I expected worst to befell me. Truly I did. Things that were not meant to be spoken off, let alone ponder. These thoughts are but a whisper now at the end of the day.

With a flick, light cascades upon the room from above with a weak gloom-revealing a barren expanse that was perhaps once home to someone else, a sacred refuge in their sojourn on this realm. All this, now mine-for however long they deem it.

A table, and bed are readily present amidst the humble abode. They were both shoved to one end, most certainly the unfortunate result of the Lord Captains uncaring gaze over the blatant looting by his warriors. The furniture, however sparse ought to be set back to their rightful place, and all will be good.

This is more than I would deserve, yet this is no mirage or attempt at deceit. This room, is my domain.

"This would do nicely." I turn around, and offer my captor a weak smile. His hidden gaze is imposing, but little could be done about it. I expect neither a glint of a smile or a welcome tone from him.

Jerome still holds me in contempt, that I can feel, if not see it. No words needed to be spoken to realize that truth.

"Tomorrow morning, be up early. We're not finished," he coldly states, and departs. The curtain flutters as he retreats, and I am left to my own for the night, the last to be shown to a room.

After the steps faded, I finally relinquish my guard and collapse. The artificial glint above presents a meagre shade to the room as I sat in place, knees curled to the chest. This is mine, yet it feels utterly foreign. This will never be home.

I stifle the lights and prepare the bed for slumber, righting its sturdy legs back on the floor. The place still seemed thoroughly ransacked, but it will suffice for the night. With their reputation, perhaps I should be thankful the Black Hand did not raze the entire building.

I lie in the bed and relish in its soft embrace. The veil quickly looms over me, and the thoughts run silent. This time, instead of the ambience of critters and scent of green, it is the soft cradle of a pillow and blanket that accompanies me into the hereafter.

It is a nice change for once. I kindle a light smile, for one last moment of solace before the void is all that remains.

======

The next few days are stifling. For every answer to a query, more take their place. And any I mean to ask in return are cast aside without a second thought. All the secrets and matters of interest to them, I already have unveiled.

Most see me little more than a source of insight, nothing more. In the rare moments I am allowed to roam freely beneath an open sky, I receive at best only contempt from the warriors. And at worst, the intent to slay me where I stood, yearning for blood to be spilled.

Once dawn or dusk came, there is always an inspection for us. An odd trinket held in one hand, its black lens always facing us. I fear even asking the reason as to why they would impose such a rule. There will be a scowl, and only raise their ire.

This morning proves very much the same, and so I stand at attention as the warrior hovers the trinket before me. Behind it stands his tempered glare, devoid of anything but scorn as I meet those bitter eyes, fueled with unbound caution.

There is nothing wrong with any of us. Such scrutiny is uncalled for and demeans us. A harsh glare is all I can offer each time, and it does nothing to dissuade them.

"Cleared, last one's done," the man relents, and turns around. The others beside him follow in his wake and depart out the building. This one is concluded, but the next looms just past duskfall.

For a moment none dare to move, until one of the menders did. With a scoff, and a hefty frown she retreats back up the stairs as most of her kin follows suit. Soft murmurs mingled with their steps as the ascend and the day resumes in earnest beneath the veil of gossip.

"Highlanders are keen scouts, and excellent trackers," a scowling Mender murmurs as she faces me, "but this is beyond your domain. You and your cadre are mad to have returned."

I fold both arms and hide behind an indifferent gaze, holding silent. The mender eventually shakes her head and departs, casting aside all her prior fiery.

Only then do I spare her a look and see a defeated woman, still here, back turned as her gaze sinks. She exists with the weave of time and nothing more.

"However meagre it is," I say and garner her attention, "I will seek to forge a truce that will benefit both sides. Every shadow, no matter how bleak is cast beneath a veil of light."

"And you think your persistent fraternization with that man would suffice?" The mender retorts, but harbours a hint of interest.

No—what," I sour at the staunch image that comes to mind. A few still believed these daily questionings are suspicious in nature. There is no spark to be kindled. Not in a place like this, or a pairing like us. Just the thought makes my stomach quiver.

"A crystal may be cut and tempered, but its shade remains unchanged," the Mender offers. Turning away once again, she rejoins the rest of her kin up the stairs, her meek visage a far cry from that of a masked and merciless Vanguard.

