Fantasy As the Steam Rises

[Lord Mitmar]

'One fortnight. That's how long the cease-fire lasted. One damned fortnight. The bastards didn't even give us enough time to get the wounded back on their feet. We hold these borders like the whipped dogs we are, always looking to our masters, always following your orders without even a question of whether or not it was the right thing to do. How many people have died already, and for what? No one even remembers why we're fighting this bloody thing, this damned, bloody thing. Some of these boys haven't even heard from their families in three years. They're angry, and, frankly, sir, they have a right to be. What bloody madman decided to stop shipping their letters anyway? But, I digress. If we come under attack now, all our bloody geese are well and truly cooked, sir. We need more men, we need more rifles, more food, more medical supplies, more time. I'm sorry sir, but unless we get supplies flowing again -and soon- we're no better fighters than our wives and children back home. My men have begun scavenging, scavenging, for their dinners to make up for our supply deficit and they will continue to do so until I can promise them they won't go hungry. I beg of you; fix this damned mess before it spirals out of control.

Nikula, William M. First Lieutenant~ 57th Shield Division, Fort Saraceno.'

"Are you certain, sir?" The lanky, clean-shaven soldier asked incredulously as his deep-set eyes scanned the parchment in his calloused hands. "Of course I am," William confirmed absently, his slumped form still hanging over the polished desk beneath him. "No one's even paying attention to us, what the hell are they going to do about it if a disgruntled officer decides to take matters into his own hands? The paper will love this anyway. In fact; please send a copy of any further correspondence with our incompetent superiors to the Times." The grim runner shot his own superior a solemn nod but said nothing before taking his leave. "We'll die out here before they even get that..." William huffed as the tan cloth of his tattered vest nestled itself between his pale skin and the cold iron chair. It had been a long few weeks. The setting sun outside his dusty office window was a sure reminder that yet another day was passing, but the man paid no attention to its gleaming orange rays as he stood, moving like a man twice his age, and paced into the cold evening air.

Winter was here. Winter in Esperia. It had always felt like some kind of half-serious wive's tale, or maybe a fantastical dream back north. Here, though, along the hellish, uncertain borders of Arista, it was nothing short of a nightmare. Every year brought its bitter winds just as willingly as it did warmth. Frostbite could be almost as lethal as a bullet when left untreated, and it was often a hell of a lot harder to prepare for. Shipping lines were constantly destroyed and forged as the viciously unpredictable blizzards shifted and churned. One would think plans would be made to keep the troops warm, but one might also forget to account for the stupidity of the modern face of Esperian leadership. More men were wounded and killed by the weather itself than by the enemy once the snows fell, but nobody cared. It was just another figure for the happy couples back home to gloss over in their morning papers. Outside the stout little shack William was forced to call his home, a small collection of uniformed men marched in tight, uniform lines. Back and forth. Left and right. A turn here, a reversal there. It truly was a sight to behold, however small a sight it was.

The leader of the group, a tall, dark-skinned man who looked no older than twenty, broke off from the line with a shouted, "Pierce!", before coming to a stop before his grinning commander. Behind him, the new lead, Pierce, had picked up command and was now running with it. Soon the bouncing red uniforms broke off into two lines, each swerving around the other like a pair of massive snakes. "Sir." The corporal stated, his deep tones all business. "I see you've kept to schedule," William noted, his eyes panning over the small congregation. Twenty-seven men. A shockingly small number for a fortress as large as Saraceno. "We have, sir. When word came in that you spent last night with the wounded, Pierce and I thought it was the least we could do to keep everyone moving." He smiled, his peachy lips contrasting sharply with his browned skin. "Thank you, Markus."

"No, thank you. Doctor." The two nodded, acknowledging both the informality of Markus' words and William's own lack of caring. Formalities between the lieutenant and his troops had slowly died off, a byproduct of his willingness to personally oversee their medical treatment. One that another officer might not let pass, but one that William was more than willing to accept. "Oh, and sir?" He nodded, his moderate (though far exceeding protocol) bangs bouncing along. "You're needed in the ward, it's Jackson. He's 'frightfully ill.' That's what Moore said, anyway. You'd best get down there soon." Another nod. Another winter. Another sick man.

