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Days ago, deep in the Xenokunian hinterlands...
Amelia Watson jolted awake, coming to her senses.
Harsh, ceaseless whistling rang in her ears. Her eardrums felt battered, turned inside out. She fumbled with her flight mask with a gloved hand. Her hands were almost limp. She could hardly move them, but she managed to force the mask to part with her face.
Her breath fogged up immediately, chest heaving violently with each broken pant.
The mask fell down, drooping to the side of Amelia's face. The hollow click of its clasp was drowned out by billowing winds blowing through the Stuka's shattered windows and bent canopy frame. Amelia shielded herself from the winds, but to no avail. The cold bit at her even through her flight jacket.
"What the... the fuck...?" Amelia pondered. She tried to open her eyes, but her vision was blurred. Everything seemed off. Her left hand seemed further than she remembered it. The smashed cockpit seemed larger too. That, and everything seemed awfully dark.
Chills ran up her spine.
She brought her leather-gloved hand to her left eye and brushed it. It felt warm, numb… and hollow.
"No..." Amelia shook her head.
Her heart beat hard against her chest, but she had no time to lament. The smell of burning gasoline assaulted her nose.
Thick smoke and vicious flames bellowed from the Stuka engine before her. Amelia clenched her fists, forcing her blood back to her limp hands, urging them to work. She freed herself from the harnesses that bound her to her seat and whirled around to the seat behind her.
It was empty.
There was no blood there. The compartment for parachutes was ajar, empty too.
"...Right, right..." Amelia gritted her teeth, forcing herself to remember what had happened.
The flak.
The ejection.
The crash.
The ringing in her ears subsided. She slammed her fists against the warped frame of the Stuka canopy until it swung open. Ame stumbled out of the ruined plane through the canopy and onto the soot-stained snow. Her oxygen mask snagged on the metal frame, but she yanked it free and pulled it along.
Amelia tried to be careful, but her first steps were awkward. Her balance shifted wildly, even on solid ground. Black ice beneath the thin layers of sullied snow threatened to make her slip and slide. So, when her feet hit the side of the plane's bent wing, she tripped and fell to the ground.
The frigid cold nipped at her skin, piercing her gloves.
"Damn it..." Amelia cursed. She held onto the plane wing and propped herself back onto her feet.
She limped away from the plane, regarding the scene.
"Gura..." Amelia thought out loud, eyeing the empty seats in the cockpit.
Amelia sat in the snow for a moment, resting her tired body and her hazy mind. She took in the cold of the field and the heat of the blaze sprouting from the plane's engine. The crackling flames consumed her attention.
She set down her oxygen mask and pulled out a small photograph. Her one good eye's gaze rested upon the picture of her and the lieutenant camping. The side that Amelia was on was somewhat torn, though, cutting out her left eye but not completely.
Amelia scoffed. 'The irony,' she mused.
For a moment, it brought her back to a simpler time before the war. She imagined Gura sitting beside her, resting her head tenderly on her shoulder while she stoked the flames.
Only this time, her campfire was a burning Stuka. Her immersion was broken immediately.
Amelia stuffed the photograph back into her jacket. Then, she reached for another thing in her possession. She felt the bulge of a microfilm canister. It was the intel that could help Elysium end the war, she reminded herself.
And how she wanted the war to end.
Unfortunately for her, the war was far from over.
. . . SNAP .
Footsteps crunching through the snow reached her ears. Amelia scrambled for cover and kept her hand near her holster. Her oxygen mask stubbornly followed her, dangling by her hip.
She found the source of the noise coming from the distant evergreens. Pavolian soldiers marching through the snow. Royal blue uniforms covered them from head to toe, drawing closer and closer.
"Just three..." Amelia counted. "That means..."
Amelia tried to roll around, but she heard a shout coming from behind.
"ELYSIAN! BEHERENTI!" The voice shouted, telling her to stop in Pavolian. It was airy and frail, barely reaching Ame's ears, but the faint rattle of a Karabiner 98 kurz rifle that accompanied it was too close for comfort. Amelia obliged and raised up her hands, carrying her oxygen mask up above her.
The voice then barked again, "Ha-Hadapi aku!" Turn around this time, Ame thought.
Aside from that, though Amelia couldn't help but notice, 'Her voice cracked.'
Ame obliged again and turned around. Before her was a small adolescent girl with short brunette hair in pigtails. Her Pavolian royal blue uniform, two sizes too large, sported a peculiar white neckerchief. Her blue beret bore a white jasmine flower that had long since shriveled up and died.
The young girl's rifle was pointed at Amelia's chest, its irons practically aimed at her heart. The rifle trembled, almost as if the girl couldn't raise the hefty rifle any higher. The sight of her made Amelia wince.
Amelia's one good eye met the green gaze of the young Pavolian.
"You don't have to do this," Amelia urged, speaking in Pavolian.
The girl recoiled. Her green eyes trembled for a moment with surprise, but she furrowed her brow.
"E-Elysians are the enemy!" The girl shouted back in Pavolian too, "You invade the rightful claim of Empress Reine and our motherland!"
Amelia understood every word. It was the creed of the Pavolian Youth. Empress Pavolia's cult of personality.
With that, the girl cocked her rifle. Or rather, she tried. The bolt got snagged in the safety. Her face went pale. She rushed to twist it–
But Amelia took a deep breath and lunged at the girl, slamming her oxygen mask onto the side of the girl's head. The blue beret and its withered flower flew off the girl's head, stained with blood. Her rifle followed after it, but not before the girl pulled the trigger.
BANG!
The young girl fell down sideways onto the snow, staining the fields with streaks of blood. That blood dripped down Ame's cheeks and from the oxygen mask in her hand.
"...Damn, did I just..." Amelia breathed sharply.
But then, the rumble of boots and the cocking of rifles gave her pause. Amelia turned around and found the rest of the Pavolian patrol there.