The next time I see Jerome, that brief comment races to the fore and I squander a greeting in English. He tilts his head, brows most certainly furrowing beneath that glazed helmet of his.

"You're late," he curtly addresses as we prowl the outskirts. "Care to explain why?"

"Your time scale is odd—split into twenty four instead of twenty," I pause, and look to the glaring sun before continuing, "simply another difference to set you apart from this realm."

"Fair enough," Jerome pauses, and points a finger at me, "as you're obviously aware, we're short on numbers. I won't be interrogating you as of today since the base is facing an issue of sorts. Water supplies are dipping into the red, and that's where you come in."

I nod and reminisce on their hygiene faculties and how they so generously extended their usage to us. Granted, they decreed that we may only take a shower once every two days, and it must be kept quick—it is generous regardless. Such restrictions are imposed not just on us, but to them as well.

"A break from all that questioning is much appreciated, how shall I assist then?" I cautiously step into his midst, far closer than one would to a former adversary. This is a step into murky waters, a venture worth enduring if it means my standing would be elevated in his eyes.

Regretfully, he takes a step back and answers. "Three volunteers, you included. Be at the landing pad when the sun reaches the peak. Make sure it's all women, I'll explain why later. Just do it," he firmly makes clear.

I delve into the request, to fathom why he wished only for women, and only them. It is not my place to openly question his wish for now, and so I relent these thoughts. But these worries, I keep them in mind.

"As you decree," I murmur, and tread back to my holdings.

Jerome follows in my wake, lurking just behind. I suspect it is more to keep me in line as he always does. His searing gaze can be felt even now. A slight mishap or such, and I know he has no qualms about silencing me where I stand.

"Make sure to be there," he states. After his parting regards, or lack thereof, I head back inside. A few menders are present. Most choose to ignore me. Only one nods as she locks gaze with me, and I return in kind.

I scrounge up my courage and reveal the man's request to them. A sparse gathering of four, just enough for the venture should half accept it.

"Not a chance," comes a harsh rebuttal.

"And why... only women?" another chimes in, her cold leer that of a coiled viper.

"Whatever his reasons, we must abide," I weakly offer. Those words ring hollow, and certainly does not evoke confidence.

"Abide by this instead. Throw yourself off a cliff and never speak of that again," the first Mender counters with a scoff.

As expected, none of the four choose to even entertain the notion. They further add insults, calling it mad to heed such a decree. I am not surprised at all, nor am I slighted.

I move upstairs and hope others would be willing to part with their fears. It always seems I alone, am charged with novel, but impossible endeavors. I emerge onto the second floor, passing a few turns to reach the communal spacing the humans call a meeting longue.

Oswin, Anja, and the rest of the menders not on duty took to the abode as I enter into their midst. The former is out of the question. And towering over the rest is a sense of caution. They surely must have heard the commotion downstairs. 

But alas, I echo the request onto them. Each word flows out slowly, like dainty steps upon thin ice. As I further explain, a sense of hope rekindles. Their faces varied, but none thus far thought to oppose me.

"—want only women. For what purpose I do not know, but rest assured it will be revealed by him," I end the sermon as a few perk up with furrowed brows.

"He brought violence against a woman," a stoic Mender opposes with a frown, "a humble servant of a royal abode no less. Can we trust anything that brute says?"

All eyes turn to Anja as she leans inward with hunched shoulders. Her fingers wavered as they slowly coiled into fists. The whites of her knuckles showed even against her already fair skin.

"I do not blame him," she whispers, still casting a sunken gaze to the floor as though it was rife with intrigue. It certainly does not. Anja rarely ventures out from her assigned room. All that prior charm and innocence has since been sundered. As expected of a city girl.

Anja heaves out a deep breath, and looks up, lifting her left hand to cradle the dark blush on her face. "Even if he did leave this on me."

I gaze down to her, uncertain of her stance on this venture, or if she would even consider it. Anja needs to cement her thoughts, lest I waste time in hauling a broken net. "He hit you, hard. Enough to spill blood and mar your looks."

"It does not detract from what I see in him. He has been through so much. We ought to give him—and them,, a chance. What say you?"

