I am so sorry for taking so long, I have now started University and this was my first opportunity to publish, We are approaching the last few chapters, one more to complete this story arc, and then a final short arc and then finished, perhaps 4 chapters left!

Thank you all for reviewing, I agree with what many of you have said, I will be altering the prologue, It does need changing, so thanks for the advice!

A small word of warning, this chapter does contain scenes of Torture, but it isn't especially graphic, so just be aware!

enjoy!

Chapter 27

2 Years Later

The broken stone crunched under Harry's highly polished black boots, the hardened leather heel loudagainst the yorkstone beneath his feet. Harry stopped and looked around the ruined house with distant eyes.

Around him, black clad figures bustled around, but Harry ignored them, his eyes had become fixed on an upper floor window from which dark grey smoke billowed out, staining the air, and making the young commanders eyes burn slightly.

"Sir?"

Harry started slightly, and turned to his side, a broad shouldered man of around 20 was stood at his shoulder, his body held stiff at attention,

"What is it Brooke?" he asked calmly, the man, Walther Brooke, served as Harry's aide-de-camp and Adjutant, he was professional and courteous, but a ready soldier and fierce in battle.

"The final report just came in, a total of fifteen dead, six of ours, as well as four prisoners." Harry nodded and turned his eyes to the doorway, where four defeated looking Witches and Wizards were being escorted by a small number of grim looking DS-Guards.

The prisoners looked tired, not that Harry could blame them, it had taken his forces over two days to break through the enchantments that covered the building.

"Take them to headquarters for processing."

"Yes sir. And the dead?"

Harry frowned slightly, "Identify and burn the traitors, follow procedure with ours."

Brooke nodded and snapped out a salute, which Harry returned, before he walked off, once again leaving Harry alone in the middle of the chaos. With a soft sigh, the commander of the British Wizarding forces strode forward, heading towards the door of the defeated house.

The inside of the building held all the signs of a recent battle having taken place here, smashed furniture, rubble and gaping holes where entire walls had been blasted to oblivion, the heat from the still slightly smouldering outside walls was intense, and Harry tugged slightly at the neck of his jacket, allowing a small breath of air to reach his chest.

He was in a small living room, the place smelt of blood and fire, and though any bodies had long since been cleared, it was still possible to see where they had lain, the dark red-brown stains on what had once been a beige carpet belied where Imperial and Traitor alike had met their end. Harry carried on forward, leaving the living room and entering a hall, his boots once again clacking against the dusty wood of the floor.

The noise seemed oddly magnified in the quiet house and Harry felt almost like he was defiling a sacred place with his mere presence. He snorted slightly, and shook such feelings away as he carried on. His examination of the property was quick and not particularly thorough, but he felt it would be an insult to the memory of the men who had died under his orders if he did not at least walk the path they had taken.

In the past two years, Harry's life had changed dramatically, though the public still adored him, and many wished he would return to the imperial throne, his influence within the upper echelons of the government had waned to almost nothing.

Following his meeting with the Dark Lord all those years ago, Harry had been assigned to the position of commander of all the government peacekeepers. The job was often dull and required especially long hours, however Harry enjoyed it. The paperwork and endless meetings had kept him distracted from the other things in his life, and gradually, over the course of many months, the constant anger and hate that he had felt had mellowed.

The Year before, Harry had added to his list of responsibilities, assigning himself as Captain of the latest DS-Death Squad, the Nephilim, It was a role that allowed Harry to get his hands dirty, to experience the same things as the Witches and Wizards whose exploits he had read through on so many occasions in mission reports.

Initially, there had been dozens of battles, with neither side able to defeat the other, however as the months had progressed, the government's resources had begun to win the war in a way that soldiers just couldn't.

The Empire had authorised the expansion of the DS until its number were over a thousand, with dozens of Death Squads constantly searching for enemies of the state and pursuing any leads that had been provided by helpful citizens. These had become so numerous that Harry had been forced to create an entire office whose job it was to read through these statements and determine which were credible.

Pitched battles had become a thing of the past, as the Order of the Phoenix and their allies had found themselves facing overwhelming numbers of well trained professionals. The vigilante group now resorted to guerrilla tactics, sharp raids conducted on Government personnel and offices. Given the difficulty of protecting the hundreds of potential targets, Harry had ordered that the location and termination of any safe houses that the Order operated from a top priority.