This was going to be a long war.

 

[Wonderlandess]

Cecilla tapped her nails against her skin as she stood outside of the discussion room, trying to figure out why she was being called in. Only a warrant officer, she didn't know why she was meeting with her father and the Director on formal business. She took out a deep breath as she knocked on the door, in her military attire with her pins and badges. She knocked three times, deafening though not too forceful, she was taught to make her presence known only stealth is needed. She counted the seconds in her head before she opened the door, stepping inside.

"-glad we're in agreeance then, though if there's a mistak-"

"There'll be no mistake on his part, Director."

"That's what you say now, Wallace."

Cecilla's eyes moved over her father and the Director, the only two in the room before she stood at attendance "Pardon the intrusion, I was called upon." she spoke, hand in saluting position and she didn't move, staying stock still until she heard it

"At ease, Lockheart"

Cecilla moved her hand immediately, instead now standing at attention with her hands behind her back like any soldier had learned to do.

"Permission to speak freely?"

"Permission granted."

"What am I doing here, sir?", she questioned, looking between both of them. One glance from her father and another to the Director. Normally she wouldn't see her father on a profession business since they were different divisions. Heck, most people didn't even realize they were related. She favored to take her mother's maiden name to honor her maternal lineage while in the military due to her mother's history of past generals and leaders. Due to them being powerful influencers, it was allowed. Besides, she didn't want to hear whispers that she got where she was due to her last name of Wallace. One of the reasons why she wanted to enter a different division. Her father wanted her to enter it just so he would have more influencing power. Later on, the ideal was she would become the representation for the army while her father was still the navy, then he, her father, would have two different factions to use to push his ideals since she would be considered only a vessel/puppet.

"You are to be sent to Saraceno-"

"-As First Lieutenant"

It was just like the Director to steal the "good" bit of news, he left the neutral, irrelevant, and bad news for other people to tell. Still, that didn't stop both the shock and joy that came from this news. First Lieutenant? She would never have guessed she'll be First Lieutenant of the army at only 21! Then came the further impact. She was being transferred to Saraceno.

"By the border?"

"None other than that one"

To be first lieutenant of Saraceno was nearly a terrible joke. The last time she had glanced at their numbers, there were not even thirty men there. It was like being King of an island. It wasn't much, but at least she had the title and she'll move up or transfer eventually after that so long as she can at least keep that border safe and in Esperia's favor.

"I am deeply grateful for this opportunity", she added, bowing down "I humbly accept promotion" it was still an amazing promotion regardless of the little details.

"It was because of your father"

and there it was, she knew it hadn't been on her merits alone. She knew her father had to have his hand in this some sort of way. She knew he'll hold it over her head in some way later on.

"Thank you....Chief"

"Don't thank him to that extent, you have made great strides in your career, Lockheart, for a woman that is." The Director said nonchalantly, leaning back in his chair.

Cecilla didn't even flinch, she was used to these kinds of comments from those who knew her true sex. Aside from her mother, her father, the director, and whoever else made her almost painfully aware that she's doing well for someone of the female sex. "Thank you, Director" she said, standing up straight "When do I depart?"

"In a day, so go pack all your things."

Cecilla saluted both of them again "Thank you, permission to depart?" "Permission Granted".

"Oh and Cecil, you know what will happen if anyone finds out about that, correct?"

"...sir, yes sir" she commented before turning and walking out of the room. She didn't stop until she was back in her quarters, and it finally set in. She was transferring as a First Lieutenant, her mother would be so proud of her. She began packing her bags, fitting everything between all of her outfits, possessions, strategies, and maps into three cases before getting into a car. She traveled for the next few days in that, with a driver she said maybe ten words to. She arrived at the Fort within a few days, a letter had been sent prior of her arrival stating she'll be coming though it still seemed unreal.