I delve further, eying her answer with a keen look. The others merely observe, murmuring amongst one another. "So what will it be then, would you accept?"

"Should I?" Anja looks away, her face veiled from sight. "It breaks me to see them as they are now. Just a meagre few."

I take note of her visage, beginning with the zenith of her head. A well kept crown of hair tied into a classic worker's tail, framing an immaculate face that spoke proudly of her Fringe Eastern blood. Then those subtle curves along her hips that teased her feminine worth. So utterly out of place in the hinterlands of this vale.

I nod, and take solace in having found at least one volunteer, however unexpected it is. A city girl like her will be a burden, but I do not have the luxury of choice. And so, I accept.

"You could, but will you?" I query as she stands up from her place in the corner.

"Then I shall," Anja promptly answers. She looks over the rest with a sure look and continues. "Wh—who else will join me?"

"I will," another Mender weaves in with a glare, cold like winter's edge. "If only to stop whatever nefarious act they would surely commit—and they will. City-born girls like you are too trusting."

"Thank you—" Anja returns with a smile, the first one I have seen from her since leaving the Villa.

"Quiet!" The woman interrupts with a scowl and faces me. "And you, simply tell me the time and place and I will be there."

With an equally fiery look, I give the Mender her quarry. "The paved, stone platforms that once housed the Silverwings. Be there before the sun is at zenith."

She narrows her gaze. "You will see me there. But do not expect me to entertain the both of you," the Mender rudely offers and departs with a flick of her hand.

As she exits, the others weave in with questions. Again asking of what I did, or plan to do with Jerome or others of his kind. So persistent and annoying, even if the root stems from genuine interest. The intensity washes forth without pause, though I am used to it now. In the end, I answer what I can, and ignore those I cannot.

Soon, noon approaches and I stand upon the paved stonework waiting for the arrival of a certain figure clad in black. Anja and the Mender stands beside me, and only one of them cares enough to offer a smile—weak it may be.

A fair distance away, two humans toiled near an aerial construct. They have been working since before my arrival, passing a few glances over me just as often as I them. Various trinkets and machines are housed within the inner holdings of their craft, certainly evoking more than just a hint of curiosity from me.

What purpose would they provide, and why affix them now when they could have done so in the preceding days?

I did not have much time to ponder further as I spot a dark figure in the distance. There he stands with his back to me, arms held in front and head bowed in reverence before a legion of headstones. Two more warriors stood in vigil by his side—one of them a soldier of the regular sort.

For all our differences, we share the same shade deep. The graveyard answers with only silence and peace as I watched. A distant warmth kindles within me after witnessing something so... familiar.

I look away to give them privacy as they mourn their fallen. "We give them however much time they need."

"Of course," Anja murmurs over the gentle breeze, her tender expression eclipsed with a solemn look.

For as long as they need, we will wait. Perhaps later, I may even enquire about what we shall be doing.

"Remember to spare nothing in the way of courtesy," I promptly remind the two, earning a rare show of respect from the irate Mender.

"As you decree," comes her reserved voice.

======

They are done and dusted. Those good men and women, all laid to rest with nothing but a simple slab to remember them by. It's only now that I can truly stop by this place, and accept that all these people are now gone.

Fellow colleagues and friends—even those I know only in passing, are not coming back. It's only now just starting to register.

"They had the decency to bury our fallen at least," Douglas strolls over and places an assuring hand to my shoulder. "I—uh, I can live with that."

"Not all of them though, but yeah, I get your point," I frown, immediately reminded of the few bodies that were just unfortunately left to brave the elements.

Whether an act of negligence or otherwise, the rate at which decomposition was happening meant most of the corpses were transitioning into the early stages of putrefaction.

The recovery and subsequent burial of those guys was tough on the mental, not to mention absolutely disgusting, and is something I hope to never do again.

"—amen." I finish off the prayer. No matter how hard I try, those images are impossible to rid. It is always in the back of my head, propping up at every so often to sour my mood. They did not deserve that.

I just hope wherever their souls end up, they can find peace. They all earned their rest. It's up to us to continue this fight. To survive for as long as it takes.

"Harris right?" I shake the tangent away and look to the other trooper for confirmation.

"Yeah—but with a double 'r'," the soldier curtly supplies.

