Water ran in a thin, steady thread. I cupped my hands, brought the cold water to my face, and let it sting the sleep from my eyes. The mirror above the sink was cracked, a spiderweb of fractures that made my reflection look like a tired man. I studied the lines I had earned —scars of decisions, sleepless nights, and the weight of promises.
A knock sounded against the restroom door, sharp enough to cut through the quiet. Silence held for a breath, then a voice called, steady and impatient.
"The time has come, Commander Anderson."
"I'll be out in a minute," I answered, though my voice felt foreign in my own ears.
"I'll be waiting," the voice said.
I dried my hands, shrugged into my coat, and set the beret at a practiced angle. The uniform fit like armor I had worn for too many years.
When I opened the door, Colonel Dickson stood waiting —tall, composed, and unflinching. He had marched beside me through ambushes, negotiations, and nights when survival itself had been uncertain. If anyone could tell me when I was wrong, it was him.
"Shall we?" he asked.
"Yes."
The corridor pulsed with movement. Officers hurried past carrying files and radios. Boots struck the stone floor in hurried rhythm, and low conversations filled the air. Soldiers moved with the tense discipline of people who knew war never truly ended when it was declared over.
We entered a small conference room at the end of the hall.
Conversation died instantly.
Officers rose from their seats, eyes following us with cautious respect. Some looked relieved. Others looked uncertain. Maps covered the table —red and blue markings carved across the nation, dividing it into wounds and victories.
I took the chair at the head of the table. Colonel Dickson remained standing behind me, silent as a sentinel.
For a moment, I let my fingers rest on the wooden surface, feeling the faint tremor beneath it. The tremor of a country that had bled for its freedom.
I inhaled slowly.
Three years of the civil war had brought us here.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," I began.
A few officers exchanged glances. One cleared his throat, hesitation flickering across his face, but no one spoke.
I allowed myself a small, controlled smile.
"We won."
Muted chuckles and tired smiles moved around the room, relief mixing with disbelief. Victory never felt as triumphant as people imagined.
Outside, distant gunfire cracked somewhere across the city. A reminder that peace had not yet arrived.
I leaned forward slightly.
"It is time to capture the palace, before someone else claims it first."