I step through the doorway, letting the heavy wooden door swing shut behind me with a dull thud that echoes through the entrance hall. The guards nervous whispers fade as I move deeper into the building, my boots striking stone with sharp, rhythmic cracks.
The anger is still there. Coiled tight in my chest like a living thing as I think the same thing over and over Cecilia must be an Awakened and she's been manipulating my emotions since we met. Breaking fundamental empire law as an awakened Inquisitor. Part of a conspiracy to control me.
Every step I take, the rage builds. But I force it down now is not the time to crash out. I need to focus. Need to hear what Caldera has to say, as I'm sure our next mission will be equally as annoying.
The corridor opens into what must have been the building's main administrative chamber. The room is surprisingly intact compared. The walls are solid stone thick enough to survive yesterday's chaos supposedly. Most windows are blown out, yes, and there's a crack running from floor to ceiling in the far corner, but the roof holds somehow.
It's worn down, certainly. Battle-scarred. But compared to the rest of Oakhaven compared to the miles of rubble and corpses and shattered dreams outside these walls it's practically palatial. Fit for a king one could I say, I chuckle in amusement Imagining that bastard king lounging about in this filth.
The only other building that looked better was the one I woke up in. They most of used the msot intact structure for the wounded.
Caldera stands at the far end of the room, hunched over a large table covered in reports and correspondence. He doesn't look up as I enter, too focused on whatever he's reading. A cup of coffee sits steaming at his elbow.
He looks like hell.
The Lieutenant Colonel is a powerful man even without his power he looks intimidating with his tattoos But right now, he looks... diminished. His leather armor is stained with blood and dirt. His face is haggard, dark circles under his eyes. His jaw is set in a way that suggests he's operating on pure willpower and caffeine. His left arm is wrapped in a bandage.
He finally glances up as I approach, and his grey eyes light up with something approaching approval.
"LT Daath." His voice is rough "Good. You're up."
I stop at the edge of the table, standing at attention. "Sir."
Caldera straightens, wincing slightly as his ribs protest the movement. He picks up his coffee and takes a long drink before speaking again.
"I wanted to personally congratulate you on your performance during the mission." He sets the cup down and meets my eyes. "Five Elites. Solo. Three In a spatial lock that cut you off from support. That's..." He shakes his head. "That's the kind of thing that gets you promoted into a Spell breaker. The kind of story soldiers tell around fires to remind themselves what's possible when the Gods are on their side. How could they lose with such powerful demigods fighting for us after all?"
The words should feel good. Should make me proud. But all I feel is the cold anger simmering in my chest. The knowledge that while I was fighting for my life, being played for a fool.
I force a nod. "Thank you, sir."
Caldera studies me for a moment, those grey eyes sharp despite his exhaustion. "You alright? Lucian said you tore blood vessels in your brain. That's not something to take lightly." "Although he did inform me of the little bond you two have and how he can heal you."
I stiffen in annoyance but consider that it would be impossible to explain my healing otherwise, Awakened naturally heal faster than mundane humans but not to that extent.
He smirks and raises a hand "Don't worry your secrets safe with me, but answer me are you good?"
"I'm fine," I say. "Lucian's healing did its job I can move again."
"Mm." Caldera doesn't look fully convinced but he does not push. Instead, he gestures to one of the chairs. "Sit. We need to talk about what's next."
I sink into the offered chair gratefully. My body is still protesting yesterday's abuse.
Caldera remains standing, pacing slowly as he talks. "The soldiers and Inquisitors you've seen around Oakhaven they were staged about twenty miles away in a village. Strategic Command had them on standby and did not think to tell us apparently." He picks up his coffee again, takes another long drink. "After we succeeded in our mission of wiping Oakhaven off the map and drawing the Federation's attention east, I used my command amulet to report our success. Command deployed the relief force immediately."
Twenty miles. They were that close the whole time. Ready to sweep in once we'd done the dirty work.
Makes sense, tactically. But it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
"The main army began their northern offensive about six hours ago," Caldera continues. "Early reports suggest they caught the Federation with their pants down. We did our job. Drew their focus. they assumed a larger force was here and they ended up committing some forces east to deal with us just to have to turn back around and try and stop the bleeding from our main offensive ."
