The door opened but a crack, revealing darkness within– the only visible shape being the shine of a timid eye peering back at the general. As if sensing their apprehension at the sight of her uniform, Olivier raised her hands to show them that they were empty and, while her sword and pistol rest at her hips, she had nothing in her immediate grasp.
The door opened further, slowly, in response, but a trembling hand soon produced a pistol in the dark of the small house. The blonde remained motionless, palms still shown to the stranger, despite several of her soldiers flinching for their own weapons once they saw the one directed point-blank at their commander. A single sharp glance of her blue eyes stopped them in their metaphorical tracks, however.
"Alexei Kozhurov," Olivier began, voice low and calm. The man in the darkness started at the mention of his name, urging the pistol forward. The Amestrian general simply blinked coolly.
"Who… Who are you?" His voice creeped forth, obviously terrified beyond measure, accent heavy. "How do you know my–"
Olivier forced back a sigh, "Major General Olivier Armstrong from Amestris's Fort Briggs. We're here to help you. Put the gun down, we don't have much time."
Alexei hesitated, his gaze slowly moving down to rest on the pistol that quaked in his grip. While the general air around him seemed to calm slightly, his weapon remained pointed at the one foreign to him. Almost silently, another figure seemed to glide up to them from the darkness, setting a small hand on her husband's arm. "Alexei?" She questioned carefully, her eyes locked on Olivier cautiously, studying her for a brief moment.
"We're not here to harm you," Olivier continued. "We know you're in hiding, there's soldiers not too far from here, and there are many armed outposts with guard patrolling constantly. You'll be found soon, I assure you."
"We don't know if you can be trusted!" Alexei snapped back suddenly, out of pure fear. "Taking us prisoner won't work for blackmail, the new government wants us just as dead as you do!"
Olivier frowned, causing the man to cower slightly, though his wife remained steadfast. She spoke up to him in soft Drachman, "[Alexei, this is the general of Briggs. She would've killed you by now if she wanted to.]"
"[Yes, but, Valera,]" Alexei addressed her, looking back and forth rapidly from each woman. "[She could take us back to her fortress to torture us for information.]"
Blue eyes rolled in annoyance at the Drachman man. She could understand his wariness, but Olivier's patience was already thinner than usual, she didn't need their uncooperative attitudes on top of the looming threat of Drachman soldiers. Silently, she reached into her pocket and retrieved a picture of Karelia.
Miles's heart leaped; he had no idea that she had brought such an item with her.
Valera saw the picture first, her eyes widening in the low light as she shook Alexei's arm to get his attention. When he saw it, he immediately lifted the pistol to the general's head once again, raising his voice in her language, "Why are you holding her hostage?"
"[We're not,]" Olivier's eyes narrowed, surprising the pair with her Drachman. "[The Czar and his wife were crossing the border with her. All we saw was figures in the dark, so we took them out for the own safety of our fort. We were just following protocol.]"
Eyes still wide and shiny with oncoming tears, Valera gingerly reached for the photo, which Olivier silently obliged in handing off to her.
"[Karelia is safe and happy in our fort, however. We wish to escort you back to Briggs, where you will be kept safe, so that we may reinstate your kin in the Drachman monarchy.]"
Alexei noticed how his wife clung to the photo, and his pistol finally lowered, earning a collective exhale of relief from all of Olivier's soldiers.
"Alexei," she sniffled, shakily speaking up in Amestrian. "Look, she's alive.."
Her husband eyed the photo for a moment before glancing back up at Olivier, whose emotions never wavered from the dangerous and serious calm that she had first greeted them with. It took him a long moment before he gently took Valera by the arms, looking into her eyes, "[Zolotse, pack our things. Quickly.]"
She nodded and hurried off with the picture as Alexei turned back to the blonde, "I apologize. We have to be very careful now."
"I understand," Olivier replied. "I'll elaborate everything to you once we're moving." She raised a hand and motioned her soldiers to rise, and knowing the circumstances, they all did so, being as slow and unthreatening as possible. This worked, since when Alexei spotted them, he was not alarmed.
Valera soon emerged from the darkness with a few small bags, handing one off to the other Drachman. Wordlessly, Olivier turned on her heels and started back the way she and her soldiers had initially snuck from. Her soldiers followed obediently, used to this behavior, though it took the Drachmans a moment to understand that her motion was a silent rally to get moving.
