Mataram watched the higher-ranking knights discuss their plans. He was back in the Commander's stone tent too often for his liking. Every time they gathered, it meant their plans went haywire. It was the sixth time they had gathered. He ignored their bickering and focused on the map on the table before him.

Their army, represented by green figurines, covered the majority of the map. The tables have turned compared to a year ago; now, the Western Alliance's brown figures were surrounded. However, they still controlled the port and only grew fiercer as they began to be boxed in.

"We need the navy," a knight said, his voice sure. "They are bombarding our troops with canons from the sea every time we attempt to advance."

Commander Ezra pinched the bridge of his nose. "As I have repeatedly said, Zafri. HQ has denied our request for a navy bombardment. The navy is busy on other fronts," he grumbled in frustration. "And what little ships they had spared are occupied guarding our supply route at sea."

"Then how do they expect us to accomplish this!?" Zafri yelled. "Pray for a miracle!? Sacrifice more kids!?"

Commander Ezra did not take the outburst personally. Everyone here was on edge. Pressure from HQ to take over the island has continued to increase. They did not seem to care for the lives lost. He looked to the youngest member in the room, whose eyes were fixed on the map in concentration. The rat may have been considered a man by the Empire's standards. But to Commander Ezra, he was still a kid- a boy. Since when did they stoop so low and begin sending kids to die?

Ezra's second in command broke the silence.

"He's right, Commander," Amaba echoed, agreeing with Zafri's thoughts, her brows creased in frustration. "Even if by some miracle our knights can take the port, how in Garuda's name are we supposed to hold it? They would bombard us to death from the sea."

"The Western Alliance have lost the support of the majority of the locals," Isha reminded the gathered knights. "Surely we could use that to our advantage."

"It's not that simple anymore," Nakri shook his head. "The Western Alliance has eliminated the Dayaks under their control. They have a kill-on-sight order. The locals' motivation to help us is gone."

"Barbarians," Isha cursed.

"And we can't force them to fight for us either," Nakri continued. "They would turn on us as they did the Western Alliance. A three-sided war is not what we want."

"We can use the tunnels," Mataram suggested for the first time. All eyes turned to the Special Lieutenant, surprised to see him speak up.

Mataram saw Commander Ezra's hands clenched into fists. "Go on, Special Lieutenant," The Commander ordered.

"We use the locals to form new tunnels from the mountain under our control and to the port," Mataram continued, tracing his finger on the map. "We can make a deal with the Dayaks. Trade with them for their services. And give the Western Alliance a taste of their own medicine."

The Commander grimaced at Mataram's suggestion.

"Bad plan," Isha retorted. "The Western Alliance had the locals fighting for them. For us, it'll be only our rats versus the entirety of the Western Alliance. You'll be massacred."

Mataram nodded at Isha's reasoning. "We can attack at night and buy time for the rest of the knights to march straight for the port," he suggested. "Deceive our enemies into thinking it was only a skirmish. I doubt their ships would bombard their own position."

"And if they do?" Commander Ezra spoke, his voice a low grumble.

Mataram grimaced, but he continued. "Then we'll rule the island. Their port would be destroyed, and their troops on the island would be left to our mercy. We can rebuild the port with time."

Commander Ezra's face was grim, clearly displeased by Mataram's plan.

"It's pretty apparent, Commander. We're never going to conquer the island by being risk averse."

Commander Ezra sighed, unclenching his fists. Mataram looked at him. The Commander looked old, but Mataram was certain the older man felt older than his years at this moment.

The Commander sat down on his chair, closing his eyes. The plan was solid, but he contemplated the lives that would be lost. The other knights stayed silent, waiting for him to speak.

"I won't order it," Commander Ezra finally said. He gazed at the Special Lieutenant. The boy was still so young. "I've ordered troops to missions that would mean certain death. But this," he pointed at the Special Lieutenant, "has too little chance of success. It sounds more like suicide."

Mataram wanted to retort but held his tongue as the wooden door behind them slammed open with a bang. All the knights immediately turned to face the door. The ringing of metal on leather echoed as everyone unsheathed their weapons.

"What is the meaning of this?" Commander Ezra shouted. His eyes widened, and his skin paled as he saw the figure by the doorway.

Mataram's hands shook as he saw the man. The man was tall, with broad shoulders and a clean-shaven face. His black hair was neatly tied in a tight bun. His muscular chest was bare, clothed only with baggy green trousers that were tight at the ankles and a short gold sarong around his waist. Mataram was immediately drawn to the gold kelat rings above the man's biceps. It was carved with the symbol of the Garuda. As the man entered, the atmosphere grew oppressive. The knights made way for the man as he approached the desk.

"Bhayangkara," Mataram muttered, as the Bhayangkara walked passed him.

"Commander Ezra of the Badai front," the Bhayangkara spoke to the knight behind the desk. His voice was average, neither low nor high, but carried an aura of finality. "You are ordered to return to HQ and await new orders."