Amelia lowered her bloodied oxygen mask and hid her pistol holster from the newcomers behind it. She strained her one good eye to look through the snow. She counted two men with rifles and another with a pistol who smoked a lit cigarette.
They saw Amelia sullied in blood, but none of them stirred. None of them lamented or showed any emotion.
None of them cared.
Darts of rage pierced Ame's heart. Her grip on her oxygen mask tightened.
The two riflemen aimed at Ame, but neither of them moved a muscle. They waited for the cigarette-smoker, an officer, Ame deduced, to speak.
He'd never get the chance to.
Ame dropped her oxygen mask and, in one smooth motion…
BANG! BANG! BANG!
She drew her pistol and shot the officer twice in the chest and in the throat. He keeled over and gurgled blood as he fell.
The riflemen hesitated. Their officer spasmed at their feet. Amelia glared daggers at their souls.
The men, gripped by panic, shouted, "A-API, API–!"
Amelia ran diagonally, skirting past the patches of black ice in the field. She emptied her pistol shooting at the riflemen, striking one in the arm and the other in the leg. The two riflemen tried to point their guns, but they bumped into each other. Only one of them got his muzzle pointed at Amelia's head and pulled the trigger.
BANG!
The Pavolian bullet whizzed by Amelia's head, scraping the side of her head and tearing through her hair. Amelia closed the gap, turned a corner and tackled the riflemen, knocking them down like bowling pins. Empty pistol and oxygen mask in hand, Ame grinned and began savaging her foes.
Whack! Whack! THUD! THUD! Whack!
Amelia assaulted the first rifleman, slamming her pistol and her mask into him over and over. He tried to shove Ame off of him with his rifle, but she shifted her weight and kept him pinned to the ground. Defenseless. She turned his face into a grotesque masterpiece of blood and cartilage, caved in by Amelia's rage. With every hit, Amelia's bloodstained grin grew wider.
The second rifleman saw his comrade's fate. He tried to pick himself up from the floor, but he slipped on black ice. His rifle slipped from his hands and slid towards Ame.
Ame stood up from the first rifleman's bloody corpse and picked up the rifle skating on the ice. She pointed the rifle's metal butt at her next victim's head. Then, she struck him.
Over and over and over.
...WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHA-CRRRACK!
The rifle fell from Ame's hands into the pools of blood forming on the ice. Her gloves were torn, her hands were bruised, and her breaths were sharp and short. Her snow frosted-hair and her frostbitten face shimmered with blood that wasn't her own.
Surrounded by the bloody messes sprawled on the ice and the snow, the furious rage that burned in her heart went cold. She remembered the cold, the war and the microfilm canister in her pocket. Immense sorrow, fear and loneliness took their place. She looked up to the cloudy skies and the falling snow and wondered.
'Am I going to die here too?'
Her adrenaline started to drain through her sweat and through her wounds. The blood that she'd forced back to her hands thinned out. Her balance wavered once more.
Amelia stepped back, but she stepped on the bloody ice and slipped.
THUD!
She fell on her back and slid back to the burning Stuka, tracing her own bloody trail through the snow and the ice. The warmth of the flames seemed so far away - and so did her memory of the small lieutenant.
"...Were you able to get away, Gura? Are you warm..." Her thoughts escaped her cracked, snow-frosted lips. Cold, howling winds answered her. Her strength started to leave her.
Then, the neighing of a horse and the galloping of hooves through the snow reached Ame's ears.
. . .
Amelia turned to the side and saw a white horse and a rider wrapped in a beautiful brown poncho that fluttered loudly in the frigid winds.
From their mount, the rider reached for a holster by their side and drew a curious pistol, a C96 Mauser, and pointed it at Ame.
"¡Maldita Pavoliana…!" The rider shouted in Xenokunian, "¡Fuera de mi país!"
Amelia's heart thumped. Then, she croaked in Xenokunian too, "E-Elysiana! Ely... Elysiana!"
The rider paused, still watching Ame through the sights of her pistol.
"¿Verdad?" The rider spoke in Xenokunian again, but cleared her throat and asked in thickly accented Elysian, "You're not with them?"
Amelia shook her head, but her throat knotted up. She could hardly speak. The rider looked at Ame, and then at the three bloody messes of Pavolian soldiers sprawled out on the ice. She craned her head and eyed the airplane.
"You came in that?" The rider pointed to the Stuka, "¿en el avión?"
Amelia nearly nodded her head, but she felt the microfilm canister in her pocket and stopped halfway. She shook her head instead.
"Bueno." The rider heaved a sigh of relief and holstered their sidearm. "I'm with the Xenokuni Resistance. Call me Fénix."
'Fénix? A codename?' Ame thought, 'Seems she's keeping me at arm's length too.'
"Stay there." Fénix urged, "Let me help you."
Fénix hopped off the saddle of her horse. As she did, the hood of her poncho flew off, revealing the rider's long locks of bright orange hair and her fiery pink eyes. She helped Amelia off the ice and back onto her feet.
Then, she took off her poncho and wrapped it over Ame's shoulders.
"Hide your face from Pavolian soldiers." Fénix urged, pulling the hood over Ame's head.
"But what about you?" Amelia asked.
Fénix reached under her coat and brought out a three-crystal necklace for Ame to see, "La Trinidad. Symbol of Xenokuni."
Amelia knew that symbol. It was the symbol of the Xenokunian Resistance, allies of Elysium, but that particular symbol was also used by the Xenokunian Independence Movement insurgency from before the War. Anyone worth their salt would have known it too. But Ame kept a poker face, feigning innocence.
Fénix offered her hand to Ame. So, Ame stuffed her pistol into her pants, tossed her mask away, and let the resistance fighter help her onto the saddle of her stallion. Fénix climbed up after the blonde and took the reins.
. . .
