Chapter 14: Unexpected Contact

To avoid drawing any attention, we all decided to slip out through the back door of the house, which fortunately opened directly into some kind of plantation, though whatever had once been grown there was impossible to tell, the field had been left untended and was overtaken entirely by weeds, worse than the wheat field from before.

We made our way to the rally point that had been established from the start, where the other squads were waiting. Pat, Raylan, and the rest had already been there for a while, and just as the Sergeant had said, Raylan still looked visibly down, understandable given that he had been the one to take out the three Dretonian soldiers back in the wheat field.

I managed to get close enough to ask if he was alright, but he answered immediately that he was fine and told me to stop worrying about him. His eyes, though, told a different story. The guilt was still spreading through him, and I could see it clearly enough.

It would have been easy for me to say just grab a rag and wipe up the spilled milk instead of crying over it, but in this case what had been spilled was not milk. It was human blood. Yes, yes, it was only an idiom, but it still was not exactly the right thing to say out loud in a literal sense.

After we had pushed far enough into the plantation, the column gradually slowed to a stop at a spot that was, if I was being honest, completely unremarkable. We were standing near a mound of earth littered with dry timber that had come loose from whatever had once held it together. Old burlap sacks lay scattered among the wood as well.

"Over here, Lieutenant," called the man who had come so close to meeting his end not long ago. It was Philipe. Unlike before, he was moving with something resembling recovery, as though the bullet that had been lodged in his stomach had only ever been a brief visitor.

Though he still occasionally pressed a hand to the area where the wound had been. Of course the pain from the trauma and shock was still running through his nerves, that was the brain's own defense mechanism at work, and when it came to the complexities of the human brain itself, that was already well beyond the reach of my healing magic.

Pushing through what remained of the pain, Philipe bent down and with one hand began clearing away the timber lying across the ground. Nira, standing nearby, immediately moved to help him.

The rest of us, the Airborne, simply watched with open confusion, full of questions we had not yet been able to ask. What they were doing right now was only the latest in a string of unanswered things, because the more pressing matter was still the identity of these two individuals. Philipe had said he wanted to satisfy our curiosity, but he had asked us to get somewhere safe first. Following Lieutenant Bulgers' instinct, we had all come to trust that whoever these two were, they meant us no harm.

"Don't just stand there gawking, help them, you lazy bastards," the Staff Sergeant retorted at the lot of us who had done nothing but stare.

That included me. We all moved at once to help clear the timber, even without knowing what the point of it was. Under Philipe's direction we shifted the wood not far from where it had originally been, and from that alone I could already see how systematic all of this was.

"Huh, what is this?" Ashton, who was near me, stopped because he had found something underneath.

Though in the end, because we were all working together it did not take long before we began to see what had been hiding beneath all of it: a trapdoor, disguised with packed earth, now uncovered.

Nira reached for the handle of the door and opened it by pulling it upward. When I stepped a little closer to peer inside, there was a ladder descending straight down into darkness too deep to make out from where I was standing.

Nira did not let that stop her. She was the first to lower herself into the opening, hanging onto the ladder as she went, the sound of her descent carrying upward as she climbed down.

"Come on, go in," Philipe smiled warmly with a welcoming wave, and was the second to begin making his way down.

"Freddy, Ashton," Lieutenant Bulgers turned to the two he had called out just as Philipe started down the ladder. "You two stay outside. Hold the perimeter with this bunker as the center."

"Yes, sir."

Leaving those two behind, the rest of us began filing one by one into what Lieutenant Bulgers had called the bunker. He was also the first among us to step inside without a trace of hesitation, followed by the Staff Sergeant, until finally my turn came. Unlike before, there was already light coming from below, a lamp having been lit by the time I descended.

The moment I stepped in, I was met by stale air carrying the smell of damp earth and lamp oil. The members of the unit who had come down ahead of me were already there. The room was not unbearably cramped but still felt suffocating. It was nothing grand, just a dugout reinforced with whatever timber had been available. Inside there was only a rough wooden table that we had already gathered around, an old dusty radio, and two low cots.

Nira moved quickly, helping her father settle into one of the chairs positioned at the corner of the table, while several squad members claimed the remaining seats. I was lucky enough to get one ahead of Pat, which meant he would be standing for the duration. Well, first come first served.

So four of the ten squad members who had entered the bunker were seated. Without realizing it I had ended up with Lieutenant Bulgers on my left and Scarface himself on my right. I was already regretting it somewhat.

"Maudit, I don't believe you guys really came. I mean, after ten years on Empire hand, everything seems unreal," Philipe opened, flashing a smile beneath his thick mustache and giving the table a light slap as a sign of his joy, Nira sitting beside him reaching over to calm him down. "And you really came from the sky on top of that. You Harkeys really crazy like in the movie, huh?"

Harkeys was the nickname for us, the Arkenians. It had originally started as a crude word meant to mock us, but somewhere along the way the Arkenians themselves had simply embraced it.

"Even so, from your tone alone you speak as though you were already expecting us," Lieutenant Bulgers replied. "No need for further explanation about yourself. You're local resistance, aren't you?"

