Chapter Text
There is a version of Destiny that feels like a sanctuary. I have spent my life feeling gratitude for it, knowing that destiny means belonging. It is the simple truth that we are born to specific parents, in a specific time, in a world that—for a fleeting moment—feels like it was made just for us.
My childhood was a tapestry of gold, woven during the height of the Fisher Kingdom’s glory. Back then, being the daughter of my parents felt like the most beautiful inheritance one could ask for.
The pen slipped between Belly’s fingers, marking her place in her journal before she finally eased the book shut. It was 11:00 PM—the quiet hour. A soft, rhythmic knock echoed against her door before John entered, the faint scent of the Headquarters still clinging to his uniform.
"Goodnight, Belly," he whispered. "Sleep well."
My entry from last night spoke of a golden childhood. Of a glory that belongs to the past.
The wheel has turned. That peace is now a ghost, replaced by a tension so thick it feels as if the air itself might snap. My father rarely makes it home before midnight, only to disappear back into the dawn. He has given his life to the Fisher Crown, but the kingdom he serves is fracturing at the seams.
___
A low, steady buzzer echoed through the corridors signaling the lunch break.
"Alpha Tactical Unit will escort the diplomatic envoy from the Benito Bonaparte military," Conrad read the dispatch aloud, his voice clipped and professional. "The Colonel just arrived at his office, and Cam is already in there with him," Smith noted as he passed Conrad in the hall, adjusting his gear. "In case you’re looking for him." "Right," Conrad replied. "I'll head there right after the lunch break."
___
At home, the walls felt like they were closing in. Belly and Laurel had been instructed to stay indoors. When the landline rang, it felt like a jolt of electricity.
"Hello?"
"Belly, it’s Dad. Listen to me carefully."
"Dad? What’s happening?"
"Go to the bedroom cabinet," his voice was urgent, "Get the recorder pen. Wrap it in a handkerchief—don't use the box—and bring it out."
"And then?"
"Give it to Cam. He’ll be at the house any second."
"Are you leaving?"
There was a heavy pause on the other end. "...I have to settle something," John said finally.
"Okay. I’m going now."
"Thank you, Belly."
The line went dead. A moment later, a knock signaled Cam’s arrival.
"Good afternoon, Miss Isabel."
"Afternoon," Belly said, stepping out before he could ask. "I’m coming with you."
"Belly, I can take it—"
"It's fine. I’m coming along," she interrupted, her tone sharp with resolve.
Cam sighed, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he stepped ahead to open the car door for her. "Seriously, you don't have to be... but thank you."
The car moved through the streets in a heavy, contemplative silence.
"I know you’re worried, Belly," Cam said softly, breaking the quiet. "You need to find a way to steady your heart."
"Is it that obvious? Can you hear it beating?" Belly asked, a faint, nervous laugh escaping her.
"Maybe," Cam replied, his gaze lingering on her for a beat too long.
Cam had known Belly since high school. He had loved her then—a quiet, distant affection that had never quite evaporated. He looked at her now with a gaze that was both careful and intense.
"You know you can just call me Cam, right?" He asked, his voice softening.
Belly turned her head, her eyes meeting his. She stared at him for a moment, searching the familiar lines of his face, feeling the weight of his attention.
"I can still imagine it," Cam continued, a nostalgic smile playing on his lips. "Entering that portal back to our high school days. Doing assignments together... finding all our answers and inspiration just by listening to the waves and the salt wind on the coast. It feels like a lifetime ago, doesn't it?"
"I remember," Belly replied, her gaze softening as she looked at him. "It was... organic. Beautiful."
"Was it?"
"Of course," she said, offering him a small, genuine smile.
"Hey," Cam said, his tone dropping into something more sincere. "If there’s ever anything I can do to help, you don't have to be a stranger."
Belly smiled warmly. Cam’s eyes then drifted to the handkerchief-wrapped object held tightly in her hand.
"That thing in your hand... do you mind if I take it now?" Cam asked gently.
"It's okay, it's fine," Belly replied, her fingers tightening slightly around the parcel. "I'll give it to Dad myself."
"Alright," Cam nodded. "Maybe it's for the best. But Belly, whatever happens today, don’t stay out late. The atmosphere is volatile. Look after yourself."