Ame held onto Fénix as the resistance fighter spurred her horse into the forests. The rumble of Pavolian half-tracks rang in the opposite direction, growing further and further away. Now a fair distance from the Pavolians and flanked by snow-swept evergreen trees, Ame eyed the Mauser pistol at Fénix's hip.
Intrusive thoughts swirled in her head. She could take the pistol and make Fénix take her to the Elysian border. Or, she could blow Fénix's brains out, take the horse, and ride out herself. No one would know either way.
...But, Fénix looked over her shoulder and spoke with a warmth that held her in place.
"What's your name, amiga?" Fénix beamed, sharply contrasting her fierce scowl from earlier.
Ame didn't need two eyes to see that her smile and her scowl were both genuine. Ame snorted and lied, "Ophelia Lowry. Elysian Army."
Fénix nodded and turned her head back to the narrow path ahead of them.
"Sorry you got twisted up in this scene," she sighed. "I'll be taking you to the leader of my cell, El Fraile. It's safer if we stick with my people," Fénix explained.
"We've set up in an old mission just outside of Xenokuni City. We'll try to help you out as much as we can, but, mierda..." She laughed nervously. "I can't promise you much. Things have been tough for us lately."
"How so?" Ame tested.
Fénix lowered her head, focusing on the path ahead once more. "...Talk to El Fraile. He knows more than I do."
"Alright."
With that, Ame, Fénix, and their steed galloped through the hinterlands.
. . .
Fénix rode her horse through rough paths and treacherous forest trails. Working with meager moonlight, Ame tried to trace her position on a mental map, but their route cut through places that the OSS maps said were impassable. Even the Pavolians would have been none the wiser, or at least that's what Ame would have thought.
Far ahead of them, at the foot of a small rope bridge, a Pavolian garrison was setting up shop. Amelia counted six soldiers and a half-track with a machine gun.
Fénix kept her head low and pulled on the reins of her horse, coaxing it to go another way.
"The Pavolians have been ramping up security lately." Fénix lamented with a frown, "They're starting to discover our trails. Que lástima. El Fraile will be displeased."
Ame squinted at the Pavolian half-track, searching for any signs or markings, but they were too far away - and her vision wasn't what it once was.
They carried on down the alternate path and reached the mission. It was a small chapel with mossy stone walls, crowned by a thatched roof. A triad of bronze statues stood stalwart at the entrance: the Holy Trinity of Mother Towa, Mother Kanata, and Mother IRyS.
"...Ah, un momento, amiga." Fénix apologized.
Fénix lowered her head reverently and traced a triangle through the air. Ame, on the other hand, made no gesture and just glanced at Kanata's statue.
Kanata's was the only statue that was bent, riddled with bullets and engraved with Pavolian slurs. It reminded her that she was, indeed, in Pavolian-controlled land.
"I apologize for the barbarity, Ophelia." Fénix commented, eyeing the statue. "The Pavolians have very strong convictions about Madre Kanata. La voz del emperatriz, the voice of the Empress urges them to do heinous things."
Fénix's words remind Ame of the young brunette she attacked in the snowfields. She frowned bitterly, but said nothing.
Ame stayed quiet until they stopped at the mission's stable. She let Fénix help her down from the saddle. Then, the two of them marched to the front doors.
Knock, knock, knock.
Silence followed at first. Then, a voice answered from within in Xenokunian, "¿Qué dices?"
Fénix took a deep breath, answering the voice, "Morir para ti, patria adorada."
Silence came again.
Then, heavy bolts slid and the doors of the mission opened. Two men in brown ponchos appeared before them. They wore brown hoods over their heads and had the same La Trinidad necklace as Fénix around their necks.
Underneath the ponchos of the two men, Ame could see the outlines of long guns. Ame clenched her fists and kept her hands free.
Fénix came forward and started speaking with the men in Xenokunian. Ame tried to understand what they were saying, but her fatigue was finally catching up with her. All she could pick up were 'Elysiana', 'Soldado' and 'Amiga'.
An Elysian.
A soldier.
A friend.
Ame forced herself to smile. The first two were facts, but Ame had yet to make up her mind on the third.
Fénix seemed to ask the men about El Fraile. The two men shook their heads, but they stepped aside and let Ame and Fénix inside.
There, Ame found men, women and children sprawled out on church pews and on the cobblestone floor of the mission. They huddled together for warmth and stuck close to the flickering candles illuminating images of the three deities.
They looked up to Ame and Fénix but only gave them passing glances.
'Xenokunian refugees,' Ame deduced. Most of them seemed more tired and sullen than her.
Still, Fénix took Ame below the mission to the cellar where many more refugees were hiding. There, Fénix laid out a small mattress for Ame, gave her a fresh change of clothes, and treated her wounds.
"Tu ojo, your eye..." Fénix shook her head. "It's too far gone. I'm sorry."
"...I know," Ame said.
"We don't have many medical supplies, but... I'll do what I can." Fénix insisted. Ame sat still and let the lady do her work. Her quick motions and steady tempo reassured the blonde lieutenant. She was in good, experienced hands.
Ame looked out to the languishing refugees around the cellar and wondered how many Xenokunians were suffering under Pavolian rule – and she wondered whether or not the ones who had already died were the lucky ones.
Fénix finished her treatment with a smile. She left Ame a tray of food and water. Ame accepted the kindness, but she sipped the water cautiously and nibbled on her food. Her training kept her from trusting too easily.
Her jaw grew tired before she got full, so she laid herself down on the mattress between empty casks of wine. The quiet mumbles from the refugees around her accompanied her slumber.
. . .
Days passed in the cellar of the Xenokunian mission. Ame kept her head low and recovered her strength. Her quiet solitude was only broken by the jovial presence of Fénix whenever she visited. Those were the only times anyone spoke any Elysian in the mission. Everyone else spoke Xenokunian.
