Numerous eyes stared as the general made her way down the hallway of the fort; some in awe and other wide in confusion. The last time the blonde had worn the snow camouflage uniform was right before she was promoted to lead the fort- from that point which she typically only donned the dress blues. Many of the soldiers of Briggs had never seen her wear such a thing, and even those that had been around as long as her were still taken aback by the seldom-seen clothing. Her hair was tied back into a tight bun, though her bangs still slightly hid her right eye, and she hauled a large, nearly brimful rucksack that matched the white of her uniform.
Her adjutant followed behind her, pushing a large hand truck with the remainder of the filled rucksacks, in similar dress- yet he had never been seen in the camouflage. His own snow-blindness goggles were not worn, but rather in his pocket, in preparation for the soon addition of the combat goggles that were usually worn with the white. Last night, when he had tried the uniform on for the first time, it was a strange and unfamiliar sensation. The cloth was heavy in order to protect its wearer from the harshly low temperatures, and the goggles were much larger and tighter than the ones his typically wore to conceal his red irises. He quickly forced himself to get used to the new feeling, however, since these uniforms would be the safest possible outfits for them all in their venture. Although, he didn't much care for how dark his skin seemed to contrast against the fabric- Briggs had become his home, and he felt as if he wasn't himself while not in the typical dress uniform, despite the camo still being a proud symbol of the northern soldiers.
Officers always wore their blues, even in battle, so the strange and bewildered looks the Briggs men were sending their way were rather justified. Several higher-up soldiers would periodically sidle up beside their commander and worriedly ask her what was going on in hushed tones, only to have the woman reply sharply, "Classified. Colonel Stryker is leading in our absence. We will return shortly, but he'll be in my office if you need anything."
Olivier and Miles eventually found themselves at the door to the infirmary. The blonde stepped inside quietly, drawing the attention of the lead doctor. She was one of the few who knew what was happening.
"General," She spoke up, voice soft. "I thought you were getting ready to leave, is everything alright?"
Olivier simply nodded in reply, for once without a response. She made her way directly to the crib as Miles also entered the large room, having successfully parked the heavy hand truck. She peered into the crib to see Karelia, gumming at her pacifier, wide awake. When the Drachman noticed her favorite blonde come into view, she made a shrill noise in excitement and reached for her.
The doctor was nearby, laying out a soft blanket on the floor, "I was about to let her roam on this for a few minutes. Did you want to hold her..?"
"I'd like that," Olivier replied, barely above a whisper. If anyone else were in the room, she would've merely grunted a reply rather than admitting that she wished to see her; she might as well admit that she, the mighty Northern Wall, the Ice Queen , had developed quite the soft spot for the little foreigner. She reached into the crib, collecting the baby as gently as possible. Karelia immediately clung to her white uniform, examining it, dumbfounded at the color change.
The general moved down to the blanket, carefully sitting down with her legs crossed, the Drachman in her lap. Karelia seemed to be having a great time, looking around and trying to plot a route on which she should begin her exploring. Miles and the doctor watched in silence, allowing the moment to continue without interruption.
Olivier watched Karelia, expressionless, as she crawled out of her lap and onto the soft blanket. "Hey, kiddo," she greeted softly, catching the baby's attention. She turned back to the blonde and rocked back onto her haunches, watching her with wide, curious eyes. "We're going to go find your aunt and uncle, okay? Does that sound good to you?"
Karelia reached forward, having noticed one of the polished buckles on Olivier's white uniform.
"We'll bring them back here, and we'll all be in one piece. Then you can go back home."
Miles's expression fell slightly as he listened, hearing the slightest twitch of pain in her voice.
Olivier felt a lump in her throat as she gently set a gloved hand on the raven-black hair, rustling it gently and affectionately, before straightening again. Karelia watched, her eyes still full of wonder.