"I will. Besides, I’m finished with my thesis. I’m just waiting for graduation now."
"Congratulations, Belly. Truly."
Cam paused for a moment, his features softening as he offered her a sincere, warm smile that finally reached his eyes-a silent acknowledgment of how far she had come.
"Thanks, Cam."
They reached the gates of the Headquarters. Belly watched the mess room through the windows as they walked the corridor.
- In The Mess Room at Headquarters -
"I wasn't exactly planning on a day off," First Lieutenant Smith, grumbled to his companion.
"Did I ask you something?" the other soldier shot back, barely looking up from his meal.
"No, I’m just saying—bringing a civilian near the Kingdom territory right now... it isn't safe anymore."
Conrad sat nearby, his fork and knife crossed neatly on his plate. He didn't participate in the idle chatter, his presence lending a disciplined air to the table. As he looked up, his gaze caught a flash of movement through the glass. He watched with quiet, sharp precision as Second Lieutenant Cam led a young woman toward John’s office. There was no outward reaction, only a steady, calculating look in his eyes as he took in the scene.
- The Colonel’s Office -
A soft, hesitant knock echoed through the heavy door. Inside, John looked up from his desk. "Come in," he called, his voice holding a hint of expectation. Belly stepped into the room and held out the handkerchief. "Here."
"Hi, Belly."
"Hi, Dad."
"I didn’t want you coming here, but..."
"I’m with Cam. He’s waiting outside. I’ll head home soon."
John stood up and pulled her into a fierce embrace. "You were sleeping so soundly last night. I didn't want to wake you."
"I’m just resting before graduation. And you and Mom will be there," Belly pulled back, her eyes searching his. "No excuses."
John’s expression softened. "Congratulations, Belly."
"Save it for the ceremony, Dad," she teased, though her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "I’m leaving now."
She opened the door to find Cam waiting. "Restroom, one second," she whispered. Cam nodded, watching her go before knocking on John’s door.
"Cam," John's voice was leaden. "I need you to accompany me to the envoy tonight."
"Sir."
"We leave now. Tell Captain Conrad that Alpha Unit is ready. And don't take Belly home yourself—have Smith do it. This is a silent operation."
"Colonel."
-15:00 Hours -
The Alpha Tactical Unit mobilized with grim efficiency. The air at the staging area was thick with the scent of diesel and the weight of unspoken anxiety. Four soldiers in the lead vehicle moved out first; Cam and the Colonel followed in the second. Eight more specialized operatives moved through the dense treeline—shadows merging with shadows.
Inside the vehicle, the silence was absolute until John reached into his uniform. He handed the handkerchief-wrapped recorder to Cam, his expression as unyielding as granite.
"It’s live," John whispered, his voice barely audible over the hum of the engine. "Keep it hidden. Close to your heart."
After an hour of cutting through the suffocating stillness of the forest, they reached the Obsidian Pavilion—a secluded structure that felt more like a tomb than a meeting place. It was 16:26.
The gates were guarded by the Regulars, their faces masked, their eyes cold. John and Cam stepped onto the terrace just as the vehicles from Benito Bonaparte arrived. Only two cars. John recognized the man in the front passenger seat immediately: Colonel Mordec.
The air turned glacial as the two men locked eyes. A suffocating tension followed them as they were ushered into the pavilion's inner sanctum.
- Belly's Home -
Belly arrived at her front gate. From inside the car, she saw four soldiers securing her house. Her heart dropped to her stomach. She stepped out as Smith held the door open. "Thank you," she whispered. Belly hurried inside her home, filled with a feeling she didn't want to name.
- Obsidian Pavilion -
The heavy oak doors slammed shut behind them, locking with a mechanical finality. John motioned for Mordec to sit at the long table. Major Jose stood like a statue behind his commander; Cam retreated to the shadows by the door, his hand hovering inches from his sidearm.
"Welcome, Colonel Mordec," John began, his voice flat.
"Thank you, John. It has been a long time."
"Let's be quick," John said, ignoring the pleasantry. His eyes darted to the stack of documents Mordec’s aide was placing on the table. "I see you brought a library with you."
Mordec chuckled, a dry, rasping sound. "You still use that tobacco scent, John. Classic. You always were too fond of things that don't change."
