A crushing failure.

With two of his three clients dead, this was the only way in which this entire endeavor could have been described.

Yet even so, Nerokov understood one simple fact.

The child in his arms was still breathing.

Freezing from the cold, the man held the child close to warm it as it cried in his arms, giving away his position to any enemies that may be lurking.

However, even so, the man pressed forward.

For he had a duty to perform - one which he would not neglect.

Some may have argued that - as a mercenary who had already received his payment - that he no longer held an obligation to this child.

And perhaps... even this man thought this himself.

Yet even so, he threw such a thought aside.

He knew well that he could return to where he was just earlier that day, re-entering the world that he had lived in all his life without hesitation as he took the money from those poor souls who had been unfortunate enough to be caught up in such a rotten world.

He could sell the child on the black market. It could be raised as a slave or a servant, or it could be harvested for organs.

It could be trained as an assassin, or used as a test subject. There were so many options, so many ways to get rid of this child and even turn a profit from it.

Yet even though the man knew all these things, to him they were not options.

Morality had nothing to do with it.

It was not that this man had any disposition against such things.

There was only one thing which pushed him forward as he protected the child, heading back to where he had fought the commander of the Royal Army before.

He had been paid to do this - and he would do it.

Reaching the campfire, the man held the child as he lit it once again, using the blankets from the camp to wrap up the child as he placed it near the fire - close enough to stay warm yet far enough that it would not be in any danger of the flames.

'What do I do now?'

Hanging his head as the man took a seat by the fire, he pondered his situation as grief filled his heart.

'The enemy... was one which is no longer an enemy.'

'The Royal Army won't pursue us anymore now that the Commander has relinquished his interest... but even so...'

Glancing back to the direction in which the husband and wife had fled, the man recalled the horrible scene which he had encountered just moments ago.

'How do I know that for certain?'

They had been sniped.

An attacker who knew nothing of the conversation between the Commander and Nerokov had assassinated the two, likely not even aware of who they were or what their goals were.

It was a time of revolution, and to an army who fought for the sake of the ones who struggled to keep their power over restless people, everyone was an enemy.

Yet at the same time, this was no place to make enemies where it was not necessary.

The Commander likely understood this.

And this was why Nerokov sat at this campfire alive.

'He wasn't even trying to kill me. He was merely... messing with me.'

Nerokov was experienced when it came to battle.

Even among the Joratian underworld, he was among the upper level in combat.

'Yet... I couldn't keep up with his mind... nor his movements.'

Recalling the expression of the man known as the Commander, Nerokov found himself in awe.

'Perhaps... he knew?'

'Who we were...'

'What would happen...'

'Everything...'

Such a thought was rejected.

It was impossible.

'What goal could he possibly have in doing such a thing?'

'For what reason?'

Closing his eyes, the man stood up.

Taking hold of the child, he eyed the forest from which the man had approached.

'I do not know... but I have to find out.'

As if his every movement had been predicted, Nerokov felt like everything he did was according to the script of that man.

Yet even so, knowing that he was playing into whatever game this was, he moved forward.

'I have to head towards their base... to confirm if these suspicions are correct. And if they are...'

What if they were?

What would he do from then on?

Only time would tell.

----

While a normal citizen would never be able to locate a Royal Army military base, Nerokov was no normal citizen.

Thrown into the underground world from a young age, he learned many things about the side of society which was not accessible to the average person.

'But to think that the Commander himself would have been stationed at this place at this time... what are the odds?'

Within the middle of the forest, a small area had been cleared.

In the center of this area was an enormous tower, like a skyscraper that rose into the sky.

With balconies on each rising floor, numerous soldiers stood watch at this tower, all of their weapons pointed at the man who approached the front door with his arms raised - the child resting in the sack on his back.

'No... for that man... there is no such thing as odds.'

The soldiers wore uniforms that were pitch black, sashes lined across their torsos and the prestigious three pronged star donning their caps - the symbol of the monarchy.

Honor, Courage, and Justice.

These were the three ideals which each point represented, which the Monarchy valued more than anything.

Or at least... that was how it should have been.

'Yet... those who cling to such symbols are usually the very people who do not value such things in the slightest.'

Walking forth with his arms raised, the two men at the front door rushed over to him, their weapons on their backs.

"The Commander is expecting you. We will take your weapons for now."

