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The first time I saw an Infected shatter was in the middle of a lake.

I was seven, young and innocent. It was my dream to become captain of the Miner's Patrol.

I'd get to stay up late at night, wear a cool uniform, and walk around with a bright torch.

Most families in Rim Billiton made their living in mining, digging, and processing ore. We did everything to prevent Infection.

But accidents happen.

One day, the adults came home early.

Mother and the other women of the house whispered in a corner. The men smoked in silence, until the entire room was filled with that acrid scent.

In between coughs, I ran around the living room, pretending to be a surveyor looking for new veins in a fog-filled valley.

Dad grabbed me by the collar and put me to bed.

I woke up earlier than usual the next day. I think I was trying to grab a can of soda while nobody was watching.

Grandma was sitting in the living room next to her luggage, She said she was going on a journey.

I pestered her to let me go with her. She could never say no to me. She said I could come a short way with her, then I had to go back home.

We saw a salt lake in the distance. It was a shallow one that only appeared in the rainy season, but it rained a lot that year. We couldn't see the other side of the lake.

Grandma told me that was as far as I could go. I said alright. She made me promise, like when she made me promise I would be a good boy when I first went to school.

But I wasn't a good boy anymore. I quietly followed her, hiding behind a bush when she got to the lakeside.

Grandma got onto a boat with a few people on it. They all had strange stones growing out of their bodies, and one of them was wrapped up in a blanket. The boatman turned on the engine.

I watched from the shore as the boat disappeared into the fog.

I was confused. Grandma didn't say anything to me on our way; it was like an ordinary picnic trip.

I was about to turn around, thinking about where I would have breakfast before going home, then I heard a sound like crystal shattering.

I turned around and saw Originium dust sprayed into the air, mixing with the fog, reflecting an eerie glow in the sun.

It was like a dream.

Was that how you got infected?

No, I was lucky. That time.

Maybe it really was a dream, brought about by a summer morning.

But I never saw Grandma again, and my family never talked about her anymore.

She...

She was always thoughtful and cautious. It wasn't like her to let a child follow her, putting him in danger.

For once, though, she made a selfish choice on her journey.

She wanted to spend just a little more time with her grandson. Maybe she even wanted to give me a hug.

Now I remember. I didn't even get to show her my report card that semester.

It was the best I ever did in school.

The sounds of the forest stopped. The flickering light shining through the shadows of the trees no longer moved.

Then, came the sound of lament and painful moaning.

On your guard, Red. The Victorians have stopped.

Looks like they're planning to make camp.

Here? It's only a few hundred meters from our camp.

They no longer have the strength to cover their tracks. Who knows if there's a scouting party shadowing them somewhere.

Red's hands never stop, even as he complains, cutting away the bothersome vines.

We approach their position and see their flickering shadows through the sparse bushes.

Soldiers lie on the ground in exhaustion, hopelessly burying their heads amongst the falling leaves. The sergeant sits down on a rock, silently polishing his sword, the only weapon he has left.

I guess they just didn't have the strength to go any further.

These people don't have the luxury to think. They're still living in a dream.

'It'll all pass.'

Were they really just 'separated' from the rest of the army?

These Victorians are lucky. They faced a gentle exile, not the swords of their comrades.

It's not easy to accept that you're Infected.

We should wait for them to understand who they are, and for them to make a choice.

Do you really mean to take them in? These... 'soldiers'?

We're weak. So are they.

What's the plan, then?

Finish the shift, and notify the sentries. Expand the patrols to include this camp.

The Infected stand together.

'Stand Together.' Pretty words.

Of course we had to stand together. What other choice did we have?

But are the words 'stand together' so simple that we fail to appreciate their true meaning?

Oripathy changed all our lives equally, robbed us of our futures equally.

But is what is taken from a farmer who has to pay his taxes out of seeds stored for next year's planting equal to what is taken from a wealthy merchant with a safe full of pure gold?

When what we had to begin with was not equal, neither are the choices that survive deprivation.

Who are we really standing together with, then?

You're Talulah, right?

Founder of the Reunion, leader of the Infected! They say you did great things in Ursus!

All the Infected of Victoria are talking about you. Is it true that you captured a city?

A city for the Infected? Is it still there?

I'm no leader. I'm just a member of the Reunion Movement.

Have some porridge. We're setting out soon.

Tell us more about your city, Talulah!

It's...

Oh, no need to hang your head! I suppose things didn't go so smoothly, if you're in Victoria now.

Of course the uninfected wouldn't let us win that easily, after trampling on us for so long.

What does it matter if those scum tripped you up once? You're Reunion!

We all believe in you!

Talulah looks down at the pot she is stirring, serving bowl after bowl of hot porridge.

The steam from the pot obscures her vision.

