By the third month of the forward camp's growth, the clang of pickaxes and the rumble of cart wheels were as constant as the wind. Ore and stone left the mine daily, hauled by sweating laborers to be weighed, logged, and sent back along the rough roads toward the older settlement.
The mining camp had become a heart that beat heavy and slow, vital, but worn by the effort.
Not everyone carried that weight equally.
The miners whispered that soldiers got the best rations. The soldiers grumbled that the miners were growing arrogant, throwing their picks around like they ran the place. Even among the settlers, small cliques had begun to form: builders, haulers, handlers, smiths. The sense of unity that had once bound them under the fear of the wilds was fading, replaced by the pettier strains of a people starting to believe they might actually survive.
Moss noticed it in quiet moments, when laughter carried differently in the evenings, or when greetings between crews came with a nod instead of a smile.
That morning, the calm cracked with the thunder of hooves and the call of a patrol horn.
Kain and his riders emerged from the road in a blur of cloaks and dust. His armor was dulled from travel, and Bran gave a short kwark as if recognizing the scent of familiar mounts.
The camp stirred.
Varrin met Kain halfway between the stables and the central square, the two men clasping arms in greeting. "You're back early," Varrin said, voice rough from shouting over construction.
"Not early enough," Kain replied. He glanced around at the expansion, new storage houses, a blacksmith's forge taking shape, the beginnings of a watchtower on the ridge. "You've been busy."
"Work never stops here."
Kain nodded, then looked toward Moss, who was standing by the fence with Lyra and Dole. "And neither does he, I imagine."
Moss inclined his head, expression unreadable.
Kain continued, his tone even. "The plains to the south have been settled. Rosa and her white armband group took the lead. The soil's rich, plenty of room for farming once spring hits. The Empire will want food as much as metal soon enough."
"Another settlement?" Dole muttered, brow furrowed. "Guess they're still clearing house back home if we're expanding our farms."
That earned a few dark chuckles from nearby workers. Everyone knew what he meant.
Kain didn't rise to it. "Call it what you want. Every convoy they send out here means fewer mouths for them to feed behind the veil. But it also means more hands to keep these camps standing."
Lyra folded her arms. "So long as they remember to send supplies with them."
Kain's eyes softened briefly. "That's the hope." He looked back to Moss. "There's another reason I came. I wanted to ask for your help. Once you've trained enough riders, we'll need patrols between the settlements. The routes have to stay clear, supplies, messages, and people. Aether beasts are nesting closer to the roads, and we've seen Miqo'te in the treelines. They're watching us, not running anymore."
Moss nodded once. "We'll be ready."
"I know you will," Kain said simply.
Dole smirked. "There it is. The golden seal of approval. Don't let it go to your head, Moss."
Moss only gave a faint sigh, and even Kain's mouth twitched with restrained amusement.
Kain turned to mount his chocobo again. "You've done well here. The mining camp's keeping everyone alive, even if no one says it. Rosa's people can plow the soil all they want, but without your ore, none of this holds together."
The conversation drifted as the camp resumed its rhythm. Kain's patrol dismounted to unload their gear, the smell of dust and sweat mixing with the tang of worked metal.
By dusk, the new riders were still training in the fading light. Sparks flew from the forges. The steady beat of hammers echoed from the mine.
Moss stood beside Bran, eyes tracing the faint southern glow of the plains far beyond the hills. Somewhere out there, Rosa and her people were carving their own version of survival.
Three settlements now, bound by distance, work, and little else.
And Moss wondered how long those ties would hold before something stronger than duty began to pull them apart.