Somewhere Someplace

Nilia's mask-obscured cyanic eyes were gazing down at that which had been handed to her requisitioned desk. "What is this?" she simply inquired, redirecting her sight to him who had so handed.

"A report, freshly received." Captain Albert replied; "Colonel Faulkner has been trying to pen himself a way to legally get you to where you should be, however he has been preoccupied with matters in Strawberry and Humbleberry. But I've devised a plan to allow for…some participation by you with respect to your…position." His finger tapped the report he had given her. "While I lost out on the higher positions, I am still an involved officer of the campaign, and I am still here; I've been receiving—"

"But should you still be here, with respect?" Nilia, however, abruptly interrupted.

"What?" And Albert was abruptly confused.

"Throughout these weeks," she began to say, "I have been doing…many things for your diplomatic persons. My responsibilities have expanded because of further withdrawals of necessary persons; I have been doing the work of several different classes of people." She was not complaining.

"Yes… I have read your translations; you have obviously made an impression enough that they are overlooking your…" He looked at the office about… "Capturing of Handleman's office." He returned his sight to her. "However, none of this has swayed Butler; he remains stubborn and suspicious of our intentions… So much so that he would not even approve of sending you as a field nurse despite your on-record experience with the Green Frogs. Which is why—"

"All of the translators for your diplomats were withdrawn." Nilia, however, remained focused on her specific topic of interest. "That makes little sense to me as for why your…people or…governors or whoever, why they would do that. By consequence, because I am the only one who can translate, I have been given enough things to read and translate to make me aware."

"Aware of?" Albert merely raised an eyebrow.

"The severity of this…'crisis' of yours." Nilia plainly answered; "There are not only these 'tensions', but what they…called a 'breakdown'. That duke and his people have ceased all cooperation with yours, no?"

"Yes, so I have heard. I am not part of the emissariate, but from the military side of matters, the campaign's coordination has been hindered, and the logistics have become a nightmare." Albert, open, remarked. "The duke's cooperation was essential; the Company's armies are here by his allowance… Although the duke has not revoked any allowance, which he cannot easily do, his vassals' armies have been restricting movements, and the assembly camp is barely receiving any supplies from the Loyalists." The captain, however, then sternly looked into her; "Now, volunteer, if you have a reason for bringing all of this to abrupt attention, then out with it so that we can move on."

Nilia required a short moment. "In the most recent letter that I had to translate for your diplomats, and I told them this also, but there were the implications—the hidden ones—in the wording that…suggested a threat against this building."

Albert remained standing tall. "Bah. Grandberry would not dare to do anything. It is all saber-rattling—bluff and show." he dismissed; "The war season might be nearing its slow point, but Huckleberry is still in civil war—he cannot afford directly challenging the Company. So, do not bother worrying."

"And neither can the Company afford a conflict, no? With that Congress of yours looming soon?" Nilia so remarked with a voice devoid of worry; though, she then sighed… "I do not understand your politics, I admit… And I was already told by your diplomats that I was being too 'creative' and 'emotional' in my interpretations; that I should 'leave the interpreting' to them…"

"Hm.." Hearing those words, Albert took a moment to reflect and reassess…

Although he had progressed much through his convictions, he was not without lingering biases too innate to fully eliminate, only suppress. Ultimately, this woman was observant and analytical…with a unique intuition; such was recognized and was precisely why he had given her that still-to-be-explained report… Yet his reaction when hearing such spoken by her feminine voice was immediate dismissal, not further query. Indeed, his knee-jerk assumption had been that she was speaking from worry, not assessment.

Recognizing that he had been too quick to dismiss, "Well, what are you thinking of this, then, volunteer?" he decided to ask. "If you have your queries, spit them out."

Yet Nilia took her time to spit it out. "I just find this to be strange, nothing further… That crucial persons, such as those translators responsible for permitting the dialogue, were withdrawn…but not the diplomats themselves… That we are still here." Her mask-obscured eyes so looked into his own. "Why are we still here?" she more explicitly asked; "And I do not mean I and you, but your…officers. Why are…important officers of your campaign…still here?"

"According to the highers, the front is too dangerous, and these officers are purely administrative or analytical—such as I." Albert replied; "Thus, not necessarily the most important—the field officers are at the assembly camp, as you were told before."

"That only makes this more strange…" Nilia remarked; "If this 'crisis' of yours escalates, we may redefine Grandberry as an 'enemy', and we are…in the middle of their capital; this is not a safe place for them either." She leaned back in her seat, cogitating… Oh, the turn tables; how she was the one with the desk and chair… "But I have this…feeling that your company…wants something to happen."