"I'm not here for small talk, Mordec. I'm here on the King's orders to review the terms. Show me what you've brought."
Mordec signaled Major Jose, who produced a thick leather file. With a slow, deliberate movement, Mordec pressed the file against the polished wood and slid it across the long table. The friction of the leather against the oak created a sharp, heavy sound as it glided toward John, coming to a rest directly beneath his hands.
John opened the file. His eyes scanned the pages, his face turning an ashen grey as he reached the signatures at the back.
"General Vance? Miller?" His voice rose in a guttural roar that echoed off the high ceilings. "How is this possible? These men swore an oath!"
"Don't be naive," Mordec purred, leaning forward into the light. "Your generals are tired of fighting a losing battle. King Adam has distributed 'loyalty bonuses' to all of them. They have quiet retirements waiting in the south. Only you are left out. The Fisher Kingdom is at the end of its history, John. It can't stand on ghosts and honor anymore."
Mordec spread a map over the table and produced a letter sealed with the King’s Private Seal.
"The world is changing. King Adam realizes that stability is more important than a few miles of coastline. Bonaparte will 'lease' this territory as a logistics base. Your people will work in our camps, and in exchange, your Kingdom gets financial survival. It’s an investment, John. Not a surrender."
John’s rage flared, his hands trembling as they gripped the edge of the table. "The King... he actually agreed to sell our people into labor?"
"He needs a force to keep his own people in line as the economy collapses. Bonaparte offers that security. He wants you to lead the integration."
"My military does not commit treason," John hissed, his voice trembling with a terrifying conviction. "I will not sign. If the King wants to sell his soul to Bonaparte, let him do it with his own blood. I am no longer part of this madness. This meeting is over."
Mordec’s expression shifted to a cold, predatory hunger. He sighed, a sound of mock disappointment. "A shame. It would have been easier if you were cooperative. But you were always too slow to see the wind changing, my old friend."
In one fluid motion, Mordec raised his pistol from beneath the table.
BANG.
The bullet slammed into John’s chest, throwing him back against his chair. And the documents fell. Cam moved before the sound of the shot even finished echoing.
BANG. BANG.
Cam’s shots were surgical. Major Jose collapsed, blood blooming across the floor as he reached for his own weapon.
Mordec swung his weapon toward the door. "You—!"
BANG. BANG.
Cam’s bullets shattered Mordec’s shoulders. The gun clattered away as the Colonel collapsed to the floor, screaming in agony.
Cam rushed to John’s side. The Colonel was coughing—a wet, terrible sound. The tactical vest had stopped the bullet from piercing his heart, but the impact had crushed his ribs, causing massive internal damage.
"Colonel! We have to move! I can get you to the extraction point!"
John gripped Cam’s sleeve with surprising strength, his eyes burning with a final, desperate command. "No... internal damage... I can't run, Cam. Listen to me! This is an order! The documents... the recording... they are worth more than my life! Go!"
"I'm not leaving you, Sir!"
"GO, Cam! Tell Conrad... tell the world the King is a traitor. GO!" John managed to pull himself upright for one final, trembling salute.
"I will finish this for you, Sir," Cam whispered, his voice cracking with a vow that felt like a blood oath. "I swear it."
Cam grabbed the files and the recorder.
BANG. BANG. He shot out the overhead lights, plunging the room into darkness. He vanished through the side exit just as the building erupted into chaos.
Outside, Second Lieutenant Kael and the rest of the Alpha Unit burst through the perimeter. "Area is clear! Bonaparte’s men are down. The Regulars surrendered."
The door was kicked open violently by Kael, and the lock gave way. Kael looked toward the floor. The light from behind the door reflected the shadows of Major Jose and Mordec’s slumped bodies on the floor, blood flowing around them. Kael signaled two of his members to sterilize the room. Before long, they secured Mordec’s weapon.
Kael then knelt in front of John. The Colonel looked incredibly fragile; his breath was shallow and he continued to cough up thick blood. The blunt trauma to his chest had completely shattered his physical condition.
"Whoever raised a weapon against you today, Sir " Kael’s voice rose in a sorrowful roar, "they are an enemy of Alpha Unit."
- Four Hours Earlier: The Colonels's Office -
"Come in," John had called, his voice steady.
Conrad entered the office, snapping a crisp salute. "Colonel."