He sets his coffee down and braces both hands on the table, leaning forward. "Strategic Command is pleased. The King himself sent word to Strategic command. You are specifically being recognized for exceptional service to the empire."
I should care about that. Should feel something. Pride, maybe. Satisfaction.
But all i feel is cold rage at once again being used a fucking pawn in some game.
"Thanks' I reply smiling
I control the rage. Force myself to focus on what matters. I point at the stack of papers and reports littering the table. "So what's next? I doubt we have the luxury of staying here."
Caldera grimaces. It's a telling expression like he'd been hoping for more time but knew it wouldn't happen. "Yeah. You're right about that."
He straightens and moves to the wall where a large map of Verion has been tacked up. The country sprawls across the canvas forests and plains in the south and west, mountains and canyons dominating most of the north. Red marks indicate Federation positions. Blue shows empire control. The colors are heavily mixed, a chaotic patchwork of contested territory.
Caldera grabs a piece of charcoal and circles an area in the northeast. "Strategic Command wants us to reposition and prepare for another operation."
I lean forward, studying the map. The circled area is deep in Federation territory. Mountainous which of coruse means difficult terrain.
"Here," Caldera says, drawing a line from our current position Oakhaven northeast toward the start of the mountains. "We'll be moving through contested territory, so stay alert. But the Federation is currently focused on our main army's northern push. We should be able to slip through."
He taps the circled area with the charcoal. "Our destination is a region in the far eastern part of Verion's mountain range."
"What's the target?" I ask Not understanding
"Aubermans eventually." Caldera circles another spot on the map, more east of the first mark. "It's one of the biggest mining operations in Verion. The Federation captured it during their initial offensive. They've been exporting the crystals ever since."
Crystals. The magical ore that powers everything from enhanced weapons to communication arrays to the empire's most advanced siege engines. Losing Aubermans was a significant blow. Getting it back would be a major victory.
"Command wants us to disrupt their operations?" I ask.
"Eventually." Caldera's expression darkens. "But that's not our primary mission right now. The main army will be striking Aubermans directly in a few weeks once they carve a path from the north and north west they want us to be in position for that mission when the time comes. What concerns Strategic Command is what the Federation is doing with all those crystals. They're mining at three times the normal rate. Stripping the veins with no care in the world per our spies and reconnaissance something big is happening, and we need to know what."
He points to another location on the map, deeper in the eastern part of the small mountain range. Inside a canyon system that looks like a natural fortress. "Inside this mountain range is a city called Baelin. And according to our intelligence, it's currently home to someone very interesting."
I wait, watching as Caldera grimaces again. Whatever he's about to say, he doesn't like it.
"A suspected traitor named Teleb," he says finally. "And the leader of a terrorist group called Midnight Rose. I'm not sure if you're familiar."
The name hits me like cold water.
Midnight Rose.
I blink, surprise cutting through my anger for the first time since I entered the room. "I know the name."
Caldera raises an eyebrow. "Do you?" "Huh we try and suppress their influence from the public as much as possible, I didn't think the Proctors at the Academy would share that name freely but I guess with you all supposed to be at Academy they didn't really expect any type of info leaks."
I nod slowly, my mind racing back. Almost a year ago. Back in Lont, right after my Awakening. When everything changed and my life became a political nightmare.
Cardinal Bishop Lark had pulled me aside to talk after I sought out Cecilia in her room he warned me that most of the other cardinals except him and a few and that the fucking Pope wanted me dead. Saw me as a threat to the Kings divine right to rule. A three-mark bearer who could upset the careful balance of power they'd cultivated, a supposed false prophet and agent of chaos.
And their plan had been to kill me and frame Midnight Rose for it. Make it look like terrorists had assassinated the Child of Light. Rally the faithful and consolidate power. They wanted to eliminate a problem and strengthen their position in one move. In hindsight I respect it even if it pisses me off. It's my life they threatened.
It hadn't worked, obviously. I'm still alive. But the memory of that conversation of Lark's warning is burned into my mind.
