"My name is Talulah, Talulah Artorius," she spoke, her voice cutting through the heavy tension of the hall with crisp, unyielding clarity. "I believe I have mentioned this to everyone once before upon your initial arrival, but thanks to the overwhelming support and trust of our people, I am currently serving as the official supreme leader of the Reunion Movement."
The moment Talulah's calm self-introduction echoed across the registration hall, the rowdy, murmuring crowd immediately fell into an absolute, dead silence.
Many of the refugees blinked in sudden realization, their minds racing backward. They recalled that she had indeed plainly stated her identity and title when they first crossed the perimeter and met her down on the staging grounds. However, at that specific moment, everyone's minds had still been in a state of profound shock and sheer exhaustion from their narrow escape, so they had collectively ignored her words, assuming she was merely a high-ranking receptionist or a minor logistical cadre.
As for the aggressive troublemaker standing at the front desk, the remaining blood in his face drained instantly, leaving his complexion the dark, suffocating color of pig liver.
Even the most short-sighted fool on the frozen tundra knew the terrifying consequences of blatantly provoking and angering the absolute, top military and political leader of a sovereign territory before one had even managed to gain a solid physical foothold there. Even if Talulah herself possessed a magnanimous temperament and truly didn't mind his disrespectful outburst, there would inevitably be countless radical zealots and ambitious subordinates within the organization who would happily use his severed head to formally prove their absolute loyalty to her.
"Can I... can I choose to just leave?"
Feeling a sudden, icy weight settling in his stomach, and fully realizing that he would likely be targeted and ostracized by everyone here from this day forward, the large man asked with a thoroughly crushed, mournful expression.
"Of course you may," Alina spoke up smoothly from the side before Talulah could reply. "Our Reunion Movement maintains extensive diplomatic connections with various border regions of Ursus and multiple nearby Infected underground organizations. You are entirely free to go wherever you like, and out of basic courtesy, our administration can even provide an official letter of recommendation for you to present to them."
The moment Alina's gentle words left her lips, the few remaining refugees in line who had been harboring rebellious thoughts instantly buried them deep within their chests. No one dared to stick their neck out anymore.
On the surface, it sounded as if Alina was very kindly and magnanimously offering administrative assistance to a departing traveler. But in reality, her words carried a deeply chilling, veiled warning: she was clearly informing him—and everyone else listening—that the entire regional network of Infected organizations was structurally connected under the Reunion Movement's overarching shadow. If he couldn't make it or cooperate here within their main territory, his reputation would precede him, and it would be exactly the same story anywhere else he tried to flee. After all, in these harsh times, absolutely no underground community would be willing to harbor a known, aggressive troublemaker who insulted their primary benefactor.
"I... I'll go to the regional mines..."
The man's thick lips twitched violently several times, a bead of cold sweat rolling down his temple before he finally made up his mind. The distant mining sectors were geographically the furthest possible places from the central core of the mobile module. He reasoned that if he hid himself deep within a grueling, remote manual labor camp like that, the high-ranking officials and terrifying cadres of the Reunion Movement surely wouldn't waste their precious time hunting down a nobody like him.
"The regional mines?" The young registrar confirmed, her tone turning brisk and professional as she immediately pulled a fresh set of transfer documents from a drawer. "No problem at all. It just so happens that Supervisor Yuri over in the Iron Mining District has been complaining for weeks that they are severely short-handed. You will report directly to his unit!"
"Okay, okay! Thank you!" The man nodded hurriedly, his previous arrogance entirely replaced by frantic compliance.
Normally, according to standard operating procedure, several different mining sectors would be presented as options, and the registrar would thoroughly explain the structural differences and environmental hazards between the locations to ensure informed consent. For instance, Yuri's specific team was a relatively high-risk Blasting and Mining Squad. They were primarily responsible for using volatile explosives to shatter massive, dense iron ore veins that were otherwise structurally difficult to mine with standard hand tools. Under normal circumstances, many incoming refugees would actively avoid this specific placement when making their vocational choice, because due to the heavy dust and explosive nature of the work, this was likely the only sector in the entire territory that still involved the potential inhalation of trace amounts of active Originium powder.
However, at this exact moment, both the registrar and the thoroughly humbled troublemaker intended to end this public farce as quickly as humanly possible. After all, there were still well over a hundred exhausted people waiting anxiously in line behind him. If they kept dragging this singular case out with explanations, who knew if they would even manage to finish processing everyone before the dinner bells rang.
Flandre stood quietly by the edge of the desk, her ruby eyes wide as she watched the entire process unfold with curiosity. This large man was one of the vocal people within the refugee crowd she had personally escorted back from the forest yesterday. Furthermore, during the long trek, he had acted as a minor manager who wielded considerable authority over his small faction.
Flandre didn't quite understand the erratic nature of human behavior; why hadn't this man stood up to fight or argue when facing the brutal Ursus Patrol units who were actively hunting them, yet he possessed the unbridled arrogance to act so aggressively toward a registrar who appeared physically much weaker than him?
Driven by her confusion, she pulled on Alina's sleeve and shared her thoughts in a whisper.
Alina smiled softly, reaching out to gently ruffle Flandre's hair to soothe her curiosity. "There are probably many complex reasons for that kind of behavior, Flandre."
"For example, many of the refugees who flee to our borders do so precisely because they heard rumors that the Reunion Movement possesses majestic mobile modules and its own established sovereign territory. In their minds, they envision moving into a grand, safe mobile city."