Little did they know that Ame understood them all too. While she ate their canned beans and slurped on their watered-down beetroot soup, she pieced together intel.
She listened to the laments of the refugees, sobbing as they recounted everything that they had lost. The other resistance fighters, meanwhile, cursed the Pavolians and whispered things that they had heard on the streets of Xenokuni City – whispers about a new Pavolian officer pulling the strings of the Pavolian Xenokuni City garrison.
"They're more relentless now," one fighter sighed as he shook his head.
"They'll stop you for the slightest suspicion," another fighter groaned.
"I heard they smashed up one of the other big cells," a third grumbled. "Are Sir Shinri and El Fraile still in control?"
"Hey! Quit it with the doom and gloom!" Fénix intervened, shushing the frightened fighters. "We can't give up just yet."
Even as Fénix said this, Ame noticed new scars on her face. Her defiant gaze, however, hadn't faltered. She turned towards Ame with a gentler gaze and spoke in Elysian, "El Fraile is here. He wants to talk with you, amiga. Come with me."
Ame obliged. She followed Fénix up to the main hall of the mission. There, she found a man with long, purple hair standing before the mission altar. He wore brown, roughspun friar's habits and a radiant La Trinidad necklace that he held with his left hand. He had his back turned to Ame, but she could tell that he was tracing triangles through the air meticulously with his right hand.
That right hand seemed frostbitten, blackened, and partially covered in a leather glove.
After a minute or so, the man turned around and spoke in Elysian.
"...Sister Fénix. Is this the Elysian guest you spoke to me about?" The man mused, eyeing Ame from head to toe.
"Si, Fraile," Fénix confirmed. "I rescued her in the snowfields South of the city, near the plane crash."
"Is that so?" El Fraile tilted his head and hummed with intrigue. Then, he smiled again as he spoke, "Well, gemstones' blessings upon you, child of Elysium. My name is Hakka Banzoin, one of the last friars of the Tri-Spirit church neither behind bars nor sent to the Tri-Spirit themselves."
"Ophelia Lowry," Ame answered him, repeating her introduction to Fénix, "Elysian Army."
"Ah, soldado. A warrior yourself." Hakka rubbed his chin, "Normally, we would have extended much more hospitality to allies such as yourself, but..." He turned to the icons of the three deities, "Things are hardly 'normal' here anymore. If you, Miss Lowry, would be willing to aid us in our endeavors, you will have the gratitude of the Xenokunian people."
Ame glanced at Fénix and answered, "I'll do what I can."
"Excellent, excellent," Hakka clapped his hands joyfully. "Any service would be appreciated. The question is... how would you like to be of service to Xenokuni, and how would you like Xenokuni to be of service to you?"
Ame took a deep breath and chose her words.
"I'm a Lieutenant in the Army." Ame made her offer, "If you can get me to a working HAM radio, I can contact Elysium and relay intel that could help the Elysian war effort. In return, I'll offer intel and supplies for the Xenokunian Resistance."
Despite Ame's offer, Hakka rubbed his chin and mulled it over. Before he could say anything, though, Fénix piped up happily.
"We have a HAM radio in our stronghold in the city! It's ex-Elysian military equipment, too!" Fénix urged the friar, "We didn't have many fighters who knew how to use them. We can take Miss Ophelia there!"
Hakka's expression suddenly brightened, "Ah, but of course! We can depart for Xenokuni City this morning if you wish. Holy Mothers willing, we'll arrive before nightfall."
"That would be great." Ame accepted the deal.
"¡Muy bien!" Fénix cheered, bouncing about with excitement, "I'll get the buggy ready!"
Friar Hakka, on the other hand, bowed graciously to Ame and said, "Bienvenido a Xenokuni, sister Ophelia. We will be in your care."
. . .
An old, pre-war horse buggy rumbled through the snowy paths out of the mission grounds. Inside the buggy itself, Friar Hakka and Fénix sat across from Ame. Ame watched as the friar held crystal beads and muttered prayers while Fénix cradled her Mauser C96 pistol and looked outside.
Ame, meanwhile, brought out magazines of her M1911 pistol and loaded them with bullets she got from Fénix. How the Xenokunian resistance had Elysian-made .45-caliber ammunition that far away from Elysian lands made Ame wonder, but she kept her questions to herself and kept loading.
Once all of her magazines were filled, Ame put away the Xenokunian ammo box and holstered her loaded pistol.
Friar Hakka finished his prayers at about the same time and turned to Ame.
"You must have many questions, child," Hakka hummed as he joined his hands together. "Not many Elysians know the plight of the Xenokunians after the Pavolians swept in years ago."
Ame blinked. OSS taught her more than enough about that plight, but she feigned innocence again. Instead, she leaned forward and asked.
"The Xenokunian Resistance seems to be struggling lately." Ame gave her assessment, "What's changed?"
"Ah. It's a change of leadership, sort of." Hakka explained, leaning back into his chair, "For the longest time, a Pavolian colonel named Moona Hoshinova was the appointed leader of the occupying forces and the Xenokuni City garrison. She, unlike most of the occupying officers, was fair-handed. She was more than happy to leave the Xenokunians alone, especially those affiliated with the Tri-Spirit church." He folded his arms and sighed, "That meant that the church became a safe haven for the Resistance cells and other revolutionary movements. Kolonel Hoshinova probably had her suspicions, but she dared not to lift a finger. We had not done anything against Pavolia, after all."
Amelia raised an eyebrow at this, silent.
"...Well, not yet," the priest drawled.
"That, and even the hardest of the Pavolian fanatics believe fervently in Mother Kanata, one of the Trinity," Fénix chimed in, wrinkling her nose. "We were tolerated, at least for a while."
"So, Kolonel Hoshinova was sacked?" Ame guessed.