Albert was silent, his breaths a little more tense; however, he retained his professional and authoritative demeanor. "Well, if you are finished, to now speak my matters." He did not answer her question. Instead, he began to speak that which he had even come here to say in the first place, and Nilia listened.

-|||-

The month continued to drag on. Fascinating, truly, it was… How time's relativity applied not only to physical space-time, but also one's very subjective grasp upon reality; how in some weeks, time could be so horribly slow, yet during other weeks—such as these many weeks—time flowed by as if a stream. The repetitiveness of what she was doing most certainly…contributed.

Already, the month's end drew closer day by day. A little over a week now, give or take.

Yet matters in the world outside remained precarious. Throughout this month, the United Central Trade Company and Grandberry have been in what the diplomats referred to as a 'diplomatic play'. Owing to her ever-extending responsibilities, she had essentially been handling much of the correspondences. All of the other…official persons who could translate into local tongue, communicate with respective representatives, and such were withdrawn.

Frankly, it seemed as though the Company's headpersons in that 'New Wellington' locality—wherever that even was—had not been anticipating that a random volunteer from Coastfield would have shown up to continue providing translations; to continue assisting the diplomatic mission in facilitating further dialogue… For, as of a few days ago, the embassy had received a formal notice to 'severely limit' their 'reciprocity' and to simply 'request the presence of a respectable ambassador to continue these discussions'.

Nilia, of course, had read this notice before anyone else, since she was the one who handled the mail. Essentially, as the diplomats had put it, this was an order to cease all communications and responses with the Palace of Grandberry until they sent a physical representative as part of a scheduled meeting. Despite the note itself having made no explicit mentioning of this, it was effectively a cessation of interest in further diplomacy.

Such, truly, was one thing she had noticed about all of this… Nothing whatsoever seemed direct or explicit. It was this…ridiculous dance of words and obfuscated intentions… She absolutely detested these sorts of things, frankly. It made everything needlessly confusing, and she really did not know if she was understanding anything.

Yet while Nilia was completely obtuse to…so much regarding denizen affairs and especially their so-called 'politics', she did, however, understand escalation control and…when it was severely lacking.

Grandberry's words had been provocative and frustrated; their open actions so far, while not explicitly hostile, were certainly belligerent and 'passive-aggressive'. The Company, meanwhile, had been relatively 'tame' in their responses—indifferent, condescending, and willfully naive. The Company's actions, however… She only knew what the Company had been doing from the accusations from Grandberry's now-to-be-ignored letters, which she still read despite the order to toss them into 'the bin'.

Apparently, throughout the course of this so-called 'crisis', the United Central Trade Company's military presence had only grown in not only Humbleberry but also Strawberry and essentially the whole eastern bulge. They had been relocating their forces from other regions via the Big Divide, their seizure of which Grandberry had continuously referenced as being 'violating'. Grandberry, in fact, had outright accused the Company of an 'unrightful occupation' of Riverberry—to which the Company denied. Yet their denial aside, the Company's presence in the Big Divide had expanded, and their riverine fleet was allegedly prohibiting Loyalist access.

Frankly, it was difficult to ascertain whether or not Grandberry's rather heavy-worded accusations were distorted exaggerations or an accurate representation of the reality. Indeed, although the Company's alleged actions were likely part of some 'dirty dance', Grandberry—or rather that duke in that 'Grand Palace'—had demonstrated themselves to be…

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

Well, Nilia was very aware of the hanging corpses by now; the 'daily' executions and 'public displays'… Indeed, she had not received much implications that the governorship of this so-called 'great dutchy' was of sane or sound mind.

Although neither side had yet to do anything openly hostile beyond the pen and paper strikes of private correspondence, Nilia could not shake off this…inference, this vague hunch of hers, that neither side was interested in de-escalation; that there was an active intention to provoke…something.

Nilia so sighed, most certainly for the nth time this day—this week; this month; this year; this…century. Her mask-obscured ignited eyes were once again staring down upon a so-called 'report' of sorts.

Such was Captain Albert's ingenious plan to involve her in the Company's campaign against the Fallen. Being essentially some kind of 'intelligence officer', he had been receiving updates, documentation, and especially reports; he had begun to provide her with some of these reports. Ostensibly, such was given to her for…translation or organization on Albert's behalf—whatever excuse, really. Unofficially, of course, she was to provide her…thoughts to Albert and, if she was 'bored enough', to write such thoughts down.

Indeed, it appeared that Faulkner had informed Albert of what he perceived as one of Nilia's 'strengths': assessment and analysis.

