Hello my peeps. Long-ass chapter today, hope you enjoy, though, if you hate dialogue, you will hate the second half of this. That shit is literally just dialogue.

RECAP:
Tori, Feliks, Roderich and Gilbert have been kidnapped by the rebels. They are currently on Galee
Lukas and Emilia have made it to the resistance, and have been promised by Yao that their presence will be known only by those he trusts.
The remaining bounty hunters have teamed up with Captain Kirkland's crew to get their friends back. However, to track them down, they need to retrieve one of Arthur's employees, Eduard, from Jhobras.
Lovino and Feliciano are still on Rela, where Lovino has forgiven Sadik for attacking him.

Okay, this is important. All of the characters in here who have unfamiliar names are actual countries which I have created names/personalities for, unless it is actually stated that they are just an OC. This chapter mentions several who are important. I have no real basis for choosing the countries I do, those are just countries which I had already created OC names for. In this story, the Ancient nations/Empires will be older than the majority of the other characters.
Their names, and what country/ancient empire they are, are listed below:

NAMES:
Nelia Domingo: Peru
Arshad Teymouri: Ancient Persian Empire
Ehsan Karimi: Iran
Yaretzi Chapula: Aztec Empire
Aelia Gabras: Byzantine Empire
Octavia Papadopoulos: Ancient Greece
Jamael Laroussi: Algeria
Mohammed Hassan: Egypt
Atalaya Somero: Panama
Raneem Asgar: Ancient Egypt

WARNINGS:
More shitty combat scenes as written by yours truly, mentions of exercise, a lil bit of blood, an absolute fuckton of dialogue

On another note, this is the longest chapter of the story, clocking in at 7,164 words!

Also, so that the timeline makes sense, the current year is 4512CC. The expansion happened in 4501CC.

Come and talk to me on Tumblr if you want or have any questions! My username is thehippieanarchist if you were interested

Resistance Headquarters,
Draak-Zafi Forra, Nyma,
19th Fybwari

Fynkn was well-known for it's landscape. Frigid and frozen 9 months out of 12, it held a vast scene of twisting mountains, frozen lakes, arctic taigas, lifeless steppes and gigantic glaciers. It was cold, cold, cold, all year round. Even in Summer it snowed, and in the days or weeks where it didn't, the perennial wind-chill was still too intense for much time out in the sun. The only real difference between Summer and Winter was the length of the days. All that had distinguished the two for Lukas as a child had been that right in the middle of winter, they always had their annual Yulerin celebrations.

During the festival, the city of Oslaholm would become festooned with pine wreaths, glowing lanterns and vibrant oil paint patterns that gracefully swept along the sides of buildings. The streets would become cluttered with market stalls, selling all sorts of things. And it always snowed. Always. Lukas had been born in the cold, grown up in it, become comfortable in it. As a child, the stories of summers so hot that people collapsed were as foreign as those who came bearing them. He remembered the names of the planets they came from; Nyma, Jhobras, Aralos, Qyyyt, Dryx. All his tutoring until that point had only been able to supply him with the simple information that they were hot. As a child, he'd vowed to not visit a single one of them, ever, because snow was better than a blazing sun any day.

Unfortunately, he didn't have much of a choice now.

There was sweat verifiably pouring down his chest, making the loose cotton shirt he'd been afforded for these training sessions cling tight to his skin. His hair was clumping and gathering in front of his eyes, and he could feel each and every one of the seventeen blisters on his feet which had formed and painfully burst since the morning had begun. As if to make it even worse, they were throbbing inside the stiff leather boots he was currently training in, and judging by the slickness he could feel on their undersides, he was bleeding. His fingers had been clamped in the same folded position that stopped him from using them that they were beginning to seriously cramp; his joints had started to pop and crack at the slightest movements. The black pants he had been wearing were starting to painfully scrape and chafe on his legs. The sun, beating down as fiercely as ever, had already burned his exposed skin, and was making his whole condition worse. His breath was coming rough and ragged, but he didn't even have a moment to brace his hands on his knees and breathe. A metal staff swung into his vision on his right side and he almost slammed himself into the ground to avoid it.

