
"My Lord, you don’t have to personally appear anywhere in this era of digital dia.
We can easily steal a commoners data slate and upload a video using their account on the GalaxyNet where you address our people.....
In my understanding, as long as you do it near a widely recognisable location, the video is bound to blow up.
However, by the ti it does, we will be long gone from the area."
A third mber suggested, as Veyr let the suggestion sit for a mont, the sound of tal on tal from the smithy threading through his thoughts while faces around him nodded and murmured in agreent.
"And where do you suggest I shoot such a video?" he asked, lifting his head, his voice calm and small enough to slip past prying ears.
"From a rooftop overlooking the central square," a lean man with a chipped tooth offered, his voice low and practised as he leaned on a rusted hamr.
"There is a building with a flat roof two streets over. It looks down on the square and is not too well guarded.
We can go there."
He suggested, as the others argued about the specifics for a while, before eventually coming up with a reasonable plan that Veyr could carry out without much risk.
"Very well, then. I will upload such a video soti in the next three days."
Veyr concluded, as the eting drew to a close with the usual whispers and the clink of tools, as the n began to leave one after another, before blending back into the market’s bustle like embers blown into shadow.
—----------
Right after the eting ended, the man with the chipped tooth who had suggested shooting the video on the rooftop quietly changed his course.
Instead of heading toward the small rchant union where he worked as a clerk, he walked toward the municipal police wing, his pace steady and unhurried, for unbeknownst to Veyr, he was no Cult loyalist, but rather a double agent working for the Righteous Faction.
"Hello, I’m here to see the chief," he said as he entered the station, where he was imdiately led down a corridor into a back room where three high-ranking n waited.
"Joto, welco," the Commander in the centre said, as Joto bowed to the three Monarchs sitting before him, before taking a seat himself.
"So what news do you bring?" the man to the right asked, his voice clipped and efficient as Joto produced the photos he had taken at John’s Smithy and handed them over as proof.
"He was there today, Sir. He t with his people at John’s Smithy. They plan to upload a video confirming he’s alive for his people to see within three days," Joto reported, as the Commander’s eyes widened in disbelief.
"Are you certain?"
The Commander seated on the left asked, as "I am," Joto replied, nodding with forced certainty.
"I saw him myself. They intend to film it from the Central Square within three days."
He said, as the commander seated in the center tapped gloved fingers against the table and let out a slow breath.
"So the Dragon finally crawls from hiding. Good. This is our chance to nab him before he vanishes."
"I suggest we deploy scouts across the central district. Every rooftop within three blocks goes under surveillance, so that the mont the Dragon appears, we strike."
He said before turning towards Joto, as his voice softened into praise.
"You’ve done well. Two billion MP will be transferred to your account imdiately. Consider it a fund to start a new life."
The Commander said, as Joto bowed deeply, a faint flicker of guilt hiding behind his eyes.
Deep down, he was ashad to have betrayed the Dragon and the Cult, for they were the sa legends he had heard growing up as a kid.
However, after living on Wamir for the past few years, and being influenced by the materialistic lifestyle of this planet, he could no longer deny the allure of money.
2 billion MP was a life changing sum, and for such a large amount, he was willing to betray the Dragon and the Dragon’s mother as well.
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