In a way, this did finally involve her in the military side of matters, albeit purely in an administrative capacity… Analyzing these documents, reports, and the like as opposed to being on the ground and in the action…

While Nilia could perhaps 'appreciate' such allowances, she frankly was founding these to be unnecessarily distracting even if…much more interesting than her prior tasks. It was obvious that the Thirteenth was more than capable of doing these assessment tasks to potentially greater outcome themselves; she would prefer that she be given extra tasks out of functional necessity and genuine urgency, not patronizing pity.

Although, she was at least able to learn about…what had been happening in their campaign throughout this month; however, such had only given her more questions than answers. For these…documents, these 'reports' or whatever they could be called… They were insufficient for her standards.

The report she was presently examining, for example… According to it, the Company had a 'resounding success' in destroying 'yet another' Fallen 'den'—exact location, coordinates, or basic regional features left unspecified. The report mentioned signs of 'habitation' and 'perpetual stationing' but did not specify what those signs were; it remarked of discovering supplies, 'logistical management assets', and 'a number' of firearms and weapons but did not specify—neither quantity, nor category, nor any such details.

This was a persistent pattern, almost; these reports seemed less analysis and more…boasting. And such would merely be the tip of her issues with this specific report; to document everything would require, ironically, a full report of its own.

Granted, Nilia was unfamiliar with the type of documentation practices preferred by these denizens or more specifically the Company's military. Indeed, she recognized that she was perhaps…far too accustomed to the generated reports of her sentinels, which ironically tended to be…overly detailed. It was possible that her expectations were unreasonable to the actual capabilities of these denizens. She herself was also occasionally prone to…reductionisms—though, she would at least specify evidence and basic qualifiers.

Nilia placed this report aside and swapped to the next one, only to sigh… For beheld was yet another such report of yet another so-called 'resounding success' from a week prior. She skimmed the details, seeing the same exact pattern. Low casualties, zero deaths, decisive victory.

This was the other repetitive pattern she had observed so far from these reports: the campaign against the Fallen was going very well for the Company. Despite having not even heard of this 'Fallen' until relatively recent in time, they were seemingly pinpointing every so-called 'den' operating within the Huckleberry Dutchy.

The Company, she had extrapolated, was being 'fed' intelligence; there was simply no other explanation… Yet by whom, she knew not; it was left unspecified beyond occasional references to 'knowledgeable providers'. Naturally, she understood the importance of such protective secrecy; she very much doubted that she herself was being 'fed' the juiciest details by Albert…

However, she nevertheless could only wonder…

Who was feeding this intelligence? Was it the Bureau? Or was it…something else? Indeed, if the Company had been going den to den so decisively and so quickly—this campaign, indeed, being barely a month underway—it could potentially be an insider of sorts… A defector or deserter. That would make the most sense, yet…

Hm…

The Fallen, from her understanding, were a composite of many different so-called 'races', one of whom were goblins—goblins, according to these reports, being the primary combatants encountered so far. Nilia had been given the impression from Novea's words that goblins were extremely proficient ambushers; their dens were apparently 'death zone 'traps' to the naive… And she herself clearly recalled being shot in the head by those who had gone unnoticed amidst the trees.

Yet according to these… The Company was just strolling into den after den with casualties being almost exclusively injuries beyond a few 'accidents'. Frustratingly, none of the Company's reports specified even a rough estimation of combatants encountered; she could not gauge suspiciousness, beyond it seeming too easy which alone was not…sufficient grounds; sometimes things could be that easy.

However, the Company was specifically interested in finding those 'bronze golems', as had been explicitly declared and emphasized in these very reports. However, they had yet to encounter any signs of them nor of that so-called 'golem lord'. Such seemed strange. She visibly remembered how quickly those golems had torn through the Company's…albeit unprepared…infantry. If the Fallen had gained control of that autonomous legion, surely they would have utilized them by now—to minimize living casualties and supplement their forces…

Unless, of course, they were…keeping them in reserve… Hm… Though, for what? They were already losing badly.

Hm…

Although, really, such a perception could simply just be from her having not yet received any reports to indicate otherwise. Truly, it was hard to definitively conclude if any of this was indicative of anything greater than her simply being not given enough information. It had not been that long at all since Albert began providing her with these reports, and it was obvious that he was still playing cautious.

Even so, however, she was a Remnant trooper… And if it was one thing she understood as a Remnant trooper, one of the known tactics in dealing with a seemingly superior hostile apparatus with overwhelming supremacy was…feinting them over and over, playing into their arrogance and distorting their comprehension of true capabilities, until they made a mistake or…became plainly lazy—complacent, lackluster, and negligent.

