For Jung, it has been a long, uneventful day of nothing. He has overseen routine checkups on their forward lines for any sign of trouble. And frankly, it has probably been for nothing. No sudden alarms blaring a Federation party, no crying operator exclaiming that the whole Feddie armada will come down on them. And that makes Jung raise his head in ponder.

If it has been for nothing, then, in his case, wouldn’t that be for the best? The oddly relaxing atmosphere is something that Jung can take solace in. To have this comforting peace robbed from him in what could be any minute now would be nothing short of devastating, to say the least.

In all honesty, it’s been a miracle that for the last two days, the Federation has yet to catch on… perhaps Li was correct in that he was more than capable for the job. If the plan was masterminded by anyone else, Jung has no doubt that the Federation would be parading in the Lübeck Clusters right about now—claiming to liberate it in the name of freedom, but what’s to say the grunts won’t take advantage of the chaos and commit atrocities on a populace already cowering under the heel of the Year 217 Mafia? When Jung thinks about his wife and all the innocent civilians that will have to endure suffering of greater magnitude under these Federation peacekeepers, he only gets more riled.

“Oi, captain! Is something on your mind?” Jargon’s voice whips Jung around in mild surprise “it’s rare to see you plastered with such an ugly face,” Jung is reclining forward in his commander’s chair but relaxes when Jargon leans on the chair from behind.

“Ah… Jargon—sorry, I was lost in contemplation about what would happen if we failed here. What would become of our loved ones—in my case, my wife and the wonderful people of Ronda—if the Federation so much as did more than just probe the settlements for stragglers,” Jung remarks as he strokes his unshaven chin. “Getting old sucks, Jargon, when you get to my age your days of excitement feel like a fading memory. You wound up getting so dull that only reflecting on current and future happenings are the only stuff that interest you anymore,” Jung slaps one of his armchairs rests “my advice to you would be to avoid rushing to get old too fast—enjoy what you have now, I would say.” Jargon only offers a chuckling scoff as he moves away from the commander’s chair to the adjacent railing and crosses his arms.

“I don’t plan on it,” Jargon replies “this could very well be the last hurrah of the Mafia, and I fully intend to go out in a blaze of glory with the rest of the lot,” Jargon smirks “but still… to think that we could be dancing right in front of the Federation eyes without so much as them batting an eye… I hate to hand it to that aloof woman, but the plan she formed has been astounding so far—even if it is dreadfully boring,” Jargon crooks his head with a frown “a part of me wishes she had sent us along with her—maybe leave behind that mean-looking Sergy or somethin’…”

“You watch your goddamn mouth,” Jung scowls to which Jargon apologizes “there will come a time when Li will take reins of the Mafia—and the old guard like me will exist in fading memories. It would be in your best interest to shape up and be a better person moving forward—if you continue to be insubordinate like this there’s no telling what she may do to the supporters of buffoons like me—she may have a change of heart,” Jung walks toward Jargon and jabs a finger on the man’s chest “and purge followers to secure her place… and she might start with people who get on her bad side if what she told me before I came back to the Wulfhere was any indication,” Jargon clears his throat and nods. Jung moves away and slumps back into his commander’s chair. “—But Li is not that sort of person, who knows if she may follow in Zhui’s footsteps one day—but I believe Simon has set her on the right path. I believe she will treat every one of you as her own, but that’s only if you give her the respect that she deserves.”

Though in all fairness; the Year 217 Mafia has had a bloody streak of people seeking power and the subsequent purges that follow. It goes as far back as the 180s’ when Captain Araki—the man that Jung, Simon, and Zhui conspired to depose—had murdered his captain before Araki met with the same fate in the mid 190s’. Then there was the purge that was spurred on by Fa’s death at the hands of Araki loyalists and the subsequent massacre that followed: Black Friday. Just remembering it is enough to make Jung’s stomach churn. Even now, there is no telling how many were involved in Fa’s death and how many were innocent. But that is something for Jung to dwell on for another time—what’s important now is who Li will consider a nuisance when she becomes the next Don—if Zhui would even let her become one in the first place. What would stop her from becoming a total monster like Zhui?

“I understand, Jung…” Jargon replies as his eyes dwell on the floor.

“Don’t give me that—the Madame will value actions over words, I’d say—so you better see to it that the Wulfhere will stop this rubbish rebellious stance that it has with her,” Jargon looks up with skeptical eyes “of course after this whole ordeal is over, I fully intend to retire back to my farm on Lübeck. And I fully intend to settle things for good this time, Jargon—I will officially be handing over the role of captain to you—”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jung!” Jargon protests “I do not deserve to—nobody deserves the role of captain—” Jargon stops when Jung hastily waves his hand no.