I nod and continue. "I think we're done here. If there's no objections, we'll bounce over to the landing pad.

Douglas breaks away and points over to our destination. "The ladies are still waiting on us. Best we stay on track."

"Yeah, nothing left for us here," Harris affirms and follows the operative's lead.

He slings his weapon around and holds it in low port. Trailing behind him, I glance over his shoulder to observe the three Euralians over on the pads.

If I were them, this would be the best opportunity to attempt an escape. We have taken every possible measure against it. Their chances of success is negligible. This should be a simple affair, one barely worth the effort of having an after action report.

"I have to say it again for the record. If it comes to it, I need to know you both are willing, and able to pull your shots," I say as we near the landing pad.

"Don't worry about me," Douglas firmly states with a brief glance back.

"Likewise here," Harris says.

"Great. We don't need anymore snitches outing this place out," I pause, immediately picturing the only foreseeable outcome of such an escape attempt.

Blood, none of it ours. And three limp bodies splayed across the cabin interior after a failed struggle.

"Hopefully they won't, for their sake," I conclude after wiping that image from my thoughts. The end result would be anything but clean.

Harris grunts and shortly quips. "We'll know soon enough. Fingers crossed."

The short introductory phase starts off with me facing off against the three ladies. I look over the group and briefly stop by a familiar face—then the second. The light bruise marred her complexion, sticking out like a sore thumb while also reminding me of that violent lapse.

The moment plays out just as I considered issuing a formal apology. Of all the people that could have volunteered, I was sure the retainer would not be on that list. But here she stands, Anja. That certainly warrants a few questions. Questions for another time, if ever.

I shift to the other two, noting the obvious scowl from one of them. I ignore the searing look in favour of Inora. Of the three, she would understand the most that there is no room for negotiations.

Pointing towards the Valor to our left, I begin. "Get inside, strap yourselves in, shut up. Do not stand, make small talk, or make any sudden movements. At all times you are hereby expected to observe these rules, am I understood?"

I hold up my rifle and disengage safeties to present her with a dilemma—comply, or find out. Douglas and Harris step into their personal space, shoving them in the landing pad's general direction.

"Move it!" Harris sneers with another hard shove.

"Yes—yes," Inora relents and paces off with her companions in tow.

"Lieutenant," one of the soldiers yells from across the pad, waving us over as he spots us.

"How's the tank?" Douglas inquires once we reach their position. I briefly observe the ladies as they step into the cabin, and remind myself to check on them momentarily.

"The rig's good. Had to get a couple of hands to move the damn thing. Kyle and I decided to leave the pump and control panel as it is in case you decide on doing on-site filtration."

"That will do nicely," I interject and pad them both on the shoulder, "tell Fred we're dusting off shortly."

"Got it, also," one of the troopers answers. He raises a subtle finger at the Euralians now inside the Valor, just out of sight. "I'm sure you already know this but, don't let your guard down."

I keep my response hushed. "We'll be ready for anything, don't worry." With that out of the way, and after wishing us safe travels, the two men went back to their stations.

After a quick visual inspection on the tank and being satisfied that all things are in order, I give the pilot the go-ahead through comms. 

"I'm in, last!" Harris yells as he steps into the cabin. He takes a seat and issues a brief glance at me, affirming his readiness as the anticipation for takeoff grows between us.

The rotors spring to life with a gentle whir. All three ladies keep their composure as the engines throttle to full capacity and the ground below falls out of sight.

"Watch their hands, and don't get distracted," I give Harris and Douglas the reminder over comms. Even unarmed, and physically inferior, it is our responsibility to keep them checked—just in case they really did have any dumb ideas.

The clouds graze past the windows, a constant blur of gray and white, the shade so reminiscent of the three sitting just across the cabin. I notice the eventual drop in temperature and observe the three women to gauge their response. The cold is not entirely unbearable, but just enough to be noticed.

"Cold?" I inquire after a minute of acute observation. The signs of mild discomfort did not go unnoticed.

Inora glances to both her companions before answering. "It is bearable," she says.

"I'll hold you to that, we don't have any blankets." In hindsight, we should have thought of it well in advance. Their attire is largely ineffective in keeping them warm, especially at the Valor's cruising altitude.