Cecil headed into camp, looking around as her eyes took in the near desolate look of it. Perhaps this was too big of a fort for a mere 27 people. She pulled her jacket tighter, it was a little chillier than she had expected it to be. She walked to the first private she saw, secret platform boots gave her an extra four inches of height, making her 5'10" instead when she put them on.

"I want every man in this fort in the yard" she commanded

"And who might you be?"

"First Lieutenant, Lockheart. Now get to it" she spoke in a cold tone, glancing at the man with serious eyes, she needed to make an introduction. Something she's been attempting to practice in her mind the entire ride there.

"y-yes sir" the soldier went off, and Cecilla headed to the yard, standing with her hands behind her back, legs slightly spread as she counted the seconds it took for her order to be completed for future use.

 

[Lord Mitmar]

"~And I won't lie, he's going to feel worse than shit for a few days. I can spare maybe a day's worth of painkillers if he really needs them..." William couldn't help but mutter some -rather excessive- profanities as he looked over the tiny yellowing paper that, quite unnervingly, managed to list the entirety of Saraceno's medical stocks. His eyes darted back to the private's slumped form. The poor kid was barely old enough to be out of school, yet here he was. One foolishly placed step during his patrol, a few deep gashes as rolled down the deceptively steep hills around the fort, it didn't seem like it was much, but ou here, even the tiniest of blunders could mean death. One of his scratches, a surprisingly unassuming one along his forearm, had been infected. As usual, his pride kept the man away from the help he needed until it was nearly too late. It had been a rough surgery. The corroded skin seemed unnaturally adept at slipping around William's blade, it had taken a good hour to saw away the worst of it. An hour of intense focus for the operator, and one of absolute agony for the patient. Thankfully he'd passed out early. Operating without sedatives was a nasty business. William's assistant, a sparky, excitable kid, had proven himself helpful enough, but he was obviously horrified by the whole thing. "Alright, sir. I'll make sure... He... Y-you know." The kid murmured, his normally clear, brown eyes clouded by worry. William laid a steady hand on his shoulder, giving him a reassuring, "He'll be fine, Hutchins." before turning to the hurried-looking private who'd just burst through the ward's thick, oaken door. His hand fell to his side, leaving a dark red copy of itself where it had been. Neither surgeon payed much mind to their blood-soaked hands.

"Sir, there's a First Lieutenant Lockheart waiting for you -us- in the courtyard. H-he just showed up, sir, I'm sorry, none of us even saw him coming." He nodded, shooting a look at the downed man before rushing off as fast as he had arrived. William swore. He'd completely forgotten, Lockheart's arrival wasn't exactly unannounced, he did receive a letter about it yesterday... Or was it two days ago? Either way, he should have paid closer attention to the heavy-handed writing. All he'd actually noted was that he wasn't in charge anymore. He shot his own glance toward Jackson, knowing all too well that part of his removal from command was because of his little kingdom's losses. He was no military genius, and there was no doubt that some of his bad calls had gotten men killed. Still, everyone in his tiny company knew that he was doing better than most officers would, given the circumstances. Unfortunately, the top brass didn't seem to see things the same way. After a moment of hesitation, he spun away from the slumbering trooper and marched into the cold air once again, assistant at his heels, blood red hands swinging in unison.

The courtyard was already, well, not exactly 'filled', but a quick bit of counting showed that everyone was here, besides Jackson. Twenty-seven riflemen. They each stood in the usual pose, hands clasped behind themselves and feet spread slightly, but each also held their chests just a little further outward, their heads just a little higher. They were proud. Proud to serve under a man who treated them as equals. Proud to show that, against everything this newcomer had been told, they weren't some wounded puppy. They were still soldiers. Prouder and bolder than them all was Markus, his charred skin making him stand out like a sore thumb. He was a better second in command than anyone could ask for, and he was obviously looking to keep that title. He'd dealt with racism before, and, while the men that flanked him held nothing but respect for him, he was more than justified in his worry that this new officer might strip him of his job for even the smallest reason. William sidled up next to him, eyes locked on the officer before him. There was a palpable tension in the air, and it was so unusually silent that a dropped pin would ring out like a cannon. For a long moment, they stood there, spaced apart slightly in a wide, but tight square. Three rows, nine men per row, with William in front and his assistant taking up the rear.

