The morning sun rose like it had no idea what kind of bastards it was shining on.
Warm, lazy light spilled across the training yard of Tortilla's Imperial Barracks, bouncing off polished armor and half-washed boots.
Captain Vector Breckenridge, the so-called Stratamorph Cal'culus, walked through the gravel path with his hands behind his back not like a soldier, more like a bored philosopher forced to attend a parade.
Behind him, Marvy, his ever-complaining messenger, puffed and stumbled while carrying two scrolls and what looked suspiciously like a breakfast bun.
"Sir," Marvy muttered, "if they wanted me to run errands this early, they could've at least promoted me to Chief Running Bastard."
Vector didn't look back. "You're not a bastard, Marvy. You're a shrimp. A determined shrimp... hauling the empire's glorious paperwork."
"That's not funny."
"Neither is your face before sunrise."
Marvy groaned, tossing the bun in the air and catching it with his mouth. "You know, sir, some captains motivate their men with honor. You motivate me with insults."
"That's called balance," Vector said dryly. "Keeps the blood circulating."
They passed a squad of recruits doing sword drills. Vector's sharp eyes caught everything the uneven footwork, the hesitation before each strike. His humor dimmed slightly, though he kept walking.
The air around the barracks always smelled like oil and determination, with a hint of overcooked beans from the mess hall. To most soldiers, it smelled like duty. To Vector, it smelled like history waiting to repeat itself.
"Training looks sloppy today," Marvy commented.
"Not sloppy. Just scared." Vector's tone flattened. "Look at their shoulders. Too tight. They're expecting something."
"Rumors again?"
"Rumors don't tighten your jaw like that." Vector's gaze flicked toward the command tower rising above the field, banners fluttering lazily in the sun. "No… there's something coming. The council meeting's too sudden. Someone's planning a move."
Marvy raised an eyebrow. "Or maybe they're just bored."
Vector smirked faintly. "You ever seen generals get bored? They start wars for entertainment."
That got a laugh out of Marvy the kind that ends with a sigh.
As they neared the main barracks doors, the mood shifted. The noise of training quieted, the sound of boots on gravel replaced by the low hum of tension. Two guards saluted stiffly, eyes wide like they'd just seen a ghost who'd passed a combat exam.
Vector nodded back lazily. "Relax, soldiers. I'm not here to steal your breakfast."
One of them cracked a nervous smile. The other didn't.
"Gahhh," Marvy whispered. "Do they always look like that around you?"
"Fear's a form of respect," Vector said with a shrug. "Or indigestion."
They were nearly at the entrance when a young recruit rushed from around the corner, carrying a stack of gear half her size. She turned too quickly, tripped, and...
"Whoa...!"
The bundle of armor clattered to the ground in a spectacular metallic symphony.
Vector stopped just short of stepping on a helmet. The recruit froze, wide-eyed and pale, standing rigid as a spear. Her braid was slightly crooked, her hands trembling as she tried to salute.
"C-Captain Vector, sir!" she squeaked. "Apologies, sir! I didn't...." gahhh!"
She accidentally jabbed her thumb into her own eye socket.
Marvy snorted immediately. "Oh, gods above..."
"Don't," Vector said flatly. "Not one word, bastard."
Marvy bit his lip, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.
Vector turned his attention to the girl. "Name?"
"T-Tobara, sir! Recruit Tobara, 5th Division, assigned for orientation and.... and I think I just broke my thumb, sir."
Vector blinked once. "You'll fit right in."
Tobara's face went red as a sunset. She tried to straighten her posture, clutching the dropped armor awkwardly.
Vector crouched down, picked up one of the shoulder plates, and handed it back to her. "You nervous, Tobara?"
"Yes, sir!"
"That's good," Vector said calmly. "Means you haven't learned how to be stupid yet."
Marvy wheezed quietly.
Vector stood, brushing the dust off his coat. The sharp edge returned to his gaze brief but unmistakable. "Tell me something, recruit. How many guards were stationed outside the southern gate?"
Tobara blinked. "S-Sir?"
"You passed it two minutes ago," Vector said, voice low but measured. "I want to know what you saw."
Tobara's mouth opened and closed, thoughts scrambling. "U-Um... two? No three! Three guards! One was eating, the other was checking his rifle, and the last one... looked asleep, sir."
Vector smiled slightly. "Not bad."
Marvy frowned. "What's that about?"
"Observation test," Vector murmured. "You can't train a soldier who doesn't look at the world before she swings at it."
He started toward the door again, his voice trailing just loud enough for Marvy to hear:
"Maybe the army's not completely doomed after all."
...
The heavy wooden doors of the barracks swung open, creaking like they hadn't slept properly in years. Inside, the air was cooler a strange blend of ink, steel, and tension.
Rows of soldiers and officers moved about, voices low but urgent. The walls were lined with fading banners proud reminders of Tortilla's former glory. Now, they just looked tired.
Vector stepped in with Marvy and Tobara behind him. His boots made a slow, deliberate rhythm against the stone floor.
"Captain Vector Breckenridge," a guard announced stiffly. "Reporting for the council briefing."