"I had... a conversation with Cardinal Bishop Lark," I say carefully. "About a year ago. He mentioned that certain high-ranking Church officials wanted me dead. That they planned to frame Midnight Rose for my assassination."
Caldera's eyes narrow. "Did he now."
"Yes, sir."
The Lieutenant Colonel is quiet for a moment, processing. Then he nods, as if that confirms something he'd suspected. "Interesting."
He turns back to the map, tapping Berlin again. "Midnight Rose has been a thorn in the empire's side for years. Sabotage. Assassinations. Disrupting supply lines. They pop up all over hit targets deep in empire territory, then vanish before we can respond. Strategic Command is convinced they're all currently here in Verion. In Berlin to be specific They know for a fact that their leader is."
"This Teleb guy," I say.
"Teleb," Caldera confirms. "An Elite. Rogue. Dangerous. And according to intelligence, he's coordinating with the Federation. Whether that's ideological alignment or just mutual convenience against the empire, we don't know."
"Who is this guy exactly?"
Caldera grunts "Ex Awakened Captain of the Imperial army he was on deployment into Jarvix when one day he disappeared. We originally thought him MIA after a failed mission but we ended up finding the bodies of people who went on the mission with him. Then the Midnight rose popped up and our intelligence networks were able to connect him to it based off his unique mark of power being used at one of the scenes. As for the other members we have no fucking clue, they leave no witnesses."
I lean back in my chair, mind working through the implications. Midnight Rose working with the Federation. Operating out of a fortified city in the mountains. And Strategic Command wants Helix to go after them.
"What's the mission?" I ask, though I can already guess.
Caldera's expression hardens. "Kill all of them. And attempt to capture Teleb alive."
I actually laugh. Can't help it. The sound comes out harsh and bitter. "Capture a rogue Elite alive? Are they insane?"
Caldera shrugs, but there's acknowledgment in his eyes. He thinks it's a tall order too. "Command believes we're strong enough to subdue him. And they want him for interrogation. Need to know his motives for starting midnight rose and what his connection to the Federation is, what they're planning."
"And how exactly do they figure we can hold him?" I ask. "Elites aren't exactly easy to keep imprisoned. Even with eleven of us."
"Drug him if it comes to it," Caldera says with another shrug. "We can see if Ivy has any plants or drugs that we can use. Or Imara can increase his body's density to the point where he can't move. We'll figure it out when we get there."
I stare at him. "That's the plan? 'We'll figure it out'?"
"That's the plan," Caldera confirms without a hint of irony. "Welcome to special operations, Daath. Half our missions are 'figure it out as you go' with a side of 'try not to die.'"
I suppose that's fair. Yesterday's assault on Oakhaven had been similarly vague. 'Cause chaos. Draw attention. Kill everything.' And we'd succeeded.
Still. Capturing a rogue Elite alive while killing everyone around him. In a fortified city with civilians is going to be a nightmare.
I sigh and nod, pushing myself to my feet. My ribs protest but I ignore them. "Understood, sir."
Caldera watches me stand. "You'll need to brief the cohort. Make sure everyone's ready. This mission is going to be significantly more complicated than Oakhaven."
"I'll handle it," I say. Then, as I turn toward the door, another thought occurs to me. "When do we leave?"
Caldera smirks. It's a tired expression, but there's amusement in it. "Tomorrow before first light. We'll be leaving this area in control of the Inquisitors and Army. They'll handle the remaining civilians and cleanup."
I salute fist over heart and Caldera returns it.
"Dismissed," he says. "And Daath? Good work yesterday. I mean that."
I nod once, then turn and head for the door.
As I walk out of the room, back into the corridor, the anger returns. But a tinge of excitement awakens in my heart as I activate my fearmonger mark needing the separation of my emotions. More death and chaos and the endless grinding machinery of war what more could one ask for?
Cecilia crosses my mind again and I sneer in contempt I will not be controlled. Not by the Church. Not by the empire. Not by the fucking King. And definitely not by some Inquisitor with a cute face who thinks she can make me into her perfect symbol.
I step out into the bright afternoon sunlight, and the heat does nothing to warm the cold rage in my chest.