"Two on the belt, a couple more in the front pocket of the bag."

In a compliant manner, the man allowed his weapons to be taken without a fuss as he was searched to the satisfaction of the men.

"He's clear. The child is clear as well. Move out."

With this, the man was led inside the tower.

Through the lobby and over to an elevator, the creaking of cables could be heard as they ascended.

Not a word was said, and Nerokov was taken through the halls of what seemed to be the top floor.

"Wait here.", one man stated as he went inside the office first.

A couple minutes passed, and then eventually the man exited.

"The Commander is ready. Enter. And... just a word of advice."

Placing his hand on the man's shoulder, the soldier gave him a deathly expression as he passed him.

"Don't anger him. He spared you for a reason. And if you don't play into that reason... then you WILL be disposed of."

'To him.. everything is a guarantee.'

----

"Have a seat."

Nerokov was faced with the back of a chair, which the cap of a commander poked over.

"I'm... not exactly here to chat."

"Then what ARE you here for?"

With this statement, Nerokov was frozen.

The icy words of the Commander carried a weight to them, enough to make him question his own actions as he straightened himself.

"Do not answer. That was... rhetorical."

Turning around in his seat, the man waved his hand as he once more made a motion to the seat across from his desk.

"Now sit."

Nerokov was a shrewd man.

He was not the type to blindly listen to authority, but he understood his position well at all times - and would not do something so foolish as lashing out in rebellion.

Right now he was a visitor - yet he was no guest.

Disarmed and powerless, surrounded on all sides by those who were armed, if he were to anger this man then he would have to pay the consequences with his life.

Yet this was not the reason why Nerokov sat down without question.

It was the overwhelming authority with which the man spoke that captivated him, instilling itself into his very being.

Gripping the child in his arms as he sat without question, the man glanced straight forward with his single eye, meeting the smug grin of the one known as the Commander - Martin von Speizer.

"What-"

"Wine."

Immediately, a soldier standing guard at the entrance stood forward, removing two wine glasses and a bottle from a cabinet.

Placing both on the desk as he poured the red fluid, a glass was placed in front of each of the two.

As soon as the wine was poured into both glasses, the man known as the Commander took one glass, pouring its contents into the other. Then, swirling it around, he poured the contents back into the first as if to make a display of trust.

‘There is no poison in this wine. For if there were, then I too would be consuming it.’

Such was the statement the man made with his actions.

Gripping his own glass and swirling it, the Commander glanced to the ceiling as he spoke - seemingly to noone in particular.

"Trapped... yes, we are all trapped. Trapped in a cycle of hopelessness. We work and we work, fruitlessly pursuing something which will one day be destroyed without question. We build only so that someone may destroy what we have made. We create only so that war can ravage our lands, rebellion can uproot our governments, and peace can never be obtained."

Swirling his glass, the man stuck his tongue into it, not so much as sipping as he merely allowed the tip to linger.

Removing his tongue, the man placed his glass on the table as he looked over to Nerokov.

"What is your definition of peace, mercenary?"

Taken aback with the sudden question, Nerokov was unsure how to respond.

Opening his mouth briefly, the man took a deep breath as he spoke.

"Why did you lead me here?"

"You've ignored my question... and yet demand an answer to your own."

It was at that moment that the man tipped the glass over, pouring the liquid into his mouth without reserve.

Licking his lips, the man's eyes became sharpened as he deeply breathed in.

"Peace... is all about control."

Standing up from his chair, the man walked behind him, towards a large curtain which he grabbed with both arms.

Opening the curtain with a grand motion, the view of a desolate forest was exposed.

Covered in snow, the icy landscape spread before the man as he gazed out into what seemed like an endless frontier.

"Yet how little there is that man can truly control."

With a chuckle, the man did not so much as turn his back, keeping his eyes on the outside as the snow picked up.

Trees began to sway, and the rattling of metal could be heard from the outside.

"Even so... we deceive ourselves into believing that we have control over everything. We create our own world.... the world of man... a world in which we ignore that which could possibly be above us, believing without question that we are the greatest creatures in existence... and if we can control even this miniscule world, then we shall throw out the very notion of an outside world which is uncontrollable."

Lowering his tone, the man spoke with resignation.

"For that is all we are capable of."

Taking a seat once more, the eyes of the man hardened as he gazed upon Nerokov.