It did not take long for them to gain back the distance they had travelled after Halifax's death. Travelling for only a few hours at most, they moved quicker, since they knew what lay ahead of them as they doubled back on their path. Olivier, pleased with this speed, definitely wanted to keep it up– especially given that, now, there were only five MREs to share between the nine of them, including their new travelling companions.
"Major General?" Valera, surprisingly, spoke up after a while. Alexei had remained in a nervous silence for the majority of their trek, but it was the small Drachman woman who had made several attempts to speak to Olivier on multiple occasions. Miles, who, as usual, had been travelling near his general, smiled gently at the thought. It seemed as if the dark-haired woman had taken a quick liking to the Armstrong, since at one time he heard her excitedly asking Olivier in hushed tones about how she managed to not only join the military, but ascend the ranks so quickly.
She probably believed Olivier was younger than what she really was, Miles imagined. The blonde was rather young-looking, despite pushing thirty-six. People had always been astounded to hear that she was not only Alex's older sister, but that they had two siblings between them, and each of the Armstrong children were a year apart up until their mother had given birth to Catherine, who was currently only twenty-two.
What Miles also knew, however, was that despite Olivier always paying no mind to the questions she had been asked involving her gender in her line of work, her journey was much more difficult than she would ever admit to anyone. Though she had never told him her full story (she was rather unforthcoming about it, and the last thing he wanted to do was to pry), he had collected pieces of it from what she occasionally let slip. She had disclosed what her life was like up to and after the academy, but not the specifics of it– the discrimination and inequity. There were few women who had been in the military as long as her, and while he was grateful to say that that changed quickly and there were now many more serving alongside her, he also knew how few female commanding officers there were, even now. She was the highest-ranked woman in the military, and he knew that on the other side of the iron wall she had built around herself so many years ago, there were the quiet remnants of sadness and utter alienation.
It was one of the many things he loved about her. While not entirely in the same vein as what she experienced personally, the major knew far too well what it was like to feel unwanted and estranged. Yet, instead of giving up, she pushed forward with resolve so strong, Miles regret that he hadn't been around to witness it.
"What is the plan for once we get to Amestris?" Valera questioned politely, speeding up slightly to meet Olivier's stride. Her Amestrian was not nearly as polished as Alexei's was, yet she was still able to be clearly understood.
"I imagine the Drachman soldiers will want to attack as soon as they find out what happened," The blonde began, sighing to herself before continuing. "Though they probably already do."
She had mentioned the loss of the captain to the couple, to which, even just judging by the looks on their face, they had silently shared a remorseful glance to one another.
"Either way," Olivier drew her pistol at first sight of the dreaded outpost they had crossed before. "Central Command doesn't know we did this, so first we'll have to inform them of what we did. Then, barring everything goes well with that– and it will, or else– we'll all go down to Central where I can meet with the Fuhrer's Cabinet and you two can be kept in asylum for a little while with Karelia. The three of you will be safer in the middle of the country rather than the border."
"Why did you not tell your Central Command?" The Drachman piped up, her tone completely innocent and questioning.
"If I had told them and they denied my request to engage," Olivier responded, faltering a moment as her foot sank deeply into the snow, causing her to pause suspiciously. "…. They would've sent someone up to keep an eye on me to make sure I didn't do anything rash. They've done it before."
"When? What did you ask?"
"Oh, I didn't ask that time," The blond glanced back at the other woman. "I essentially ordered my soldiers to fight Central soldiers and I basically committed treason on more than one occasion."
"And that was only in the past year," Miles added with a small smile. He knew she was talking about the Promised Day.
Olivier's blue eyes met his, and he knew she didn't mind his addition. He was also rather surprised that she didn't mind the many questions coming from Valera, either.
The small Drachman's eyes widened in awe, though Olivier had already turned her gaze back to the outpost ahead.
"Miles."
"Yes, sir?" He replied, immediately closer.
"We won't have enough food to make it back if we go at the same pace we had been before," she said suddenly, her voice lowered as her irises flickered up to him.
"What shall we do?"
He noticed her eye the outpost.
"They should have some trucks there, don't you think?"
"Olivier," Miles said suspiciously, knowing she had an idea– and knowing her, it was a dangerous one.
