In the pitch dark morning of 44-62, Griffoth Observatory was attacked by the UBM. The facility was a simple research outpost, positioned high in the Ventine Mountains. When the station’s security forces detected metal signatures moving across the northeast tundras, they expected the worst and began to entrench themselves. Within the hour, reinforcements were called to the observatory.
“I hope we don’t get picked to go,” Damien sat on the edge of his bed in the barracks, still wiping the crust from his eyes.
“I think it’d be best if we went,” Yelda interjected. “We’d be very helpful.” From the window behind her, Chestnut gave an affirmative grunt.
“We’d get a better chance at promotion for going over our guard duty here,” Laëtitia added.
“It’s not up to us, it’s up to the captain,” Louis responded. In the corner, Maxwell silently laced up his shoes. With quick, decisive movements, he deftly laced his boots and buttoned his overcoat. All the while, Laëtitia snuck glances at him from across the room, attempting to mimic Maxwell’s precision. In his mind, he was considering the benefits of the squad going or not. On the one hand, he thought about the opportunity to once again prove himself for promotion to Second Infantry. On the other hand, he hadn’t had his morning coffee. Regardless, such a decision was not his to make - it was the captain’s.
The group debated while lounging on their bunks, going back and forth on the merits of volunteering until the distinct click of the doorknob stole their collective attention. The group quickly lined up beside their bunks and stood upright. By the time the door was opened, a perfectly straight row of soldiers were flanking it on either side. 3rd Infantryman Bellamy Rolland, captain of the 79th Vanguard stepped into the room. The captain had his hat held in his arms and his rifle slung across his back. Stepping into the room it was obvious that his uniform had been rushed on. He paused for a moment in the doorway, running his hand over his shaved head. Stepping through, he was greeted by the solemn faces of sleep-deprived soldiers.
“At ease,” Bellamy said. He paced in the doorway, slowly enough so that the others understood that he truly meant they could drop their formalities. However, the group merely exchanged nervous glances.
“I overheard you all from outside,” Bellamy announced, forcing a smile as he did. “So, I’ll just get straight to the point: Central Strategy determined the bulk of requested forces would be met by other units stationed closer to the observatory. As a result, we’re only being requested to send higher ranking troops, at least Infantry or higher.”
Immediately, and perhaps subconsciously, eyes immediately turned to Louis and Maxwell. Louis lowered his head and wrapped one hand around the pendant on his necklace. Silently, he mouthed the words for morning prayer. Maxwell merely nodded and reached for his rifle.
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Avril awoke to the crackling of flames. Her eyes struggled to make sense of the dancing lights and she tried to turn over. However, turning over in her bedroll only further woke her up, and soon her hearing came into focus despite her eyes remaining closed. Somewhere behind, in the direction of the fire, she heard the unmistakable sound of boots on gravel. Avril tried to ignore the sound and drift back to sleep, but the gravel continued to crunch as the person moved. Judging by the sound, the person was pacing in place by the fire. The steps came evenly, moving closer three times before turning back for another three.
The footsteps stopped. They had taken three steps away from her when they stopped. Avril listened intently, her eyes now wide open. Slowly, she crept her arm out from the bedroll and inched it towards the crossbow, which laid only a few inches from her head.
“Why are you awake so early?” Maxwell whispered. His voice was soft, something Avril thought he was incapable of. Despite this, Avril froze in place, her hand protruding from beneath her covers. Her heart skipped a beat, and her breath caught in her throat. He wasn’t talking to her, was he?
Another set of footsteps, practically silent compared to Maxwell’s, moved towards the fire. “It’s almost time for morning prayer,” Louis whispered back. At this, Avril relaxed and reeled her hand back under the blanket. She closed her eyes, and focused on slowing her breathing for a moment. When she felt her heart slow down, she returned to listening in on the two Infantrymen.
“Coffee?” Maxwell asked. Avril heard movement near the fire, then the sound of a canteen being unscrewed and water trickling into a metal container.
“We have enough coffee to spare?” Louis asked.
“It’s going to be watered down,” Maxwell admitted. A small silence followed, broken only by the crackling fire.
