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[sub][color=Silver][i]The Siege of Amone, September 10th - [b]Solid Advice[/b][/i][/color][/sub]
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[color=Silver]	Thomas was propped up against the head-board of his own bed, sighing heavily to himself as the silence began to take its toll again. For him, there was nothing worse than inactivity: an inability to do something productive or worthwhile in that moment. He'd been spending his years either constantly working on a farm or serving his friends and people proudly, fighting for some sort of war he should've had no part of in the first place. However, whilst this was what occupied his last few years, he thought a break from it all would do him some good. Freya had been adamant to not let him go wild with drinking and instead forced him to rest up due to the injuries and wounds he'd received in the previous incursion. Damn, they still hurt quite badly. It wasn't anything he hadn't received before, but it was definitely the most serious of injuries he'd picked up in all of his military career. Shot several times, of course, and had to crawl through no-man's land just to return back for medical attention, but this felt different. Part of him had fallen into a weakness like no other. The stabbing wounds flashed a strange surge of agony through his bones as the hours went by, reminding him that they'd previously been the homes for several tipped blades. The inn staff were kind enough to treat his wounds properly, thanking Jean's squad for stabilising it beforehand. As always, the pain was far worse during the disinfecting stage, which always was a loathsome process for anyone who'd come across a regular blighty. Time kept slipping by heavily, as if it were dragging the entire weight of his fallen comrades in some old wooden cart that lacked any proper wheels. How cumbersome that would've been. Thomas had seen his fair share of death and destruction throughout his years of combat, losing almost every friend in the books of his own personal history. Names like Primrose Evergreen, Howard Smithson, Wesley Thompson and Amanda Horthy were no longer accompanied by real, living individuals. They were just memories. Hundreds of names he'd learnt over the course of the past's progression had ultimately brutalised the journey to the present. He didn't want to lose anymore, but in reality there was only Freya left. Freya was as careless as she was careful at times, which didn't make sense to most individuals, however to Thomas it made perfect sense. Part of him wanted to find a way to spend a special night with someone, making sure that if he was to lose Freya or lose himself in the coming months of the war, at least he would be able to die as a happy individual who proudly did his best to create happiness for others. To die as a man who did the right thing: that was Thomas' true endgame strategy and objective to live by.

	The walls were quiet, for the last few hours. Around 3 hours ago, maybe more considering his loss of the concept of time, there were the unmistakable noises of love-making going around in several rooms. God, Thomas couldn't help but feel a little depressed by the noises. Not only were they rubbing it in, seemingly, it also reminded Thomas of the fact that love was one of the few things he'd never been able to grasp during his time on the frontline. It wasn't that the concept was alienated to him, as Freya had been a good case-study for when she and Naomi were together peacefully, it still made him moderately disappointed with how the world had turned out. He didn't like only being known as a soldier, or a good war-hero or whatever, but that still didn't change the fact that he wanted something to stand by after the war inevitably ended, or someone to at least make the last of his days more enjoyable if he were to not make it that far. Endorsed completely under the reality of fatalism, the philosophical belief that everyone had a set fate that was unavoidable, Thomas had already pictured that this was to be his destiny. Death came by so fruitfully, without stopping to consider who it claimed. Heroes were not exempt from its scrutiny, and so just as everyone else was Thomas was under the knife soon enough.

	A knock came at the door, and suddenly, a female walked in. For a second, Thomas was a bit sceptical as to who this individual was, as he'd never seen her before, not even amongst the inn staff, and the fact he was sprawled across his bed with only his bottom trousers being worn was quite an uncomfortable position for most individuals. Across his torso, lacking the shirt of course, there were dressings of bandages and other parts patched all over in many different, yet very specific, spots. Eventually, he just let the situation play out as it was, not even bothering to cover up his top half to hide all the injuries he'd recently taken from the imperial stabbing. From the first glance, Thomas was amused with the lovely, picturesque figure of an Oceanic woman, specifically the one Freya had mentioned earlier before. She had a darker hair tone to that of Freya herself and walked around with her own confident aura, but as she came closer and closer to Thomas it seemed to dissipate. In his past, only a few soldiers who recognised him actually acknowledged his infamous name amongst the Oceanic Expeditionary Troops, but none had gone out of their own way to approach him. She did that, and with her graceful entrance she gave the most genuinely sweet introduction, suddenly causing Thomas to chuckle lightly to himself with an expression of gratitude and happiness for the change of scenery. Instantly, he sat up, trying to meet her eye level a bit more, before beckoning for her to come closer.[/color]