"We don't have a chance of making it back to Amestris with enough food, Major. We won't even have enough for everyone tonight. We have to try and find a quicker way back," Olivier responded, signaling for the soldiers to follow her more closely. "Do you have any better ideas?"
Her adjutant sighed, "No, General. I trust you."
Her expression wavered for a moment. One of the most terrifying things in the world to her was having so many men trust her so deeply with her lives, yet the decisions she was often forced to make were always so harrowing, and laced with deadly consequences. This was most likely why she blamed herself for things that always seemed to happen– even if they were immensely out of her control, and she was aware of that.
"We're going to steal a truck," she stated aloud to all those following her. "It would take too long to avoid this outpost, and we have to head straight for the border from here. I'm sure you all know, but we don't have enough food for all of us tonight, so we need to get to Briggs as soon as humanly possible."
Initially, her men and the Drachmans just stared at her in shock before calming as the general explained herself. One advantage Olivier had always held over her peers of the same rank was her ability to give reason to every single thing she did and every decision she made, Miles often noted.
Silently, the group crept on, but the major couldn't help but notice the expression on his commander's face, "General?"
"Something isn't right," she spoke lowly to him. "Do you feel it too?"
Miles focused on his surroundings for a moment, and slowly a sense of dread came to him, "Yes, sir."
"Maybe we should turn around," the general spoke up, her tone laced with concern. "But we still can't afford to waste any time…"
Miles opened his mouth to respond, but he was interrupted by an ear-splitting explosion that boomed from close behind them with no warning.
The two of them spun around to see snow and debris falling from the force of the blast. The two Drachmans who stood near them watched in horror along with the Amestrian soldiers, save for Foster and Miller, who had been at the back of the group.
Miller was screaming bloody murder, clawing at his leg as Foster, silent from the shock, crouched to tend to him. In an instant, everyone was around them.
"What happened?!" Olivier yelled angrily; her fury not directed at her soldiers, but whatever force had just attacked them. Her blue gaze immediately fell onto what Miller was fruitlessly grabbing at as shrieks of pain tore from his throat– his right leg was absolutely torn to shreds. It hadn't been blown off, but the lower leg of his uniform and the entire bottom half of his coat were completely gone, revealing huge gashes taken out of his flesh, a sticky and deep red pooling below and around him.
Foster was already crying uncontrollably; something none of the Amestrians had ever witnessed him do. He was trying to talk to his partner in between hard sobs; trying to caress his face with violently shaking hands, "Lewis! Lewis! Please, god, stay with me, Lewis–"
Olivier shoved several soldiers out of the way and yelled a voice full of pure fire at them over her shoulder, "Back off, give us some room and look around for any shooters!"
Immediately, they all began drawing their weapons, and instinctively, Alexei drew his as well. Miles fell in beside Olivier, ready to assist if another pair of hands were needed.
Olivier lowered her voice just like she had always done in situations such as this one, "What do we need to do, Miller?"
Miller, who was doing his best not to cry in pain, drew in a fragmented inhale as he tried to catch his breath, "I-i-it was a– annnhh," He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw, though his head was held steady thanks to Foster's hands. "Landmine…"
"Fucking god damn it, " Olivier hissed through her teeth, shooting a sharp glance back at the outpost– they must have already sent more soldiers to it, and they littered the snow around them with landmines just in case the Amestrian soldiers travelled back the way they came.
"General, you have to go on without me," Miller choked out as he weakly detached their first-aid kit from his rucksack.
Olivier was about to speak, though Miles spoke for her, "You know we aren't going to leave you, Lewis. If we wouldn't leave a body, what makes you think we'd leave a living soldier?" He took the kit from the medic, opening it quickly.
The general was silently thankful that her adjutant knew her so well. She made eye contact with the captain and repeated what she had asked earlier. While she and all of her soldiers knew basic first aid, she wasn't sure if this particular instance required anything specific, "What do we need to do?"
"It's dirty," Miller gasped, still squeezing his eyes shut. "Do we have any water left?"
Olivier immediately nodded, reaching into her rucksack and producing her own supply of water without a second thought. She unscrewed the lid and gently began pouring water over the gashes.
Nearby, they heard gunshots.