“...We have enough water to spare?” Louis dryly asked.
“...No,” Maxwell responded in kind. A much longer silence followed. Avril strained to make out any movements but it sounded as though the two men just…didn’t move. Maxwell and Louis each sat around a fire made out of dried cave moss and rationed firewood pieces. Their eyes were listless and blank. The orange light of the fire danced about, occasionally flaring up only to illuminate the faces of two dead men. The coffee began to boil in the small percolator above the fire, though neither made an attempt to grab it. When it began to boil over, Maxwell rigidly grabbed the handle and placed it on the floor.
Avril listened to the men wrestle with their packs and fish out metal cups. She listened to the coffee pour into each one. She let the warm aroma of the coffee wash over her and, involuntarily, she turned over once more to face the fire again. The two men sat with their drinks in hand, idly taking sips as the fire burned away. Their shadows stretched back towards Avril, growing and shrinking with the flickering flame.
Louis asked, “How low on water are we?”
“Maybe three days, six if we ration well.”
“How far to Norone?”
Maxwell didn’t respond. Instead, choosing to take a long sip from his cup.
“How far to the nearest friendly outpost?” Louis asked.
“By train? A few hours,” Maxwell let out a short jet of air from his nose: his best attempt at a chuckle at the moment. “Honestly though, not an option,” he followed up.
Louis shook his head, quickly chugged the rest of his coffee, then excused himself to go do his morning prayers. Maxwell nodded slightly and returned his attention to the fire. As Louis turned to leave, he made eye contact with Avril, who froze like a statue. He kept his eyes locked with Avril and the two began to silently converse.
Uh… good morning. Avril tried to awkwardly convey with her eyes.
Why are you awake? Louis shot her a raised eyebrow.
…No reason. Avril raised her shoulders while trying to tuck part of her face beneath the blankets.
Well sorry for waking you. Louis calmly raised his palms to Avril.
Just don’t tell the captain. Avril deliberately flicked her eyes between Louis and Maxwell behind him. A sly grin spread across Louis’ face.
Please! Avril tried to silently plead with Louis. However, the man had already turned around. Her silent cries falling upon deliberately
“Are you already done praying?” Maxwell tilted his head to look up at Louis. Louis merely shook his head before gesturing towards Avril. When Maxwell made eye contact with her, Avril instinctively shifted her eyes away. However, when Louis continued to walk away, leaving Avril to contend with Maxwell alone, she awkwardly sat up.
Maxwell stared at her for a moment before picking up the pot, “Coffee?”
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Louis kept his hands wrapped tight around the warm cup of coffee, only letting go to pull his hood back over his head whenever the chilling winds blew it off. One would think an observatory in the mountains would offer good vantage points to observe surrounding terrain. However, even in the afternoon light, the thick snow severely limited visibility. Despite his elevated position atop the perimeter wall, Louis estimated he could only see around fifty to sixty feet ahead of him. Louis kept his eyes open, but let himself relax. Ultimately, his job was to be an active defender of the wall rather than a proactive spotter for threat assessment. Besides, if anything did make its way through the snow, he was confident he could hit it.
Meanwhile, Maxwell was deep in the heart of Griffoth Observatory. Under the snow, under the stone of the mountain, the Myerans had built a secure panic room to protect the facility’s staff in case of an attack from the UBM. Captain Bellamy and Maxwell joined other medical crew in escorting the researchers and site administrative staff into the panic room. Once all staff had been accounted for and the room sealed, Bellamy pulled Maxwell aside.
“Margot, listen,” Bellamy said, “If the facility does come under assault, I want you to return here and prioritize rendering aid to the research staff, understand?”
“The mission is to keep the facility secure, sir,” Maxwell responded.
“Maxwell, the mission isn’t the important part here. The researchers are civilians, you understand? They aren’t trained like you and I.”
“I understand that sir. I just mean that the briefing prioritized securing the entire facility, which would, of course, include the research staff,” Maxwell tried to reassure Bellamy. Bellamy, however, leaned in closer to better lecture Maxwell.