[color=5D7CFF][b]"Victoria, is it? Well met. And I say 'well met' because I'm sure there's no better sight to look at than the one before me right now."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]With his friendly tone, he gently winked at her and laughed to himself, giving a cheerful output of tone and keeping up with the standards of cheeriness he was known for.[/color] [color=5D7CFF][b]"And don't think I'm a joker. Freya may already be quite overly excited, as everyone below has learnt, but I'm still more collected and true to my word."[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	As she came inside, Thomas let his breath exhale quickly, allowing him to fully appreciate the newfound company. Her nervousness was truly adorable and somewhat admirable, giving him some gratitude for something he clearly hadn't done other than provide a sense of independence for the Dominion of Oceania. It was always amazing to meet someone from his homeland out here in the foreign cultures of Europa, and especially one of such good looks and taste it seemed. He noticed that perhaps his bandages being on show were a little concerning, considering he may have been thought of as some outrageous, invincible soldier without anything to lose. He chuckled at the preposterous thought of someone even thinking that, but it'd been revealed once by a fellow friend of the past that his image had that sort of ridiculousness to it. Thomas offered her a space to sit down on his bed, knowing it must've been at the very least more comfortable than standing up.[/color]

[color=5D7CFF][b]"Don't mind the field dressings. Last fight we had had me shot and stabbed a few times. Hurts like hell, but those Imps ain't tough enough to kill us Occies, are they?"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]He patted her on the back jovially and chuckled to himself, poking fun at the age-old saying that Oceanics couldn't die, they just leave the field of action. The thoughts behind that saying were to inspire troops and to truly let the world know how committed they were to preserving their families, their culture and their honourable fortune in morality.[/color] [color=5D7CFF][b]"You're with Corporal Robin-Charpentier, aren't you? The Francian Darcsen, of course. What do you think of him so far, if you've spoken at all?"[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	As she began to lay out her answer, Thomas instinctively flicked her hair randomly to try and throw her conversation off, sort of as a mini test to ensnare her interest away from her conversation, but nevertheless her reaction, he nodded for her to continue. The way she spoke was far from elegant, as Freya had mentioned before, but that was a common part of the Oceanic culture. There was no space for aristocracy, even within its governmental representatives. The Kingdom of Edinburgh always slashed away at the dignities of Oceanic Ministers, claiming that their brash and informal methods of political debates were far from the common etiquette, to which those ministers just told them to fuck off. It was a wonderful stereotype to go by, the outrageously over-the-top individuals of loud misunderstanding with their thick accents, and Thomas found pride in knowing that they had a recognised appearance to the rest of the world. It was a step closer to independence, after all, albeit a small one. Once she had finished answering his question, Thomas patted her on the shoulder, wincing slightly in moderate pain as the cuts and wounds beneath the bandages were put under the stress of movement once more. His face clenched, but after he finished moving, he gasped slightly for fresh air and panted, allowing himself to finally relax in his new position. Thomas gave her a weakened smile, clearly impacted by the pain of his wounds, before he looked towards Victoria. Something deep down started to tell the NCO to start talking with future advice for this girl. Earlier his mind had reminded him that potentially, his time was going to be up in a few months or weeks, and that he should give it his all to improve the mental states of everyone around him. And knowing the topic of conversation, Thomas nodded before looking at her directly, a friendly smile upon his face.[/color]