"Roughly two more minutes till we drop," Douglas nudges me on the arm before directing his gaze to the three ladies. "I'm sure these girls can take it."

With that assurance, I lean back and let the rest of the journey take its course. I did not know what else to think but the grim prospects of long term habitation. Where could we go—and how long could we survive on our own? I was worried for everyone's sake. Somehow, we have to find a way to live through this.

Before it can go further, a slight buzz from the intercom breaks me out of that spell. 

"We're closing on that lake, I'm making a sharp dive. Make sure those ladies know what's up," the Pilot announces from overhead to which I respond by relaying the message to the Euralians.

I look behind to catch the massive lake shimmering below. The calm waters hold a gentle gradient across its surface, reflecting a rich blue shade almost similar to that of the sky. In the past I would have considered this place as unremarkable, and only visited by a select few to study the local biota.

This lake has taken a new level of significance, now representing our closest source of clean water for the foreseeable future. And it looks just as I remembered from my last patrol here so long ago.

I undo the straps and prepare to disembark. If all goes well, water supplies will be back to manageable levels.

======
-1252 Military Hours
-Lake Sapphire, northern shoreline

The lake ahead shimmers with a gentle sheen as everyone steps out of the Valor. Douglas and Harris surround the three women as they take their first pioneering steps into the wilds. Both men hold a safe distance, far enough to avoid getting their weapons snatched.

I skirt around to the cockpit and get the pilot's attention. With a quick slicing motion across my neck, I instruct him to cut off the engines. With a brief nod, he complies and the constant buzz surrounding the Valor begins to diminish.

"All clear, on the ground and above," Harris reports after conducting an initial sweep.

"Alright, prep those buckets and set them by the bank. I'll fill the ladies on what they need to do. After you're done, find good spot and keep watch. It's not just local indig' we have to worry about," I explain.

"Let's hope we're not disturbing a nest or something," Harris grumbles as he reflects with a far look. "Command screwed us on Visegrad, that can't happen again," he discloses.

"It's probably safe. I did a few routes here, nothing much to say during those patrols," I remark.

Harris loosens up. "Glad to hear that," he answers. The trooper then heads back to the Valor to fetch the buckets while Douglas keeps watch on the Euralians.

I shoot him a thumbs up as Harris returns with the buckets. Sizing up the three women, I remove my helmet and send them a sharp glare, starting off with a strong tone.

"Listen up, it's very simple," I point to the buckets, "fill the tank using these buckets. The folks back home already marked out where the filling port is so I don't want excuses. Once it's full, sound off and we'll be returning to base."

I pause and direct the glare at Inora, lifting the confiscated pendant around my neck. The ornament's delicate glint is barely perceptible under the sun's rays.

"I'm not carrying this thing for show, but I don't want to hear any complaints unless absolutely necessary. Keep quiet, and do your job. I'm placing you in-charge of those two, now get it done!" I intone.

All three then scurry off, picking up the buckets in both hands and trudging towards the northern bank. I watch closely for the first few repetitions to gauge their progress, being satisfied with the pace they were at. The sun was bearing down not too kindly on us even as it descended and it did not take long for their work to lag behind their initial jump.

The resupply operation drags well into the late afternoon as a result. Aside from a scarce few encounters with the local wildlife, the last few hours were unremarkable. Beautiful place for sure, but also boring.

I pause and decide take a short rest, picking a nice spot by the lake's edge that ensures everyone is still within sight.

Removing my helmet, I take in a breath of unfiltered air and enjoy the minty coolness as it enters. The sky's orange tint gradually spreads, its new gradient clearly reflected below on the calm surface of Lake Sapphire. One can always count on a place like this to ease the mind.

While admiring the scenery, Douglas perks up from his position and begins making his way to me. The sudden approach did not carry a sense of urgency nor did it imply a possible threat.

"Anything?" I say just out of habit.

Douglas shakes his head. "Nothing. Just bouncing over to say they're almost done—water tank's about ninety percent full."

I nod and return to the lake and its surrounding features. "Good, it'll buy us a good two weeks."

This place is beautiful at sunset, and those surviving reports severely did not do this lake justice. Of course its original authors—wherever they are, were more concerned with documenting the local ecosystem and its inhabitants. Though I had a hunch those guys would agree with my assessment.