It was tough work, and successes were few, but gradually the Order was being pushed back, in the past two months alone, four locations had been put to the sword and with each success, the public felt slightly safer than they had done before. However, it was precisely due to the slowly relaxing mind set of the public that Harry was feeling under more and more pressure to end the war quickly, lest a change of mood sweep the nation and put his leadership into question.

With a last look at the ruined home, Harry turned on the spot, disaparating and appearing on the cobbled forecourt of the DS Headquarters, the many flags that lined the walls of the imposing granite grey building snapped in a slight breeze, the imperial eagle and cross blaring out to all who looked.

With a purposeful stride, the young commander strode into the fortress and quickly made his way down the stairs to the quarters which housed the prisoners. The men and women who passed stopped and smartly stood to attention, he ignored them, focusing instead on making his way down the long winding staircase to the dimly lit temporary prison which housed any captives believed to hold relevant information.

"Has he said anything?" Harry asked the duty-guard, who stood outside a bare iron door on a corridor which held dozens of identical doors.

"Not a word yet sir." The grizzled veteran replied, "The persuaders in with him now."

Harry nodded, The Persuaders were the men who used less savoury tactics to gain Intel, whilst Harry may not have liked the methods they used, he couldn't deny that the results they achieved made them a necessary evil.

"Thank you sergeant. Open the door please."

"Sir." The man replied curtly, placing the tip of his wand on the door handle. The doorknob glowed blue for a second before returning to its original state and the guard twisted and pushed, revealing the sterile white interrogation room beyond.

The Persuader was tall, with thin cheeks and wispy brown hair. He glanced up from his seat opposite the prisoner and nodded briefly to Harry, who motioned for the interrogation to continue.

"Mr Creevey, you have been with us for nearly a week now." He paused, "I must applaud your resilience, however you do realise how futile it is?"

Creevey, who Harry vaguely recalled from his years at Hogwarts said nothing, his eyes downcast, and his hands, bound and resting on the table shook slightly.

"Do you believe we will kill you if you don't talk?" the persuader asked, his voice soft and soothing, Creevey shook slightly,

"Yes?" he replied, and Harry could hear an almost hopeful tone in his voice, the persuader laughed, slapping his hand down on the table, Creevey flinched at the sound,

"I'm sure you would like that wouldn't you?" he asked, "however I am afraid that won't happen, in fact we have some very skilled healers in this facility who will keep you alive for a long time, so we can have our little chats for months and months."

Creevey quivered slightly, but raised his head defiantly, his bloodshot eyes glared at Harry, who stood slightly behind the persuader,

"Lucky me." He attempted to growl out, when he opened his mouth, Harry saw a mess of bloody gums and broken teeth.

"Dear me Colin, this could be so much easier if you just cooperated, surely you are tired? Hungry? We could give you a bed and a feast, all you have to do is answer my questions. What do you say?" Colin said nothing, instead spitting a bloody globule onto the table.

The persuader sighed and stood up, shaking his head ruefully. "Don't say I didn't warn you. Guard!" the last word was shouted and the door opened a few seconds later.

"Yes Sir?"

"Unbind Mr Creevey's hands please."

"Yes Sir."

The sergeant moved forward and quickly removed the chains on Colin's arms before leaving the room and closing the door.

"You are a muggle-born aren't you Mr Creevey?" the persuader asked, his tone light, Colin said nothing,

"Well it says you are in my file, so I wonder if you recognise this?" With an elegant sweep of his hand, he pulled a long rectangular club out of his robes and lay it on the table with a clatter. Colin's eyes widened and his breath came in short gasps.

"It's called a cricket bat, and Muggles use it one of their games." The man frowned as he ran his hand over the polished wood, "a bit clumsy, certainly not as easy to manoeuvre as a beaters bat, but I think you can get more power behind a swing. Exposimise."

The sticking charm struck Colins hand, gluing it to the table. "Will you tell me what I want to know Colin?" the man asked, Creevey released a small sob, but shook his head, tears streaming down his bruised cheeks.

"Pity." The persuader stood up and took a position next to prisoner, raising the bat above his head, "Last chance Colin…" Creevey had shut his eyes, but tears still leaked down his cheeks, and his breath came in short pants.