[color=5D7CFF][b]"Y'know, Vicky...I can call you Vicky, right? Anyway, mate, whatever Jean may seem like at the moment, I'll admit he's a good kid, despite it sometimes not looking like it. Sure he's got some nerve and flaws to his figure, but I feel like you were lucky to assign yourself to him. Reminded me of my first time in command, nervous and confused. Albeit, back then, lass, I was already used to combat. Jean though, first time commanding and in the field of battle since Garnia. Only a month or so ago did he actually come into the war. Mad, isn't it? Makes you appreciate the little things, all the very little things in life..."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Thomas sighed, looking away with a sort of sorrowful glisten in his eyes. There was a sudden change in atmosphere as he realised what he was leading up towards. He couldn't flat out explain to this girl, Victoria, that he was predicting his own death within the coming future, as it wouldn't be a good way to spend time with a famous individual. Luckily for him, he managed to tiptoe around it, and just get straight to the point he wanted to make.[/color] [color=5D7CFF][b]"From first glance, you seem like a strong, capable girl, don't y'ah? If it's not too much to ask, please just stay with Jean until the war comes to a halt. I fear he might go too far in his quest to protect everyone. I heard the conversation he had next door, and...well...let's just say it seems best for him to have some support over the coming trials. He may be an NCO, but as one myself, nothing sucks more than to be looked at as just a dispenser of orders. Well, I don't know how you view me, so I can't tell you that."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Gently, Thomas chuckled, noticing that the sun outside his window had completely disappeared. Darkness had engulfed the room, leaving an eerie privacy and silence between the two newcomers. For a moment, though, Thomas felt a little more alive than he did dead, and that was something to be thankful for.[/color]

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[sub][color=Silver][i]The Siege of Amone, September 10th - [b]Awkwardness[/b][/i][/color][/sub]
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[color=Aqua][b]"I'm...I'm sorry, Lucia...I don't quite, understand what you actually want from me?"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Jean nervously shook his eyes from side to side, unsure of how to react to the absurd question she had brought upon him. The pouncing of her inquiry was similar to that of an artillery shell dropping upon a hopeless individual, unable to prepare or defend himself from the explosive ordinance that was dumped atop of their position. Jean was definitely able to cross that question off of his bingo list, seemingly finding it unfathomable that he was even asked something so bizarre. Be her older brother? What did that even mean? Jean knew that Lucia had grown up as an only child, potentially, and the shielding of her entire upbringing by Captain Middleton had brought far too much loneliness into her well-being. Time was of the essence for her to secure a sort of sibling like relationship, and this was her chance. Except, Jean wasn't her sibling. Jean had no relation to her by blood, or anything other than close friends. He couldn't help but nervously laugh as Lucia pouted at him with a bit of embarrassment towards his reaction. What a strange predicament they were both in, and it was indeed one that Jean couldn't exactly handle well with his anxiety shooting through the roof. Somewhere, in some sick mind (likely Michael's), Lucia asking desperately to have them as her big brother could've sparked some sort of twisted fantasy that you'd only expect from the south of Vinland's borders, where inbreeding was more of a stereotype.

	Lucia equally went bright red at her cheeks, stumbling to formulate a sentence of her own as her question was becoming more of a nuisance than a simple request. Lucia still had no clear understanding of how social adaptability worked out and proved her ineptness tenfold with a ridiculous question like that. However, she seemed very driven to push for an answer, leaning across the table and essentially sprawling across it, laying on her front just to pressure Jean into giving her another answer. It was a lot to ask for. Jean hadn't exactly thought of himself as someone's [i]older brother[/i], especially with the two-year raw memoirs of losing an older sibling of his own. He shook his head in hesitation, before wrapping his fingers around the bridge of his nose so he could properly conceive the strangeness to the request. Lucia waited anxiously herself, wanting to see if he would reciprocate an answer of familial ties, bonding together as new siblings. Clearly, she had no idea what made a sister or a brother, but this seemed to be her general gist of the concept. Jean finally spoke, stuttering as he did so.[/color]

[color=Aqua][b]"I...I g-guess? I mean, why do you want a sibling? And...why are you asking me of all people? Why not Michael?"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Associating Michael as a sibling seemingly brought her into another status of constant pouting, sticking her lips out in an embarrassed fashion once more, before she finally said something that took Jean's drink out of his mouth in a shocking spit. Even though she lowered her voice to a whisper, to share the response between the two, she still brought all the surprise and embarrassment out of Jean's system in one fell-swoop.[/color]