"First Lieutenant Nikula." He spoke, even his soft words ringing in the silence. No one moved. The blood dripped slowly from his bare hands, staining the ground below him with each passing second. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Reporting for duty." Another pause, still no one said anything. It was as if time itself had frozen in place. "Sir." That did it. The men behind him still didn't actually move, but they seemed to bristle more than before. He'd just confirmed their fears. William himself didn't share their anger, not anymore. He had nearly torn apart his office when he first realised he'd lost his power, but, here, now, he was simply too tired. "I apologise for the delay." He glanced down at his bloodied shirt. Idly noting just how ridiculous he must look. Nothing about him really shouted 'officer', from his tired gaze to his absolutely horrific dress, he looked far more the part of a poor butcher. "What can I do for you?"

 

[Wonderlandess]

Cecilla let out a sigh as she stared over the male, staring over the men as they slowly lined up. She glanced around the fort, then to the persons. She let out a huff as she dropped her head, rubbing at her temple. When she glanced up she saw both good and bad thing. Good being these soldiers looked strong. Seemingly, they've been through enough. They had to be disciplined. She walked down the aisles, glancing up and down the soldiers as she took in their appearances. She stopped in front of Markus for a moment, looking down to his uniform looking for his rank. She noticed his rank before looking back up to him, staring him in his eyes before she turned away, saying nothing. She returned to the front, standing in front of their lines as she counted their numbers.

Twenty-seven men, two medics including what had been the first Lieutenant, and her. Was this really an improvement? For a new first lieutenant, she had her work cut out for her. She glanced over to Nikula when he spoke, silence from her. She hadn't spoken a single word since she had arrived before she let out a sigh. Excitement and nervousness fueled her. Her eyes moved down to his bloodied shirt, letting out a sort of tsk noise. What had the bloody hell happened? "Jesus, what happened to the man?" she questioned.

She shook her head, holding up a hand before speaking once more "This will be a discussion we have later. I also want a list of all stock we have of everything: ammunition, medical, and every man's names as soon as possible after I have dismissed you".

She cleared her throat, stepping back as she looked at the men, her men. She'll do her anything she can do with them. It was her ideas they would follow. That exciting idea obviously came with responsibilities. She had their lives in her hands. One slip up and they could be decimated. So she needed to know every single last bit of information. She knew the basics: the number of men, the station's layout, the environment, and the situation.

"Gentlemen, I am Cecil Alexander Lockheart. You have been notified of my arrival for some days, and as of this very moment, I am taking the time to make myself clear. There will be changes" she spoke in a clear, loud voice. Something she's always been instructed in ever since she started training.

"I will not tolerate opposition. Those who rebel will face me. I am your prosecutor, jury, and judge and my word will be law. Complain all you want about this, but your complaints are meaningless.".

She paused for a moment, taking off her hat while exposing the color: silver. Her hair was braided and pinned in the back so it couldn't be seen. Not that it fully mattered anyway, Middle- to Upper-class men grew out their hair. That was her 'reason' for having long hair anyway. The dyed Silver was of course for the color of their nation and she did it as her way of honoring it, as some others do as well.

"Esperia is my heart, my soul, and my home. Every day, I wake up and thank god I can call myself an Esperian. I want to see pride in you all for the place you call home. And with any man's home, it is your God-given duty and right to protect these lands.As soldiers, you must be willing to lay down your lives for our country. I expect you to act in the highest regards as well so that Esperia can be proud calling you the men who defend it." Cecilla set her cap back on her head, putting it on correctly.

