[centre][hr][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/181005/fc898f921f53203bc3bc9106717c7c88.png[/img] [sub][color=Silver][i]The Siege of Amone, September 10th - [b]Uneasy Break[/b][/i][/color][/sub] [hr][/centre] [color=Silver] Jean saw a few of his own squadmates begin to emerge from their cover and align themselves with the Imperial's unfathomable request of peace. Even though he'd been excited and led on by the mentioning of proper bedding and the sanitary conditions to wash, clean and relax within the confines of a large inn, Jean was still sceptical about the entire credibility of the remarkable situation at hand. It was enough to profile the Imperial as an enemy from first glance, mainly because they'd spent years fighting one another will little to no rest. This one being an exception amongst a sea of bodies and bullets made the Francian uncomfortable and unknowing of what the potential ploy may be leading the Squad towards. Nevertheless, he turned back to the officer, eyeing him up and down. He didn't have his helmet on, seemingly, and instead was wondering around with a large and fierce cape, draped from over his shoulders, similarly to that of the Oceanic troops. Unlike those expeditionary forces, however, was his grey tone of his own accessory. In one hand he held a small ceremonial drill-cane, one used for measuring foot paces and positioning of marching drills, not for the more obvious walking assistance one might think of. Jean knew these from his own training days, back when the Drill Sergeant would make sure that their muscle memory was close enough to near perfection when it came to standard ceremonial drill. Seemed like quite a waste of time, at least for Jean, as there wasn't really any time or places to engage in such formalities. With a closer gaze, Jean couldn't make out what his medals and awards seemed to be for. They were all of foreign formations, names and reasoning most likely, especially in comparison to the Federation's list of medals. Brass buttons polished to the brim were also dotted all over his officer's attire, until he eventually found the regular grey overcoats that most soldiers wore in these damp, cold nights. Jean narrowed his eyes slightly before lowering his rifle, now looking at him in his eyes directly.[/color] [color=Aqua][b]"But...how am I supposed to trust you, Sir? I don't meant to be the pessimist, but the benefit of the doubt can sometimes be crucial in such obligatory encounters, wouldn't you say?"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Jean's manner of speaking was mildly polite and formal all of a sudden. It mirrored the same tone that he would always use in the vicinity of Captain Middleton, worried that if he ever was to speak up without the proper use of dialect then he'd only be beaten again and again, like the past had shown. From first impressions, the officer before him seemed to be a far more coordinated, well-versed and emotionally stable individual than the dreaded Captain of the 15th Atlantic Rifles, but these could all be parts of the ploy, the facade that they presented.[/color] [color=31FF0A][b]"Do you want the honest answer, Corporal?"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Jean felt a shiver spring up his spine, causing him to shake with discomfort at the direct address. The enemy was always this faceless being that never interacted or talked to their enemy. That's what they were told in their training camps. If you treat them or view them as humans with emotions, it becomes harder to pull the trigger and can cost someone their own fragile life. Him identifying his rank meant that the Imperial was well-versed in the native military ranks and insignia of his foe. Perhaps that left someone in Jean's position vulnerable to being a primary target, as officers tend to be better pickings. Truly, what he meant by the [i]honest answer[/i] flew over Jean's head. How often had someone on the frontlines been offered the full truth of a situation? Was it a blessing for someone to stand before him, let alone an enemy, and speak with the intentions of hiding nothing other than the reality of the world? Jean had known for a long time that people back home, all the citizens, workforce and children who played in the parks were lied to, given the glorified alteration of what the war was really like. Whilst in the recent year or so the details on how awful the conditions were had started to become more mainstream, there still wasn't anything less than a strong sense of honour and glory to go with it. The truth was not a natural thing to expect. People had become so accustomed to the lies that it seemed normal to appreciate them. Soldiers and civilians heard what they wanted to hear, not what reality had on offer. Why ruin morale for the sake of a few bloody lives or the deaths of those sitting within a six-foot trench, knee deep in watery mud with infections crawling around every corner they turn? No, the world was not that sort of a simple place. Jean knew that there was a sense of liberty and importance to being offered a true answer, knowing most likely that it would be dark, grim and full of bloodshed in its details. And in reality, Jean was not wrong.[/color] [color=31FF0A][b]"I can tell by your glare that you're intrigued to know."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]The Imperial officer gave a jovial grin and chuckle, showing some of his friendly nature once more. Jean felt slightly embarrassed for having such an easy-face to read. Was he really that emotional? Jean at least thought the majority of his squadmates were tired and loathing of his emotional distress, and so he'd worked hard to try and suppress it, but here it was like picking up a blank sheet of paper with clear writing on it, allowing the officer to easily analyse his thoughts. However, Jean's mind was then taken from that thought when the officer looked more grim, darkening his glare to fulfil the wish of honesty.[/color] [color=31FF0A][b]"Reason in, Corporal, I would've already picked you off without you ever knowing you're life had been claimed. I will admit that I do even surprise myself with how many targets I can silence before my marksman rifle runs dry of bullets."[/b][/color] [color=Silver] Jean froze, staring him blankly in his eyes with a sense of anxiety overruling all previous impressions he'd had. The man had given him his honesty, and at the very least it helped ensure that there was still a tension between both sides. Perhaps he was right in saying that if they were truly in the free-fire zone, the chances of Jean's squad even being alive were minimal. Something in his glare persuaded the Francian to really appreciate the peacefulness in this moment. They were enemies, and even their host seemed to be well-aware of this reality, to the point where only a fragile unspoken rule of politeness was stopping them from opening fire at one another. With the truth being lodged into his mind sharply, Jean turned around to look at his comrades and followers, a distressed look on his face once more. He felt scared for their safety, as his decision now could be the end of them all. But for that, they relied on a Corporal who could stand by his word and do what was best for himself and the Squad at hand. And so, with a defiant nod of his head, Jean turned back around and let his body ease up in his muscular stress, finally letting out all the negative thoughts he had for the scenario they were plunged into. His mind was set on providing the best outcome for his squad, and so he decided to take the gamble. With a deep breath, he finally gave the order out.[/color] [color=Aqua][b]"Gwyn, and Luke, seeing as you two s-seem to be ready to prepare, I want you to take Michael and Thomas inside, and to find them a room pronto. They need the attention. Everyone else...I guess we'll be going inside."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Jean heard a minor cheer come from Freya's mouth, who was clearly excited by the fact that an inn usually meant food, beer and other little desirables for her Oceanic needs, which brought a small smile to Jean's own face. He turned back to the officer, who too shared similar intrigue and interest in the relief of the Federation soldiers, before Jean held out his words with pursuing query. However, his heart stopped when he finally received the answer.[/color] [color=Aqua][b]"May I have the pleasure of knowing your name, Sir?"[/b][/color] [color=31FF0A][b]"Of course. Captain Wilhelm Von Harkvald...But you may know me better as the [i]Green Fox[/i]."[/b][/color] [centre][sub][@Jacky][@Brithwyr][/sub][/centre]