Crunch

The hand which the bat hit resembled nothing more than mashed flesh, the crushed bones and joints stuck out from ragged tears and the shocking white was quickly covered by the rapidly growing pool of blood.

Colin gave a pitiful shriek, his entire body shaking, blood fell from his mouth from where one of his few remaining teeth had bitten into his tongue.

Crunch

The blood stained bat hammered back down onto the ruined hand, and Colin slumped forward in his chair, unmoving, though his eyes were still open and his mouth closed and opened like a fish out of water.

"Enervate." The persuader spoke carelessly, waving his wand at the helpless boy. Colin immediately came out of his trance and promptly vomited down his chest.

"Please answer the questions Colin, I promise to end it all if you do." The young man in the chair didn't seem to know where he was, and as his eyes slowly focused onto the persuader in front of him, his body shook violently.

"I…" he began, "Yes."

"Yes what Colin?" the Persuader asked in a smug voice.

"Yes, I will… talk." The words came out garbled and almost indistinct, Harry smiled broadly, Colin Creevey was by no means one of the Orders best, but he worked for Dumbledore by passing information from inside the Department of Magical Transportation, where he had worked. Harry wished that the ancient ex-headmaster hadn't thought to teach the young man Occlumency, had his mind been less well defended, three drops of Veritaserum would have sufficed and Colins ordeal would have been over far easier.

"Wonderful, I'm glad you have seen sense Mr Creevey. Lord Commander Potter, perhaps you would like to take over now?" the man asked, Harry nodded and slid into one of the available chairs on the opposite side of the table to Colin and slid a sheet of parchment across the table to him, on the parchment four faces stared up at him, Alastor Moody, Sirius Black, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Albus Dumbledore.

"Mr Creevey, do you know the location of any of these men?"

With his undamaged, though shaking hand, Colin picked up the paper and held it close to his face. He frowned in confusion as he stared at it, blinking slowly. Finally he lowered it and looked across at Harry, blood still leaking from his mouth.

"Dead."

"Dead? Who?" Harry asked leaning forward slightly, Colin shook slightly before his finger jabbed down onto the Parchment. Harry followed the direction his finger pointed in and blinked.

"Dumbledore?" Harry asked, keeping his voice from showing his surprise. Colin nodded, "When did he die?"

"Eight… eight months ago."

"Dumbledore was involved in a skirmish not six weeks ago Colin, Please don't lie." Harry's voice was cold, his eyes hard, and the prisoner trembled violently, before coughing violently.

"No, no, no… Not Dumbledore, Polyjuice, I promise, Morale, couldn't let others know."

For a long moment Harry was silent, staring at Creevey carefully, if what the young man said was true, then this would be the moment to strike, Dumbledore was the Orders greatest weapon, the ancient sorcerer was capable of taking down entire death squads with ease, and the ex-headmaster had demonstrated his formidable skill in battle on several occasions.

"Colin, I need to know everything. Tell me everything you know, and I assure you, you will be treated well."

Creevey smiled slightly, the movement splitting a scab on his lib and adding a new source of blood dribbling down his chin.

"Water… please" Harry sighed, but quickly conjured a large glass full of cool water. Colin sipped it slowly, much of it dribbling down his ruined shirt.

"Speak Colin."

"Dum…. Last year… Dumbledore was away lots, searching for… something with Longbottom." The man paused and took a deep breath, wincing as it stretched his bruised ribs. "They were successful… found at least 3 things, I don't know what…"

Harry had withdrawn a sheaf of parchment from the inner pocket of his jacket, and quickly noted down everything Colin was telling him.

"What were these objects?" Harry questioned intently, Colin shuddered as he took another breath.

"A locket… A cup… gold cup, and a tiara…" Harry frowned, having no notion about what such objects could be for.

"And how did this kill Dumbledore?"

"They were after another, Longbottom said it was a ring, Dumbledore put it on and was cursed."

"A ring?" Harry queried,

"Yes."

"And you're sure these were the objects?" He looked down at his parchment, "A locket, cup, tiara and ring?"

"Yes."

"And the curse? It killed Dumbledore?"

Colin sobbed, tears leaking out of the corners of his puffy eyes as he nodded slowly. Harry paused, looking between the parchment and captive slowly.

"What of Black, Moody and Shacklebolt…. What of Longbottom?"