"I want to meet with every single one of you over the next week, I will oversee all your training and feedings. Duties of maintenance will be divided equally among you on a bi-weekly decision unless cleaning is given as a punishment for some offense."

Her blue eyes focused on the fort itself, looking at it again "When I had been told of my transfer, I was nearly speechless. The Director had placed me in charge of twenty nine men, smaller than a normal classroom, in a fort on the Border of us and the country we're fighting, in the middle of winter. What am I to think? Obviously, I must have done something in my past life to deserve this but-"

she paused for a moment, pursing her lips as she stepped forward "that was before I've been able to do my full diagnostic of the situation.". She walked up to Nikula, once more staring down at his bloody shirt "I see a First Lieutenant who had given his damn best to fulfill the commands he was given. If he didn't, half of you wouldn't be here nor would you seem to hold him in such high regard" she had noticed the way they acted when Nikula submitted and called her sir. "And for the rest of you, I have seen many soldiers in my years. Young, old, black, white, rich, poor, but my god, I have never seen soldiers with as much pride as you all and deserve it".

She stepped back, pacing in front of the three lines "For you all to manage to keep this fort alone with the number of men you have, I give you my respect".

She stopped, standing in the middle again before she spoke, "The discipline and selflessness that has been ingrained into your minds, no man or woman who has never been in war will understand this part about you. This will never go away nor will the relationships of brothers and memories. I swear on my life, however, I will do everything in my power to make sure that years from now, each and every single one of you will have the chance to reminisce about these times with full and utter pride. That is a promise I am willing to make and the only one I can give with full confidence when I say those words".

She cleared her throat once more to finish the last of her speech "I will be rearranging whatever schedule you all have so for the rest of the day, you can resume whatever you were doing prior to this, and I will notify you when the new schedule is finished. Dismissed.". Cecil walked over to Nikula, eyes glancing back to his "Show me my new office and I want all the things I requested before." she spoke, waiting for him to lead her there.

 

[Lord Mitmar]

He didn't seem to notice it, but Cecil's words hung in the air like the threat of incoming artillery. Whether or not anyone wanted to admit it, the men of Fort Saraceno had grown used to First Lieutenant Nikula's leadership style. He had never thought of these troops as his men. Instead, he had thought himself to be a part of them. He never forced them to do anything he wouldn't, he refused to put up any kind of scheduling, and he sure as hell didn't threaten them. This new man. This new prick. Lockheart. He hadn't even taken the time out of his little speech to let the (quite literally) bloody medic so much as say whether or not the poor bastard in the sick bay would survive. Not only was their new commander starting day one with an iron fist, he was completely glossing over their wounded. This was a damned insult. Two years ago, when the fort came under a direct assault by an entire infantry battalion, Nikula led them to victory, not by staying at the back shouting orders, but by fighting at the front. Trusting that his men could fend for themselves if they had someone to rally around. They repelled that attack, they shed blood for the stones beneath their feet, they were the heroes that day. Six men died that day, but they didn't die fighting for some high-and-mighty academy officer, they died fighting alongside their brothers. Rank, race, religion, none of it mattered here. Not when it came down to it. Nikula was there for them, hell, he kept a good dozen of them alive, doing everything he could to treat their wounds and comfort their worries between hails of gunfire. They weren't loyal to him because he was some tactical genius. They were loyal to him because he was loyal to them.

It was an almost imperceptible sound, but it was there. A few of the men closest to Lockheart were shifting their weight, balling their fists as the Lieutenant turned his speech to the respect he felt for them. He had no damned right to talk about respect. His crisp collar, his polished boots. He probably hadn't seen a single battlefield in his entire life. Hearing his boots pacing further away, William turned to lock eyes with the four men who looked closest to violence. His sombre gaze was enough to subdue them, for now. They fell back into their resting positions. What the hell is this guy doing? The newly demoted surgeon thought to himself, there was no way this Cecil was actually this self-righteous. This had to be a test. When the silver-haired man finally wrapped up his act, the assembled men stayed stock still, all still awaiting the order they knew was coming. William turned to face them, slowly. Defiantly. His eyes only leaving Lockheart's obviously agitated face when it was no longer in view. He gave the assembly a curt nod, though he couldn't wipe the tiny grin from his expression. "You heard the man. Dismissed."