"Why did I lead you here? I did no such thing. Did you not come to this place on your own?"

Overwhelming.

This was the only word which could describe this man.

As if his very presence took over the room, Nerokov found himself in a completely different realm of ideology than where he had been living.

'This man... there is something about him... his sense of purpose... just what is it?'

It was captivating.

"Yet if you insist that I was the one who led you to this place... then perhaps it would be because something about me was able to control you."

Grabbing the glass of wine which Nerokov had not touched, the man swirled it around in his hand as his gaze became dull.

"You have not touched your drink which I went out of my way to offer. Yet... there is beauty in moderation. Moderation allows one to maintain control of their surroundings... or so we like to believe."

Placing the glass to his lips, the man chugged it down with a single gulp, wiping his lips once more as he laid down the goblet.

"Yet this is nothing more than a deception."

"What do you want of me?"

With this statement, Nerokov returned the topic to the issue at hand.

The man had been awaiting him.

He had been EXPECTING him.

Why he had expected the man to come to this place, he did not know.

How he could have predicted such a thing, or why Nerokov even came here in the first place - he himself did not understand.

'Perhaps... it was because I felt that this was the only place to go... to guarantee a safe departure.'

For the sake of the child in his arms?

Had he walked into this place - which could very well have been enemy territory - in order to negotiate the protection of this child?

Had this man predicted Nerokov’s desires before even Nerokov himself understood them?

Was this man truly capable of such a thing?

Yet here he was.

"My desire is simple. I am but a man who is trying to control a nation whose leader and people have lost all sense of moderation. As such... I require that no outside influences assist any further rebellion."

With these words, Nerokov came to an understanding.

'Ah... I see.'

'This was his goal.'

"So you expect me to act as a spy in a foreign nation, informing you if there are any military or political movements happening that will affect the situation here?"

"You catch on quickly, Nerokov. From the moment I met you, I knew that you had good intuition. Even from our fight... you seemed to read my movements better than most. It was as if you had a sixth sense, telling you where danger was approaching."

"I have no reason to listen to you."

With this blatant refusal, the one eyed man laid down this fact.

"While you could kill me here and now if I refuse, what good would it be to have a soldier without loyalty? You would only be setting yourself up for betrayal."

"Nerokov. You intend to head to Stronvardia. Am I wrong?"

Folding his hands, the man smiled victoriously as he laid out these words.

"How would you deduce that? I have no reason anymore to do so. Your sniper killed off my clients."

"And that is quite unfortunate... yet you hold no resentment towards us for such a thing. Of course, why would you? While it is true that they were killed, and they were likely good people who you considered to be important... to us, they could have been rebels plotting something. Therefore we prevented them from crossing the border. Or at least... that is how it should appear on the surface. Yet what if I were to tell you that I had known from the beginning?"

"You..."

Grinding his teeth, Nerokov restrained himself from lashing out in anger.

He recalled the horrid deaths of the two, and it took everything in his power to choke back any rash words.

"So you knew all along... and led me here?"

"No. I was merely confirming something just now. Something which I now know for certain. Nerokov... you have a heart, do you not?"

Widening his eyes, Nerokov couldn't believe what this man was saying.

"Hah?"

"You are a hardened veteran. One who prioritizes the work at hand, and does not focus much on the morality of what you are doing. Yet deep down... somewhere inside of you, something is eating away at your heart. And perhaps in that child... in fulfilling your contract with his parents... you see an opportunity to repent."

Reaching under his desk, the man pulled out a sheet of paper.

Placing it on the table, Nerokov watched carefully as he inspected the item.

It was a contract.

"Therefore... I would like to take advantage of that. You desire to give that child a new life in a country which has not yet rotted, and I desire to control the inflow of outside factors... our goals are aligned, and I need only for you to come to such an agreement with me."

"How could you possibly think that I would want to leave this country with this child? His parents are dead. They were my clients. I have no further obligation to fulfill their wishes, so why-"

"Nerokov."

Closing his eyes, the man pointed to the sky as he spoke.

"I am the Commander of the Royal Army of the biggest fool to ever take the throne."

Keeping his eyes closed, the man raised another finger.

"I have been given the task of keeping an entire nation together while under the leadership of an incompetent fool who knows nothing about ruling... one who will give orders that make such a task next to impossible."

Yet another finger was raised as he continued.