Forcing himself to his feet despite his body's objections, Lukas tried to relax his muscles, eyes tracking his trainer's every movement. The metal staff which he was currently tasked with avoiding at all costs swung in loose, lazy circles before they once again lunged at him. Lukas scrambled out of the way of it's first assault just in time. He wasn't quite fast enough, however, to dodge the second; it slammed into his right side, and then into his legs, forcing them to fold underneath him. His bare shins met the red, packed dirt of the training area, burning with heat after the hours the sun had been on it. His hands followed soon after. Lukas couldn't even be bothered to pull himself up again when the staff was levelled at his face, not even to save the skin on his legs and palms (though he could feel it starting to burn). He had been out here training for almost 6 hours now, and his body was just about giving up. Lukas had always prided himself on his stamina and endurance, but this training was something he'd never even done before. Falling like this, being unable to stand the heat, it made him feel like a failure.

However, the rebel training him didn't think so.

"Brilliant! You're one of the fastest-improving students I've ever had! You lasted almost twice as long that time!" For all of the unpleasant, battle-hardened soldiers that the Resistance had, Nelia Domingo was not one of them. A 20-something year old from Jhobras, she was unfalteringly encouraging. Nelia herself had trained in the Aparaki Mountains on Jhobras, and was nothing less than an expert. She was running Lukas through the very basics of combat all over again; dodging, hand-to-hand combat, hand-eye coordination, punching and kicking, as well as basic self-defence. Lukas had thought that he would fly through it, but Nelia knew how to put a student through hell, again and again until they were as good as she was. She had told him that he was already an amazing fighter, and that her role was mostly to polish his skills and make sure he could defend himself armed or not. It was true, Lukas could admit, that he was fine with a weapon, but when unarmed he lost a great deal of his power to defend himself and attacks others. Nelia wanted to make sure that that was no longer the case. Lukas groaned as he finally gathered up the strength to stand.

"I still got hit, though." He muttered, irritated at himself. Nelia frowned.

"You did," she said, reaching out and tapping him on the nose; something she did when someone had just annoyed her, "But you still kept it up, dodging with no help from your hands, for more than half an hour. Not to mention, it's hot as shit out here, and you're from an Arctic planet. Do you have any idea how many of my Fynknian students have collapsed of heatstroke? Because it's a lot." She smiled at him. "Don't beat yourself up, Lukas, okay? You're still improving at an absolutely remarkable rate. You'll be flipping me over your shoulder in no time." Nelia dropped her staff underneath the small tent set up in the shade and sat on the rough-hewn wooden bench that also sat there, gesturing for him to join her. "Not to mention, it's more than a little hard to be stripped back to the basics." She clapped him on the shoulder as he sat next to her. "So, all things considered, no, you aren't a damn failure. The opposite, really." He sighed, but nodded, and she smiled, having gotten her point across.

Lukas managed to hold in his gasp of pain as he pulled his leather training shoes off. He was right; his feet were absolutely drenched in blood. Slivers of skin, worn off by the hot leather, trailed along their sides. Nelia winced when she saw them. "Oh, ouch. I guess that's my fault then?" Lukas was about to refute her statement, but trailed off awkwardly and closed his mouth. Nelia raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, that's what I thought. I'll help you patch them up."

Though he argued that he was fine, he felt undeniably better after Nelia had helped him wash, disinfect and bandage his feet. He did refuse her offers to help him walk, though, simply ignoring the sharp pain that travelled through his feet with every step.

"It's not that bad." He remarked when he noted Nelia's gaze flickering between his face and his feet. She held her hands up defensively.

"Okay, okay. I get the point." She said, lowering her hands to her sides again. "But if they get infected, or too painful, you go see a medic, okay? None of this independent teenager thing."

Lukas stared at her, almost insulted. "I'm not technically a teenager."

"You're 18. That means you're a teenager."

"Well I'm 19 in Maii."

"Still a teenager." Nelia looked at him, bursting out laughing when she saw his expression. She shook her head at him slightly, smiling fondly. For once, Lukas let himself smile back a little.

Despite the heat and the noise, the hectic nature that even breakfasts could bring and the endless training which left him sore and bruised; Lukas liked the resistance. He was surprised at how equally he was treated. He'd been worried that if anyone found out he was royalty that they would start to bow and scrape – which he hated a fair amount. He'd spent most of his life running across the universe, stealing and begging to get by. He didn't want any of the formalities and inflections that were meant as a sign of respect to his status. He was a soldier in this war just like everyone else here. Yao, the first of them to know, wasn't afraid to scold him about keeping his sleeping quarters clean, or not skipping training sessions. He didn't break into lengthy lectures about his role or future or anything like that. He got frustrated with him like he did everyone else. It was liberating, in a sense. Tino, one of the few other people who knew, had only asked about his royal status once, and that was to bluntly ask him if golden toilets were a thing (they were not). He and Emilia (or Laila as she was now) were treated the same as anyone. True, the vast, vast majority of the resistance didn't see them as anything other than two more Fynknian refugees turned partisan fighters. But those who actually knew treated him like anyone else.