"Captain Conrad. The report on the border movements?"
"Ready, Sir." Conrad hesitated, his eyes lingering on the deployment list. "I saw the roster. You’re taking Cameron to the Pavilion?"
John looked up, his gaze locking onto Conrad’s. It was a weighted look—quietly assessing, yet inherently fair. In those few seconds of silence, John’s eyes carried a profound sense of confidence, an unspoken acknowledgment that Conrad was more than capable of handling what was to come. "I am," John said, his voice dropping an octave. "And that is exactly why I need you here. I need my best officer holding the line at home. The integrity of this base rests on you. Can I count on that ?" Conrad stood straighter, the weight of the responsibility settling on his shoulders. "Absolutely, Sir." He took a deep breath, letting the silence settle for a few long seconds as he gathered his thoughts. "Sir... I saw Cam with a young woman earlier. I believe she was..." John smiled softly. "Isabel. Belly. She’s my daughter. She came to say goodbye. She’s waiting for graduation. Cam’s known her forever."He paused, his gaze turning distant. "I just... I want her to have a future. Someone to protect her better than I could."
Conrad felt a strange tug in his chest. It sounded like a legacy.
"Congratulations to Isabel," Conrad said, a sincere smile breaking across his face. "You'll be there for the graduation, Sir. I'm sure of it."
"I hope so, Conrad. I hope so."
- The Tactical Operation Center -
The units had already left an hour ago
Conrad watched from the high window of The Tactical Operation Center, the palace spires glittered in the far distance—cold, unyielding, and suddenly very dangerous.
Conrad at 18 years old in the Fisher Kingdom.
"One week from today, Conrad," King Adam's voice sounded heavy and full of expectation. "The entire nation awaits your oath and the coronation ceremony as Crown Prince. This is your destiny."
Conrad stood tall, and he replied, "I'm sorry, I'm not taking that oath, Father."
King Adam turned slowly, his eyes narrowing sharply. "What do you mean?"
"I choose to be a soldier, to be a military officer of the Fisher Kingdom."
The Kingdom was in its prime; at that time, the Fisher Kingdom's military was like a pawn conquering the entire land. The front line was not for the Kingdom, but for its people. Touched by a sense of security and comfort. A prosperous economy. That reality and ideal became Conrad's youthful dream.
King Adam stared intensely, his voice low but pressing. "Do you know what you're giving up? You will strip off your golden robes. You will no longer live in the east wing of the palace. You will live in camps, in dormitories, in a place where you receive no help at all."
"Yes Father, I'm ready."
King Adam was still standing, his eyes like sharp daggers. He took out and placed a heavy royal signet ring on the table.
"This is your last chance, Conrad. I won't ask again," Adam said. "Take this ring, sign your coronation decree, and in one week you will stand on the palace balcony as the Crown Prince of Fisher." His voice roared. "But if that is your decision... remember this well, because I won't say it twice."
Adam stared sharply into his son's eyes. "I'm giving you one chance. This chance only exists once, and will never exist again after this. If you miss your path, it is locked forever. You will be cut off from the palace. If you come to me once more, and you take off that soldier's uniform, then I will once again give you entry back into the kingdom. And know that your time is not much."
Conrad swallowed hard, feeling the weight of those words. "I understand."
"Go," Adam dismissed him while turning his back. "Show me how long you can last."
Conrad blinked his eyes rapidly, waking up from his thoughts. Seeing such a great turmoil in the Royal environment, political upheaval, a falling economy, and the invasion carried out by a rival Kingdom in the Fisher Kingdom territory was more than dangerous. The security and safety of the people were out of control.
Something big was happening. The weakening of the security system was even felt within the body of the Kingdom's military itself. Conrad choked. His throat hurt. His body tensed, heat rose to the surface. Something very big was happening. The scent of sin from the Kingdom's dark secrets had been caught from a distance, but now the rot was beginning to show on the surface. The Kingdom was on the brink of destruction.
"Level 1 Alert for Colonel John's protection!" Conrad asserted in a high tone.
Conrad turned his body from the chair he was sitting in and now stood up to move to the military emergency room. His body muscles were tense and suddenly something stopped him.
A shout was heard from Felix.
"Damn, random movement detected," and the next minute, the signal was cut off.
"Captain!".