"We can't do these runs forever. Not without getting more fuel," Douglas remarks after a deep sigh.

I gesture at him to sit before replying. "It's just a temporary measure. It will have to do until everyone agrees on where our new base will be."

Douglas remains standing. "Not looking forward to it," the reserved operative bitterly murmurs.

After a period of silence, he continues, low gaze sweeping across the lake. "It would mean that... I'm not sure if—" His voice begins to waver and is laced with a slight tint of sadness.

I stop him from going further, concerned he would lapse back into a darker place of mind. "You don't have to finish it. We all know what you're going through," I pause, trying to come up with words of encouragement to lighten the mood.

As the silence dawns, I take a step back and reflect on what I could say to cheer him up. It is a tall order, likely bordering on the impossible. Eventually, I accept that my options are basically zero. 

Nothing I say could take his mind off the two most important women in his life. Best I can offer right now is honesty. "We just have to keep rucking forward. It's all we can do right now."

"Easier said than done, but I think you can do it," Douglas looks down at me with the sudden revelation.

I look back to him, sensing there is more to that statement. I gesture him on, prompting the operative to continue. "You're single. You can bounce back from this much faster than I'll be able to—if I even want to. That's one thing you've got going for you," Douglas elaborates.

"Well I did sign those papers right out of college. No time for hook ups and all since then," I say, reminiscing on those distant memories—memories back on Earth.

"But not exactly though," I continue, at the same time monitoring the Euralian women from my peripherals, "I still miss a few people, mostly family." 

It was a short list, and Catherine lies at the top. Every so often, thoughts about her wellbeing come to mind. Whatever my sister is doing now, I'm sure she can handle herself. She is married now, and has someone who will stand by her side through thick and thin.

Whichever road she takes, Catherine will have to walk it with John. I can't physically be with her any more. No words could ever fully express how much I despised that fact, and how badly I miss her already.

I keep that last bit to myself just so I did not damper the mood any further. After a few minutes venting our frustrations on who we have to leave behind, and speculating if reinforcements would even come in the near future, we both agree to end the discussion on a short note.

Douglas hums and points towards the horizon cresting above the lake. "There's plenty of potential sites from here all the way to the coast. So I'm not too worried on the long term."

"Sucks to be without the usual comforts though," I say, contemplating on that eventual reality. 

Deep down, I was not opposed to that prospect, even it if meant finally giving up on the Rift ever returning back to normal, and leaving everyone I knew on the other side behind. Better to be in the middle of nowhere than a warzone.

"Quite of few have already made peace with it—we all knew it was coming," Douglas replies.

"Yeah," I say.

We both watch the sun finally dip below that distant horizon. The sky above darkens to render an emerging night sky, leaving only a thin trace of gold along the edge—soon to disappear. It did not take long for that last remnant to fade away. The dark blue sky glimmers and turns an ever darker shade—approaching a firm black. Stars gathered and glimmered overhead, offering a stunning view that is nothing short of breathtaking.

In contrast to the heavens, the surrounding area is incredibly dark and I could barely register anything past five metres. Douglas stands beside me as a clearly defined silhouette against the backdrop of two spectacular moons.

Those two celestial objects appeared far bigger than our own moon, and came with a golden tint. Regardless, they both looked stunning.

"Looks like they're done," Douglas snaps me back to the present. "Come on."

He takes the lead and I follow him the short distance back towards the Valor. Navigation proves challenging and Douglas whips out a small torch before pacing ahead. "Watch your step—potholes," Douglas warns.

"Got it." I take note of my steps and keep up the pace behind him. We make it without much issue and approach the cabin, noting the lights flickering across us.

Harris and our Pilot monitor the interior with another torch of a brighter caliber, keeping eyes on the three women as they sat within looking thoroughly exhausted, slumped against the hull.

"Tank's all good?" I ask.

Harris nods and steps over to the tank. "Pretty much. Purge mode's already done and it's showing all green. All that's left is the actual purification which I'm leaving running during the flight."

"So it's drinkable?" Douglas interjects, to which Harris answers with a curt yes.

"The UI's giving back the all clear, so I would think so. But I say we wait till purification's done first," Harris shortly adds.