Most of the men shuffled off to the fort's barracks. A few headed out through the massive iron gate, their rifles having appeared strapped to their shoulders as though by magic. Hutchins scrambled off to the medical ward, shooting William a concerned glance before slipping away. William himself turned to pace alongside his new commander. Carefully recalling his extremely limited knowledge of the proper procedures for telling a pompous twit that there wasn't actually a proper officers' barracks. "Sir, I-" He started, considering apologising for the troops' resistance, but that thought fizzled out before he could properly formulate it. Never one to fluster himself, he changed plans and continued with a nearly nonexistent pause. "-really must warn you, our inventory isn't exactly what you might expect. With the winters coming in, Command is incredibly reluctant to actually ship what we need, I mean, for fuck's sake, I just got done operating on a man I couldn't sedate." They had reached what had been serving as William's office for the past year and a half, the tiny, messy little hut that some deranged architect had shoved in the corner of the fort's original design. He stepped forward, pulling the stout little door open and holding it that way as Lockheart passed through.

"This is my office, sir. Er, was. Rather. It's yours now." He gestured vaguely around the little room. Hand passing over the desk, chair, two short shelving units, and a dusty mirror. Oh, and the absolute mess of papers covering every inch of the place, though, thankfully not including the floor. "I can have everything moved out by tomorrow if you want sir. I'm afraid there's no bunk, I've always slept in the barracks myself. There~" His words caught in his throat for a split moment as he thought back to Jackson. 'Poor bastard' didn't even begin to describe him. "There's a bunk open, for now." He gave a quick glance towards himself. Judging by the amount of blood the owner lost, that particular bunk might just be open forever. Then again, he was a tough kid. He might just pull through. Still busy wrestling with his own fears, William hadn't even noticed Lockheart. He was reading through a few of the notes that had been left open on his new inferior's old desk. A red-hot spike of rage shot through the weary soldier, and he was only just able to redirect his fist before it connected with the man, instead, slamming it into the desk itself, sending several bits of parchment flying.

"I'm going to take this time to make myself clear. Sir." He snarled, his voice bordering on the feral as he wrenched the papers from Cecil's hands. "You may be calling the shots around here, but that does not give you any right to breach the confidentiality I've promised my patients. Some of these men have gone through more than you or I ever will, and, with all due respect," Even the old formality managed to sound like a brand new insult now. "sir, if The Director himself asked for these letters, I'd tell him to sod off. I'm no psychologist, but I'm the only one around here this lot can turn to. If they ask for my help, I'm going to do my damnedest to give it to them, and, unless they tell me otherwise, I'm going to do absolutely everything I can to keep their need quiet." He breathed. He paled. He looked down. "I-I'm sorry sir, I-I just... I can't let you read these..." He stood straight again, staring into the man's odd sky-blue eyes. "I don't keep inventory reports here. They're down in the sickbay, but, sir, we shouldn't go in there now. I've got a man resting there. Give it a day, please." His tongue hung on that word. Please. It could so often be so condescending, so rude, yet, despite his anger, he could only hear a genuine plea in his own tone. He stared at his opposite number, letters from scared and homesick soldiers still clutched in his stained hand, that word still hanging in the air. Please.

