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White-Feathers, that is perhaps the darkest section of the history book that he had glossed over. And yet it was nowhere as detached as he would have thought comparing to events like the Black Death or the Valkyrur Crusades. It happened nowhere beyond the range of his consciousness recognition. It was right there, happened when Michael was living, breathing and feeling in this brutal existence. He didn't want to admit it, but he was living in one of the most horrible times to be alive. To think, that no matter what good you do, no matter how dire the circumstances are, just by one simple fact that you have dark blue locks of hair on your head, you'd be considered an inferior beings, treated like an animal and even killed without any mercy or shame. It was as if...they weren't even looking at a human being. Even lions, bears and wolves mourn and wept at the death of their own pack members, so why couldn't these people do. Was it the downside to human evolution, that we had moved a little too far ahead of ourselves. That we were too smart to turn against ourselves, but were too dumb to realize the immorality of it? 

What's even scarier is the crowd themselves. You could look at them with a much more sympathetic eye. They had a family. They had themselves. They had properties that they wanted to keep safe of. But their indifference to evil, ironically and tragically, led to even more losses that these people themselves failed to see. Michael was pretty certain that if each and every individuals involved had the guts to fight for what's right, this would never have happened. None of these White Feathers crap, nor Thomas's story about being denied the rights they were promised. And where else to look for evidence than right here, where there were no societal standards or etiquettes that restrict people from being 'polite' to one another. Most of the people he had interacted with didn't have much issues with Darcsens. Some had a bit of grudges, but they were mostly irrational and culturally driven, rather than anything personal. The ones with real and in-root racist values were in the minority. Not a rare one of the kind, but still not above the median bar. With that in mind, they were eventually allowed to spiral into what we had heard from Jean. It was scary and disgusting to think about.

[color=bf00ff]"I guess it's a cultural difference as well. I don't recall Edinburgh having that caliber of terror. Even from the most outlandish of news sources"[/color] Michael said as he stared into the distant ground. [color=bf00ff]"It's hard to hear myself. I'm sorry to know that happened to you, or anyone."[/color]

To even think about it, it was worth a sigh from the upper-class sapper. Perhaps it was best that he shared it, and without his knowledge, his superego had already been given way.

[color=bf00ff]"I don't think they are the main issue."[/color] He said in a silent yet audible voice that almost seemed like a wind glossing over their cheeks, carrying wisdoms from books and archives his father had collected in his archive. [color=bf00ff]"It's the others. If they keep turning a blind eye to tragedies, we'd continue to be consumed in the cycle of hatred."[/color] 

They probably needed a guide. Or if they already had one, a leader. Someone or something that allowed their real goods to rise out of them. But where to find it now? There was nowhere to start. No formulas or anything that could do any help. 

The talk did not go on for long though. Long story-short, a soldier, sent by Staff Sergeant Baker, summoned Jean to him for a briefing, so the Francian left the three for him. Isaac quickly left as well, leaving Michael alone with Thomas. The two proceeded to chat for a little while more before another soldier pulled Michael away from the Oceanic war hero, completely separating the group, at least for now. The person that pulled him away was a girl, apparently from Company D judging from her insignia. Looking over her side-ponytailed ocean blues was the all-to-familiar sapper gear that Michael had spent two months hugging them that it now appeared in his dreams sometimes. He could tell almost for sure that she bears the important role of sapper. And like Michael, the gentle tap of his shoulder to the semi-formal pattern of introduction were extremely impressionable for a denizen of society's upper echelon, mostly because of the dark contrast of the greasy, brutal and ungraceful nature of war

[color=0072bc]"Excuse me, are you Private Daunte of the 18th Atlantic Rifle?"[/color]

Michael firstly turned around to face the girl's matching sky blue eyes. The familiar sky blue. It wasn't good association with him. Why does every girl he talk to have that eye color.