Indeed, a 'primitive feint', as the Remnant classified it. Generally, such referred to either a primitive force exploiting the Remnant's naivety, technological overdependence, and or the hyper-tuning of their detection systems for equal or exotic foes; or an advanced force tricking the Remnant into believing that they were more primitive when in reality they were…equivalent enough to be a threat…

Like those unknowns.

Nilia yet again so sighed, withdrawing her sight… Truly, this report; the one before it; the one before the one before it; all of them… They worsened her curiosity. She needed to be there; she wanted to be there: in person, on-site, at the scene. Yet here she was trapped; here she had been so trapped inside.

Her head was beginning to throb; her eyes were strained. She had actually fallen asleep, in fact, not so long ago. She had been staring down at some document and suddenly everything had gone black.

She was starting to reach some limit, even though she had not done…much at all—physically. Though, the brain still did consume quite the energy… She had, at least, brought her backpack with her and thus had access to her Remnant water-flask and those…ever-beloved…sustenance bars—only one of which she had been slowly and methodically munching upon throughout this whole time.

Hm… Nilia began to tap her fingers slightly. She began to reflect in this moment, suddenly. Novea's check-ins had become infrequent lately, she realized; they still happened, granted, though that Raven spoke vaguely of what had been unfolding on her end of matters.

Likewise, there was still an eerie silence regarding…that particular Humbleberry happening… Her intervention… It should have been more than enough time for the Company's forces to have discovered some trace residuals by now, surely… Never mind those rumors she herself had overheard running rampant in the city proper; rumors that already had evident consequences.

For some reason, she had presumed that Novea would have become suspicious of those rumors by now; that she would be the quickest to suspect her, having witnessed her combat capabilities and quirks directly. Yet that Raven had yet to interrogate or mention anything regarding Humbleberry, let alone any such rumors.

With thoughts in mind, Nilia's mask-obscured eyes drifted their sight to that window to her right; a window whose view so peered out the front way of this building. She stood up and approached this window, as if—for whatever reason—having been drawn to it…or rather the world beyond it.

It was bright outside, she saw. The sky was blue though the sun was making its slow way to set; there were individual chunks of cloud, and she could tell the wind was blowing… Her hand gently pressed on the window, though her face remained flat, her posture hollow.

It was hard to remember the last time she had even left this room, let alone desk, even if such was in recent memory. She had not actually gone outside since the start of her being here…

Odd, this strange feeling she was experiencing within…

Even though this sort of…state of existence was one to which she was most accustomed—always being within boxes devoid of fresh air, wind, and sun… She was…thinking about the air—the sensation of its blowing touch. Hm… She perhaps…maybe…desired to experience it again. Although, she was not certain if she would be permitted.

In the distance afar yet close enough, she noticed something that had not been there days prior. A camp of sorts, it seemed… Even from this distance, she was able to make out the cages.

For the next thirty minutes, she watched this camp; a few carriages and wagons stumbled into and through it. She eventually observed what seemed to be a line of clearly humans being brought. Thus, it was obviously not one of those so-called 'zoo' places she had heard about…

Hm. They seemed connected, those persons…

Chained, possibly?

Hmm… She had observed similar linear convoys of chained people as well as cage-bearing wagons both in Strawberry and even in Coastfield before. They were obviously prisoners, she always presumed; that camp had to be some kind of open prison, thus—yet another one.

Indeed, these kinds of open prison camps were an oddly prevalent feature of this locality, being practically part of the scenery. She had found these camps to be quite strange upon her first sight of them… Surely, Grandberry had dedicated detainment facilities? Prisons, 'dungeons', or grand torture castles… Certainly, Remnant records were quite clear regarding how denizens tended to be in these matters.

Although, considering that the local authority—that 'duke' whoever—was effectively strangling necks with tightening fists, it was entirely possible that they had simply run out of capacity in their ordinary prisons due to the…excessive detainments. That could explain the abundance of these open prisons.

Hm… Despite having spotted many of these camps during her walk through Outer Grandberry to arrive hither, she had not investigated despite the curiosity; having not wanted to become needlessly distracted, she had tuned them out then…

Yet now, however… Well, that camp had established itself relatively close to this headquarters. It would be a short and simple…distant walk; nobody would even know she had ventured back and forth. And she was curious… Very curious.

She wanted to go outside; now she had a motivation or…justification—a reason.

Thus, without much deliberation, she departed from that window; covertly leaving the building, she began to make her way hence thither.