"Not quite," Hakka answered, tone growing grave. "Kolonel Hoshinova is still the commander of the Xenokuni City garrison, but her command has been superseded by another Pavolian officer. Her rank is lower, but her influence with the Imperial court is so much greater."
His sharp blue eyes turned to Ame's one good eye and he tested, "Are you familiar with Kapten Zeta Vestia and her 101st Tank Division?"
Ame shuddered. That name came up often in OSS chatter. She and many other agents knew that no good news came with that name, but she forced herself to act innocent.
"Why, n-no sir..." Ame croaked out an answer, calculated. "Is she someone to look out for?"
"...The situation's like this," Hakka nodded. "Over the past few months, Kapten Zeta has been getting more and more influence over the decisions made in this area. The church has been turned inside out. Priests and clergy are forced to give up revolutionaries or face executions in full view of their flock."
Fénix laid her hand over her face, wiping something that wasn't there, "The church and the Resistance scrape the bottom of the barrel day by day, and we're running out of barrel. We'll take any help we can get."
Ame eyed Fénix knowingly. The two of them faced the same straits, but she couldn't offer a word of sympathy.
"Is there anything else that you wish to know, child?" Hakka then asked.
"Forgive me for being frank, Friar Hakka, but how've you survived the purge of the clergy?" Ame asked.
"Miss Lowry?!" Fénix snapped, shocked by her question.
Hakka shifted in his seat. His crystal prayer beads rattled in his pockets. But he raised his hand and asked Fénix to calm down.
The friar rubbed his temple and answered her, "I've paid the Pavolians gold and silver from our coffers to spare Xenokunian blood. The copper and everything else my churches could spare, I gave to my brother in our cause, Shinri Josuji. To the Xenokunian Resistance. To the Xenokunian flock who would have died without us."
He looked into Ame's eyes and declared, "Everything I do, I do it for Xenokuni... Does that answer your question, Miss Lowry?"
Ame lowered her head and apologized, "It does. Sorry."
"...Fret not about it, child," Hakka shook his head. "All I ask is that you do your duty and relay the Elysian intel to us. Many, many lives will be saved because of your service, believe me."
Ame nodded, but she didn't say a word. Only the clunk and rattle of the old buggy came forth from it for the rest of the trip.
. . .
Nightfall came and the buggy entered the outskirts of Xenokuni City. The telling spotlights of Pavolian checkpoints around the town proper, however, made them reconsider their approach.
Amelia and Fénix hid their weapons under their ponchos as the Pavolians inspected the buggy. Friar Hakka, meanwhile, spoke with the soldiers and officers manning the posts in Xenokunian.
'Move them aside,' Amelia interpreted the Pavolian soldiers' orders for herself. '...Now they're looking for a translator. This churchboy knows what he's doing.'
Either way, once the Pavolian officers came, Friar Hakka's solemn blessings in the name of Mother Towa convinced most of them to let them through. For those unconvinced by faith, Friar Hakka gave silver Pavolian coins bearing the profile of Empress Reine. Gifts from Mother Towa, Hakka called them.
Once they got through the labyrinthine checkpoints, they carried on to their destination. Ame looked out the window of the buggy and rubbed her one good eye.
"A baseball stadium...?" Ame asked, surprised by the venue.
"THE baseball stadium," Fénix grinned proudly. She then laid her hand over her heart. "Oh, I can remember the ball games that were played in that place. The crowds would cheer when the Xenokunian team edged out the Elysians! The whole city would go wild!" She took a deep breath and cheered, "Ah, and it was one of the few times that you'd find Xenokunians eating hotdogs and chili and chili on hotdogs!"
"I didn't know Xenokunians loved baseball," Ame huffed with a smirk.
"We do," Friar Hakka smiled. "It was one of the greatest gifts of Elysium to Xenokuni. Many Xenokunians may have had... reservations about the Elysian administration, but baseball was not one of them." He chuckled, "And the building's quite nice too!"
Fénix nodded eagerly, but her smile waned into a frown. "But they don't play baseball here anymore. Not since los Pavolianos took over. We haven't had a proper game for years."
"The Tri-Spirit church took over the building, with Kolonel Hoshinova's blessing." Friar Hakka started, "Officially, we've used it as a hospital for the poor and a soup kitchen for the downtrodden. All are welcome."
The friar paused, then added, "...And, naturally, that made it the stronghold of the Resistance. Hiding in plain sight."
"The radio equipment from the baseball days is still there," Fénix explained. "So too is that HAM radio you were looking for."
Just as Fénix spoke, the buggy stopped at the driveway of the Xenokuni City baseball stadium.
"Alright then." Ame looked up to the stadium and put her hands on her hips, "Time to get to work."
. . .
Friar Hakka and Fénix guided Ame through the repurposed baseball stadium to what once was the announcer's stand. Spare equipment and supplies filled the dust-caked room. Fénix dug through the mess for a moment and then brought out the HAM radio for the lieutenant. The two ladies set up the radio and, with a bit of tuning, they turned the old device on.
"Done!" Fénix cheered, wiping sweat from her brow. "That was more complex than I thought. I never did understand this kind of tech..."
"You did well anyway, Fénix," Ame smiled, praising her.
"Splendid!" Friar Hakka clapped his hands, praising them both, "I will arrange the church staff to get you settled here, Miss Ophelia. Food. Lodging. The works."
"Thank you, Friar Hakka," the blonde answered politely.
The friar gestured to Fénix, "That said, please tell whatever intel Elysium gives you to Sister Fénix. She will relay it all to me. Shinri and I will do our best to make good use of it."
On that note, Friar Hakka excused himself.
Fénix pulled up two chairs for Ame and herself and the two of them manned the HAM radio. Ame, however, kept the radio's headset to herself and all information passed through her first. Fénix was practically her scribe.
"Easy. How. Queen. This is Birdwatcher One Three Three Seven. Do you receive? I say again..."