"Longbottom is still hunting those things." Colin slowly explained, "I don't know about the others… they travel around."

Harry nodded, he expected as much, no one seemed to have much knowledge of the three order member's movements.

The interrogation continued, Colin proved a very valuable source of information, Harry quizzed him on recruitment, the locations of safe houses, the nature of the information Colin was passing on, as well as many other topics. Two hours after he'd entered, he left with several sheaves of parchment and a satisfied smile on his face.

As he strode up the wide main staircase towards his office, Harry was formulating how to respond to the new information.

Dumbledore was dead. That single fact would change the war forever. The ancient Headmaster, the man whom Harry had schemed and plotted a hundred times about how to defeat, had been killed by a mere cursed ring, a most ignominious ending for an admittedly great man.

He passed the information he had collected from Creevey onto his secretary and strode into his office, the small smile on his face quickly replaced with a frown as he saw the mountain of paperwork on his desk.

He sighed as he fell back into the dark green leather chair, picking up the top file and reading through the short mission report held within, when he had finished reading through it, he signed with a practiced movement, and moved the file into the out tray.

When he had finally finished each and every file that required his signature, the sun had long since set and the view of the DSHQ's courtyard outside his window was lit up with gas lamps, sending a warm yellow light onto his roof. Harry stretched, grimacing as his shoulders popped and tired muscles protested the movement.

Finally able to think for himself, he rested his chin upon steepled fingers and allowed his mind to drift away. Without Dumbledore, The order possessed no single advantage over the DS. Creevey had told him that the Weasely home had become the main location of the Rebellion, protected under hundreds of powerful enchantments including the Fidelius, the once humble farmstead had become a veritable fortress, with the order housing most of their troops there.

Sadly, it was precisely due to the Fidelius charm that Harry was unable to get anywhere near the building. Colin hadn't known the location of the secret keeper nor even his identity, which meant that they were stuck.

Or were they?

Harry knew for a fact that Bill Weasely was a member of the order of the phoenix, and if he was in the Burrow, then it was almost guaranteed he would have brought his wife along with him. He hadn't spoken to Fleur for a long time, unwilling to risk the identity of his most secret servant. But now, with the end of the war so very nearly in his grasp, and with Fleur potentially holding the information that he needed, he would be a fool not to use her.

With sudden energy, he pulled open a drawer and pulled out a single sheet of unadorned writing paper, somehow he didn't think the order would let the part Veela off without question if she received Paper embossed with

From the Office of Harry Potter OM1, MV
Supreme Commander Imperial Forces

With a smooth hand, he penned the brief note to the woman,

My Dear Fleur,

I will keep this brief, I understand you are in a location which houses most of the remaining Rebel troops, however this building is under the Fidelius charm. I would like to know the identity of the secret keeper. I need to know the approximate location of the Weasely home and I need to know approximately how many are currently inside, including any individuals of note.

The war is almost over, and your assistance will not be forgotten, so long as you remember the debt that you owe to me.

H

With a powerful charm, Harry ensured that only Fleur would be able to read the note, before he folded it up, slid it into an envelope and sent it by way of Minnie to a public post owl.

Smiling slightly, Harry stood up and left via the floo. He had moved house almost immediately after Miranda's death, and now lived in a comfy two bedroom house in the heart of the small town of Aldeburgh. As he stepped out of the fire, he became aware of just how late it was, the clock on the mantle read eleven thirty, and Harry groaned as he considered that he was expected to be up and available in less than nine hours.

With quiet footsteps he ascended the hardwood stairs, wincing every time his heel echoed loudly against the bare wood. When he made it into his bedroom, he sat down on the end of his bed and pulled off his boots, sighing in relief as the supple leather released his toes, before moving onto his stiff jacket, swearing under his breath as he attempted unsuccessfully to undo the button at his neck.

"Struggling?" came a sleepy female voice behind him. Harry froze, turning around slowly, a guilty expression on his face.

"Did I wake you?" he asked quietly,

"I was barely asleep, don't worry." She responded, the slight Irish accent becoming more pronounced in her drowsiness.

"Well anyway, I'm sorry Liv." Olivia huffed under her breath before lying back down and leaving Harry to struggle with the last of his buttons. When he eventually got the last of his uniform off, he left it in a pile for Minnie and then climbed into the soft bed, exhaling slowly as his back sank into the deep mattress.