It was Miles's turn to step up. He knelt down, and the baby squealed, dropping her pacifier from her mouth, at the sight of him. She reached for him, her fists making grabbing motions. He could feel his eyes already starting to water; partly because of how cute it all was, also because of why they were telling her goodbye in the first place. There was always a chance they would not make it back, especially since Amestris had never attempted a stealth infiltration of this sort into Drachma in the entirety of the nation's history.
He reached forward, gently gathering in his arms in a gentle hug. He held her for but a moment, sniffling quietly as he tried to choke back the emotion. Not understanding, Karelia continued babbling happily throughout the hug, even as he set her back down.
"Come, Miles," Olivier commanded, although quietly. She was already heading for the door, "These dumb, pointless maternal feelings are all hitting me at once, let's get out of here."
"Yes, sir," his reply was almost inaudible, yet he straightened and turned to follow her out.
"Good luck," the doctor said, sighing softly as they left. Her words were gentle, sincere, and with utmost apprehensiveness. The odds weren't necessarily in their favor.
The general and her adjutant made it to the back entrance of the fort a few minutes after the rest of the party. Each of them saluted in unison, and Olivier gave them a nod as Miles wordlessly began handing out rucksacks.
"I've prepped the commo, General," Sikorsky mentioned, turning slightly so Olivier could see the portable radio system strapped to him. "I can wear it over my rucksack."
"Good," the woman, shorter than nearly all of them, nodded once again. "You can work it out with someone else if you need to lighten your rucksack load slightly in order to accommodate. Now," she began, taking her own backpack off and setting it on the ground in front of her. She opened it, showing its contents. "I managed to fit five twenty-four-hour MREs, some ammunition, water, some bandages, firestarters, and other small essentials in each of these. We have an extra ammunition case, if someone would be so kind as to carry it, and Miller has the rest of the first aid equipment. We have our radios," she said as if she was going over a mental checklist. "All of your uniforms are in good shape and none of you have forgotten your goggles, correct?"
Everyone nodded.
"Make sure to go to the latrine, because I'll leave any of you behind if you decide you need to make a pit stop within at least six hours of us embarking," She continued, then paused. "Wait, where the hell is Halifax?"
"Here, sir!" The young man nearly ran into her from behind. She swiftly turned to see him, chest heaving as he attempted to catch his breath. He shot up a salute, yet her eyes narrowed, "Why were you the last one here?"
"I was passing by Engineering and Development when one of the workers caught me, sir," he replied, panting in between sentences. "They had tried to reach you in your office, but you had already left for here. They finished a prototype they've been working on and were wondering if you'd like to take them?" He lifted what looked like an explosives case.
"That's the phosgene?" She questioned, taking the case. "I suppose it's worth a try."
"They said it was because you wouldn't let them test on animals," Halifax added.
"With good reason. Do you question my judgement, Captain?"
Halifax nearly backpedaled, "Of course not, General! That's just the reason I was a little late."
"Mm," Olivier replied, turning to make room in her rucksack for the case. "Are we all ready?"
"I believe so, sir," Miles voice was the reply, soft and calm as ever. He looked to the other men to confirm, and once they responded, he turned back to Olivier, "Shall we head out, General?"
Olivier nodded, hiking the rucksack back up onto her shoulders before she opened the door to the outside world. Snow blew inside in a violent wind, wild and strong due to the pressure of the door opening, yet the party was used to it.
This was Briggs, and the hardened soldiers here were no stranger to the peril of nature nor the hostility of man.
"Are we there yet?" Halifax asked back to Olivier, who was walking behind the group. They were mostly in a single-file line, though Olivier and Miles walked side-by-side, as did Foster and Miller.
"Don't you dare fucking start that," Olivier said back flatly, earning a snicker from the captain. "We've only been walking for two hours. If you're already done, maybe you should go back to basic training."
"I was just pulling your leg, Ma'am," The young man chimed back cheerily, to which Olivier frowned.
"I'm going to regret bringing him, aren't I?" Olivier sighed, and though she was partially talking to herself, Miles quietly replied.
"You brought him along because he's the best scout in Briggs, sir." His tone was gentle; the inflection he typically used when trying to calm Olivier down- and it often worked wonders. "Would you like me to talk to him?"