Ame sent her coded messages to Elysian HQ, talking about the situation behind enemy lines and asking for a rescue. She got coded messages from Elysium in response. Ame, however, only told Fénix a fraction of the intel.
Anything sensitive or classified, Ame kept to herself. The same went for any intel she intercepted from Pavolian sources.
In particular, for her report to Fénix, Ame made it seem like the Pavolians were more numerous than they were and that they were closer to Xenokuni City than expected. At the same time, even as Elysian armor marched onto the snow-capped manor regions far south of Xenokuni City, Ame made it seem like they were further away.
Fénix was none the wiser.
She seemed happy to write whatever Ame told her to. It almost hurt Ame to lie to her over and over again.
Almost.
. . .
Listen. Decode. Decide. Recite. Repeat.
Ame's days passed in that rigid routine. On the morning of the third day, Friar Hakka returned with a handful of Resistance leaders.
They sat down with the two ladies in the bleachers and listened to Fénix's report in Xenokunian. Most of the leaders, just like Fénix, took the report at face value. They were concerned by the Pavolian troop counts and their proximity to the city. A handful of others, however, seemed unimpressed.
One of them was Friar Hakka.
"...Are you sure that that is what you've heard, Miss Ophelia?" Friar Hakka asked in Elysian, crossing his legs. "Pavolian presence does not seem too concentrated here. I find that a little hard to believe."
"I'm just reporting what HQ told me, and what I intercepted from Pavolian radios," Ame insisted, declaring her lie with full conviction. "I told Fénix everything word for word."
"I was with her the entire time, Fraile Hakka," Fénix confirmed.
"And you say that the Elysians can't break through to the old Manor House?" Hakka tested again.
"No, sir," Ame lied. "They seem to be having trouble. Some sources are even saying they're getting pushed back."
The concerned leaders started grumbling in Xenokunian. They talked about mobilizing their partisans immediately, afraid that the Elysian Army wouldn't be able to help them in time. The others, meanwhile, sided with Friar Hakka.
Hakka raised up his frostbitten hand, silencing the leaders.
"I will confer with Shinri about what to do tomorrow morning. He's taken a band of fighters South and will be meeting with the Elysians soon. We will know the situation then," Hakka said in Xenokunian. "In the meantime, don't make any sudden movements. We don't want to tip off the occupiers." He then turned to Ame and spoke in Elysian, "As for you, Miss Ophelia, please continue your work and double-check everything. Share what you know."
The friar's last sentence stung like an accusation.
"...Will do, Friar Hakka." Ame answered in Elysian cooly.
Behind her dutiful answer, though, Ame watched Friar Hakka and his supporters in the Resistance curiously.
'Why so insistent, Fraile...?' Ame pondered.
The Resistance leaders left. Fénix, however, drooped her shoulders and frowned.
"I'm sorry, amiga..." Fénix apologized profusely, "Maybe I made a mistake somewhere in the translations? I-I don't know, yo entiendo un poco Elysiana solamente, but I'm sure I—"
Ame wanted to tell her that Fénix translated the Elysian to Xenokunian perfectly well, but she couldn't bring herself to blow her cover. She was onto something now. She just patted Fénix's shoulder.
"C'mon, Fénix," Ame consoled her warmly, "Let's get a bite to eat. Then, we'll get back to work. Okay?"
"Mhm..." Fénix nodded, wiping her tears.
. . .
Later that night, Ame and Fénix manned the HAM radio into the wee hours. When the Elysian transmissions lulled, Ame glanced out the announcer booth's windows. By then, many of the church staff had already closed up their kitchens and sent the downtrodden Xenokunians on their way. The only ones who remained were the Xenokunian Resistance fighters who had been hiding amongst the populace.
Ame yawned and sank into her seat. Fénix followed suit and groaned.
"...Think we should call it a night, amiga?" Fénix asked.
"Maybe we should." Ame concurred, rubbing her one good eye, "We don't get many transmissions this late at night..."
Just as Ame said this, a coded Elysian message arrived for her. Ame furrowed her brow and decoded it in her mind.
'Frontline units be advised. Increased activity of hostile Pavolian Angkat Udara air assets have been recorded around the following areas...'
Ame fell quiet.
"Is there something wrong...?" Fénix asked, "What did you hear?"
"I-I'm still listening," Ame answered. "Hold on."
Ame tuned in to the Elysian coded broadcast again. However, the broadcast suddenly fell silent.
"What the...!" Ame hissed. She switched the tuner to the Pavolian frequencies, but they too were oddly silent. Too silent.
Then... the rumble of airplane engines filled the skies.
Ame's breathing shortened and sharpened. She screamed out at the top of her lungs,
"AIR RAID! IT'S AN AIR RAID!"
The Xenokunian Resistance fighters patrolling the baseball stadium turned to Ame. Some were confused. The others just laughed. They wondered what the Elysian was blabbering about.
"Shit...!" Ame realized her mistake.
Fénix's face went pale. Then, she repeated Ame's warnings in Xenokunian. But it was too late. The planes descended rapidly. The howling noise of hellish trumpets filled the baseball stadium stands.
VREAAAAAAAAAAAWRR!
Only then did the fighters start rushing for cover. Ame and Fénix huddled together in the announcer's stand. Then, the bombs fell.
KA-BOOOOM! BOOOOOOM! BRA-BA-BA-BRAM!
Explosions went off throughout the baseball stadium, illuminating the starlit stands. Resistance fighters were blown up where they stood, squashed like bugs and turned into red mist. The grand roof of the stadium took many hits and came crashing upon the stands and the diamond field.
CRASH!
Amelia covered her ears, but her ears still rang from the deafening noise. Fénix beside her winced and shuddered from the pain, covering her ears too.
The ringing subsided eventually, but it was replaced by screaming and shouting. Lights started to flood the stadium from the outside from the headlamps of rows upon rows of vehicles. Pavolian half-tracks.
