Winter rain continued falling over Atlas Base through the night.
By morning, the compound looked gray beneath thick clouds while cold wind swept across the watchtowers and training grounds. Mud covered portions of the vehicle paths while mechanics worked beneath hanging floodlights near the maintenance bays despite the weather.
Atlas remained awake.
It always did.
Inside the command building, Marcus sat alone near the operations room while reading through another stack of reports beneath dim electric lighting.
Trade activity around Falmouth had increased again.
Two merchant caravans safely crossed the southern route yesterday under the protection of the local contingent. Berm's Adventurer's Guild officially confirmed the meeting schedule for later this week. Several nearby towns reportedly started discussing whether they should request Atlas advisors for local defense organization.
And increasingly, Marcus disliked how quickly everything was escalating.
Not militarily.