It had taken a bit of confusion and wondering on Lukas' part as to why Yao hadn't told more people about him and Emilia, before Tino had finally dragged him aside and explained. Lukas and Emilia were secret weapons in the Resistance's arsenal, and the longer that they could keep their presence here secret from the Union, the better. But that wasn't the only reason. There was currently a large amount of vetting going on in among the rebels. The majority of this vetting was unknown. The rebels were by nature cautious, but they were doing it right now for a far more important reason.

The Resistance had a rat, and judging by the information they had leaked, they had managed to burrow very, very deep.

Somor, Tyysha Region,
Galee,
19th Fybwari

The sharp knocking arrived at 3am.

Matthew had already been awake, having been startled awake by a nightmare he'd had earlier (he'd been at the markets again, in that crushing mass of people, screaming and cursing. And he had watched his family vanish again). He had been making some cocoa to calm his nerves when the sharp rapping noise echoed from the entryway. Matthew paused, raising his head, silently poking it around the corner to watch the door for a moment. He debated whether or not to open it. This whole cabin was made of unpainted timber, forever damp and musty from the moisture in the air. Anyone determined enough could easily kick that door in and barge inside. He pursed his lips, placing his mug on the bench next to him before quickly crossing the small distance to the doorway where his friends slept. He had only placed his hand on the doorknob when the knocking repeated. The doorknob underneath his fingers was swept away as the door opened, Elizabeta and Bella's tired, confused faces staring back at him.

"We have visitors." he murmured, inclining his head towards the door. Their expressions immediately sharpened, eyes focusing as they quietly moved into the hallway beside him, collecting their weapons. He nodded at Bella when she tossed his hunting knife to him. He had always been better at long-range combat, but he supposed he would just have to make do. Drawing in a breath and hoping that their other friends would wake up soon, he approached the door and opened it in a single, fluid motion.

Four Garvich stood in the doorway, staring down at him from their impressive seven feet of height. He raised an eyebrow. "And how may I help you at 3am?" he asked sharply. His Galeevi was conversational at best, so he went with the safe option of speaking in the Common Standard. The one standing at the front bared their teeth in what Matthew assumed was a very uncomfortable smile. The Garvich were far from the most visually unpleasant race, but they were certainly different from humans. They were bipedal, of course, and very tall. They had two arms and two legs, like humans, but had feet that split into three talons, kind of like birds. They usually had skin ranging from light brown to mossy green, mottled with darker patches on their arms and backs. Where humans would have hair, they had sharp spines which they grew out long and tied back. Their ears were almost bat-like and situated at the tops of their heads. Their eyes were almond shaped, and solid in colour (they were normally black) a rather flat nose, distinguishable only by their nostrils, and mouths slightly larger than those of humans, with rows of razor-sharp teeth.

The apparent leader of the gang which had graced their doorstep before dawn had caramel-coloured skin, and relatively short spines (arranged like a bob hairstyle would be on a human). Of the others, one had light green skin, one had lilac with dark grey marks, and the last had deep blue skin and white markings. The leader (still with the uncomfortable smile), tilted their head and responded.

"We're here to complain of something horrific which seems to have accompanied you humans here." They turned their gaze towards Elizabeta and Bella, smile widening. "It's giving off a bad smell." The Garvich, who Matthew could now see was female from the striking marks on her neck, moved inside as she spoke. "We are here to remove it." Before Matthew could even speak; either to question what they were talking about or tell them to get out, the green-skinned Garvich moved past him and darted inside, slipping easily out of reach. The other three at the door made no moves to enter after their friend, even when they saw Elizabeta and Bella dart after them.

Finally having been woken up by the noise, Abel, Carlotta and Kari exited the room where they had been sleeping, eyes widening when they spotted the Garvich at their door. Matthew stepped back from the doorframe a little, levelling his knife at the trio standing before him. He opened his mouth to call out for Bella and Liz, when yelling began behind him. The Garvich before him craned their heads to see what was happening in the darkness, and Matthew himself turned to see what was happening. To his shock, the green-skinned Garvich had seized one of their prisoners – the pale one they had nicknamed Ghoul – by the hair and was dragging him along behind them. The man wasn't even fighting, and when they got a little closer, Matthew saw why. His skin was drained of absolutely all colour, his eyes were wide, unblinking and unseeing as he stumbled blindly along after them: he was paralysed with fear.