[color=A9FF7D][b]"Because I don't want to marry someone who might be called my sibling. That's yucky! Bleugh!"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Well, that cleared up the queries Jean had about how Lucia felt about Michael; clearly she hadn't exactly told anyone she had a huge crush on Michael, though her sitting her backside onto the lap of him in a rather alluring way might've given it away. Lucia was an unpredictable girl, one with many capabilities and though-processes that challenged the average thinker. She was unable to find a direct path of socialising nor was she able to confine to a single mood. From crying to screaming, to then smiling and giggling without any sort of transition, her mind was seemingly splintered into many segments that decided when they wanted priority over her emotions. It was scary to think that, especially knowing her shady past with Middleton in the last few years. Jean wanted to press the question right then and there about her relationship with the Captain, but her mood seemed to be too high spirited to shatter with a question so forceful as that, so instead he let it slide and instead smirked at her strange reaction.[/color] [color=A9FF7D][b]"Though...I don't really know what marriage [i]is[/i], Jean. Is it like holding hands? I used to think that's how babies were made, but then Freya told me that its actually when you get the boy and sti-"[/b][/color]

[color=Aqua][b]"How about, as your new older brother, you don't ever tell me what Freya has told you, like...ever again? She's a bit of a wild-case Lucia, and you seem far too...well...unique to really find any mutual understanding with her."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Jean's face lit up like a brightened winter tree that was on fire, blushing out at Lucia's thoughtless outburst of how individuals were conjoined in sexual lust. Jean hadn't thought much about the act himself, mainly because he was more interested in the relationship that came with those acts of lust, but it was still a concept he found himself too embarrassed to publicly speak about. For now, he rested his head into his hands, before standing up slowly.[/color] [color=Aqua][b]"Look, I'm...I'm going to go to bed, Lucia. Don't stay up too long, even if the older soldiers do too. We all need our rest. You know the mission that's coming up, right?"[/b][/color]

[color=A9FF7D][b]"Yeah, I know. Alex told me about it, and how the sappers will have to crawl into an impie hole. It sounds scary, and I don't like scary things that much. But that also means Michael, and Reyna and Gwyn, will all have to crawl through it, and that's scary to think about to. I don't...I don't like scary things, Jean."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]And just like that, Lucia's eyes started to water and welt like a drowned flower in the spring showers. The change in her mood was unsettling in how quick and sporadic it was, even taking Jean a second to shift into the realisation that she was now upset over the strange thoughts. How her mind worked was an enigma, a case of a tortured soul who'd spent years under the guidance of a seemingly mad man whose soul was dedicated to obsessing over her. Jean didn't know how to act as she silently began to weep herself for a few minutes, before wiping her eyes and weakly smiling up at Jean with an adorable innocence to her face once more.[/color] [color=A9FF7D][b]"P-Promise me you'll protect us, Jean? It must be a bit sad to send people to die but, you can stop that, right? We're doing really well alongside you, and you've given us a lot to be thankful for. I...uhm...who else would make a good big brother, r-right?"[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	She began to giggle with great fragility, before breaking down into another set of silent tears, whimpering to herself after disturbing her mind with the potential to lose Michael, and her friends Reyna and Gwyn, to the tunnel systems only a week or so away. It was scary. She was powerless to help. All of what Alexander had taught her would be wasted and Jean would be forced to take her under his wing, hiding her once more from the plain sights of reality. Reality was scary for her, and Jean could tell. There was always this promised land of colour, love and wisdom given to her as a child, and yet it was all taken away from her as soon as the war started. She'd developed a strong hatred for the Imperials, apparently during her first year beneath Middleton's reign, but soon found a way to suppress all emotional attachments towards the Federation's soldiers too. It was how she instinctively managed to pull the trigger and claim her first kill on her own ally back in Garnia. That was until she met Michael, and Jean too, who seemed to have sparked something that was dangerously threatening to her superior. And that emotion was the simplicity of being able to care.[/color]

