Jack exhaled, his eye reflecting the flames of the pyre that lay drifting at sea.

“So… that's the ocean… thought it'd be more…” Jack muttered, stroking his chin as the soldiers of the Red Rook paid their respects to their fallen leader.

Nearby, observing the spectacle, several Selfian soldiers murmuring in disgust with one loudly saying “Bullshit” before storming off.

“Is there a reason you waste time doing this?” Lilith said, arms crossed and watching the display. “That man was your enemy. A monster. Why give him a burial at all?”

Jack narrowed his eyes, observing the men and woman with a myriad of emotions that belonged to the Solomon expeditions.

He was a soldier. A puppet much like Hoffman. In the end his last thought was about his men and the people he led. He may have been my enemy, but he made an honorable request and kept his end of the deal, Jack sent as Admiral Skirita rolled into the town uncontested with his mechanized division. This much, I can do.

****

“Eight destroyer-class boats, three cruisers in drydock, and over two thousand in prisoners,” Skirita reported, “Commander Houlihan is organizing them but overall not a bad haul with only twelve casualties.”

Jack sat at the Red Rook’s desk, holding a wooden picture frame of the officer beside a familiar face of a woman Jack had killed.

He put the picture down, reaching over the manilla desk to grab the stationary marred by neat lettering.

In the letter, a synopsis explaining the Red Rook’s misplaced faith in the Black King and love for his soldiers and the Gold Queen. In it, cited the reasons behind his ideology, his dream to make the world a better place, and his distraught about being abandoned by the crown and powerlessness to save his lover.

Some of the same things he noted in Jena’s journal. She was another of this Lost battalion, another citizen failed by their nation and emboldened by the Rook and the Black King and fed dreams of change.

Another group failed by those in charge.

Oddly, the Rook didn't blame Jack, rather, he accepted his fate as simply… a bad hand.

To Jack, despite clearing the board of every other piece, all he felt was hollow, as though he had achieved a pyrrhic victory.

Jack sighed, placing the letter back on the desk, “What are our plans to deal with the prisoners?”

“My recommendation? Execution, we line them up and be done with them,” Skirita said nonchalantly as he eyed the Rook’s liquor collection.

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“Out of the question.”

“Right, of course, in the interim, your orders?”

Jack exhaled, of course he could let Selfia be the one to make the call, but Jack was the one who had said he would spare the Rook's men, and they had withheld their end of the bargain and disarmed their detonator.

But then again, was this another ruse of the Black King? Was the archangel Micheal yet again another step ahead of him with the Rook sacrificed?

Jack closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

No. No matter what he couldn't be paranoid. All he could do was to keep on keeping on. Even if the path led to hell.

“Is there any way we can use them? They're skilled sailors, battle hardened soldiers,-”

“And also traitors,” Skirita said, placing a shot glass on the table from the Rook's collection and pouring some form of clear liquor for himself and Jack. “I shouldn’t need to tell you that employing them in any capacity is a volatile security risk. Here, drink this, it'll take the edge off.”

“Bit early to be drinking admiral. Plus I'm awakened, alcohol doesn't do much,” Jack said, eyeing the clear liquor that had no smell.

“At a hundred and ninety-two proof, I'd hope it does,” Skirita scoffed, holding the bottle aloft to the light. “Normally you'd use a mixer for this but this’ll give you-”

Jack downed the shot in one go, drawing a look from the admiral, -right. Guess not, son.”

Jack sighed, “What's Selfia's take on this?”

“She doesn't care what happens to them so long as they don't prove a threat. Until we can vet them, she prefer we keep them away from the boats while we disarm the IEDs aboard them.”

“Why ask for my opinion if you already have your orders?”

“I’m under no orders other than to secure the boats and the city. If you wish the prisoners to be spared, then so be it, milord,” Skirita said before pocketing a bottle of alcohol as his COM-LINK beeped, “Her Majesty will be here tomorrow, if you have need of me, I’ll be inspecting the ships.”

Jack nodded, turning his head to the window that overlooked the port and sea as the admiral left.

“Lilith,” Jack said, drawing the specter out who appeared with her legs crossed where Skirita once sat.

“Yes?”

“How sure are you that Jill can be restored?” Jack asked.

“As sure as I am that you can restore me. If there wasn't any merit to your proposal I wouldn't be putting up with your ass. You were the one that suggested it after all. Why? Are you having doubts now?”

“I'm not. To be honest when I made the offer I was bluffing, grasping at straws,” Jack chuckled, drawing a glare from Lilith.

“Unbelievable…”

“But you say it's possible, and Sahaqiel thinks so too, I just want to know that at the end of all this, some good will come.”

Jack opened the drawer of the Red Rook's desk and reached in, pulling out a pack of cigars.

“Whoa! Hey! Don't smoke that, don't you know that's my body too?!” Lilith spat as Jack lit up a cigar.

“Why do you care?” Jack said, taking a long drag of a cigar that was sweet to the taste. “It's not like it harms us.”

“Yeah! But it smells! Put it out!”

“Go find me some tea and I'll put it out.”

Lilith scowled, her head shaking with frustration but ultimately disappearing.

Jack continued to stare out the window, observing as the prisoners were marched down the street by Selfian commandos.

Outnumbered ten to one, if a revolt happened they could easily overpower the Selfian vanguard.

Suddenly, a chill, a sensation Jack knew all too well.

An Apostle was near.

Jack sighed, rising from his chair to reach over and pick up the massive greatsword that lay propped against the wall.

“Well, I guess it's time we tested you out,” Jack said as his system interface lit up, connecting him to the enchanted weapon known as Gram.