"Tough day?" Olivia asked, Harry shrugged, or attempted to at least.

"Not really, just messy…"

"You smell like smoke." She observed, Harry chuckled, glad that smoke was all she could smell on him.

"Like I said, messy." Harry frowned, "But it won't be much longer, I promise, I found some information today, that if true, will bring the conclusion of this war into days and weeks, not months and years."

"That's nice." The Irish girl mumbled sleepily, Harry chuckled, kissing her on the brow and slowly moving her head onto his chest.

The next morning Harry was rudely awoken by his alarm, the charmed eagle statuette next to his bed screeching loudly to announce the time, Harry opened his eyes quickly, sighing as he saw the source of his disturbance.

He rolled out of bed, his toes curling deep into the rich carpet on his floor as with shuffled steps he made his way over to the shower, allowing the steaming spray to wash the last of his sleepiness away with it. The sun was still very low on the Horizon and Olivia was asleep, having slept straight through the alarm, Harry shook his head ruefully, before he stepped over to his wardrobe, pulling out a pristine and perfectly pressed uniform from its cavernous depths.

He dressed slowly, first the plain white, collarless shirt, then the black trousers, adorned with only a single red stripe down the outside leg, before adding the black jacket, heavily adorned with gold piping and decoration. Finally, he pulled out a pair of black boots, which he briefly inspected for any signs of marring, finding none, he pulled the supple leather over his calves, before straightening out the rumpled material of the trousers.

When he was done, he stood in front of the large floor length mirror and examined his reflection, from his cold face, to his short black hair, finally sweeping over the immaculate uniform. Satisfied, he opened the door and sauntered over to the floo, already looking forward to the cup of coffee that would be waiting for him.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPPHPHPHPHPHHPHP

He noticed it as soon as he sat down, it was on top of the small pile of paperwork that greeted him every morning, a single plain envelope with only his name written in curving elegant calligraphy, handwriting he recognised almost immediately.

With a steady hand he picked up the envelope and slit it open, tugging the folded parchment out excitedly.

Harry,

I of course will give you this information, though it pains me to do so, I only ask that you grant Bill and myself mercy, however, I know that I have no reason to ask anything of you.

The Home is called the burrow, and Mad-Eye Moody is the current secret keeper. It is located approximately half way between Ottery St Catchpole and Stoats Head hill in Devon. At the time of writing this letter, there are thirty one people staying here, including Neville Longbottom, Sirius Black and Mad-Eye Moody himself. Kingsley I believe will be returning in eight days' time from Newcastle.

Yours in faith

Fleur.

Harry read the letter several times, his mind deep in thought. Moody himself was the secret keeper, which was interesting, the grizzled ex Auror was tough, Harry knew that first hand. Even if they captured the man, which was unlikely, the chances of them managing to get the man to talk before the Order discovered his capture and left the Burrow was almost zero.

Unless… Harry thought suddenly, his mind whirring as he thought of what to do, was there any chance of catching them in transit? He sighed loudly, massaging his temples gently, before he opened his eyes and quickly began to pen a new letter to Fleur.

Fleur,

Thank you, Of course I will do anything I can to keep you safe and well, the information was very useful, I merely need one more piece of information, if the location of the Burrow were to be discovered by my forces, to which location would you go, and are you aware of the protections that currently defend it?

Please reply soon

H

When the letter was safely sent away Harry could feel his heart fluttering nervously as he considered what he was doing, in order for his plan to work, he would need some patience and a great deal of luck, but it could just work.

Sitting back in his comfy chair, Harry looked at his desk and smirked as he saw the relatively small pile of paperwork that was currently waiting for him, hopefully he would get some time to spend with his Death Squad, the Nephilim would be enjoying some well-earned R&R after their last week, and Harry thought about joining them at their barracks in Bristol.

Halfway through his musings, Harry was interrupted by the sudden slamming open of his door. He frowned, as he looked up at who had so rudely interrupted. The glowering face of Riddle glared down at him, and Harry almost immediately stood to attention and snapped a salute, Riddle said nothing, merely throwing a piece of Parchment onto Harry's desk.

Harry frowned and looked down. It was the interrogation report from yesterday, glancing up, he looked at the Dark Lord puzzled.