A bad smell…oh god. Matthew cursed, raising his knife at the Garvich again as he saw Bella re-enter the back room where the prisoners were in his peripheral vision.

"I don't know what you think you're doing, but he's our prisoner. You cannot take him."

The green-skinned Garvich sneered at him. "He has dirty blood, tainted blood. Death is the only proper treatment for an abomination like him."

"That may be so, but he is our prisoner; our responsibility. You don't have the right to decide what happens to him."

The Garvich bared their teeth, reaching for a knife that Matthew could now see was strapped to their side, when the green-skinned alien was promptly knocked off their feet by a dark blur.

"Get your hands off my fucking cousin!" were the words that followed. Matthew blinked. The prisoner they had nicknamed Gentleman was freed of his bonds, and seemed to be having no qualms about attacking an alien much larger and stronger than himself. If he could say one thing about that, it was that the Incandan man was brave (stupid yes, but his courage prevailed nonetheless). Also…cousin. That explained Gentleman's habit of caring for Ghoul, at least. A small smile wormed its way onto his face as he saw the blond-haired girl nicknamed 'Eslin' also emerge from the room. Clearly, Bella had noted their need for backup and decided to give their captives a brief bout of freedom. The girl ran to free Ghoul from the Garvich's vice like grip while Gentleman continued to grapple with them.

The other Garvich standing in the doorway roared in fury and shoved past Matthew to help their friend. Matthew caught the last one on his dagger, shoving them back outside as he twisted the metal now firmly lodged in their abdomen. They let out a sharp noise of pain, claws raking over Matthew's arms as he struggled to stop them from joining the fray. Abel and Carlotta, with their pure combined ferocity (which could only have been made more fearsome if Tino were present with his sniper rifle), had slammed the blue-skinned one to the floor and were attempting to slowly drag it outside. The group's caramel skinned leader had managed to stab Kari with her sharp talons, and was currently trying to knock out Gentleman. Ghoul remained completely frozen in terror, watching the scene with an expression of mounting horror. The caramel-skinned Garvich slammed Gentleman's head into the wall, effectively stunning him, and leapt to her feet as the blue-skinned Garvich knocked Carlotta harshly into the wall, tore Abel's gun from his hands and flew at Eslin, wrapping it's clawed hands around her throat and starting to squeeze, hard.

The blue-skinned Garvich abruptly paused, going still for a moment as it's hands loosened and dropped away from the blond girl's neck. She staggered away, gasping. Matthew's eyes widened.

Note to self: never underestimate a bounty hunter, even those with severe abdominal injuries and a debilitating fever.

The final of their four prisoners had burst from the back room as well, and the dagger in his hand was buried hilt-deep in the blue-skinned Garvich's collarbone. With a savage twist, the Pyndaphian jerked it free once more, slamming the Garvich to the floor with his foot. Matthew wasn't certain how he was even standing. The toll that his injuries had taken on his body was evident. His skin was so pale and colourless it was almost translucent, and his hair was tangled and matted with dirt and blood. His green eyes were deeply bloodshot, and had dark bags hanging beneath them. The bones in his face, hands and neck seemed more prominent than they been when they'd first captured him, and despite his speedy movements, his whole frame was sagging with exhaustion and illness. His face had taken on a grey tinge, and Matthew had no doubt that, had he pulled away the grey shirt hanging off his bony shoulders to check the bandages beneath, he would find them being gradually re-soaked with blood. The man charged forwards regardless.

The element of pure shock which his appearance had been able to bring was enough to turn the tides in their favour. Abel dragged the blue-skinned Garvich outside to join the lilac one with Matthew had gutted earlier. Eslin and Kari threw their combined efforts into knocking the leader unconscious, and Carlotta sat back and enjoyed the show as Phantom (perhaps an inappropriate nickname, given the lively ferocity on the Pyndaphian's face now) easily kicked the green Garvich's ass, even catching a knife which the alien had attempted to throw at Matthew before he unceremoniously threw them out the door. With all four of their untimely invaders thoroughly expelled from their hiding place, a surprising silence descended on the shack. Phantom dropped his knife, swaying. Thankfully, the girl Eslin had better instincts than Matthew, and managed to catch the man around the middle before he could completely collapse on the floor. Carlotta made her way outside to make sure that they didn't return, yelling at him to tend to the wounded and start packing their things. There was no way they'd be able to stay here after that. Sweeping his eyes around the cabin and taking note of the damage that the scuffle had done, he winced. Hopefully the owners wouldn't mind too much.

