Ashes of Devotion

The Mission

The sharp pounding on his door yanked Daniel from the haze of sleep. His head throbbed, a remnant of the whiskey he’d downed the night before. He groaned, rubbing his temples, before swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. The knocking grew more insistent.

“Captain! Orders from command!”

He ran a hand over his face, trying to shake the exhaustion that clung to him. It had only been a few hours since he had managed to drift into uneasy sleep, but rest was a luxury he rarely afforded himself these days.

“Alright, alright,” he muttered, standing and throwing on his uniform jacket. He pulled open the door to find one of his men, Corporal Graves, standing at attention, his breath visible in the frigid morning air. The man looked tense.

“There’s a briefing. High command wants you there now,” Graves said, his voice clipped with urgency. “It’s about a new infiltration mission.”

Daniel’s brow furrowed. “What kind of mission?”

Graves hesitated before answering. “It involves a high-ranking family, sir. The ones suspected of providing aid to the enemy.”

Daniel exhaled sharply, already feeling the weight of the assignment pressing down on him. He nodded and followed Graves through the camp, his boots crunching against the frost-covered ground. The sky was still tinged with early dawn, a bleak gray that matched the cold seeping into his bones. Fires crackled in metal drums, and the scent of wet earth and smoke clung to the air. Men milled about the camp, some finishing their morning rations, others preparing for daily drills.

The command tent was filled with a few senior officers, all standing around a large map laid out on the table. General Whitaker, a man with sharp eyes and a grizzled beard, stood at the head of the gathering. He barely acknowledged Daniel before launching into the briefing.

“The Winchesters,” Whitaker said, his voice measured but firm. “A family of considerable wealth and influence. They have long been suspected of dealings with the enemy, funding them, providing them with weapons, and intelligence. We need confirmation.”

Daniel’s jaw tightened. Winchester. He knew the name. Everyone did. They were aristocrats, untouchable by most standards. If they were truly working against their own people, taking them down would be no small task.

Whitaker tapped a dagger against the map, indicating a sprawling estate. “They host lavish holiday festivities every winter. The guest list includes merchants, politicians, military officials, everyone with a stake in this war. It is the perfect cover for information to be exchanged.”

Daniel listened intently as the general continued. “You will be infiltrating their estate,” Whitaker said. “You’ll assume the identity of a returning nobleman, one with ties to their business network. We have documents prepared to support this. Your job is to get close, find out what they’re hiding, and, when the time is right, dismantle their operation from within.”

Daniel crossed his arms. “How long?”

“As long as it takes,” the general responded. “They’re powerful, Captain. If they sense even the slightest suspicion, you’ll be dead before you can report back.”

Daniel smirked, though there was no humor in it. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve danced with danger.”

Whitaker’s expression remained grim. “No. But this time, you’ll be doing it in a house full of enemies.”

Daniel exhaled slowly, already calculating his approach. The Winchesters. A family of wealth, privilege, and now treason. He had spent his life taking down men on the battlefield. This? This was something different. More delicate. More personal.

“What’s our proof?” Daniel asked, scanning the map, noting points of entry and potential blind spots. “What do we have so far?”

Whitaker motioned to one of the intelligence officers, who handed Daniel a dossier. “We intercepted messages, coded documents sent between the Winchesters and known enemy operatives. But it’s not enough to convict them outright. We need solid proof. Something irrefutable.”

Daniel flipped through the pages. Financial ledgers, records of unsanctioned shipments, even reports of missing weapons. It was enough to raise suspicion but not enough to bring them down.

“We need you inside that house, Captain,” Whitaker said. “You’ll have to earn their trust, play their game. And when the time comes, you’ll deliver the final blow.”

Daniel ran a hand over his chin. This wasn’t a simple operation. It required deception, patience, things he wasn’t particularly fond of. But orders were orders. And the Winchesters weren’t just any target. They were powerful, deeply rooted in high society, and if they had ties to the enemy, they needed to be dealt with swiftly.

And with Christmas approaching, the estate would be bustling with festivities, a perfect cover for a man like him to slip in unnoticed.

Whitaker’s tone softened, just slightly. “This isn’t just another mission, Captain. This is the kind of thing that changes the tide of war. Do not fail.”

Daniel didn’t hesitate. He set the dossier down and gave a crisp nod. “I never do.”

“Good,” Whitaker said. “You leave at dawn. Pack light.”

Daniel turned on his heel and strode out of the tent, the weight of the mission pressing down on him. The cold bit at his skin, but he barely noticed. He had work to do. The Winchester family had no idea what was coming for them.