Then, without another warning, gunfire erupted mercilessly.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
BANG! BANG! BANG!
RATATAT! RATATATATATATATATAT!
"Don't reveal our position; heads down and button up, Fénix!" With that, the two ducked behind cover and drew their weapons.
"I thought we had a deal with Kolonel Hoshinova?!" Fénix yelped, shuddering as bullets whizzed overhead.
"Those aren't garrison troops," Ame calmly assessed, cocking her pistol. "They don't have that many half-tracks and submachine guns."
"Who are they, then!?" Fénix demanded.
"HaKugrenadiers. Probably with Kapten Vestia's 101st," Ame revealed. "Those Stukas that bombed us? They were probably with Vestia's outfit as well!"
"How did they know...?" Fénix hissed.
Ame grabbed Fénix's shoulder and spoke completely truthfully for once, "We've been sold out, Fénix. There are traitors among us in the Resistance and they're not dealing with Kolonel Hoshinova. They're probably dealing with Kapten Vestia. That's why I haven't been telling you or El Fraile or anyone else everything I knew. Your efforts have been compromised."
"...What...?!" Fénix gasped, "Then that means... you're not..."
"My real name is Amelia Watson. I'm with the Elysian Office of Strategic Services. Una espía Elysiana." Ame looked into Fénix's eyes and urged, "I have information that could end the war in our favor, but someone ratted us out. They want what I have."
"T-Then, I should have just brought you to the Elysian border and smuggled you out." Fénix recalled, "Back then, when I first brought you out of the snowfields...!"
"Kapten Vestia was expecting that." Ame answered, "All of those trails that the Pavolians are discovering? The ones they blocked off with half-tracks? That's Zeta's work! She was hoping I'd run, and I would've, but because of you, I didn't!"
Fénix winced, struggling to wrap her head around everything that Ame told her. But the gunfire erupting in the stands of the baseball stadium made her nod vigorously.
"Listen, Fénix. Prepare every cell of the Resistance in Xenokuni City. The Elysians are coming. They're only days away and they're going to liberate the entire city very, very soon. But, they will need your help."
Ame drew a deep breath and said, tone stern and flat, "They won't come soon enough to save me tonight, though."
"Amelia...?" Fénix croaked.
Ame reached under her poncho and brought out the microfilm canister.
"I trust you. Keep this safe. Don't tell the rest of the Resistance about it." Ame placed the canister in Fénix's trembling hands. Then, she pulled out a particular photograph from her jacket. "See the girl in this picture? That's my— that's Lieutenant Gawr Gura. OSS, just like me. Don't give that film to anyone but her."
"...I-I swear to the three Holy Mothers, I will do as you ask of me." Fénix took the microfilm and pocketed it under her own poncho. Then, she turned to Ame and asked, "But what about you?"
Ame held her gun firmly. A bead of sweat traced her jaw. "I'll get you an opening."
Ame picked herself up from the floor and dashed out of the announcers' stand.
"W-WAIT!" Fénix suddenly urged, her voice cracking with a concoction of anger and fear.
Ame stopped at the threshold and turned around.
"My name. My real name." Fénix started, laying her hand over her heart, "It's Kiara Takanashi... and I will never forget you, Amelia Watson."
"And I won't forget you, Kiara." Ame smiled, "Adios, amiga."
. . .
Ame burst out of the announcers' stand and found herself not far from a couple of Pavolian soldiers, preoccupied by the rumbling fire of Xenokunian partisans.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Without hesitation, the lieutenant gunned down one HaKugrenadier and wounded another, but she kept going, dodging bullets amidst the moonlit chaos. In the corner of her eye, she saw Kiara creep out of the stand and sprint for her horse. Ame, meanwhile, picked up a fallen Hakugrenadier's submachine gun and cocked it.
KA-CHAK!
Then, she cried out in impassioned Xenokunian, "¡Luchamos hasta el final, amigos — PATRIA O MUERTE!"
The resistance fighters turned to Ame. They all raised their weapons, and shouted out too.
"¡PATRIA O MUERTE!"
Their cries echoed in the stands of the baseball stadium. The fighters swore their oaths to fight till the last drop of blood had been spilled, Xenokunian or Pavolian.
And so, Amelia Watson and the last of the Resistance fighters in the baseball stadium fought side by side against the rising tide of blue-clad invaders. Clashes erupted all night and past dawn. Even when surrounded by enemy light armor and belts of crunching machine gun fire, the holed-up resistance held what ground they could keep from the Pavolian advance. The one-sided battle lasted into the afternoon.
By then, only Amelia Watson remained.
In the dingy, devastated stands of the baseball stadium, Ame crawled through the soot and the debris with her pistol and submachine gun in hand. She poked her head out from the bleacher seats and watched the Pavolians sweeping through the stands.
A pair of Pavolian soldiers crossed paths with Ame. She gritted her teeth and mowed them down with her submachine gun.
RATATATATATATA– CLICK-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK!
"Fuck!" Ame cursed as her gun chunked empty.
She tossed it away and scrambled for more weapons. Just as she was about to pick one up, however, a woman's voice echoed in the baseball stadium, speaking in excellent Elysian.
"You're a slippery one, Nyonya One Three Three Seven. You could've gotten away," the voice declared with a devious chuckle.
"But instead... 'Patria o muerte.' You gave poor Xenokunian souls false hope before they died. You damned them to hell. And now, my devil, you stand alone."
The voice paused thoughtfully and continued, "You're lucky. I enjoy playing with my food. And you, Elysian, have been the most entertaining prey I've hunted since this war began."
Ame drew her pistol and furrowed her brow, "I have a name, bitch. What's yours?!"
"I am the name that you Elysians fear the most." The voice answered, "You OSS agents are huge fans of my work. Especially you. You can't stop talking about me! I am flattered, by the way."