"Doesn't seem like you'll have to," The woman replied, watching Halifax and Foster square off ahead of them.
"God, do you ever shut up?" The lieutenant colonel groaned dramatically, glaring daggers. "It's a wonder that you're a scout considering you can't be stealthy for the life of you."
"What makes you say that, chief?" Halifax tilted his head, eyes widening, feigning innocence. "I'm sneaky. I blend in with the shadows."
"You're a godforsaken oxygen thief is what you are," Foster attempted to quicken his pace in order to get ahead of him, Miller trying to keep up in silence. He touched Foster's arm gently to try and wordlessly diffuse the situation.
"Aww, so I'm not a good sneak?" Halifax hurried to catch up and egg the older man on. He held up a pistol by the barrel, triumphantly, "If I'm not a good sneak, then how did I just take your gun?"
Foster swing around immediately, trying to get a look at the holster at his hip, which was empty; "You little rat, how did you-"
Halifax laughed proudly, "Don't act like you're tough shit next time, Northrop."
"Keep it moving," the general spoke up, the severe impatience in her voice quickly quelling the argument. Foster snatched back his pistol and holstered it again before shooting the captain a nasty look and continuing on.
They walked along in silence for another good hour or so, the sky above them pitch-black, save for the bright light of the moon, which illuminated their path slightly. It reflected off the whites of the snow and their uniforms, slightly disrupting their camouflage, though they wouldn't need it quite yet. They remained in the no-man's-land between Briggs and Valkeasary, the borders of each country.
The wide stretch of land between the two forts was empty, and for good reason- without the neutral space between them, border conflicts even before the events leading up to the Promised Day would have been unavoidable. While tensions were uneasy between Drachma and Amestris, it was the completion of the nationwide transmutation circle that had finally tipped the scales of combat and broken the peace treaty. While it would have been best if the fighting was avoided, Olivier was at least slightly thankful that it was Drachma and not Amestris that had attacked first- her country was, for once, not to blame. Unlike in the Ishvalan Civil War.
Another thing she was grateful for was the fact that the night was without snow. On one hand, it cleared the way for their voyage, yet the lack of clouds made them vulnerable- under cloud cover, the moonlight would be slightly darkened, thus allowing them to be harder to spot if Drachman scouts were to look their way.
"So, what's our plan for rest, General?" Sikorsky asked a few hours later, when the sun was beginning to rise.
Olivier thought for a moment before replying, "We move at night, and we find shelter during the day. If it gets to the point where we're without shelter and physically unable to continue, we can pitch a tent and just be extremely careful with our placement of it."
"Sounds like a plan to me," the major wholeheartedly agreed. "Should we keep on the lookout for a suitable place, then?"
"Yes," was her only reply.
Miles knew she was trying to conserve her energy, she always got like this in dangerous or hectic situations. Her replies would often be short and simple, and while many thought that she was responding negatively to an outside stressor, he knew that in reality, she was using as little energy and brainpower as possible whilst still being alert. This was one of her military secrets- in keeping calm now, she would be at full capacity to make quick decisions and command with extreme efficiency when the need arose.
Unbeknownst to him, the young Cordova had been watching him and Olivier for the majority of their walk, stealing glances back at them every once in awhile. He only truly noticed when the major spoke up, voice soft.
"Excuse me, General? Major?" he slowed his pace to match their stride, and while Olivier's acknowledgement was simply her gaze flickering to the young man, Miles fully turned to look at him.
"Yes?" He asked, ever-polite.
"How did the two of you actually meet? I've heard a lot of rumors, but I wanted to know for sure. If that's okay, I mean…"
"Of course," Miles replied, lightheartedly in order to erase any nervousness Cordova may have had, judging by the anxiety in the younger soldier's voice. He didn't need permission from Olivier to tell; he knew their story wasn't meant to be taken as some sort of secret. He was more than happy to share, especially since he viewed it as a masked opportunity to praise Olivier without seeming unctuous.