Careful, it's hot.

They all believe in you.

What do you think about that, eh? Being the hope of so many?

You're a veteran from Ursus, aren't you? What are you talking about?

Valiya.

I know... sorry, couldn't resist. Hmph.

Is it true that there was a bit of trouble at the camp yesterday?

It's fine. All taken of.

Stop crowding Talulah like that and start packing. We have a long way to go today.

Oh yeah, I still have fertilizer to load onto the truck.

And it's not 'You Reunion' any more.

Oh yeah, we're Reunion too. Haha!

See you later.

Guard...

It's fine. No need to say anything.

I take the bowl of porridge from Talulah. She's very pale.

There are things we can't tell them yet.

I know. It's your decision.

Reunion can't collapse again.

I'm the banner that you rally to in Victoria. I accept that.

But I'm deceiving them. I'm still...

It's no more or less than you deserve.

It's none of my business whether you see this as an honor or punishment for your crimes. What the others need is hope.

Are you going to tell them you were under the influence of an evil god, and everything that happened at Chernobog was an Ursine plot?

I would rather our organization be built on a lie.

We were built on a lie back then too.

I know. Payback will come, someday, but at least this time we lied for the Infected.

There are no second chances for Reunion. I hope we don't go down the same path you did.

What did that sister of yours say in Chernobog?

'Until the day when the Infected are judged fairly.'

I'll wait.

I'll be your tool until that day comes.

Er, excuse me...

What are you doing here, Victorian?

I'm not armed. Your sentries searched me.

I... I caught a whiff. My brothers haven't eaten in four days. Some of them... I don't know, they don't look good.

I have a lighter here, and... d-do you want brass buttons? If you could be so kind as to trade some bread for these...

I-I know, it's not enough... I have a bunch of good leather back at my home in Blackstream! Once I get back, I'll sell it and pay you back double!

The young man gazes hungrily at the pot, his hand grabbing his own uniform tightly, perhaps out of nervousness, or trying to straighten it out to look more presentable.

Talulah puts a bowl of porridge before him.

You can take what's left in the pot.

Th-Thank you! Here's the lighter. Sometimes you need to click it a few times before it lights. And the button—

I take the lighter and grab the hand trying to rip the buttons off.

It's fine. Eat.

He practically pours the food down his throat.

Where's your sergeant?

I don't know. We haven't seen him all morning. I was worried he would barge into your camp again.

Say, did you hear any sounds in the night? Like artillery fire?

No reports of anything like that.

He... never mind. Everyone's gone mad. Us, them, there's no sane man left on the front.

Sound like things are rough out there.

Rough, eh...? You have no idea what the Sarkaz are using against us.

They have no battleships, no armored vehicles. We thought the devils were just barbarians, fighting our armies with swords and bows.

How wrong we were. Could you imagine an entire squad of Sarkaz casters, casting their Arts at the same time?

It was more terrifying than any artillery or ballista fire. Get hit by a shell, and you might lose an arm or leg, the fragments digging themselves into your flesh, causing terrible pain.

But the Sarkaz, they turned the battlefield to the Hell of Lateran tales.

I saw armored vehicles pierced by lightning bolts of blood, my mates melted into puddles of gore...

I never imagined it would turn out like this when the Duke of Fife's men dragged me out of the cystybeast pens—

Forget it. I'd rather not think about anything. Thanks for the porridge. I'll bring the pot back later.

You can keep it. We have plenty of them, and it might be of use to you.

Thank you so much. I'll never forget it. Are you leaving? Where are you going?

This is pretty much a battlefield now, and it's Victorian lands all around... for the Infected...

Oh, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. Forget I said anything.

The soldier hurries to leave, grabbing the side of the pot with his one good hand and supporting the bottom with the limp arm, grimacing at the heat.

I reach into my pocket and dig out what I just got from the doctor.

Hey, wait!

I go up to him and put the vial of medicine in his pocket.

What's this?

It'll relieve some of the worst symptoms. You can share it with the others.

I'll visit Blackstream and collect what you owe me.

I—sir...

Go.

...You'll love our village.

Thanks.

You really are like the Rhodes Islanders.

I heard you were the one who found the doctors who knew how to make the medicine.

To be honest, what we're making hardly even qualifies as medicine compared to the suppressants that I knew.

Rhodes Island offers low-cost treatment plans, but at the end of the day, they're a company. They need research funding, and they have corporate due diligence to deal with.

Who knows how many eyes are on them in Kazimierz and Columbia?

That's why you persuaded Nine to go north. The warriors say there's a factory there.

A tiny pharmaceutical factory.

So small it's barely even a workshop. It's not even on a nomadic plate, but that one little piece of land was once the salvation of many Infected.