“You have more or less been acting as captain this entire time, no?” Jung asks and Jargon averts his eyes, teeth clenched. “Perhaps it’s because you kept throwing out outsiders that you felt your authority here on the Wulfhere was threatened?”

“It’s not that…”

“Then why desist the idea of formally being the Wulfhere captain?” Jung crosses one leg over the other “the men respect you—and it’s apparent to me they will obey your orders—in my eyes, that more or less implies you have been the Wulfhere captain?”

“You don’t get it, Jung” Jargon cuts in again “it’s large shoes to fill… to be formally recognized as the captain will mean living up to the name of Wulf der Ruthenia,” before Jargon can comment any further, he is taken back when Jung laughs.

“You…” Jung cracks a grin and extends his arms out “when I first became captain, do you think I was always the Wulf that stalked the colonies of Ruthenia? It took me years to earn that infamy—to build that experience and become a living legend. I was a mere cub then—and in some ways, I have rusted and regressed to that awkward youth,” Jung gets up from his seat and rests a hand on an aversive Jargon’s shoulder “after this is all over—you will become the Wulf der Rouen . Or rather… I should say you already are the Wulf… maybe your head is in the wrong place right now but I see in you what I was back then. You have what it takes to become the next Wulf.”

Jargon’s shoulders again and he clears his throat in defeat, “but captain…” but Jung hears none of it, and he proceeds out of the bridge.

“Captain Jargon… I think it has a nice ring to it, don’t you think? Seeing as you are around the same age as Li, I believe you will be far more useful to her than I could ever hope—and there’s nobody else who’s capable of becoming the next Wulf; you should be a little more honored to have my blessing…” Jung lets out a snort “or I guess in the Wulf case—a curse. In any case, Jargon, I will leave matters in your hand for the time being… I believe it’s past midnight already. The Federation is probably fast asleep across the hyper lane, too, I wager… get some shuteye when you get the chance.”

“Captain, if something does happen, should I—”

“Leave me the hell alone and let me get some sleep? Yes,” Jung states flatly “I might be getting in age but I’ll beat the shit out of anyone who dares disturbs me. Whatever happens, I advise you to act on intuition, Captain Jargon.” And without letting Jargon get another word in, Jung leaves the bridge area.

It’s rather unfortunate that Jean had to leave to command another ship, but frankly, it is for the best. Jung can’t afford to have all his talented lieutenants on the Wulfhere. Jung thought about reassigning Jargon, too, but he quickly decided against it: the culture of the Wulfhere is simply far too different from any other pirate ship he’s been on. Jung does not doubt that relocating Jargon would make the man cause ruckus in some way or another; leaving him here in the Wulfhere would be ideal.

It is almost one in the morning when the intercom on Jung’s dusty desk starts ringing. Jung, who has been laying on his bed tosses and turns, hoping his interrupter would bug off.

But, unfortunately for Jung, the caller is persistent. Perhaps a little too persistent for their own good; a death wish, perhaps? The intercom continues to antagonize the Wulf for at least another minute before the tired old fellow lets out an angry sigh as he heaves himself up from the bed. Whoever is bothering Jung must’ve not got the memo from Jargon to leave him in peace. But when Jung peers at the caller ID, he is rather surprised that the bugger is from a different ship, not the Wulfhere. Jung’s tense body relaxes as it means he won’t have to scold any knuckleheads for interrupting this comforting moment. But, who in their right mind would call him this late at night? Relief quickly gives way to skepticism as he swiftly presses the intercom button to answer this increasing urgency.

Upon hearing the familiar voice of Jean, Jung quietly sinks into his dust-layered chair. “Ah… you finally answered, Jung,” Jung turns his head to the intercom’s small video screen at a smiling Jean “I didn’t wake you up, did I? I almost figured I would have to call the bridge, directly…”

“I couldn’t sleep even if I wanted to,” Jung snorts “you calling this late certainly did not help either, so—did you need something? It’s only been a few days since we separated, are you homesick already? Want to nag me to be put back in the Wulfhere?” Jung asks, but Jean only shakes her head no. “I’m surprised you’re not asleep already.”

“Well, I think I found myself in the same boat… I couldn’t sleep, so I figured I’d bother you for a quick talk… cap’n, how long do you think this will last? This whole veil, I mean… I keep assuring the men that everything will be fine, but they’re getting increasingly reckless.”

Well… it’s to be expected, Jung thinks, we are completely dwarfed in numbers —and Li has taken most of the fleet to counter a threat in their rear—if Jung still didn’t know any better he would have thought that she is seeking to improve her position in the Year 217 Mafia… or even worst yet, take advantage of the situation in Lübeck and sell out the Mafia to the Federation. Jung can only imagine that most of the lieutenants left behind in Velksland feel the same way: are they not, in some way or another, being used as a sacrifice for Li to achieve ulterior motives?