[color=bf00ff]"Yes."[/color] Michael clasped his two hands together and held it just below his stomach. [color=bf00ff]"How may I help you?"[/color]

[color=0072bc]"My name is Anna. I'm a Private from Company D, sapper. It's a pleasure to be working with you in the upcoming days."[/color]

Wait, work? With the other company? Why didn't he hear anything about this? 

[color=bf00ff]"Uhh, forgive my ignorance but...I'm not sure I'm getting the context of this."[/color] Michael was offered a handshake to which he reluctantly took. The girl did not seem to be that surprised by the information deficit. Things like this happened all the time. 

[color=0072bc]"Hehe, it's alright. It's new orders given from our higher ups."[/color] She replied. [color=0072bc]"If you want to know more, Staff Sergeant Baker is the one who briefed us. You can come directly to him."[/color] 

[color=bf00ff]"Where is he though?"[/color] Michael asked, to which he was quickly briefed by Anna, redirecting him over to the other side of the camp he was set up at, where Jean and Baker were being briefed. Now that Michael hated to interrupt with anyone's conversation, but Baker's warmth and welcoming upon seeing the sapper standing in the distant instantly pulled him into the circle with him. He seemed to be expecting the nobleman, although not completely. 

[color=Orange][b]"Private Daunte, yes?"[/b][/color] He asked, upon Michael's approach. It was so much different from Middleton or anyone else that Michael knew. [color=Orange][b]"Come in, we are just having a chat!"[/b][/color]

[color=Orange][b]"I'm glad you survived the onslaught from Middleton. I was worried for a bit."[/b][/color] The recall of that ungraceful encounter made Michael's blood boil a little. But he knew that he should just let it go for now.

[color=bf00ff]"I know how to go about things, especially with a man like him."[/color] He replied

[color=Orange][b]"You were smart back there. Normal newbies would probably try to spat at him or just shudder in fear. And let me tell you, it wouldn't end well either ways."[/b][/color] The man complimented. Comparing to the last time the Staff Sergeant saw the Private back in Hill 58, he looked like he was toughening up, and in a correct way as well. Not many people could do such a thing. 

[color=Orange][b]"Anyway, you must be here for that new assignment that you probably have never heard of?"[/b][/color] Baker cleared his throat, officially ending the cycle of jokes, as the serious talk began. [color=Orange][b]"So as you and Corporal Charpentier may know clearly, the Imperial tunnel beneath Amone is one of the critical supply line for their operations in this holy city. Big enough to essentially be considered an underground city of its own."[/b][/color]

[color=Orange][b]"The Imperials have been leeching from this supply line like ants for so long now, it is draining us of men and resources, and our higher ups of patience. So the they really want that city in ruin in the upcoming days, before the final assault."[/b][/color] Michael already had that gut feeling before. And they were sending Michael in. Was it because they were a capable working squad. From the results of the last few weeks, apparently not. [color=Orange][b]"Please brief this with the remaining sappers in your squad, that you'll be joining the two sappers in Company D to cut this supply line. Is that alright with you?"[/b][/color]

All remaining sappers? Well, he only knew two others who bear the same responsibility. One of them, Gwyn, has either died or got separated and left behind at the inn. The other one is Reyna, who apparently hadn't had much interactions with the enemy, saving for that close-quarter fight before the inn happened. So it was a four man squad. Against the entire Imperial forces in there. 

[color=Orange][b]"I know it's a hard task, but it would be imperative to our success in Amone if you can pull this off. Do you think you can do that?"[/b][/color]

It was probably a rhetorical question or a genuine concern. But Michael knew he wouldn't be able to weasel his way out of this. It was an order from the higher ups, and he had to do it. Chances that he would end up dead are higher than average. But then again...

[color=gray]'You will come back when you demand it."[/color]

[color=bf00ff]"Sure."[/color] Michael replied briefly, to Baker's transformation of concern into satisfaction. [color=bf00ff]"We will make sure that happens."[/color]
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