His gaze moved to their four prisoners, surprisingly not making any moves to escape. Eslin was cradling Phantom's head in her lap, looking distressed, Gentleman was massaging the back of his head (which Matthew knew he'd have to check for a potential concussion later), and Ghoul, the root of all this madness, was still slumped against the wall, eyes wide, looking completely shell-shocked. Matthew, trying not to startle him, moved to his side and placed his hand on his back. He jumped a little, twisting to look at him. The albino's expression shifted the second he laid eyes on Matthew, mouth slackening a little.

"Are you okay?" he asked. Ghoul was silent for a moment, staring at him with something akin to shock, before he managed to shake himself a little.

"Uh, yeah, I'll be fine." He avoided making eye contact with Matthew, mumbling the words. Matthew didn't believe him for a second, but eased up a little when he felt the albino lean into him a little, sighing shakily. He allowed himself to comfort the man with his warmth for a few moments, squeezing his shoulder gently before he removed his arm and stood. They needed to get out of here. He helped the albino to his feet, before moving to check on Kari. Her wounds weren't overly deep, and not serious enough to panic over. The same went for the deep scratches on Matthew's arm. He would just have to make sure he disinfected them. He could feel the albino's stare lingering on him, and let his mind wander a little. It was the first time they'd seen him unmasked, he realised. It still didn't explain why he was so fascinating to them, but he supposed that that was a question for another day.

Carlotta and Abel came back after a while, and though they were alone and the Garvich nowhere to be seen, they were quick to tell the others to start repacking their things. Clearly, Galee and its inhabitants were no longer going to be hospitable towards them.

They were ready to leave merely 20 minutes later, having hurriedly thrown everything back into their ship and stolen anything of use from the cabin. Matthew observed their four prisoners for a moment. Phantom was being propped up by Ghoul, who still looked pale and shaken, but vastly better than he had earlier. No doubt the shock and nerves were starting to wear off.

They were dangerous; that much was evident by how their friend had managed to fight off a couple of fully-grown, fury-driven Garvich. Matthew knew that, as did his comrades.

The handcuffs reappeared, and were soon locked around their wrists again, but notably absent were the cuffs that had previously confined their legs. Matthew made no moves to contain them in a smaller room like they had done on their journey here. Neither did any of the others.

They had earned that, at least.

Resistance Headquarters,
Draak-Zafi Forra, Nyma,
20th Fybwari

Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen…

The targets bent, metal crumpling and folding easily under the sharp impact of Tino's rifle. Really, these targets were for sniper practice, but he hadn't needed to practice on his Kohde-18 sniper rifle in years. The Gewsche rifle in his hands was different yet familiar. The Incandan-made rifle was one of the first models that his younger self had ever laid hands on. He still remembered how invigorating it had been to line up the gun's barrel with a target (at that time a row of wobbly glass bottles lined up on his family's rotting wooden fence) and discover that he had a gift. His first few rounds against the bottles had been off, missing by several inches, but the minute he hit one, he didn't miss again.

Marksmanship was something that had not run in his family. His grandfather had good aim, it was true, but he was no born natural. When Tino's mother took him to a shooting club in his small home town, they'd pronounced him a prodigy mere minutes after seeing him take down a row of targets and inform them he'd been shooting for only two days. Living in a rural area – on what he supposed could be considered a farm – most of the people around knew how to operate a gun. For all the snakes, brown-backed foxes and other persistent pests, it was necessary knowledge. Tino's village in particular had been plagued by a pack of wild dogs from the northern tundra. The animals migrated south during the coldest three months of the year, and had found the many animals around Tino's house easy prey. His mother had previously always sat out on the porch when dusk started to fall, cocking her shotgun and shooting at them to scare them away.

But once Tino's skills had been discovered, he had stood as her replacement, landing flawless head-shots every time. It had always made him feel bad, however. The dogs were only trying to survive, as their basic biology and will dictated. He'd gotten a bad habit of tossing the lurking animals any food scraps they had instead of turning them into compost like his mother told him to. His cousin Onni had thought it was hilarious.

Tino lowered the rifle in his hands when he heard approaching footsteps behind him.

"Don't stop because of me." Yao's voice echoed out. Tino relaxed, turning and leaning the rifle against the barrier he'd been pressed against to make his shots.