"Yeah, yeah," Vector muttered. "Announce my breakfast next time while you're at it."
Marvy snorted quietly. Tobara was too nervous to breathe.
At the far end of the room stood Lieutenant Brentford, his posture so straight it could've been used to measure walls. His dark mustache twitched as he saw Vector approach.
"Breckenridge," Brentford said curtly. "I was starting to think you'd gotten lost on your way here."
"Almost did," Vector replied, glancing at the maze of corridors. "Whoever designed this shithole must've loved confusion."
Brentford's eyebrow twitched. "Watch your tone."
"Always do," Vector said with an easy grin. "Just not my words."
Before Brentford could answer, a commanding voice cut through the chatter.
"Enough, gentlemen."
The tone alone could silence thunder.
Colonel Edna Acdovitch strode forward, every step grounded in authority. Her silver-gray uniform bore the marks of countless campaigns, and the faint scar tracing her jawline looked like it had been carved by time itself.
Vector straightened instinctively, not out of fear but respect.
"Colonel Acdovitch," Brentford greeted stiffly.
"Lieutenant," she acknowledged. Then her piercing eyes shifted to Vector. "Captain Breckenridge. I trust your… reputation hasn't inflated your ego too much since the last campaign?"
Vector smiled faintly. "Not at all, ma'am. Ego's still at regulation size."
The corner of Edna's mouth twitched not quite a smile, but close enough to pass for approval.
"Good. Then let's get to work."
She turned toward the center table, where a large holographic map flickered to life. Blue light shimmered across the room, revealing the jagged borders of Tortilla and its neighboring territories.
Standing beside the console was a tall, dark-skinned man with tired eyes and ink-stained fingers. He adjusted his glasses nervously.
"This," Edna said, "is Strategist Furi Wetland, head of tactical mapping. He'll brief us."
Furi gave a small, polite nod. "A-ah, thank you, ma'am." He turned to the gathered officers, his voice uneven but earnest. "As you all know, the northern trade routes have been disrupted for three days. We've lost contact with two supply caravans no distress signals, no footprints, nothing."
"Raiders?" someone asked.
"Unlikely," Furi replied, swiping across the display. "Too clean. Raiders leave bodies, loot, fire. This... this looks like they vanished."
Vector crossed his arms. "Or were taken before they could scream."
A ripple of unease passed through the room.
Brentford frowned. "You think we're dealing with an organized enemy?"
Vector shrugged slightly. "If it walks like a bastard and hides like one maybe."
Marvy muttered, "Great, another ghost war."
Edna shot him a look sharp enough to cut granite. Marvy instantly straightened. "Ma'am."
Furi cleared his throat. "Satellite scans picked up unusual energy readings near the Rathos Valley, right here." He pointed at a glowing section on the map. "But the terrain there is... well, unstable. We've had reports of old mines collapsing, unpredictable weather anomalies..."
"Anomalies?" Vector repeated, his tone shifting from lazy to attentive. "What kind?"
"Electrical. Atmospheric distortions. Even magnetic interference strong enough to fry comms."
Vector's gaze lingered on the flickering map. The strategist in him was awake now every detail, every shadow of data, clicking together like gears in motion.
"Colonel," he said quietly, "if someone's hiding an operation, Rathos Valley would be the perfect place to do it. Too much noise for sensors, too little traffic to draw eyes."
Edna studied him for a moment. "And what do you suggest, Captain?"
He looked up, calm but certain. "Send a small recon squad. Fast, quiet, untraceable. Not a full unit too much noise. I'll take Marvy and…" He glanced toward Tobara, who stood awkwardly at attention. "…the recruit."
Tobara's eyes went wide. "M-me, sir?"
Vector nodded. "You've got a good eye. Let's see if it works outside barracks walls."
Brentford frowned. "That's highly irregular, Captain."
"War doesn't wait for regulations," Vector replied evenly.
A tense silence filled the room. Furi adjusted his spectacles, muttering under his breath, "He's got a point…"
Edna finally exhaled through her nose. "Very well. Captain Breckenridge you'll take your team and investigate the valley. Discretion first, engagement last. If there's something out there, I want proof before dawn tomorrow."
Vector saluted. "Understood, ma'am."
Edna's eyes narrowed just slightly. "And Vector?"
"Yes?"
"Try not to turn reconnaissance into another conquest."
He smiled. "No promises."
Later that afternoon…
The meeting had dispersed. Officers murmured among themselves, the echoes of strategy fading into the stone halls.
Vector lingered by the table, staring at the map still glowing faintly. Furi approached, holding a datapad.
"Captain, uh… about the valley," Furi said hesitantly. "Be careful. The last team we sent there never reported back."
Vector tilted his head. "Good to know."
"Seriously. There's something wrong with that place."
Vector gave a faint smirk. "Then it'll feel right at home with me."
He turned toward the doors, calling out, "Marvy! Grab your gear. And make sure the recruit doesn't trip over her own rifle."
From somewhere down the hall came Marvy's distant groan: "This is going to end badly, isn't it?"
Vector smiled to himself as he stepped into the sunlight. "Of course it is."