"General, please, just–"
"We take you with us, or we die with you," Olivier said lowly, genuinely. "Now what do I do?"
Miller was silent for a moment before sighing, accepting that there was no way he would get his comrades to leave for their own safety. He opened his eyes and made eye contact with her before looking down at the wounds, "There's bone exposed, but we can't do much about that right now, so just try and stop the bleeding and immobilize it…"
Olivier nodded curtly, and in an instant, Miles was handing her sanitized bandages and the makings of a splint. Swiftly, she wrapped the wound as tightly as she could, adding the splint in order to keep anything from moving any further. As she wrapped it, she addressed the injured's partner, "Foster, can you carry him?"
"Yes, sir," He replied without even having to debate on his answer.
"Good, do so and stay behind us," the general said, straightening up. "Because it sounds like we've got some company."
Ahead of them, the remaining soldiers could be seen taking shots off in the direction of the outpost. Foster lifted Miller into his arms as Olivier and Miles ran to join the other Amestrians.
"Northrop," Miller spoke up softly, earning an acknowledging glance from the lieutenant colonel, whose eyes were still reddened with tears. "Whatever happens, I love you."
Foster smiled fondly down at him, replying with a gentleness that reflected the captain's, "I know, and I love you too."
"Are they coming from the outpost?" Olivier called up to her soldiers as she hurried to them, nearly tripping when her boot sank into a large pile of snow.
"Yes, General," Sikorsky replied, his body flinching slightly at the shoulder due to the kickback of his rifle as he took a shot. "They've got a few men coming down, but they've got a sniper up top, too."
The blonde growled to herself, "That sniper will pick us off one by one if we keep sitting here." She raised her voice, commanding all her men– "Press forward! Our main target is those transport trucks inside that gated area!"
As her soldiers ran ahead and Valera fell back to help Foster, Olivier fell to her knees as she flung her rucksack off her shoulder, unsnapping all of the buckles on it. Due to the lack of MREs, it did not take her long to locate and retrieve the explosives case. Looping the handle over her arm so she could have it ready if the need arose, she pulled the rucksack back onto her shoulders as she straightened.
"General," Miles drew her attention as he appeared behind her, holding out a rifle for her, "Miller wanted you to take his mosin-nagant, he still has his pistol and the lieutenant colonel still has his own rifle, so they'll be fine."
Olivier barely ever used rifles, which was shy she didn't pack her own, but she took it, knowing it would be beneficial to have one in such a situation. Quickly, her and her adjutant ran ahead to be with their soldiers as several Drachmans appeared through the snow. Immediately, one fell, and Olivier glanced over to realize that it was Alexei, who was now holding a rifle (Cordova had given his to him, by the looks of it, since the young soldier had also gone to try and help defend Miller in the back), who had dealt the killing blow. The blonde glanced at her Ishvalan adjutant, who made eye contact with his commander.
"Guess we don't have to worry about him turning on us," Olivier said sarcastically, earning a small smile from the major as the general lifted the rifle to her shoulder and took a shot.
Slowly, the Amestrian soldiers pushed forward, the Drachman boots on the ground falling one after another, until whatever enemies that remained at the highest point of the outpost tower were the only survivors. The party reached the large, military-grade fences that housed the transport trucks– there were three of them in total, with one sitting slightly higher than the rest due to the two-and-a-half-foot-tall snow tracks that had replaced the wheels. The soldiers grouped around the gate, ducking whenever a sniper shot would send up a small kick of snow near them.
The major general took to the front of the group, cursing loudly when she saw the large lock on the gate. Without a thought, she lifted the rifle and took a shot at it, though the bullet just weakly ricocheted off the steel.
"Move back," she snarled a command to them all. "And which one of you has the best arm? I'm getting fucking tired of that sniper."
For whatever reason unknown to Olivier, all of the soldiers present pointed a finger at Oshkosh simultaneously.
She turned and handed him a grenade, "Try and toss that up to the open part of the tower. Overshoot if you have to, just don't undershoot, because then it'll fall back to us and we'll be history."
He gave her a nod and pulled the pin as Olivier waved for the other soldiers to clear away from the gates. After waiting a brief moment for the grenade, the major reared back and swung his arm with an extreme and unrivaled force; flinging the live grenade. Miraculously, his judgement of the timing was perfect, and though he missed the actual opening to the tower, the explosive went off in mid-air next to it, sending shards of debris in all directions.