"...Zeta Vestia...!" Ame inhaled, whirling around. Her one eye searched frantically through the shadows of the stadium, "Show yourself!"
"Ah, but I am everywhere and nowhere at once," Zeta taunted. "I am not the one who is found, dear girl. I am the one who finds! So... be careful what you wish for!"
Suddenly, a shadow shifted by the bleachers. Ame pointed her gun at the seats and shot at it.
BANG! BANG!
A long-since-lifeless Xenokunian resistance fighter's corpse fell and splayed out gruesomely onto the stands. Sweat dripped down Ame's brow.
Zeta giggled. "Try again."
Ame whirled around and saw a gray-haired blur of Zeta rushing towards her. She tried to shield herself, but Zeta grabbed her wrists and slammed her knee in the lieutenant's gut.
WHAM!
Despite getting the wind knocked out of her, Ame tried to shove the captain back, but Zeta held on. She squeezed on Ame's tired wrist tighter and tighter until the pistol fell out from her hand. Zeta then pulled Ame back and elbowed her square in the nose before the sidearm could even clatter to the ground.
The Elysian lieutenant winced as she fell on her back. Her nose bled as her body slammed to the dust-caked ground beneath her.
Zeta cast her shadow over the sweat-glazed bleeding blonde and grinned.
"...Give me the microfilm, Lieutenant Watson." Zeta urged, "Do that, and what comes next will be swift and painless."
Ame gritted her blood stained teeth. Her one good eye glanced at the pistol on the ground beside her. She scrambled for the pistol, but the moment she did...!
BANG!
A rifle shot struck the pistol, pushing it far away from Ame. In the meantime, Zeta drew her own pistol - a Luger with engravings of the Pavolian imperial seal. Then, the riflewoman approached the scene too, carrying her smoking, scoped long-rifle.
"Playtime's over," Zeta declared. She turned to the riflewoman and spoke in Pavolian, "Letnan. Strip her down and search her. Every crevice."
"Yes ma'am," the sniper answered in Pavolian. "Shall I soften her up too, just like the others?"
"Do as you see fit, Kaela." Zeta smirked, "Just make sure she talks. They all do, eventually."
Ame watched helplessly from the floor as Kaela, the tall riflewoman, sauntered over to her. She watched Kaela turn the butt of her rifle towards her. She stared at her captor defiantly.
"Like hell I fucking will— OOOGH...!"
Then, Kaela's rifle slammed into Ame's ribs. The blonde's vision went black.
. . .
. . .
. . .
Two days later, from the thickets of a hidden alpine pass, Sergeant Altare Regis looks out to the skyline of Xenokuni City in the distance. A knit scarf is wrapped warmly around his neck, but his breath still fogs up in the cold.
"It's almost time..." he muses, clutching the binoculars in his hands.
He turns around and eyes the eleven light tanks of his fellow PCAPs. The tankers have pitched up tents and small campfires and were working over their breakfast.
PFC Axel Syrios sulks in the corner, under the shade of an evergreen tree. He looks at the campfire with sullen remorse, perhaps remembering the frenzy in the Manor House from before they left.
Suddenly, PFC Vesper Noir comes by. He doesn't speak a word to Axel, but he still sets bacon and eggs on Axel's tray and pours coffee into his mug.
"...Thanks, gramps," Axel breaks the silence.
"Don't mention it," Vesper answers too and walks away.
Altare then turns to their tank — an M3 Light Tank — Tempest. Private Magni Dezmond mulls over the machinery under the hood, doing some last minute maintenance. Engine oil squirts over him, though, and he yelps questionably, "Gah~! It's all over me!"
Axel and Vesper chuckle. Altare nearly does too.
But then, the rumble of an engine reaches his ears and draws his attention. He turns to the noise and finds First Lieutenant Ollie Kureiji in the cupola of a newly refurbished M3A1 Stuart tank. A small fleet of eight more Stuarts follow behind her.
After that, Mr. Shinri Josuji and dozens of Xenokunian resistance fighters arrive on horseback with carbines slung over their shoulders.
The tankers camped in the alpine pass stop what they're doing and turn to the newcomers. Ollie turns to see the soldiers and allies gathered before her and she addresses them.
"...Ladies and gentlemen, the time to retake Xenokuni City is here!" Ollie declares, "Captain Mori's Charon Company and the rest of the Xenokunian cavalry are already in position. The Regular Army units in our brigade are just about ready too."
The redhead snorts and holds her head up high. "Primary objective – secure the city and drive back the Pavolians. Secondary – recover intelligence. Our birdwatchers say we have a friendly intel officer in there. These are special orders from the top brass."
"The partisans in Xenokuni City itself have also begun to revolt against the Pavolian government. Allied partisans like I will take part in this operation," Shinri adds. "Xenokunians as brave as you have managed to reorganize and lead the resistance cells, so we'll take the opportunity to strike as they do."
Ollie nods. Then, she turns to Altare.
"Sergeant Regis! Your tank's the spearhead!" Ollie commands.
"Ma'am, yes, ma'am!" Altare salutes her.
"Good. Get ready, then." Ollie clenches her fist. "We sortie in five."
With that, PCAP tankers wolf down their breakfast and put out their campfire with snow. Magni, meanwhile, wipes himself off and buttons up Tempest's engine with a slap on its rear hatch.
Boots crunching in the snow and stomping on steel, the PCAP tankers scramble into their tanks, their engines sputtering to life. The Tempest drives to the head of their armored column and the tanks begin crawling forward. The riders of the Xenokunian cavalry accompany them, clopping of hooves matching the tempo of rolling steel treads.
As they advance together down the alpine path, Elysian artillery starts to rumble, raining down upon the Pavolian-occupied city. Alarms blare in the distance from within the metropolis as the allied march into Xenokuni commences.
. . .
. . .
. . .
TEMPEST
. . .