The welcome dinner was grand and deliberate. General Odo had ordered it himself—a gesture not just of familial love, but of reassurance. They were safe here, for now.
A long table dominated the dining hall, set with dishes rarely seen on warfront soil. Roasted antelope in palm wine glaze, marinated dove meat, steamed rice wrapped in plantain leaves, and sweet pepper stew in golden bowls. The staff moved with practiced grace, setting wine glasses, unfolding napkins, and offering warm towels before serving.
The General sat at the head of the table, no longer the fierce commander of Forun operations, but simply husband and father. Bianca sat beside him, elegance and calm. Tade across from them, flanked by Didi, who had already sampled half the dishes before the first toast.
"To family," General Odo said, raising his glass.
"To peace, eventually," Bianca added with a knowing smile.
"To less boring dinners back home," Didi quipped, earning a laugh from everyone.
The table came alive with familiar chatter. Bianca spoke of family friends back in the capital, art exhibits she visited in secret to avoid political watchers. Didi dove into dramatic tales of academy life, her frustration with strict tutors and the petty drama of her classmates. Tade mostly listened, but when asked about military postings, he shared light-hearted stories—carefully edited—to keep the tone gentle.
"You've grown, my boy," the General said between courses, eyes resting on Tade with pride. "Your voice carries the weight of command."
"And yet still sounds like mine when he lies," Bianca teased.
By the time dessert was served—a warm sweet yam pudding with honey and ground coconut—the tension that had traveled with them began to dissolve. The laughter, the shared memories, the weight of the name 'Odo'—for one evening, all of it simply meant family.
---
Later, after Didi retired to her room and Bianca settled with a book near the fireplace, General Odo and Tade sat alone in the sitting room. The fire crackled softly, casting shadows on the walls lined with maps and campaign banners.
The General poured two glasses of dark, aged brandy and handed one to his son.
"There's something we need to speak about—beyond pleasantries."
Tade nodded. He had expected this. "The Forun assaults."
"Both traps," Odo said grimly. "Precise, calculated… too precise. Asa was there before us. And not just ready—waiting. That's not battlefield guesswork. That's inside knowledge."
"You think there's a mole."
"I'm certain," the General said. "Someone high-ranking. I want you to work quietly with Commander Helda and her assistant Otunba. Not through official channels—this has to be clean. Eyes on everyone. If we don't root them out soon, Asa will strike deeper."
Tade drank, then set the glass down. "You have my word. I'll do whatever it takes. For Greenland."
Odo leaned back. "I know you will."
A beat passed before the General asked, "How are things back home?"
Tade exhaled slowly. "Volatile. The election's heating up. Raf Chizo wants to cling to the seat, but the people are tired. Enoch Gadaf is gaining fast. Young blood. Promises of reform. It's looking like a landslide."
"Do you trust him?"
"No," Tade replied quickly. "Too polished. Too smooth. And because we supported Chizo last time, they expect us to do it again. That's why I brought everyone here. I didn't want them caught up in the noise. And… I didn't want Gadaf anywhere near them."
The General's eyes gleamed with approval. "That was wise."
"They're watching us," Tade added. "The name Odo still means something in Greenland, and it scares people. I need to stay neutral."
"You learned well," Odo said quietly, his voice deep and proud. "You'll outlast them all."
They sat together a while longer in silence, the fire low, the war far from their table, but never truly gone.