"It is my responsibility to control the thousands of soldiers underneath me, ensuring that they all function perfectly like gears in a clock without the slightest mishap."

Then, slamming his fist upon the table, the man gazed into Nerokov’s eyes.

"Rebels have sprouted out of the woodworks, promoting their propaganda like dogs, utilizing the foolishness of the current king to their advantage as they preach their doctrine."

Leaning forward, the man’s eyes filled with coldness as he spoke with hatred in his voice.

"My soldiers have been tortured for information."

With a deep breath, the man closed his eyes as he calmed himself, leaning back in his seat.

"My armies are far outnumbered by the common people, who continue to be fooled by the ridiculous appeal of this newfound ideology."

Then, holding up his hand, the man grasped it in a symbolic manner.

"And yet... despite the state of chaos in this nation... we still hold control."

Tipping his hat, the man gave Nerokov a deadly glare as he asked a rhetorical question.

"Just why is that?"

Standing up, the man began to pace as he made his way behind Nerokov.

"The courts of the King are a battlefield as well. Filled with fools who love to spout gentle lies into the mind of that childish ruler, I have had to stand alone against an entire court of brown nosers and politicians. Yet... I remain in my position. Why is that?"

Taking off his hat, the man's hair fell down as it covered his head.

Then, with a smile, he chuckled.

"Nerokov... that is because I am a strategist."

And his next words sent a chilling sensation down Nerokov’s spine.

"I make no moves without purpose."

"And I take no pieces without reason."

"However... reading my opponent's movements is nothing more than child's play."

Leaning in, the man whispered into Nerokov’s ear, causing the man to freeze in disbelief.

"Why then... would you think that I would have any difficulty reading someone as simple as yourself?"

'Who... is this man?'

Everything.

Every desire in his heart was laid bare.

Lying, deceiving, nothing of the sort would work on this man.

"I... what are your conditions?"

With this question, Nerokov gulped as the man returned to his seat, pointing at the contract once more.

"You are to obtain a position in the Stronvardian military. The Stronvardians... they are quite frugal in their affairs. A rebellion such as the one taking place right now in this nation will only threaten their livelihood. If their people are inspired and rise up against the well off, then it would be nothing short of a disaster for those on top. Therefore... you are to instill within them a sense of FEAR."

And with these words, the man’s goal was laid bare.

"Fear of the rebellion which is spreading through this nation... fear of the destruction that it has reaped.. fear that it could happen to them as well."

He was a man of plotting, who would use any means necessary in order to achieve his goal.

"As soon as this fear takes root, anyone showing any sign of rebellion will be silenced by the masses themselves."

He would manipulate the hearts of people, grasping the values that they held dear and squeezing them dry for every last bit of use.

"Anyone willing to work with the rebels will be ostracized... and perhaps even deemed as traitorous."

And this shook Nerokov to the very core.

"If this fear is spread... then without a doubt the nation of Stronvardia will become a stronghold against this rebellion. And in the end... they will wish to ally with the crown, no matter how much of a fool he is."

Placing the hat on his head, the man nodded with a grin.

"Perhaps they would even assist us in defeating these rebels some day. Yet perhaps that too... is outside of my control."

With the wave of his hand, the man motioned towards the contract.

"But even so... fear of what is out of my control will not stop me from trying to expand the sphere which I do control."

Holding out a pen to Nerokov, the Commander grinned as he laid out his plans.

"Of course, in exchange, you will be granted safe passage, and all immigration paperwork will be easily taken care of. Now only one question remains."

Taking the pen, Nerokov looked down to the contract as he considered everything the man told him.

"Are you willing to give up your entire life in order to give that child a hopeful life?"

Yet without question, he signed.

Placing the pen down without batting an eye, the man stood up from his seat.

"Understood... Commander."

Holding the child tightly as he walked out, the man didn't say another word as he left.

The two soldiers at the door stood out of his way, allowing him to leave without question.

The door closed, and the man known as the Commander was left in his office as the building began to sway from the storm raging outside.

"So simple to control... aren't they? Men with hearts. And yet..."

Glancing upwards with immense bitterness in his expression, the eyes of the man known as the Commander became tired as they traced the patterns on the ceiling above.

Gripping his own chest, the man let out a sigh as he spoke quietly, his words barely a whisper.

"I just so happen to be one of them."