"But that would be rude, wouldn't it?" he joked lightly. He folded his arms loosely, facing the Yanish man. Yao walked up to the barrier, scooping the gun into his hands and handing it back to Tino, before seizing his shoulders and turning him back towards the shooting range.

"Don't stop because of me." He repeated, picking up his own gun and taking aim. Tino stared at him for a moment before the words, and the implications they held when combined with his actions, obeyed. Yao fired off an entire round of ammunition into the targets, hitting the centres almost flawlessly. Tino raised his eyebrows.

"I didn't know you could shoot so well." He joked, "Why do you never join us on our scouting missions?" Yao gave the barest hint of a smile.

"I would, were I not so busy," he said as he lowered his gun to reload it, "shooting used to be a hobby of mine. I do miss it when I see you youngsters out here."

Tino looked him up and down. "You aren't that old, Yao, surely."

Yao didn't respond, just smiled neutrally and reloaded his gun, rubbing at his gloved left hand like it pained him.

"I'm yet to figure out why my age is such an important mystery for you guys to solve." He said. "What does it matter if I should be getting wrinkles soon or not?"

Tino snorted. "I think some of the other vice-generals want to know if they can have a shot at power soon." Yao's expression grew a little fixed when Tino said that, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. He wouldn't have even noticed had they not been standing so close to the general. Yao was masterful when it came to concealing his emotions; it was difficult to tell what he was thinking or feeling unless he outright stated it or was exploding with anger. Tino had only seen the latter happen once. It was more terrifying than every battle he had participated in, and more nerve-wrattling than every life he'd claimed in the name of the resistance. For someone who managed to otherwise have such a caring and paternal air about him, it was nothing less than jarring.

Unfortunately, the vice-generals were not present when it had happened, and so had not learned to respect Yao in the same way which Tino had.

When Yao or Tino said 'Vice-Generals' they did not refer to all of them; there were about 20 or so. No, they were referring to a group in particular. Vice-Generals Ehsan Karimi, Octavia Papadopoulos, Jamael Laroussi and Aelia Gabras were the verifiable bane of Yao's existence, and everyone knew it. They contradicted and questioned him at every turn, despite the fact that Yao had never yet lead the resistance into disaster. If he was too reckless, they lectured him on being cautious, and if he was too cautious, they told him to have faith in their soldiers and stop being so stuck-up. He simply couldn't win with the four of them present. As Yao was a cautious creature by nature, reckless fighters wanting to go on what he deemed suicide missions was normally shot down within seconds. At this point, Karimi, Papadopoulos, Laroussi or Gabras would step in and say that they needed that mission, or something similar. Yao would shoot them down again, and a terse exchange of words would ensue until he gave in or marched off in frustration.

Other high-ranked officials in the resistance, like General Mohammed Hassan, Lieutenant General Yaretzi Chapula, and Vice Admirals Atalaya Somero and Raneem Asgar, were trustworthy beyond measure, and had absolute faith in Yao and his leadership. They supported him without condition. And they were his greatest ally against the four who inexplicably seemed to hate him.

Yao sighed. "They seem to almost be waiting for me to drop dead so one of them has a chance."

Tino couldn't help but ask. "Why do they hate you? I mean, you're the best leader the resistance has had in decades, according to some."

Yao smiled, a little sadly. "Gabras and Laroussi? I have no idea. I think Gabras is just following Papadopoulos' lead, honestly. She never was very independent." He tossed some loose strands of black hair behind his ears before continuing. "Papadopoulos thinks that I stole the position that should have been hers, even though the resistance's leader is selected through democratic voting, and no-one voted for her." Tino snorted at that point, and Yao shot him a look which said 'be respectful', even though he was smirking as well. "As for Karimi," he sighed, "I actually know and understand why he hates me."

Tino straightened up, not even trying to hide his curiosity now. "Why?". Yao looked pensive, thoughtful for a moment before he answered.

"Well, you're too new to the resistance to remember." He started, "but the leader before me was a man named Arshad Teymouri. Sound familiar?"

Tino nodded, "Yeah, I've heard a lot about him, but I still feel like I don't know that much."

"Well," Yao continued, "He led this movement for about 11 years, starting in 4495CC. He joined because of the Union's role in the enslavement of free peoples. His sister, I believe, was enslaved, and he barely escaped with his life. He joined for that reason. His leadership only ended with his death in 4506CC. Now, Tino, as I trust you skills with chronology and mathematics, I hope you know what that means." Tino nodded slowly.

"He led the rebels during the expansion." He said, receiving a nod from Yao.

