Velander camp.
The tent at the center of the camp.
Bannott, seated at the long table, frowned at the Survivor Daily in his hands. After pondering for a long while, he muttered under his breath.
"What tricks are those Blue Gophers playing again..."
Ever since arriving in Dawn City, the Survivor Daily had become his daily must-read.
Especially after discovering that all the intelligence he once had to ask around for was plainly laid out across those few pages, he had changed the first thing he did after waking up from brushing his teeth to reading the paper.
Recently, he had been keeping an eye on the situation at Fries Port. Every few days, the Survivor Daily would publish several new photos, and he had practically watched the port transform from a barren stretch of empty land into the respectable little fishing village it was today.
Honestly, it was rather impressive when those photos were viewed together.
Although the Legion often helped natives build camps, neither the appearance nor the comfort could compare to what those Blue Gophers had accomplished in less than half a month.
And now, the village could no longer be considered small. Especially with the latest wave of migrants moving in, the little fishing village had clearly reached a population of a thousand.
Placed anywhere in the wasteland, it would count as a fairly sizable survivor settlement.
But it was precisely because of this that Bannott felt a hint of alarm.
The recently convened Sticky Community conference had a minimum attendance threshold of one thousand people.
As long as a survivor settlement reached one thousand residents, it could participate in voting on matters concerning its province and influence that province's voting results on the conference agenda.
Different provinces had different numbers of votes, and some special