"But after actually arriving here, they face the harsh reality that our mobile module is far too small to house everyone permanently. Only a select few can live on the steel deck, while the vast majority must still be assigned to live on the open, fixed land sectors below. This sudden discrepancy between their wild expectations and reality can easily lead to intense feelings of anger and resentment."
Alina paused, glancing toward the retreating figure of the man before continuing. "Then, as you noted, he was a minor leader who managed over a dozen desperate people in his previous traveling group. He enjoyed a certain status. But after coming here, he realized his only viable options were either to work as a common laborer in the dark mines or start as a faceless recruit at the very bottom of the Barracks. This is a far cry from the comfortable, influential life he secretly longed for and expected to receive as a reward."
"Finally, his behavior was actually a form of deliberate testing."
"Testing?" Flandre tilted her head, her crystal wings tilting with her.
"Yes. Testing whether we in the leadership of the Reunion Movement truly possess absolute, centralized control over this territory, and testing the overall temperament and patience of our management team. If we show ourselves to be weak, overly yielding, and easily bullied, people like him will naturally try to take complete advantage of us to carve out special privileges for themselves."
Flandre shook her head slightly after listening, still not quite understanding the necessity of it all. After all, hadn't these people fled to this place precisely because they absolutely couldn't survive in their previous homes under Ursus oppression? Why on earth would they start scheming, plotting, and fighting for status before their new, safe life had even properly begun?
"It cannot be helped, but that is simply the complex nature of human society," Alina sighed softly, her expression a mix of maternal patience and pragmatism. "That is precisely why whenever a cohesive group of more than thirty refugees arrives together at the Reunion Movement, our protocol dictates that we assign at least one established cadre or reliable soldier to accompany them throughout the entire integration process."
"This is done intentionally so that when we later break up their original tribal organizations to fully integrate them into the broader fabric of the Reunion Movement, there won't be too much internal resistance or factionalism. Of course, if an individual truly possesses sufficient practical ability alongside their personal ambition, they can naturally rise through our ranks very quickly."
"Like Red, or like that Miss Mudrock," Alina noted, her eyes brightening slightly. "Talulah and I are already seriously considering formally appointing Miss Mudrock as an official cadre or a high-level regional supervisor."
"If it weren't for the fact that Yelena has still not fully awoken from her recovery yet, this specific organizational proposal would likely already be officially signed on the table."
Alina spoke openly about the ongoing administrative matters concerning Mudrock that she and Talulah had been discussing over the past week. For an organization like the Reunion Movement, if an individual possessed genuine, undeniable skill and a solid work ethic, they never had to worry about being passed over for promotion. After all, the rapidly expanding Reunion Movement was truly, desperately short on capable talent and reliable mid-to-high-level management personnel.
But the Reunion Movement absolutely did not want corporate-style managers who only knew how to talk grandly, compile useless spreadsheets, and excel purely at political scheming and empty flattery; they strictly required practical people with actual, field-tested operational skills who could get their hands dirty.
Flandre nodded her head in vague understanding after Alina finished her detailed explanation. Once the administrative work at the front desks was completely finished and the remaining refugees were properly settled into their temporary transit quarters, Alina took Flandre's small hand and led her away from the bustling office building.
"Alina, must these people permanently stick with the specific jobs they've chosen today?" Flandre asked curiously, watching the departing figures of the refugees carrying their meager luggage toward the residential sectors.
"Of course not," Alina answered warmly as they walked along the clean steel corridor.
"Some people don't initially choose what they are actually good at, but rather what they idealized or think they want to do based on passion. But with actual physical labor, once your personal passion suddenly becomes your mandatory daily job, you might very quickly find that you don't love it anymore."
"So, some individuals will quickly grow bored, or they will simply prove to be fundamentally unsuited for the complex technical jobs they picked out of whim. In such inevitable cases, our human resources department will reassign them to new sectors based on their own personal applications, combined with objective evaluations provided by their direct colleagues and supervisors."
"If it is truly a genuine matter of mismatched physical or mental ability, we will gracefully transfer them to a more suitable, productive position. However, if our evaluations reveal that they are simply being inherently lazy, or trying to avoid their fair share of community labor, they will be promptly reassigned to a specialized logistical department operating under strict military management for some very rigorous disciplinary training."
Alina patiently laid out the comprehensive structural arrangements the Reunion Movement had developed for incoming Infected. The Reunion Movement was dedicated to giving every single soul who arrived at their borders enough fair opportunities to rebuild their lives. As long as a person wasn't the parasitic type who deeply loved personal ease while hating honest work, they would have absolutely no problem living a stable, well-fed life here under the protection of the banner.
But if any arrived thinking they could just lazily coast along and eat community rations every day without contributing after joining the Reunion Movement, then they would quickly find that the administration had absolutely no need for such dead weight.
Furthermore, the modern Reunion Movement currently possessed several distinct standing armies. Even if some ambitious troublemaker or old-world remnant wanted to violently challenge the established status quo and claim that 'kings and nobles are not born to their status' to spark an internal rebellion, they would first have to somehow defeat the formidable frontline cadres before they could ever hope to face Talulah and the terrifying, searing heat of her Invisible Sword.
As for the specific frontline cadres that any potential rebel would need to somehow defeat first... there was a legendary, towering old Wendigo warrior named Buldrokkas'tee standing watch at the gates.