Looking around the bunker, on one side of the earthen wall hung a flag we already recognized as the flag of Lonfre, so by now everything had already fallen into place on its own. The old radio made it even more obvious, clearly serving as the means of communication for their resistance.

"Well, that will make things easier," Philipe began rising from his chair. "I am Philipe Morel, and you are correct, Lieutenant. I am a liaison officer for the Liberation Forces of the Lonfre Republic."

"Liaison officer?" Lieutenant Bulgers responded with a question.

Philipe coughed slightly, but his eyes were sharp as they met Bulgers'. He walked toward the timber-lined wall, closing the distance until he stopped and revealed to us that it was not an ordinary wooden wall at all, pulling it firmly enough to expose a door mechanism hidden behind it.

The door moved stiffly, its bottom edge dragging heavily against the earthen floor, making it a considerable struggle just to get it open. Despite the effort, it eventually gave way and no longer blocked what lay behind it.

What the hidden compartment contained was a stockpile arranged neatly on shelves in three categories, like the racks of a retail store. The first and second shelves were lined with canned food of all kinds from various brands, all of them still intact, some of the tins still carrying a faint shine.

Right at the very bottom, the sight that greeted us stood in sharp contrast to the shelves above it. Spare magazines were arranged neatly alongside several Varexil rifles that had been seized and kept in remarkably good condition, complete with a row of hand grenades laid out in a wooden crate.

"Holy fuckin' arc, you preparin' for the end of the world or something, old man?" Pat beside me busted out, unable to hide the shock written across his face.

"Someone seems to believe that a second catalyst will happen, it seems," Caspian also chimed in.

Philipe did not answer immediately. He simply gave us a proud smile, the kind that comes from knowing you have done something genuinely worthwhile.

"So, you were expecting us?" Lieutenant Bulgers was still not satisfied and pressed again, though this time there was a note of concern underneath it.

"No need to worry, Lieutenant," Philipe said to put him at ease. "This is simply common sense, it does not mean your intelligence was leaked or something. When news of the Imperial Navy's destruction spread, we all felt a surge of hope, thinking that sooner or later you would set foot here to dismantle the Empire's grip. That was nothing more than our sincere hope. We did not even know when or where you would appear, and after months of waiting with the sky and the sea still quiet, many of us had begun to lose hope again."

After that explanation, I could feel Lieutenant Bulgers exhale with relief. "So what does any of this have to do with being a liaison officer?"

"As I explained, we had no idea where you would show up. Even so, the leadership at the table did not want to simply sit and wait. They held meetings with the leaders of resistance organizations from other countries across the southeastern peninsula, and from those meetings came the decision to send many of us out to establish posts along the eastern coast of Zelparia, with the aim of contributing to your landing."

All of us were genuinely stunned by everything Philipe had laid out. Being able to meet a resistance member was something like stumbling upon buried treasure, because they were a source of local intelligence that would prove invaluable in any military operation.

"Ah, you may have already been introduced, but this is Nira, my youngest daughter," Philipe introduced Nira to us, even though we had already done that ourselves while he was still unconscious.

"Thank you, miss," Pat said politely to Nira as he accepted something from her.

In the middle of this meeting, Nira had once again prepared warm drinks for all of us, likely because the others had never gotten the chance to enjoy their coffee before the enemy column showed up, and Raylan, Pat, and the rest had not even been in the house before. That made sense, but even so I was once again served a mug of milk. I mean, milk again?

"She also took part in the action, serving as my messenger or runner," Philipe said here with something close to a complaint, punctuated by a slow exhale. "Even though I had tried to stop her, knowing how dangerous it all was."

"It was impossible for me to just sit quietly and knit, Father," Nira cut in, setting the last mug down in front of the Lieutenant. She stood straight, meeting her father's eyes without a trace of hesitation. "Especially when every drop of Lonfre's blood is being spilled and our land wrung dry by the Empire. If I had done nothing but wait, I would have been no different from someone who lets the darkness take permanent root."

We all froze. Caspian showed it the most, he had just been about to take a sip of his drink and stopped halfway, his eyes going wide as he stared at Nira as though she had just grown wings.

"You... you speak Thelish?" Caspian, standing near the ladder, whispered in disbelief.

Nira turned toward us, offering a thin smile that felt entirely different from the shy, timid smile we had seen from her before. She spoke Thelish with considerable fluency, even surpassing her own father, carrying only the faintest trace of an accent that at times disappeared entirely.

"Forgive me for the act earlier," she said, her eyes finding me first before shifting to Lieutenant Bulgers. "My father's identity and safety were the top priority. In our world, many have ended up with their necks in a noose for being careless with their own tongues. I had to make sure you were real Harkeys before I could say anything."

Wait, after all of that if that was the case then she had understood everything we had been saying back in the house this whole time?

Well, that adds one more name to the list of reasons we need to liberate that country as soon as possible. Ahhh, stop it, that's too cringe!

"Elise," Nira now fixed her gaze back onto me. "I will be waiting for news of my sister from you."