"You may already know, but I'm only a quarter Ishvalan," Miles began, and while the older members of their party had heard it all before, Halifax had slowed his stride to listen curiously with Cordova as well. "I had lived in Central my entire young life, but I was the only one in my family who actually looked like this. My grandfather on my father's side was the actual Ishvalan, and while I was always interested in the culture, I never learned the language or anything like that. I also had never visited Ishval, though it had been my dream to."
The two young men listened, eyes wide as they paid close attention, resembling children at story time.
"Right before the Civil War actually broke out and that child was killed, they began rounding up Ishvalans who lived in Amestris rather than Ishval. In hindsight," he sighed softly. "Even that was orchestrated by the Homunculi. Anyway, they found out about me and took me from my family just because I looked Ishvalan. I was just about to start finding my own place; I was in my early twenties. They deported me to Ishval, where I didn't know any of the people or any of the language."
"That's horrible," Cordova breathed, to which Miles nodded a reply.
"I was just starting to get used to everything and I had made a few acquaintances, but then the actual combat started and more soldiers were sent in. That's when I met-" He nearly slipped and used her first name, "The general."
"You didn't try to kill him?" Halifax asked, innocent and curiously. "I feel like you of all people would be raring for a fight."
"You obviously don't know me well enough," Olivier replied, not turning to them. "I'd kill if I was attacked, but I never initiated any fights- a soldier's true purpose is to defend their country and to kill the enemy that threatens the peace of that country, and many were not my enemy. Miles never attacked me."
Her adjutant nodded to confirm.
"He mentioned his heritage and his past to me and I thought he'd be useful on our side. A state needs differing viewpoints if it's to be genuine and successful. I wasn't in Ishval for very long, since my platoon got recalled in order to execute Order thirty-sixty-six and send in the State Alchemists, so I managed to sneak him back to Briggs with me. We forged his military documents so that it was as if he was an Amestrian who had been enlisted the whole time."
"How'd you manage to do that?" Cordova asked, enthralled. "That sounds like a romantic radio drama."
Miles thanked the universe that his snow camouflage uniform was mostly covering his face, concealing the flush that rose to his cheeks, "It was pretty easy. I dropped my last name so that the government couldn't find my family and arrest them for ' harboring an Ishvalan ', and I've just gone by my first name ever since. Besides that, it was a matter of Olivier knowing people in Records and the fact that the government didn't really come looking for me afterwards."
"Miles isn't your last name?" Halifax asked loudly, dumbfounded. Miles gave a small amused snort as he shook his head. "What last name did you use on your records?"
"Armstrong, it was easy and neither of us could think of anything better. And it's not like Armstrong is a rare name in Amestris, it's a really large family line," Miles replied. "Plus it was only Armstrong on official records, so no one ever called me by it. I don't even think anyone knew besides us."
"Aww," Halifax smiled, "it's like you're married."
He cowered as Olivier shot him a glare, so cold and dangerous it could kill a man.
"After the war was over but the discrimination remained against Ishvalans, I told her I wanted to leave so that she wouldn't get in trouble for harboring me, but she threatened to fight me if I tried," Miles continued, ignoring Halifax's comment. If he dwelled on it, he was sure he'd become a blushing and stammering mess. "And I would've been an idiot if I tried that. So I obviously stayed, and that's when she gave me the snow-blindness goggles."
"I thought you had said that you were already under her command during the war?" The younger major asked.
"I wasn't fully lying," the older replied. "The war was still ongoing, but it was nearing it's end when I got to Briggs."
Cordova nodded, understanding now.
"General," Oshkosh said suddenly, turning back to the small group, his voice a low rumble. "There's a cave."
"Go scout it out," the woman spoke. "It may be a nice place to rest for the day."
Oshkosh nodded, walking ahead of the party, Halifax quickly following to help since he was technically the party's scout. While they searched inside, the others waited out front.