As the remnants of the grenade fell to the snow around them, Olivier retrieved a second and pulled the pin, balancing it between the edge of the lock and the fence itself. Swiftly, she trot away from it to join her soldiers a safe distance away before it exploded, tearing off the lock and a chunk from the gate.
"Hurry!" Olivier yelled, urging them forward. She went and stood by the gate, watching her men and their two Drachman companions file hastily inside, making sure everyone made it in the gated area before she entered. "Get Miller flat in the back, and elevate his leg!"
The glint of metal on the hip of a writhing Drachman soldier caught her eye, and she padded over to him in the snow. Just as she thought– at his hip jingled a set of shiny keys. She kneeled, tearing them off his belt with a rudely spat, "Thank you."
Hurrying inside the gates, she saw her soldiers attempting to pry a lock off the back of the truck– the one in the middle that had the snow tracks. Miles saw his general enter the gates, and she immediately set the keys roughly in his hand once she caught up to him.
"Try all of these, I don't know which one is to the truck."
He nodded dutifully, smashing the window to the truck with the butt of his rifle and unlocking it from the inside before opening the door and entering the vehicle.
A bullet ricocheted off of the steel shell of the truck, grazing Olivier's side. Once again too high on adrenaline to pay any mind to the pain, she swung around to see another full patrol of Drachman soldiers advancing on them.
"Shit," She breathed to herself, quickly glancing around to get a head count of all of her soldiers. Frantic now, Oshkosh, Cordova, and Foster were all trying to pry the doors open, with Valera having dragged Miller to the other side of the vehicle to hide. Sikorsky and Alexei noticed the enemy soldiers just as the major general had, so they quickly got up to regroup with her.
"You two, fall in with me," She called to them. "We need to hold them off while Miles starts the truck and the others get the doors open!"
Nodding in unison, the two men flanked her after Sikorsky ditched the heavy and cumbersome communications equipment he had been carrying, allowing his comrades to load it up into the truck once they would hopefully get it open.
The three continued taking shots at the enemy, until Alexei's rifle ceased; only making empty clicks. He cursed in Drachman before crouching to avoid the spray of enemy fire as he made his way over to the back of the truck, where Cordova still had the ammunition that was needed to reload his rifle, since Olivier did not have any and Sikorsky had left his with the radio. The soldiers advanced, vastly outnumbering the two remaining Amestrians who were trying their best to return fire.
Olivier shot her rifle again, taking out a Drachman soldier just as a sharp pain burst through her shoulder. She had been shot before, so this pain was not new– but that did not make it any less painful. It felt like searing, cutting fire as the bullet pierced her uniform and buried itself in her muscle, but she could not stop now. She worked her jaw, grinding her teeth in pain and attempting to steady herself for another shot, when Sikorsky suddenly stood.
"General?"
"What, Major?" She asked impatiently; this was not a prime moment for conversation.
"Thank you for being the best commander a soldier could ask for."
She looked up at him, ready to give him a look of confusion, as he snatched the explosives case from her. She reached out a hand to stop him, to which he only shoved the case back to her– but not after retrieving the large shell of phosgene that had been taking up the most space in the bag.
"Sikorsky!" She yelled angrily at him as he ran from her, catching the other Amestrian soldier's attentions.
Surprised and confused by the man now running towards them, several of the Drachmans stumbled backwards in fear that he had explosives. Insead, the major ran near them, forcefully planted the shell in the snow, drew his pistol, and shot it.
Instead of the boom of an explosive, the loud and violent hiss of gas being released into the hair startled everyone who heard it. Though it was colorless, flurries of snow were being blown from the force of the substance, and as a result, Sikorsky was able to determine the exact direction the air was travelling– downhill and downwind of the gated area of the outpost, where the enemy soldiers were now standing, confused as to what he just did.
They had no idea the gas was heavier than air, so it was already taking hold of them.
Olivier felt the truck jolt to life behind her as Miles found the correct key, just as a loud bang of metal echoed off the back of it, signaling the success of her soldiers in getting the back doors open. She heard them yelling hurriedly to each other as they gathered Miller and helped him inside.