“Maxwell, I couldn’t give a flying fuck about what the briefing said. Buildings aren’t unique. Griffith Observatory and all of the furniture here could be rebuilt. The people can’t. The people are unique. If you put the mission above all else, then you’ll be the only one standing when the mission is over.” The two stayed locked in eye contact. Bellamy’s jaw was locked rigid and his whole body shook with tension. Maxwell narrowed his eyes and kept his arms at his side, trying his best to breathe evenly.
“With all due respect, sir,” Maxwell responded, “This sounds like insubordination, or at least abandonment of post.” A visible wave of frustration passed through Bellamy’s body. He took a step back from Maxwell and pinched the bridge of his nose.
After a few deep breaths, he turned back to Maxwell, who hadn’t moved, “Margot, I don’t care how good of a doctor you are. You aren’t going to build a career, friendships, or another observatory with the corpses of your fellow men. If you want to spend the rest of your enlistment in the med-center back in Argentum, then focus on these researchers and I’ll put your request through. Otherwise, you can look forward to latrine duty when we get back.”
Maxwell nodded, “If your orders are to protect the civilians, then I’ll do it.”
Bellamy sighed in defeat, “They’re only orders if you want them to be, Maxwell.”
The loudspeaker on the wall above the men crackled to life as an authoritative voice called out, “Attention: all troops assume defensive positions and reinforce the southern perimeter. I repeat: defensive positions and reinforce the southern perimeter. Enemy fire has been sustained along the southern wall.” A loud siren began to blare over the intercom and soon troops could be seen running down the halls. Maxwell turned to run after the troops but was stopped by Bellamy’s hand on his shoulder.
“Only you can decide what orders to follow.”
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Avril sat by dying fire awkwardly clutching a cup of watered-down coffee. She kept her head down and her eyes trained on the brown liquid. Across the fire, Maxwell scarcely moved. The lukewarm pot of coffee sat amidst the embers of the fire, and Maxwell listlessly stared at it. Occasionally, the two would sip their drinks, and whenever his ran low, Maxwell would reach towards the pot and pour himself some more. Each time he did so, he gestured the pot towards Avril, who politely declined. She preferred sugar and milk in her coffee, both of which were rather hard to acquire in their given circumstance. To her, each sip was a herculean struggle of suppressing her gag reflex.
When the pot ran empty, and the final drops of coffee dripped into his cup, Maxwell downed the entirety of it in one large gulp. At least, he tried to. Mere moments after the drink entered his mouth, the captain’s face suddenly turned red and he spit the entirety of it out. The captain dropped his cup and began to violently gag and cough, thumping his chest as he did so. Avril watched with wide eyes, unsure of how to respond. When the captain doubled over and fell to his hands and knees, Avril should have rushed to his side to ensure he was okay. However, she just watched, and soon, she began to howl with laughter. Tears welled in her eyes as she howled with laughter watching the captain choke on his coffee.
“It…down the wrong… windpipe,” Maxwell stuttered out words between coughs, trying to explain what had happened, all in an attempt to mask his embarrassment. Soon, the others began to stir. First Chestnut, who’s ears had perked up long ago when Maxwell began to pace about. Then Laëtitia and Damien, who groggily wiped their eyes clean. At first, they simply took in the sight. However, when their minds finally processed what was happening, they both jumped from their bedrolls and rushed to the captain’s side. Not knowing the cause of the choking, Damien maneuvered behind the captain to attempt a heimlich while Laëtitia shouted over Avril’s laughter demanding to know what had happened. However, with Maxwell now forced into heimlich against his will, Avril only laughed harder, drowning out Laëtitia’s angry yelling. By the time Louis returned from praying, Maxwell was now chastising Damien for doing improper triage while Avril wiped tears from her eyes. Fritz came up from behind Louis and watched alongside him. The madman crossed his arms and chuckled to himself. Levonne trudged up beside him, her eyes barely open and her breathing still slow from her broken slumber.
After everything calmed down and Damien had sufficiently apologized to Maxwell, the group began to break camp. Bedrolls were rolled, rations were rationed, and the fire was relit. As the commotion settled down and early morning conversations broke out, Avril was pulled aside by Maxwell.