Commander Ezra looked conflicted by the Bhayangkara's orders. His hands tightened into fists. With age came experience and wisdom. Virtues that had guided him well during his time in Badai. But it also came with stubbornness when a younger knight gave him orders.

The Commander's face darkened, his lips pressing into a thin line as he struggled to contain his frustration. His eyes burned with a mix of disbelief and barely restrained fury.

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"Dismissed?" he seethed, his voice low but trembling with suppressed anger. "After everything I've done—everything I've sacrificed?"

The Bhayangkara did not seem bothered by the Commander's response. He locked his gaze on the Commander. "You are not... dismissed," he said calmly, pausing before hissing the last word. "The Empire has recognised and seeks to reward you for your decades of service. Do not let your pride be your downfall," the Bhayangkara said, his final words cold with warning.

"This is a disgrace!" the Commander barked, his voice echoing through the stone tent. After all I've endured—after all, I've given—this is how you repay me?" He glared at the Bhayangkara.

"Yes, Commander," the Bhayangkara replied. "The Empire seeks to reward and repay you, not punish."

Matarm watched Commander Ezra's fists clenching at his sides as the man stood up from his seat, glaring daggers at the Bhayangkara. For a moment, it seemed he might argue further, but instead, he drew a sharp breath, forcing himself to maintain a facade of composure. He darted from his desk towards the door. The Commander's steps paused as he reached the tent's threshold. He looked back over his shoulder to the knights that had gathered. His expression distorted as his gaze swept over the assembled knights. There was sadness, regret, and worry, Mataram recognised. Commander Ezra left without another word.

The Bhayangkara calmly stepped behind the desk and looked at the map below. "Who is the new commanding officer?" asked him calmly.

"M..Me, Colonel Amaba, Bhayangkara," Amaba saluted, addressing the man with his title and rank.

The Bhayangkara looked up with disinterest at the woman before returning his gaze to the map.

Mataram could only stare at the Bhayangkara. He had only seen them once, previously at the academy. Was he here to fight with them? Mataram's mind whirled with stories of how Bhayangkara were one-person armies. With one at their side, they'll flush the enemies out of the island in less than a day.

"Do you know why Commander Ezra was recalled, Colonel?" the Bhayangkara asked, his voice soft but cold.

"N..No," Amaba stuttered.

"Many reasons," the Bhayangkara replied nonchalantly. "He has been away too long. He had forgotten what we were fighting for. Do you understand?

"Yes, Bhayangkara," Amaba gulped.

Mataram felt sympathy for the Colonel; it seemed she was getting the short stick. But another side of him felt jealous. He envied that she was receiving the Bhayangkara's attention no matter how negative.

The Bhayangkara sighed. "No, you don't," he stated.

The knights in the room tensed and began to shift their thoughts elsewhere, afraid that the Bhayangkara may be a Visioner and prying their minds.

"The Commander has begun to grow too attached to the knights here," the Bhayangkara continued. "Afraid to take the difficult decisions to achieve his objectives. He had forgotten that we are fighting for the future of humanity, and sacrifice is a necessity."

Amaba did not speak and nodded instead.

The Bhayangkara raised his head slightly and met his cold gaze to Amaba's black eyes. "But do you know what his greatest failure was?" he snarled with a low voice.

"No, sir," Amaba shook her head nervously. "I mean, Bhayangkara," she corrected immediately.

"I'll spell it out for you," the man replied in a low whisper. "He did not spare a thought for the soldiers that are dying across the other lines due to his failure to act. He caused more deaths on our side than he realised. And he did not even spend a second to think about the consequences of his failures."

Amaba nodded furiously like one of those wayang hand puppets. "Understood, Bhayangkara."

"Don't repeat his mistakes," the Bhayangkara hissed, "Commander." He returned his gaze to the map when he saw the newly promoted Commander Amaba nodding in a salute. "I will remain here and help you take the port. I will leave it up to you to hold the archipelago."

"Yes, Bhayangkara," she saluted. "Your orders, sir?"

The man taught for a moment, studying the map carefully. "Who was the one that suggested the plan for the tunnel attack?" he asked.

All eyes shifted to Mataram. The Bhayangkara's gaze followed. Mataram's heart pounded as he realised the Bhayangkara's attention was on him. This was his chance. His second chance to prove himself under the eyes of a Bhayangkara.

"It was mine, sir," Mataram stepped forward from the back and saluted.

The Bhayangkara nodded approvingly and shifted his gaze to Amaba. "Make it happen," he ordered. "Begin preparations for an assault three days from now. I've wasted time enough being here as it is." Without another word, he left the command tent.

The knights in the room exhaled the breath they had not realised they had been holding.

Isha propped an arm on Mataram's shoulder, leaning against him. "That was something," she muttered.

"Yeah," Mataram replied, still in awe that the Bhayangkara had approved his plans.

"Don't know about you lot. But I don't think I want to go through that again," Nakri breathed.

"At least now, with him here, our plan has a higher chance of success," Zafri added, still regaining his breath.