"Yes. He led this movement during the annexation of the Free Courts by the Union in 4501CC, during which our numbers saw their largest ever increase, buoyed mostly by refugees from Daerna, Syhhva and Fynkn. He had the role of trying to coordinate and fund food, medical supplies, clothes and living quarters for thousands upon thousands of new rebels. And he managed to do it, too. Quite amazing, I think." Tino nodded in agreement. Yao rubbed the back of his neck.

"Now, I met him in 4502, just a year after the expansion had happened. I was interested in helping this cause, and not for the reasons that most people do." He gestured to himself. "I'm Yanish, it's quite obvious. Honestly, that's also why some rebels here still don't trust me. Yan is the crown jewel of the whole Union, so I can hardly blame them for their caution."

"Now, the majority of Yanish people quite viciously support the Union and its actions. I had never really been a loyalist, though. I neither supported nor opposed their actions. However, that started to change when the tensions between the Union and the Free Courts started to skyrocket." He absently began to polish the rifle still in his hands, looking much so like he was lost in memories. "The Union sent an assassin to kill the reigning queen of Syhvva, as well as her husband, about five years before the expansion even happened. Of course, at the time, they denied any involvement, but everyone knew they were responsible. That was about when I started to distinctly lean away from the Union." He paused.

"They murdered an innocent couple, who were the parents to two very young children, out of spite because of some trade blockade they refused to approve." He shook his head, casting his gaze downwards. "It was just evil. The newspapers kept displaying one picture. Not of the place where they were killed, or of the old king being reinstated. No, they kept publishing a picture of little Prince Lovino, only four at the time, clinging to his grandfather's leg with tears running down his face."

Tino's eyes widened. "I think…I might remember that. My mother always keeps newspapers from major events, and that was one of them." Yao nodded.

"It was shocking, and I started to feel disdain for the very thing I'd grown up in. A year after the expansion, I met Arshad, and deduced that he was a rebel fighter. He fully expected me to turn him in, but instead I asked how I could help. At the time, I didn't know how important he was, but I was done with sitting around and watching the Union destroy lives. I started to do surveillance for them, around major government buildings. I befriended a politician and managed to get him to spill information about the Free Courts and their knowledge of the resistance. Arshad was my only contact with the resistance for a good nine months or so. When he trusted me enough, he took me to their base, when then had been on Apollomina. It was only then that I realised how important he was." He chuckled. "Gave me the shock of my life." His expression turned pensive again.

"No-one trusted me. I remember that much. They thought that there was no way a person from Yan, raised in the Union, would ever want to be a rebel fighter. The only people willing to trust me seemed to be children, actually. I wasn't deemed 'suitable' for proper meetings, so I spent time with non-combatant refugees, helping them out where I could. They still suspected me of leaking information. Then, about 3 months after I was first shown their base…" he trailed off, rubbing his hands together as if he were cold.

"Well, the Union caught on to my little espionage act. They captured me and tried to get the information out of me. I was out of commission for a whole year, and the whole of the resistance thought I was a traitor, the children and refugees included. Arshad got nothing less than a verbal thrashing for trusting me in the first place. While I was being held captive, the real spies leaked the location of the base, forcing them to move here." he gestured around.

"Eventually, I was freed, and brought here. Upon realising that I wasn't a traitor, I was properly accepted into the resistance. Arshad continued to work with me, even though I was barely important enough to warrant attention at that time. For two years after I was freed, everything actually went well. Arshad was a close friend of mine, and I finally managed to prove myself to even the greatest sceptics." A horrible, shuddering sigh escaped Yao.

"Then came the mission on Xexei." He paused, casting a look upwards, as if trying to seek out the planet (which wasn't even in this system) before continuing.

"He had received intel that a brothel owner on Xexei could potentially help lead him back to his sister. He managed to recruit one of the young slaves there to spy for him." Yao shook his head slightly, expression sadder. "His emotions, his personal investment in the mission, made everything go wrong. He confronted the owner before he was even certain he had the information, and tried to threaten him into giving it over. It dissolved into a gunfight. And that brothel owner lost a large number of slaves, who ran when the gunfire started and presumably freed themselves. But Arshad lost his life, which was arguably worth far more."

Yao closed his eyes briefly, having completed his tale. Tino nodded, struggling to absorb the sheer amount of information he was given.

"And then you were elected as leader?" Yao nodded.

"And then I was elected as our leader," he murmured, "and I have faced opposition ever since."