Satisfied, I step into the cabin and close the doors on both sides. "Well, we've got what we came here for, let's go," I say and reach out to the Pilot via comms to prepare for takeoff.

"Sound off!" I call out. The tactical lights flicker on and cast the cabin in a dim red glow.

"One," Douglas instinctively answers.

"Two," Harris comes next as he removes his helmet.

"Three," I pause, and glance over to the three women. "Four, five, and six. It's a full house." With the count done, I return to my original seat.

Beneath the red tint, I retreat back into my shell and jump back to that long-standing concern I had earlier in the day. No one knows for sure if this is even the right call, but as the days progress, the idea of securing a new base of operations is something I am beginning to agree with.

It simply did not matter as much now if our equipment fell into indigenous hands. The lives of those beside me, and the few others remaining, superseded any concerns for adhering to established regulation.

The thought is only broken by a slight jolt from the Valor. I look around to regain my bearings. Both Douglas and Harris briefly perk up but both seem equally uninterested in holding a conversation. 

Somewhere into the flight, Harris breaks out with a comment. "What's for dinner?"

"It's a Wednesday, so our rations should be anything chicken-flavoured," Douglas looks up with folded arms, then gestures to the opposite end. "As for them, that depends."

"Those three could use a full plate, they've earned that much. And I'm not letting them off on an empty stomach," I voice out. Both seem to agree, and make no further remarks for the rest of our flight.

On the opposite end, both the retainer and Inora seem content with dozing off. The third one remains fully awake, glaring right through my visor with a cold look. The silent threat she means to convey fails to intimidate me and, on the contrary elicits a scoff instead.

Without anything else to back up that look, I considered her no better than an attention seeker. All flair, and no substance. Especially so without any weapons.

I fold my arms and decide to humour the poor girl. "Stare all you want, and see where that lands you," I intone, to which she responds with a sneer. 

That small act quickly ticks me off. I stand up and make my way across. "You sure you want to continue with this?" I start off with a cold tone, pushing into her personal space as her glare finally falls apart.

"Look at me like that again and I'll ship your sorry ass into confinement," I say. Her farce quickly vanishes and she looks away, backing down as I tower over her.

I genuinely take no pleasure in this, but being strict is the only choice available that ensures they fall in line and remind them they are not in control. Remaining standing, I put aside the guilt and watch the three closely, only relenting the scrutiny once the flight concludes, and both doors open.

======
-2103 Military Hours
-Tartarus Base, Mess Hall

The room is quiet, save for the quiet affairs of a chef and her stove. I take a seat just as the rest did. Our task is concluded, yet we are still guarded. No words, or even sudden moves are condoned even in a place of respite.

I was lost in the endless murk. We toiled as forced labour, giving our sweat and grime as though we were men. My back, arms, and legs ached because of today. All I want now is to eat in peace. They did nothing but watch, unfairly so I might add. Not even lifting a finger to help in our efforts.

"So tired. N—never again," Anja sniffles, rubbing her palms with a tired look—not even looking up from the table.

Jerome turns to her before trudging away, returning with yet another glass. "Here," he curtly offers the Royal Retainer.

Anja hesitantly accepts and takes a few gulps. "T—thank you," she then beams a frail smile back at the stoic warrior.

He spares only a quick nod before returning to an oath of silence. We all endure his relentless gaze, and even the mild thumps of his steps whilst wandering keeps me uneasy. Of course nothing would compare to the ever present menace that is his weapon—a rifle.

Is he judging us, or perhaps insulting our disheveled looks? What uncanny human thoughts lurk behind that glazed helmet, if only I knew. Perhaps than I could lay my concerns to rest, and lift the veil.

We ate under his glare. Chicken, with a hint of eggs—delectable. All too soon I empty the plate. Now I ponder on if I should weave in a conversation with Jerome. It would be an innocent exchange of dialogue, one without the intricate burden of our dilemma.

Yet another risk, or mistake to add under my name. But it would be a worthy goal if it meant knowing more of the man behind that shell of armour.

Before I know it, we are led back to our abode. Anja and that bothersome Mender quickly wade into the domicile, leaving me alone with Jerome. All of that sour attention is now on me, and I want little to do with it. Still, the urge to raise an inquiry wins me over.

"How long will this farce continue," I start off, pointing to myself and then to him, "these ceaseless questions."