"Sikorsky!" The blonde called out again, standing and wobbling for just a moment due to the pained and dizzying shocks that travelled from her shoulder, straight up her neck to her brain, and down to her fingertips. Though farther off now, the Drachman soldiers were coughing wildly already, many of them falling to their knees and clutching at their throats and chests.
She took a step towards her soldier, who quickly held up a hand. At around thirty feet away, Olivier could hear the condemning sound of a cough flinching forth from his chest as well.
She caught a whiff of musty hay on the wind, and quickly pulled up the front of her uniform to serve as a face mask.
The major took a few steps back towards her before he had to double over and wheeze. "Roth, get over here, quickly!" Olivier yelled. It was very rare for her to address her soldiers by their first names– except in dire situations, like this one.
He trotted a bit closer to her before flashing her a smile, a rumble rising from his throat and sending him into wild coughing as he caught up to her, "It's too late, General, I'm sorry."
"You had better shut the fuck up," she spat, grabbing for his arms to balance him as she saw his legs give out. "You had better stay with us. I can't lose another one."
His smile never faded, "They would've advanced on us, sir. I only did what had to be done."
"You know there's no heroes in war, Major," Olivier replied, eyebrows furrowing out of concern. "Oshkosh!" She lifted her head and called to her largest soldier, who quickly poked his head out from the back of the truck. "Get over here and help me get him inside!"
"You're the only hero us soldiers need, sir."
His quiet words sent a pain through Olivier's chest. She knew her soldiers depended on her, but she never really thought about the true, deep impact she had on them all.
As quickly as a man of his size could, Oshkosh hurried over and lifted Sikorsky, who was now beginning to go limp and gasp for breath. Olivier quickly followed, hopping inside the back of the truck and doing a head count once again. Everyone was accounted for, as well as all of their equipment– Miller had been laid out at the front of the area, where his wrapped leg was now elevated, Foster watching him closely. Since there was no other good place to set him, Oshkosh laid Sikorsky out on the floor of the truck, just so he could be flat as well.
"Major," Olivier said down to him as Cordova closed the door, just trying to keep him awake. She flashed a look up to Foster, who by some miracle, knew what her look meant– so he opened the window that led to the front of the truck, where Miles sat. He said something to her adjutant– she couldn't exactly tell what, since she was focused on the soldier below her– but nonetheless, they all felt the truck lurch forward as it started and its speed immediately pick up as Miles slammed on the gas.
"Stay with us, Major," The blonde said, very gently slapping Sikorsky's cheek as his eyes began to darken and flutter shut. "You deserve better than this."
He smiled once again, albeit weakly, as he opened his eyes and looked at each of the soldiers who crowded around them. His brown eyes made contact with the bright, icy blue of Olivier's.
"There are two things in my life… That have been the biggest honor for me to do, General… One was marrying my wife and being the father to three wonderful children, and–" he coughed violently, the shock causing his body to seize slightly as it came to pass. "Serving the Amestrian military, under your command at Briggs."
For the first time in many years, Olivier felt her eyes sting at the threat of encroaching tears.
His body shook as it was wracked with another wheezing, coughing fit.
"My children are grown with families of their own now," He sighed shakily, stifling another cough as his eyes closed.
He smiled one final time, "I'll finally get to see my Maja again."
His breathing slowed to nothing, and all was silent, save for the thudding of the truck as it ascended small hills of snow.
A few minutes passed, until Olivier let her rucksack slide off her shoulders before she carefully removed the blanket Miles had forced her to keep several nights ago. Wordlessly, she draped it over Sikorsky's body, and after a moment, she finally mustered up some words, her voice solemn and quiet, "If anyone else knows how to use the radio, call Briggs. Tell them we'll be arriving in a Drachman transport truck."
Cordova, surprisingly, out of the lot of them, stood silently and made his way over to the abandoned radio and began messing with it.
There were a few boxes in the back of the truck, and after confirming it was simply supplies and nothing volatile like explosives, Olivier moved one over and took a seat on it. She silently clutched her shoulder, which now burned with a dull pain, in a halfhearted attempt to stop the bleeding. It was only after a moment that she felt eyes on her, and when she looked up, she saw that everyone in the truck was watching her; waiting for a command, or a plan, or anything.
She just shook her head, a few long curls falling in front of her face as she looked down at her muddy and snowy shoes.
"We're going home."