That, is, until it grew big enough that it caught people's attention. Some of the ones driven out of there joined us, and that's how we heard the story.

It's deep in the forest, where nobody's watching. We need medicine, even if it's just a pale imitation of the real thing. But more importantly—

—It was once a starting point of Victoria's Reunion Movement.

We have to unite those scattered across Victoria. We have to tell them that help has come.

I've seen plenty of Infected self-help organizations. Kind souls helped us from time to time, but in the end, none of them lasted.

When I was at Rhodes Island, I often wondered if things would get better if everyone worked harder and made more medicine.

Maybe. But Chernobog changed my mind.

Why do they crack down on workshops like these? Why are kindness and hard work warped by hatred and prejudice?

When evil itself is fuzzy as the fog, why does everyone, even the Infected themselves, decide to wait for their own deaths in the middle of a lake?

I stare at Talulah, who hardly reacts to my words. Her eyes are calm, unusually so.

Her soul is too weary, having seen too much. What has become of the woman who was once our leader?

Or had she uttered the same words before, and seen what came of them?

*sigh*... You know what I mean.

Oripathy is an illness, but... we'll leave the illnesses to Rhodes Island, for now.

Our enemy isn't just Oripathy; it's oppression and prejudice, the truths they've tried to cover up with Oripathy.

Oripathy is just the culmination of all the decay across the lands.

Taking back a symbol may help the Infected of Victoria realize that and stand together with us.

...Stand together.

That's something only Reunion can do.

Have you told the others how you think?

Hm? Of course. I'm always talking to Nine about our—

No. You know the one I'm talking about.

Oh...

A little. I got a... gentle answer. That's why I'm here.

Whatever the case, we didn't choose the same path, so I... er...

It's not my place to ask for more.

Of course it isn't.

Rhodes Island is a paradise of idealists. Me? A man who could only see what stands right in front of me.

The gain and loss right in front of me...

I heard the veteran guerilla fighters talk about the old days of the Reunion in the tundra, the ideals that everyone held.

'A city of the Infected, our home.'

Some of them thought it was just within reach. It was almost realized at Chernobog, but fell short in the end.

But I know the city of our dreams is still far, far away.

And how could a single city be enough?

What could a single city do?

You're still limping. Maybe you should go sit in the back?

Just a little sprain.

You haven't been on a lot of expeditions lately.

My squad passed through the wilderness the other day with Infected comrades from Greewich.

The earth had been torn open, with ditches everywhere. Looked like one of the turnip farms back home, except much smaller.

I tripped.

*snort*

What was it? I didn't think there a place like that near Londinium.

Walt said that all those trenches, hundreds of them, each one big enough to fit our entire squad, were battleship tread marks.

No wonder you've looked worried.

It takes all my strength just to go from day to day.

Don't think too much about it.

A report from the scouts, Guard.

We heard sounds from the woods on the left side up ahead.

The Originium zone sensor went off when we got closed, so we couldn't be sure exactly what it was.

Send word to the rest of the team. We'll go around.

Roger.

Percival.

I'll come along with a few guys. Don't want you to trip again.

There's an unsettling smell in the air.

The instruments show a high level of Active Originium. Not a good sign.

Remember your protective measures. Keep your masks on.

Was that a man under the tree?

No, it's a Victorian uniform, ripped almost beyond recognition, but somehow familiar. A sergeant's badge lies on the ground next to it.

A tiny music box sits a short distance away, covered in Originium dust, but still barely playing.

...Infected confirmed dead. We should leave.

Percival walks slowly, humming along with the scattered music.

Do you know this song, Guard?

No, but I've heard it before.

...The sun on the meadow is summery warm♪♫Filling our home with euphoria♬♪

We gather together to greet the storm♪♫Tomorrow belongs to Victoria♬♪

The Victorian national anthem.

Our teacher made us sing it over and over until we had it memorized when I was little—before I got sick.

It's been a long time since I last heard it.

I was born in Victoria. By all accounts, I should be Victorian. But what about now?

That sergeant believed he belonged to Victoria to the very end.

He was lucky. He didn't get to go through... everything he would have gone through.

The reason I called myself Reunion—

I was tired of being punched, being thrown out of factories before I got paid, being kept out of even the cheapest hostel rooms, no matter how much money I had on me.

The Reunion Movement showed me another path, besides suffering and dying in silence. That was all I needed.

Even if the price was abandoning my family, my country, and everything else I had.

In fact, I had lost all of it the moment the first crystal popped through my skin. But it took me a long time to get it.

All of us, Ursine, Columbian, Victorian, Sarkaz, Feline, Liberi...

We are all Reunion.

If we have to cross every battlefront, every war zone, every corpse-laden ruin, in order for our deaths to be seen and heard...

Then we'll cross them.