The cave had a rather small entrance, but by the way Oshkosh and Halifax slipped inside and disappeared, it seemed as if it were much larger on the inside. It sat at the base of one of the large mountains, the opening having been carved out by erosion, or even possibly, a small glacier. The remaining soldiers peered into the darkness to await their comrade's return, when Miles noticed that the general wasn't near the group. He looked back, seeing that she had her backed turned to them all.
Silently, the blonde stared up at the sunrise, and in that moment, Miles's heart blossomed. It was a feeling of comfortable and affectionate warmth that swelled in his chest; he had become quite used to the sensation by now.
Olivier glanced back at her soldiers and saw that Miles was staring at her, though she thought nothing of it, "How's everything looking?"
Miles's heart skipped a beat, worried that she was talking about his staring, but Miller's voice replied from behind him, "Looks like everything inside is clear, General."
"Good. Go on in, then, we'll start a fire and you lot can eat if you want," she nodded, making her way back towards them. Miller, Foster, Sikorsky, and Cordova entered the cave single-file, but Miles waited for Olivier to step in before him so he could bring up the rear.
The cave was cold and dark, but not nearly as cold as it was outside. They would also be sheltered from the snow, if the weather happened to change during the day. The soldiers all shed their rucksacks, and Sikorsky gently set his radio on the snow-coated ground. Since Oshkosh had his rucksack open first, out of politeness, his retrieved some firestarting materials and a match, promptly making a fire. They all took out a single MRE each, and they prepared them.
An hour or so later, all of their MREs had been eaten, and many of the soldiers were beginning to bed down for the day. Sikorsky was the first to crash, and he was already snoring loudly, military cap over his eyes like a sleep mask. Cordova and Halifax were asleep next, both of them curled up under the blankets each of them had packed. Oshkosh was wordlessly cleaning up the waste from his food as Miller and Foster talked quietly to one another.
Miles had just finished cleaning his own meal up, so he glanced over near the entrance of the cave. Olivier sat, by herself, near the entrance, yet not in plain sight- she would still be difficult to spot from outside the cave once the fire was put out. Once again, her back was turned to them, keeping silent vigil as her soldiers prepared for sleep.
He carefully stood, making his way over to him. Foster and Miller's talking was in very hushed, mindful tones, so the only sounds in the cave were the quiet noise of Oshkosh's cleaning and Miles's footsteps crunching in the snow.
"Hello," he said, quietly and friendly.
"Hey," Olivier replied casually, focused yet calm.
"How close are we to the border?"
"Close," the woman responded. "Can't say how close, but I recognize landmarks."
Miles tilted his head, gingerly sitting down beside her, "You've been across the border before?"
"Only once."
Miles's silence informed her that he was curious what the circumstances were, so she continued, "I was there when Amestris renewed the Amestrian-Drachman Peace Treaty at the capitol. It was close to when the Ishvalan Civil War broke out, now that I think of it."
She paused for a brief moment, "I was a colonel."
"Wow," Miles replied, finding it all genuinely interesting. "I had no idea."
Olivier shrugged. "I didn't actually visit Valkeasary, but I know we're close. Probably close enough for there to be Drachman patrols around, actually," she added, looking at him from the corner of her blue eyes. "So I'll be keeping watch while everyone rests, just in case."
"Olivier," Miles said, immediately embarrassed that he used her first name- though she didn't even bat an eye. Since she didn't comment, he decided to continue without apology, "You can't stay up the entire time. Let me do it."
"No."
"How about we split the watch, then? At noon, or if you get tired before then, come wake me. I'll take care of it," he offered. For some reason he would never know, he was feeling bold- so he laid a large hand on her shoulder, insisting her to enlist his assistance.
She calmly glanced at his hand for a short moment, before looking him in the eye again, "If you insist."
"Thank you," he gave her a warm smile before standing again. "Don't hesitate," he reminded her as he headed back to the dying fire.
Once he was out of earshot, Olivier sighed softly, sagging her shoulders and turning her gaze back to the rising sun once again.
If only she knew that the warmth she felt matched his perfectly.