Tino frowned as he recalled what had started this lengthy conversation in the first place.

"So how has that made Ehsan Karimi hate you?"

"Ahh," Yao said, straightening up and opening his eyes, "Ehsan is his brother. He seemed like the natural fit after Arshad, but unlike most leaders, he didn't state who he wanted to succeed him as leader. He said only that he trusted we would choose appropriately." Tino nodded, before smiling.

"I think they did." Yao smiled at him.

"Thank you." The Yanishman turned back, so he was once again facing the target range, but did not pick up his weapon. "Tino."

Tino faced him, expression open and waiting.

"We have a rat, you know that." He watched the sunset for a moment. "and whoever they are, they are passing highly confidential information. This isn't someone stealing files, it's someone sitting in on meetings and hearing about battle strategies."

Tino swallowed, "Are you sure you should be telling me this?" Yao turned his head, making eye contact with him.

"I know that it isn't you." He faced the horizon again. "If the Union finds out we have Lukas and Emilia, they will tear apart the galaxy looking for us. If this spy finds out we have them, we may as well hand over all of our technology to them. That is why it is essential, absolutely essential, that no-one finds out who they really are."

Tino blinked. "But, if you're restricting this information to your top generals, why did you tell me as well." Yao smiled.

"Were you not listening? This spy may very well be one of our top generals. I am telling the people who I trust implicitly, regardless of station." Tino's mouth fell open, and he felt a blush spread over his cheeks at what was possibly one of the most flattering things he had ever been told. Yao trusted him? Implicitly? Above some of his top generals? Damn.

"Oh." Was all he managed to say in response. Yao laughed.

"I am aware of their presence. The others that know are LG Yaretzi Chapula, Silje Krissen, as she knew the prince and princess on Fynkn and would recognise them anyway, General Hassan, Vice Admiral Somero, and you." Hearing his own inclusion along with such legendary figures made Tino's mouth fall open again. Yao continued, smile remaining. "If they return safely, I will let Matthew, Elizabeta and Kari know as well." He shifted his weight from where he had been leaning on his arms. "It isn't that you guys are the only ones I trust, but until this spy is exposed, we have to keep as many secrets as we can. The fewer people know, the safer we'll be."

Tino nodded in understanding. Really, all of Yao's choices made sense (except for the decision to trust him, he was still reeling over that). Elizabeta and Matthew had been with the resistance for years, and Tino knew that both Kari and Silje Krissen would rather die a slow and painful death than betray the Bondevik family. Tino himself would never betray them either, not just because this resistance was his life, but also because he'd gotten the chance to get to know both the wayward royals since they'd arrived here. He liked them both; they were very genuine people, and not afraid to say what they were thinking, which he appreciated in a friend.

"Do you have any way of figuring out who the spies are?" he inquired.

"Well, the fact that we do have Lukas and Emilia is already useful. Remember, one of the Fynknian gifts is manipulation of the mind. We can use them to secretly scan through the thoughts of anyone who hasn't been deemed trustworthy, as well as conducting other vetting to absolutely determine their loyalty." Tino nodded.

"Why haven't I been vetted, or tested at all?" he asked. Yao smiled.

"Because I asked Lukas to do just that the night he arrived. He said that there was not so much as a single thought in your mind which had ever considered betrayal. I've known you since you joined this rebellion, Tino, and you're one of our most valuable fighters. By far our most valuable sniper, in any case."

"But still," Tino persisted, "I don't see why you're trusting me with this. Everyone else who knows is a high-ranked official. Even Matthew and Kari are both Captains. I'm only a Sergeant." He spotted the widening grin on Yao's face, and blinked. "Oh god, you really shouldn't–"

"Well I already did," Yao said, fishing a small metal pin from his pocket and tossing it to him. "You're First Lieutenant Tino Väinämoïnen now, so stop complaining." Tino stared at the pin in silence for a moment, wondering what on earth he had done to deserve a 3-rank promotion, but swallowed his doubts and decided to go for gratitude instead.

"Thank you." He sighed.

"Don't start with that. It's been a long time coming." Yao dusted gunpowder from his uniform and adjusted the rims of his gloves, which came a third of the way up his forearm. He nodded to him, signalling that their long conversation was finally over, before walking back towards the brightly lit collection of tents some distance away, leaving Tino to his racing thoughts.

He stared again at the pin which denoted his new rank, and finally allowed a delighted smile to cross his face. He tucked it into his pocket, ensuring he wouldn't lose it, before picking up his gun once more, and taking aim.