"Tshchk," Amaba sucked her teeth. "Agreed, Nakri."

She looked down at the desk, ignoring the map. Commander Ezra had left his things behind, and she doubted he would bother to retrieve them. He probably thought it would help her. It was her desk now, and also technically the tent and the things inside.

"Begin preparations!" she barked her order.

"Yes, Commander!" the other four knights saluted.

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Captain Katas wondered why he was suddenly summoned back to the command tent when Commander Sarasat had just ordered him to fortify the trenches two hours ago. He lifted the green collars of his dirty white coat higher, shielding his face from the winter wind. The blizzard was thick and fast, and his vision was limited to a meter. His boots dug deep into the snow after every step. He'll lose another toe at this point.

The path back to the Command tent was marked with tall stakes, a blessing as the stone path beneath had long been covered by a few meters of ice and snow. As he approached where the different paths heading to the Command tent merged, he saw several fresh footprints.

That can't be good, he thought. It was never good if the Commander summoned all the higher-ranking knights on short notice. He approached the Command tent. He wondered why they called that ice structure a tent. Igloo would be more appropriate.

"Hurry up, Captain," a woman's voice echoed in his mind.

Katas cringed at the voice. Commander Sarasat was a master visioner, so he was not unfamiliar with telepathy. But that voice was not Sarasat's. And it carried an aura of absolution. A silent threat. He shivered more as he hurried into the tent, the cold wind biting into his unshielded face.

His freezing white face paled as he entered the command tent. The three other knights who had been part of Commander Sarasat's council stood silently in a salute, arms behind their backs. An unfamiliar woman sat in Sarasat's chair with her legs propped up on the desk. His gaze fixed on the woman, ignoring the tall blonde man behind her. She had straight black hair cut short above her shoulders. Her white coat was standard-issue like everyone else's, but his eyes were immediately drawn to the gold sumpings on her ears. The sumping ornament made the top of her ears look sharp, and he immediately knew who she was- or, more precisely, what she was.

"Bhayangkara," he saluted, his heart pounding in his chest. This was bad—really bad. He recalled the words Commander Sarasat had told him a few months ago when they had realised that their situation was dire and would only continue to deteriorate. He had asked why she had not requested the aid of a Bhayangkara if their impossible order was so important.

"You don't request the help of a Bhayangkara," Commander Sarasat had explained. "They come on their own. And when a Bhayangkara arrives, it means that the situation is worse than the worst you can imagine. And that we fucked up."

Katas gulped as he continued to salute.

"Glad you can finally join us," the woman spoke to him. Her voice was smooth and melodic but carried a sharp edge of danger.

"Apologies," Katas shuddered. "I was not expecting to be called back so soon."

The woman raised an eyebrow at him. Then, she gestured to the other knights that had gathered earlier than him.

Katas wanted to slap himself, but he forced himself to straighten instead. "It won't happen again, Bhayangkara," he said, his voice level.

The woman must have been using her abilities because she snorted. Commander Sarasat had told him that no Visioner could read minds, but Katas thought it would be prudent when standing before a Bhayangkara. Happy thoughts, he said internally. Happy thoughts.

"Since you're all here," the woman began, slowly lifting her feet from the desk and leaning forward, her hands clasped together on the desk. Her sharp gaze swept the room. "Let me make this clear: I am in charge for the next few days. I will succeed where your former commander so miserably failed to deliver," her voice cold and absolute. "Any questions?"

Katas raised a hand. He felt like a child in school again, asking permission from the teacher to speak.

"Yes?" the woman asked.

"Should we wait for Commander— I mean, Sarasat?" he asked, remembering how the Bhayangkara had used the word 'former.'

"She's not here," the Bhayangkara answered. "Would you like to know where she is?"

Her question felt like a trap, but Katas nodded anyway. He respected Commander Sarasat; she cared about her soldiers.

"Dismissed," the Bhayangkara hissed. "That's where she is."

Katas gulped as he nodded.

Her gaze swept the entire room, seeing if anyone else would waste her time with unnecessary questions. Nobody raised a hand.

"Good," she said, stretching a hand to the blond man behind her.

He handed her a scroll. She unrolled it on the desk, revealing a map of their and the enemy's positions. Four knives floated behind her and stabbed into the wooden desk, pinning the map flat. The map had drawings on it. She had marked the enemies' trench lines, weaknesses, and supply lines.

"Idiot," she cursed beneath her breath. "You hear that?" She lifted her gaze and raised her voice to the gathered knights. "Your Commander was an idiot." She looked back to the map. "Afraid of a little snow," she muttered.

Katas had to concentrate on preventing himself from wincing. He was sure the other knights were doing the same. The woman, being a Bhayangkara, had struck fear into him. And now she was upset. At that, his fear quadrupled. At least, he found comfort in that a Bhayangkara was now here to get them out of this stalemate.

"Who's the second in Command?" the woman asked, her voice lower but still indicating frustration.

For once, Katas was grateful Commander Sarasat had chosen someone else as her second in command.