CHAPTER 43: CHAPTER 43 — THE PEOPLE BEHIND THE WALLS

The meeting chamber of Outpost Grim Hollow’s Administrative Wing was not designed for warriors.

It was designed for men who never dirtied their uniforms.

Cold, circular, and perfectly polished, the chamber’s domed ceiling was engraved with the faded emblem of the Republic of Arkon—a broken spear crossing a burning sun. Beneath it sat five men and two women, all adorned in immaculate officer uniforms that had never seen the front lines.

They were the Logistical High Committee of the northern Frontier,for outpost grim hollow or as soldiers mockingly called them—

The Pencil Pushers.

The meeting had been called for one purpose:

Explaining the disappearance of Captain Atheon and his entire retinue.

A matter that should’ve been handled immediately

—but had been delayed for three days due to "paperwork conflicts."

Second lieutenant Rhys Alder, chairman of the committee, tapped his quill irritably.

"Let’s begin. Report number 221: the missing personnel under Captain Atheon. Who filed the original request for inquiry?"

A bespectacled man raised a shaky hand.

"That would be me, sir. Assistant Quartermaster Peln."

Rhys nodded sharply. "Read it."

Peln unfolded the parchment with trembling fingers. His voice quavered.

"Report states: Captain Atheon, acting Shroud-Response Officer, was scheduled for sector rotation on the evening of the 14th. He failed to report. His squad also failed to report. No communication was recorded. No emergency beacon triggered."

He swallowed.

"And yet... no investigation was authorized."

A cold silence settled over the room.

First lieutenant Estova leaned back in her chair, legs crossed, her posture screaming boredom.

"Because it was likely another scheduling misprint," she said dryly. "This outpost is known for administrative chaos. Hardly grounds to panic."

A man with a thick mustache scoffed. "Indeed. Atheon is... impulsive. He has a history of leaving for field studies without filing proper forms."

Rhys exhaled heavily.

"Regardless, the man is missing. And we must provide clarity before the Senate Sub-committee reviews our frontier operations."

A balding woman waved a hand. "If the Senate begins poking around, they’ll want accountability. It’s best we stabilize the narrative now."

Peln blanched. "N-Narrative, ma’am?"

"Yes." Her eyes sharpened with a thin, metallic smile. "We cannot have the Senate learn that our northern frontier is undermanned, underfunded, and led by nobles who bought their ranks like trinkets."

A few officers stiffened uncomfortably.

Rhys steepled his fingers.

"Does anyone here actually know where Captain Atheon is?"

Silence.

Then—

"I do."

The voice came from the far side of the table.

Corporal Verrick, the only man in the room with actual combat scars, shifted forward.

He placed a sealed folder on the table.

"I received an encoded missive from Atheon before his disappearance. Classification: Black-level. I opened it this morning."

The room straightened all at once.

"What was in it?" Rhys asked.

Verrick’s jaw tightened.

"A shroud breach."

Everyone froze.

Even the air felt still.

The balding woman whispered, "Impossible... the last breach on this frontier was six years ago."

Verrick shook his head grimly.

"This was different. A localized rupture in the Tier-2 corridor near the Ironwood ravines. Atheon was investigating anomalous resonance pitches—he suspected a hidden node."

"And he went alone?" Rhys demanded.

"Of course not. He took his elite squad."

"And now they’ve vanished."

Verrick nodded. "The breach likely swallowed them whole."

Peln whispered, "So they’re dead?"

"No." Verrick’s eyes hardened.

"Or at least... not immediately. Atheon’s last line reads: ’Containment compromised. Possible Interference present. Relay information to command succinctly.’"

"Interference from what?" Rhys pressed.

Verrick’s expression darkened.

"The Umbral Covenant."

The room erupted in whispers, arguments, and poorly contained fear.

"The Covenant doesn’t operate in this region—"

"We have no verified sightings—"

"They’re myths—"

"They’re assassins—"

"They can’t interact with shroud nodes—"

Verrick containing his anger.

"They CAN. And they ARE."

The room fell silent.

But not out of respect.

Out of fear of responsibility.

Rhys exhaled slowly.

"If the Covenant is active here... our problems multiply. Who else knows?"

"No one," Verrick said. "Only us. The military command must not have heard of it yet sir."

The mustached officer bristled. "Why not?!"

Verrick leveled a cold glare at him.

"Because as captain Atheon and first lieutenant Karen aren’t present, the bulk of all decisions fall to the committee, that is the people in this room sir "

The balding woman leaned in and said, "the moment the nobility in Central Arkon hear of a breach, they will push their sons and daughters into frontier commissions—claiming valor while contributing nothing. The frontier will become even more incompetent than it already is. Haa... I can’t wait to leave this god forsaken place. My uncle is probably preparing my pampered cousins to rush over here to take a bite of some glory."

The woman with sharp eyes shrugged lazily.

"Nothing new. The Republic’s military is a decorative cloak worn by greedy lords. No offense, lieutenant estova, I hear your house has brought a great deal of prestige to the republic, although that was a while ago"

Rhys rubbed his temples.

"This must be contained quietly. We cannot afford panic."

Peln hesitated.

"But... if there’s a breach... shouldn’t we be sending actual reinforcements?"

The other officers stared at him like he was an adorable, naïve child.

"Reinforcements?" the mustached man laughed. "Do you know the cost of deploying a shroud-suppressor unit? The Senate would never approve it."

Estova smirked. "Besides, even if there is a breach, it’s likely already stabilized. Let nature take its course. It’s cheaper."

Verrick’s expression curdled.

"Cheaper?"

The woman shrugged again. "The frontier is expendable. Its purpose is to buffer the inner territories."

Verrick clenched his fists under the table.

This is why we’re dying out there.

This is why soldiers don’t trust command.

This is why cults like the Covenant thrives.

Rhys cleared his throat.

"What of the private? The initiate who kept requesting access to our meeting logs?"

A beat of hesitation.

Estova rolled her eyes. "Some upstart boy trying to rise too fast. Initiates in this backwater region are always desperate to appear important."

"He came to raise concerns over some problems in the outpost sir. But the lieutenant and his comrades were having an important discussion." A private saluted before reporting to his superiors.

"He is still the youngest initiate in this northern campaign, a splendid badge of honor to hold unto, if i do say so myself" Rhys reminded her.

"Yes, a very young initiate indeed. But without the foundation the school at central provides, the techniques passed down in our noble families, the money to purchase rare cores, he remains an ant, easily stepped on.Nothing more." Prejudice and venom slithered through her tongue.

Verrick frowned.

"Some trees still grow mighty in the desert."

Rhys looked between them.

"Does he pose a threat to our discretion?"

"He poses a threat to our workload," Estova said with a dismissive wave. "Ignore him. If he’s smart, he’ll stay in his lane."

Peln murmured nervously,

"Sir... the private names bright was stated to be involved in the Tier-2 shroud event before. His file says he played a crucial part in Keeping his companions alive."

Rhys paused.

Another corporal leaned forward.

"He might become a problem sir."

Estova smirked. "Then send him on another dangerous patrol. Maybe he dies heroically."

Peln stared in horror. "You can’t—"

"Enough," Rhys said sharply.

He tapped the table again.

"This committee will draft an official statement. Atheon is listed as missing during sanctioned reconnaissance. No mention of breaches. No mention of the Covenant. Understood?"

Everyone nodded.

Verrick didn’t.

He stared at the map on the wall—the one showing Grim Hollow’s food stores burned, its sectors damaged, its people shaken.

And he whispered under his breath:

"If we keep lying... this outpost will fall."

No one heard him.

Or perhaps they simply didn’t care.