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[sub][color=Silver][i]The Siege of Amone, September 11th, Morning - [b]Against his Code[/b][/i][/color][/sub]
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[color=Silver]	Standing beside his faithful ally, Staff Sergeant Baker, Alexander watched begrudgingly as the waves of logistical troops and carts wheeled themselves by and into position, beginning the construction of several artillery launchers preemptively. The situated assault plan was far too daring for any of them to comprehend, but it had to be done, or so command said. All of Amone rested upon their decision, on whether to delay the foothold even further or simply act upon it with whatever weapons they had at their disposal. Project: Land-Creeper was yet to be completed and ready for on-field testing, and so Project: False Wind seemed to be the go-to source of experimental weaponry to finally break the stalemate. It was one of horrific proportions that brought a great deal of nerve towards many of the commanding staff centred around Amone, but they had no ultimate input on the final say of its deployment. How cruel, it could seem. The fact that the literal formations of breathable air had been converted into a tool to kill one another shocked many as its first use on the battlefield was soon to be experimented with. There wasn't really any proper testing on what the effects were like on human soldiers, as the testing had only been [i]humanely[/i] conducted upon rodents and a single primate, which raised a lot of questions on whether or not it would be an effective deterrent to the Imperial occupation. It wasn't exactly going to be a weapon that could be deployed all over the Europan front, but it was definitely a strikingly shocking revelation that had the capabilities of altering how warfare was conducted. No longer was it just about brutal weapons designed to kill up close, but now there were tools that did it without the soldier even needing to fire the gun or swing the axe.

	Baker looked at his Captain with strange intrigue, noticing a stifling anger upon his expression as the soldiers rolled by with their specifically tagged artillery shells, lined with a yellow finish all over to separate their purpose from regular HE bombardment rounds. Across their metallic body was all sort of scientific scriptures that reminded Alex of his previous life, being surrounded by similar phrases and warnings plastered across every surface. Whatever was in those canisters, Alexander had no real agreement in their involvement to the Amone siege. It put a lot of people in jeopardy, and not just the Imperial soldiers it was intended to target. Many factors could hinder the operation as a whole, such as indirect friendly-fire. Middleton could've been seen as a controversial figure, but unnecessarily choking his own platoons and regiment without any breach of conduct beforehand truly struck a nerve with him. What if those there didn't get their gas masks on in time, or perhaps didn't exactly know what their purpose was for? None of the soldiers were briefed on what their purpose was as to stop interrogations on Federation prisoners leaking information about their aerial agent. Baker sighed heavily and gently nudged Alexander with his elbow.[/color]

[color=Orange][b]"Something on your mind, Sir?"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]He was keen to quiz him on the true emotions of his thoughts. There was a great therapeutic intention behind letting Alexander speak his mind without needed to hold up the act of a brutalised Captain in front of his men. Something was troubling him. Now, whilst Baker didn't like half of the things Alexander had done as a soldier, with some very questionable means of enforcing authority, Baker knew that deep inside him was the same man who once held that honourable personality and ethical values. Now, he was corrupted by factors of war and loss, and this was his way of coping.[/color]

[color=0AB100][b]"I don't want them to launch this new agent into Amone. What...what if Lucia gets hurt? Or what if she dies from the horrific deathly gas? She can't die u-until I have helped her reach that potential she needed. She can't let her life flee her whilst I am not there to protect her, damn it. Baker, I am scared of losing her permanently, especially with the threats of many other factors trapped in Amone with her, hell if she's even still alive."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]There was a brief silence, before Baker finally nodded and made sure to change his focus.[/color]

[color=Orange][b]"It's very good that you feel some sort of fear for your own troops, Sir. Compassion reminds us that we are human, and I can tell you now that you still have that humanity somewhere, if you do not mind me speaking my own mind, Sir."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Middleton chuckled at Baker's kindness, before looking down at his chained watch with a small smile on his face.[/color]

[color=0AB100][b]"In twenty-one hours, specifically at 0600 on the dot, these gas shells will be launched into a large trajectory all across Amone, covering as much of the Imperial pockets as possible, as far as our shoddy intelligence suggests. Once they launch, we go into Amone. I've made some arrangements with the Major to let me reunite with the regiment's remnant, hopefully so we can find Lucia. I don't like this idea of gas, Staff Sergeant, but our only other option is to wait another few months before those fucking Vinlanders arrive and claim all the glory, as if glory even matters here."[/b][/color]

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