"Majesty?" he asked, "this is the report of my interrogation yesterday."

"Is it accurate?" the Dark Lord spat, his eyes glowing red.

"Of course, my men are very effective." Harry replied, slightly insulted that Voldemort would question his forces abilities.

"And what will you very effective men do about this?" Riddle snarled, Harry kept his back rigid when he replied,

"With regard to Dumbledore's death, I plan to crush the rebellion in a single move, force the Order out of their fortress and fight them on an open battle, catch them by surprise, get them vulnerable." When he finished, Harry looked at the Dark Lord, expecting the man to look mollified, however he was mistaken, for Voldemort looked more furious than before.

"The part where the prisoner speaks of Objects Dumbledore was hunting," he began, clearly fighting to reign in his temper, "you must stop Longbottom destroying them."

"Of course my Lord, However, in order to protect them, I will need to stop Longbottom, according to Creevey, the exact nature of the objects is known only to Longbottom, and previously Dumbledore."

"They MUST be saved!" Riddle roared, Harry blinked, but snapped off a salute

"Yes Sir." Riddle growled under his breath but nodded, turning on his heel, slamming the door violently behind him. Harry sat back in his chair.

Just what were these objects that mattered to the Dark Lord so much? If their loss weakened the Riddle in any way, Harry considered that a good thing, clearly it would be in his best interest to allow these objects to be destroyed, or at the very least to make sure Riddle didn't get his hands on them, Harry had seen it in the man's eyes, for the first time since Harry had known him, Riddle seemed Vulnerable, he knew of his weakness, and that alone excited Harry.

The next few days were spent by Harry in an agony of waiting, he was desperately awaiting Fleurs letter, and needed to know the information it held before he could finalise any sort of plan. Finally, two days after he had sent out his second letter, Harry received a reply.

Harry,

In the event of the Burrow becoming compromised, the current plan is to move to the home of Bill and I, it is called Shell cottage, in Tinworth, Cornwall, the property is currently under heavy warding, but not the Fidelius charm, this would only be a temporary move, before we moved to a more permanent new building.

For your information, Mad Eye will be launching a raid on the Colchester training facility this Friday, the attack will be small, only a dozen men or so, and aims to collect information.

I hope this helps,

Fleur.

Harry smiled, today was Tuesday, so in order to act on this information, he would need to act extremely fast. He touched his wand to a block of wood on his desk.

"Yes Sir?" came the deferential tones of his secretary,

"Jonas, I want a meeting of High command, today. Make it happen."

"Yes sir." He removed his wand and lay the thin stick of Yew against the desk, Jonas was very efficient, Harry liked the man, he never asked questions, and never complained.

The meeting, when it was arranged was set for nine o'clock that evening, the dozen men who made up the DS high command were assembled around a long oak table which was easily capable of seating a two times that number.

"Gentlemen" Harry began, his eyes skimming across the immaculate black and gold uniforms of the men in front of him, "With the Death of Albus Dumbledore, I believe now is the time to strike. The Order is currently located in the Burrow, protected by the Fidelius charm, however, if the secret keeper were to be captured, this would force them to move to a new, far less heavily defended location."

He smiled at the growing looks of comprehension on his general's faces and smiled. "According to my source, this new location would be Shell cottage in Cornwall, which I am told, whilst heavily fortified, is not under the Fidelius."

Evan Rosier looked up from the file he was reading, "Mad Eye Moody will not give away the secret easily." He warned,

"Agreed." Murmured a few of the assembled men,

"I also agree Evan, however, he does not need to, so long as Moody is in our custody, I believe it will be too great a risk for the Order to take by remaining in the same place."

"How reliable is this evidence that Moody will be attacking Colchester, it is a small facility after all." Warned General Bletchley, Harry shrugged,

"I believe it to be reliable, I haven't used this source before, but her loyalty is beyond question."

"In that case. You have my full support Commander." Evan stated with a small grin, Harry smirked and nodded his appreciation.

"Excellent, In that case Gentlemen, here is my plan…"

AN

Okay, what did you think? I put in the torture as a reminder that whilst Harry is not necessarily evil, he is Dark and is part of a Dark regime, so they would do what is necessary, please give me your thoughts, any questions you have, and I will answer them in the next chapter.

All my love

Marshall Angmar