"Hm," I deliberately reached for the mug of milk in front of me and pretended to take a sip, using it to hide my face. God, why did I say that.

"Hey, this man right here just shot three Dretonians who almost made you... well, you know how it goes," Pat responded, jerking his thumb toward Raylan standing nearby.

"I know. But within the organization my father outranks me, so I had to wait for him first," she explained in answer to Pat's argument, then turned toward Raylan, who was standing with his head lowered. "And as for you, I hope you will stop blaming yourself. If anyone deserves the blame, it is those savage Dretonians."

".....Alright," Raylan responded faintly, his voice barely audible. "But, I'm sorr-"

"Don't," Nira stopped him immediately. "Do not apologize. Once again, they are the ones who were wrong. Not you."

Raylan heard that and gave only a slow nod, still without much life behind the gesture.

"Alright, how about this," feeling that was still not quite enough to rekindle anything in Raylan, Nira paused for a moment to think. "Stay alive when the capital is taken back. After the victory parade, as a way of saying thank you, how about we share a dinner time together?"

This time Raylan's eyes went wide at the invitation, and every single one of us, myself included, caught exactly what that offer meant.

"Fiuuu!" Pat let out a loud whistle that echoed off the low ceiling of the bunker, then slammed into Raylan's back until the young man choked. "Look at this guy, not even a full day in Lonfre and he's already reeled in something fine. Congratulations to you, but still, damn you Ray for leaving me behind!"

"What? Geez that hurts man, stop it!"

"Lucky bastard," Horgan muttered, working a chew of tobacco around in his mouth while also grinning faintly at Raylan.

"Always the quiet one, always the fuckin' quiet one," Pisger, who was sitting in the corner, broke in, prompting a chuckle from some of the squad members standing behind.

"Hey man, need a perfume recommendation?" Not wanting to be left out, Caspian joined the club.

The atmosphere turned genuinely cheerful, as though we had just won the whole war and tomorrow was the day we would all be going home. Everyone present congratulated Raylan in their own way, like Horgan sharing a pinch of his tobacco with Raylan as a gift, though I was still curious what he whispered into Raylan's ear that made him go shy like that.

It was truly something to hold onto, how the bond of solidarity between us as comrades had not been lost in this fucked up world. In the end, it was this bond that would carry us through whatever the campaign ahead had in store.

Thankfully those words were enough to bring Raylan's head back up. I was genuinely grateful that hearing it from a citizen of Lonfre herself could serve as some comfort to him, because however you looked at it, the girl standing there was the very person he had saved.

"Alright, cut it out, you clowns," the Staff Sergeant's voice came down hard and fast, killing the laughter dead. "You think this is a bar or something? Get it together, your bastards!"

In an instant, the bunker went silent. Pat, who had just been draping his arm around Raylan's shoulder, pulled it back immediately and snapped to attention like a board. Even Horgan stopped chewing his tobacco.

"Sorry about them, Morel," Scarface glanced back toward Philipe.

"Ha, do not mind them," Philipe replied with a wave of his hand. "I do believe discipline is important in the military, but that does not mean stripping away their humanity, especially when they are passionate young people. Is that right, youngsters?"

"Yes, sir," we answered in unison, stifling our laughter, while beside us the Staff Sergeant could only shake his head and let out a long exhale.

Lieutenant Bulgers himself simply gave a quiet clearing of his throat as he always did, content to let his Sergeant handle the business of keeping discipline in order.

He's eventually leaned back in his chair, looking genuinely impressed. "Well, a disciplined messenger. You trained her well, Morel."

"She trained herself, Lieutenant," Philipe muttered, rubbing his face. "She is more stubborn than your entire infantry division combined."

"Alright then," Lieutenant Bulgers' index finger tapped against the surface of the table as he worked through everything Philipe had laid out. "I had no knowledge of any of this whatsoever. Have you made contact with G-HACE?"

G-HACE, or the Grand Headquarters Allied Crossing Envoys, was the highest military authority established through the defense pact between the Northern Tuarian nations and several governments-in-exile from Zelparian countries under Varexil occupation. It served as the strategic nerve center uniting the land, sea, and air commands of its member nations toward a single purpose: the Operation to Liberate the Western Continent from the Varexil Empire's occupation.

"Actually, no. All of this has been our own initiative," Philipe answered. "Just consolidating the leaders across the southeastern peninsula was already high risk, so this operation was kept to a carefully chosen handful of people, myself included. We were afraid our communications would be intercepted if we tried to reach your leadership. In the end, Varexil still controls Zelparia's communication lines, Lieutenant."

"I see," Lieutenant Bulgers responded, taking a sip of his coffee. "You operate with a great deal of professionalism. I'd give you that."

"....We had no choice, Lieutenant," Philipe lowered his shoulders here, his expression turning bitter. "Ten years is not a short time to spend without your country. We could not hold back the longing for what peace used to feel like, so we did what we could to take it back, even if it cost us many lives along the way. We had no choice but to use those losses as lessons, because we refused to let their deaths mean nothing."