(Flashback)
Classroom walls were repainted. Portraits came down overnight. The name of the fallen leader vanished from textbooks, speeches, even prayers. Teachers learned which pages to skip. Children learned what questions not to ask.
_________
Othmir miners arrived with permits already stamped.
A foreman stepped from the convoy, tapping the papers against his palm.
"Authorization is complete," he told the village head without looking up. "This area is now a safety zone."
"For whose safety?" the elder asked, voice thin.
"Yours," the foreman replied smoothly. "Relocation begins tomorrow."
Villages were moved with whistles and timelines. Towns were measured, marked, reduced to grids.
"Please stand behind the line," an officer said as yellow paint cut across a courtyard.
"That line is my father's grave," a woman whispered.
"It's still a line," he answered.
In the cities, fences rose overnight. Warning signs followed.
"Mining perimeter," a clerk read aloud. "Access restricted."
"But we live here," a man protested.
"Not anymore."
Dust replaced memory. What could not be excavated was buried under paperwork.
A junior official hesitated over a form.
"History use?" he asked.
The supervisor shook his head. "Classify as nonessential."
_____
Decades passed.
Stories began to surface again, whispered at wells, traded at night markets, carried by elders who refused to forget.
Anger followed remembrance.
Protests flared and vanished.
Names were spoken only in the shadows.
The news reached the Elder's Council.
A messenger bowed, breath tight. "Othmir has approved oil exploration in the Southern Creeks."
Silence.
"The concession?" an elder asked.
"Assigned to Onny Hart."
One elder closed his eyes. "The creeks feed half our people."
Another clenched his staff. "And now they will feed outsiders."
A third spoke, voice low. "This is no longer forgetting."
"It is erasure," another said.
The room held its breath, then one elder whispered, "We must act."
For the first time in years, the council chose action.
____________________
(Present day)
The chamber doors sealed with a muted thud. Low ceiling lamps glowed without warmth, flattening every shadow. Dust drifted in slow spirals.
Armin Hart rested both hands on the table. "Let's not pretend this is complicated."
Across from him, pale faces nodded. Blonde hair caught the light. Blue and green eyes stayed calm.
"Ironic… Argathe literally feeds off itself," Hein Falk said, sliding a projection forward. "Red-eyed unrest. Copper-skinned militias. Fragmented loyalty."
Lucy Hart didn't speak. She watched who leaned in. Who didn't.
Klara Hofmann folded her arms. "Troops are prepared. Rapid deployment. No delays."
"How rapid?" Armin asked.
"Forty-eight hours," Klara said. "Full control."
Lothar Vogel cleared his throat. "Without supervision, efficiency declines."
"You mean extraction," Lucy said quietly.
Lothar didn't meet her eyes.
Armin smiled. "Waste is a luxury they can't afford. If they won't use it properly, someone else must."
"And the people?" someone asked.
Hein shrugged. "They'll adapt."
"Hahaha… They always do." Lothar laughed maniacally.
Pale skin stretched tight over his angular face as his gray-blue eyes flicked with quiet calculation. A few dark strands, carefully combed back over his balding crown, caught the light when he tilted his head.
Lucy traced the table edge. Smooth. Expensive.
Armin reached into his briefcase. Metal scraped softly.
He placed a sealed folder at the center.
Black ink. Heavy wax.
"Territorial Operation Plan," he said.
No one breathed.
_________________________
A man near the window shifted. "This isn't protocol."
Armin didn't look up. "We'll adjust it."
"It authorizes force," another voice said.
Hein Falk tapped the screen. "Inaction costs more lives. These numbers don't lie."
Lucy leaned closer. "Numbers don't scream either."
Klara's tone stayed flat. "Delay risks regional collapse."
"Or escalation," the first man said.
Lothar adjusted his glasses. "Efficiency prevents waste."
Lucy flipped pages. Paper whispered. Her fingers stopped.
"This clause," she said. "Civilian oversight."
Armin smiled faintly. "Efficient."
Silence thickened. Air hummed.
Hein spoke softly. "Oversight slows response."
"And secrecy makes things worse," Lucy replied.
Armin finally met her eyes. Brown. Unblinking.
"Do you object?" he asked.
Lucy hesitated. Too long.
Klara's boot scraped the floor. "We move fast. Or we lose control."
Lucy kept reading. Lines blurred. One phrase stood out.
Covert authorization. Internal theaters.
No disclosure.
Her pulse kicked.
"This permits operations inside Argathe," she said. "Without notice."
Armin closed the folder.
"That," he said, "is the point."
Lucy felt the room tilt.