Jerome ponders, and remains amicable for once. "Not for much longer."

I press onward, seizing the current. "And when I have outlived that purpose, then what?" For too long I nursed that question and wondered what happens to me then.

The Black Hand would not think twice of executing prisoners who have lost their value. And there are some within the older Cohorts that also practice the same barbarism, its Captains and Lord Captains often turning a blind eye to such an act. 

I have seen it happen more than once, often without say or salvation from those soon to be slaughtered. But they hold a different standard. What would be our sentence?

"Depends," he pauses, and sounds conflicted, "we won't be staying here forever. Not with the war as it is."

"Where?" I blurt out before common sense could root it.

Jerome's gaze lingers across the darkened vale. "Somewhere we will never be found. I'm not interested in holding this place, it's not worth risking anymore lives. I know a lost cause when I see one."

I look down, dreading the topic. "Sorry." Just a single word, again to weave my guilt onto that sundered bridge.

He turns to me and steps closer, far closer than he would—his veiled helm eclipsing much of my vision. "Were you part of that attack. Did you facilitate the capture of this location?" Jerome glowers with that... maddening choice of words.

At first, I think to challenge him on this, but decide against it. "Yes," I answer. There is more I wish say, much more than this meagre reply. Fear stifles most of my ire, rightful it may be.

Jerome plants a sudden finger on the nock of my shoulder. "Then piss off with your sorry," he retorts, thundering with both malice and distaste.

I stop and endure his grievances, even as anger simmers to the fore. His blame is one worth voicing out, but I will never accept it all on me. Abruptly, and without pause, I hold his offending finger and push it away, almost at the cusp of yelling.

This is where the line must be seared. His gaze hides behind that offending mask, tempting me to break it—to shatter it, to see it useless and in untold pieces. Anything so he can see me as I am—unmasked and free, and not a faceless figure, and know if he held remorse.

"Never infringe like that again," I snap back, staring into a void of darkness. I would never know his thoughts. He remains silent, still as an effigy.

I tried my best, only to be swept beneath the waves. A scepter is all I yearned for at this very moment. I would set him ablaze before he would lay another vile finger on me.

The anger ebbs away after a deep breath. I glance up, seeing the sister moons linger over me. Their distant gaze gives me pause, and steers me away from doing something I would surely regret.

"Never... do that again," I repeat, calmer in voice and mind, casting aside the anger. There is nothing to gain, not with him.

Jerome stands in place. "Tomorrow, zero eight hundred hours sharp. Same place, no excuses," he sharply decrees before leaving.

I watch his back, staring onto his armoured visage until he threads into the darkness.

It seems odd, but I suppose most would feel bitter when faced with this. This is not truly him. "A pity." Only after reflecting upon that did I retreat inside.

The lights are still on, casting an eerie glow within the empty lobby. With a gentle flick, I silence the lights and venture up—conserving what remains of their power, as they have decreed. The cold, desolate air looms over me, drawing forth a quiet huff. Their clothes do not keep warmth.

The short walk back to my room is a silent, and dark affair. At times whilst passing by a room, a snore would break the solace. Some are soft, but others are loud as a drake—enough to disturb the dead even.

Another day is concluded. I sink into my bed, and relent to the darkness. A shower can wait at dawn.

They plan on leaving this vale, that revelation does not surprise me. Nothing we say or do will ever tempt them to serve beneath the Kingdom's Emblem. All that can be done now is continue to weave that escape plan. A potent weakness lies in a guard change upon that narrow pass at the stroke of midnight. This is where we would start.

Merely two guards stand between us and salvation—four if timed badly. It will have to be immaculate from start too finish. I know their schedules and the design of this fortress like the whites of my nails. Even then, a chance encounter would spell our demise.

I will leave all these worries for tomorrow.

===end===

Hi all, thanks for finish this massive drop. It's admittedly slightly on the filler side but that's a necessary to avoid skipping too many parts. This would be my first update after getting a job so yay for me.

Also, if you're interested check out this fanfic of ITR made by this dude. 

https://www.wattpad.com/story/343523797-into-the-rift-dark-emissaries

Also for the one guy that's obsessed with one of the female characters/or two (you know who you are), I can say you have excellent taste.