 

[Wonderlandess]

She let out a sort of annoyed sigh when she noticed ever so slightly how the men didn't even seem to move when she had said dismissed. Was her speech no good? Damn, she had been attempting to work on it the entire ride there, she knew she was never good at words. She reached up to push some loose pieces of her hair down, smoothing it out. She glanced back to Nikula before she glanced back to him. "No sedation?" she looked back to his bloody shirt, something had to have been cut off, there was no way it could be anything else. "And did he survive?" she questioned, not quite knowing which man he was speaking about. Which was why she wanted a list of all of their names and meetings with them all. She needed to get a feel of every one to better understand the atmosphere. At least, she hoped she had time.

She stopped mid-step when she entered the office because it was a complete mess. Not only that, but there was no bunk. Where would she sleep? She stepped around for a moment, shaking off his offer "It's fine, I didn't bring much with me, all furniture and things can stay" before she heard him mention the barracks. She bit her lip for a moment, trying to figure out what she would do. "Bunk from where? That man in the infirmary?" she questioned idly as she reached to look at some of the papers that were just there. "Leave that bunk for him, it is his. I'd rather take a cot from the infirmary and sleep in here" she commented. She figured the cots could fold up or whatnot, and she'll figure out how to fit it in. She didn't, or rather she couldn't sleep in the barracks. Not with every man in this damn fort. She was worried she'd get caught, or someone might accidentally (or on purpose) go through her things and find some...not so manly things in there. She didn't realize that it can come off as sort of an asshole-ish response that she wouldn't sleep in the same room of those that would be under her. She just couldn't get caught.

She wondered for a moment as she read some of the papers if the Director did this on purpose. Did he want her to fail? What had she done? She must not be in favor or else he would've gotten her an easier fort or task for her first job as Lieutenant. Perhaps, he was simply trying to test her and her resolve. This would keep Cecilla up for some nights as she tried to make some sense of this situation. What were these papers anyway? Her eyes widened ever so slightly when she read the first few sentences of some and just as quickly as she had started to read, the papers were snatched away.

Cecilla's eyes widened, turning to Nikula before they narrowed, had he no respect? No, he must lack some common sense if he seriously just snatched papers from his official. She crossed her arms, waiting for him to finish as she stared coldly at him, blue eyes staring into his brown eyes. "Nikula, I expect for you to know your place and have some common sense. I very well understand the damn confidentiality of patients to their medic, but that does not count when the paperwork is left haphazardly in an office belonging to me now." she growled, thoroughly annoyed by these events "Do not get smart with me when it was your fault for leaving their business on a desk just opened. You've had a few days now to clear out your things and organize, do not blame me as if I had purposefully gone through a folder labeled patient's letters when in fact I had just picked up a paper on a desk" she commented.

"Do not speak of the Director in that manner, it could be labeled a sign of insubordination in a time of war. Best watch your steps," she added before huffing when he mentioned where the inventory papers were. "Now why would they be in there? I expect you to get that paperwork and give them to me to be kept in here. There's no reason to keep anything but a medical inventory report in the bay.." she commented exasperated though as she glanced back to the man in front of her, "Tomorrow, retrieve those for me, today, however, you will clean up all this damn paperwork and place it in a proper place. I'd rather you keep these in the sickbay, but I'll allow for you to place them in one of these drawers so long as it's organized and I'm not accused of reading them and breaching confidentially on purpose by anyone in this camp again.".

Cecilla turned, intending to get her bags "I'm getting my things, As the medic, I'm suspecting your patient isn't medicated even now, is he? He'll go through hell when he wakes up, arguably worse than the surgery itself due to soreness and such. I might have some alcohol you can give him. Better to be drunk than sober with pain no? Unless as his medic, you say no." she shrugged at that, her eyes nearly empty as she seemingly could go one way or another "In exchange if you should say yes, I want you to spread throughout this camp that no one is allowed to step a foot into this room if I'm in it without knocking and waiting for my permission. I don't care if half this damn camp is on fire, I still expect a knock." she added, her eyes cold and serious. Mainly she just didn't want them to walk in and see her not ready and possibly naked or underdressed. She couldn't get caught, it'll be the end of her career and much more. She couldn't have that.