“Vanguard Tiene, why were you laughing instead of helping me?” Maxwell crossed his arms and stood upright, much like a teacher scolding a bad student.
“Well… it was just so unexpected,” Avril avoided eye contact with him.
“Well, your basic training should have covered the importance of being constantly aware of threats, especially when deployed. What if I had been poisoned? You would have been the only one awake and in a position to administer an antidote.”
“Of course, sir. Although…” Avril’s voice trailed for a moment. Maxwell merely raised an eyebrow in response. “If you were poisoned, that would’ve meant that I would’ve been too, right?”
“That’s besides the point. You should always be vigilant. Let’s not forget that when we get back, I am still recommending you to repeat basic training. This is only more proof that I’m correct in my assessment.” Maxwell spoke with authority, leaning in with each sentence so as to be more physically imposing.
“I’m sorry, sir. I’ll do my best going forward.” Avril kept her eyes trained on the floor.
“Good, you’re dismissed.” Maxwell turned to leave.
“Um, sir?” Avril’s voice perked up, causing the captain to stop and slowly turn back around. When he did, he finally made eye contact with Avril.
“Yes?”
“Are… are you sure we’re even going to make it back?” Avril’s voice wavered.
Maxwell paused for a moment. He crossed his arms and brought one hand up to fiddle with the end of his mustache. He held Avril’s gaze, all the while seemingly examining her. Sweat slowly formed on Avril’s forehead, though she didn’t dare to wipe it off. She could feel the edges of her mouth tremble, trying to form an awkward smile to ineffectively mask the awkward terror she felt. After what felt like years, the captain narrowed his eyes, and asked her a question in turn.
“Something changed in you, you know that?” Avril’s eyes widened and her head lifted up. She was clearly taken aback, and was too confused to offer an answer.
The captain continued, “When you dropped your rifle on the train yesterday morning, it was obvious that you were on your first deployment. You spoke without clarity of purpose. You seemed confused about what you should be doing and why you were even doing it in the first place. You seemed unsure about the weapon you were meant to be holding. Frankly, I had low expectations.”
“Yet here you are: One of the only survivors of yet another Myeran tragedy and you still don’t carry around your rifle. You have a week-long march to the next town and your entire path is filled with SIFs, yet you choose to carry around a field-rigged crossbow with a rotating belt over a rifle with a ten bullet magazine. Twenty hours ago, I reprimanded you for not caring for your rifle. Twenty hours later, I’m instead reprimanding you for not caring about your fellow man. What happened in those twenty hours, Vanguard Tiene, to change you such?”
Avril stared at the captain, too stunned to speak. Her mind raced to process his words but the best response she could muster was, “You didn’t answer my question.” A wide, toothy, almost disturbed grin spread out across Maxwell’s face, one that sent shivers down Avril’s spine. He nodded his head and gave a short, hearty laugh.
“Someone will make it back. And when they do, I’ll make sure they write you up for dropping your rifle.” Maxwell gave an uncharacteristic pat on Avril’s shoulder before turning around.
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When the battle of Griffoth Observatory drew to a close, only eleven of the over thousand people present survived. Then 1st Infantryman Maxwell Margot and 1st Infantryman Louis Cadieux barely survived. The latter had been shot by an unseen enemy hiding in the thick blizzard, but luckily fell into the snow and was subsequently covered by a snowbank falling off the wall onto him. The former had been found amidst the rubble of a portion of the observatory adjacent to the secure bunker that had housed civilian research personnel. He had been buried within an air pocket until Vanguard reinforcements pulled him from the rubble.
When questioned why he had been so far out of position, in an after-action report, First Infrantryman Margot wrote: I don’t know how they penetrated the bunker, but I could hear the screams from outside the room. It was obvious to me that something or someone inside was slaughtering them. I attempted to enter the bunker to render aid, but I did not have the proper knowledge nor authority to unlock the doors. As such, I was unable to help. My recollection of events ends approximately ten minutes later, when the ceiling of the hallway collapsed onto me. If I could have, I would have assisted in moving the personnel inside to a different, secure location, as per the orders of my commanding officer.
3rd Infantryman Bellamy Rolland did not survive the battle.