Jean calling his name makes the sleepish Jung yawn unexpectedly, “I wish I could give a reliable answer, Jean. I believe the Madame should’ve come back by now… and yet, we have no word from Lübeck, I take it?” When Jung looks back at Jean she seems to ponder the question before shaking her head.

“Not so much as a peep. You don’t think the Federation has been jamming us, have you…?”

“No,” Jung responds “because if they were, in all good chances we would not be communicating like this right now. From Li’s perspective—or even Simon’s, I’d say—sending a transmission could lead to a trap—it could even be intercepted by the Federation. The same could also be said if we shot something to Lübeck, as well. That could also be risky if they so much as decrypted it.”

“That leaves us in quite the predicament…” Jean muses as she scratches her head “the only option we have is waiting for the Castelforte in some way or another, I suppose?” Jung merely stares at his dark ceiling, unsure of how to answer. Jung cannot help but feel they are overthinking their situation. Would it hurt to send a few transmissions to Lübeck for status updates at Valspon? Truthfully, there is no telling if Li is even alive or not.

“I will give it by tomorrow to send a transmission to Lübeck,” Jung states after a spell of silence “if nothing else, it should give reassurance. Perhaps it might pose a risk, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take if it means we are not twiddling our thumbs in pitch darkness.”

“And if Li fails in her mission…?” Jean inquires.

“We shall pray that it should not come to that; lest we also receive a Federation transmission in Brunsbüttel.”

“Cap’n… I feel like you are putting too much faith in Li. She’s only human—to successfully ward off the invasion at Valspon…” Jean trails off with furrowed eyes.

“You could be right,” Jung says dryly “all of this could be for naught. But we don’t have any other choice. Even if Li survives and comes back—there’s no telling if it will make a difference. It could be Abassi all over again.”

“Cap’n…”

“The Wulfhere might respect me—they would unquestionably drag themselves through the nine circles of Hell if I asked them to do it. But I can’t say the same for the fleet. They are technically Li and the Don’s men—and who knows what that maniac will ask of me? Will the fleet follow me into the depths of hell, or will they falter in the face of overwhelming odds?” Jung laments with his elbow on the desk, propping up his chin. When his gaze falls on the video screen he only sees a heartfelt smile on Jean.

“Have a little more confidence, Jung. You’re a legend from beyond the grave—many would kill to be welcomed back into the ranks of the Mafia if they were presented with the opportunity. I think it’s wonderful that Li has left you in charge of the decoy fleet rather than turn us away.”

“If anyone was in my shoes, I think they would beat the shit out of anyone who tried to drag them back into this hot mess,” Jung snorts. Jean only rolls her eyes with a look of disapproval.

“Well… I won’t deny it would’ve been nice living our peaceful life a little longer…” Jean looks off-screen as she leans back into her chair. “But it can’t be helped, can it?”

“Jean… you didn’t have to come with me, you know. You could’ve just stayed behind with Frau,” the old Wulf remarks, but Jean scoffs and shakes her head.

“It’s more or less my responsibility to look after you, you know? I have to make sure you don’t do anything too reckless. I’ve been with you for how many years now?”

“Are you trying to get me all sentimental now? I’m fragile at this age, you know.” To Jung, Jean has been present in his life after Fa’s death—but she had always kept her distance. It’s like what Jean said back at the farmstead—she knew it was hopeless to compete with a dead love. And yet, she stuck with him for nearly twenty years like a loyal dog. Even after he met Frau, Jean continued to be by his side. Jung can only wonder what could compel her to emotionally drag herself in the mud for Jung. It’s a question that the old Wulf may very well take to his grave.

“I have the right to torture you every now and then,” Jean says trying to stifle a giggle.

“Well… I guess you got your just dessert, now then…” Jung gets up for a stretch “was there anything else you wanted to torture me with, Jean?” He asks as he looks back at the clock: almost close to 1:30 AM. The dark-haired woman shakes her head.

“I think getting the chance to talk to you was what I needed to get some sleep,” Jean replies “thanks for everything. I mean…” she pauses with a slight blush “thanks for sitting it out with me for a chance to talk.”

“It’s always been nice speaking to you too, Jean, you know I love ya,” Jung says with a grin. Jung’s eyes dart around and she rubs her neck.

“C-cap’n…” she stammers “are you trying to get me emotional? You’re lucky I’m not over there, or else I’d strangle you to death,” the threat invokes a grin plastered on Jung’s face.

“I suppose I do torture you enough as-is… well, take care then, Jean. I will speak to you again in the morning when I get the chance. The longer we are in this decoy, the more difficult it will be when the Federation does inevitably take action,” with a nod from Jean Jung hangs up the intercom and drags his feet over to the bed. Hopefully this time, Jung ponders as he gives up the fight with his increasingly heavy eyelids, I shall not be interrupted.