The sound of Arthur and Diana's footsteps echoed softly through the stone corridors of the British High Command building. Thanks to Arthur's persistence — and the money Steve had left with him — the two had changed clothes. Arthur now wore a modest dark suit that barely disguised his well-defined physique; Diana wore a discreet civilian outfit, though nothing could hide the regal nobility with which she walked.
In the strategy room, Steve Trevor was gesturing animatedly in front of a group of War Cabinet officers. Maps lay spread out across a large wooden table, and at the center rested Dr. Maru's notebook. Several experts had already attempted to decipher it, all in vain.
Before stepping in, Arthur paused, casting a long look toward a figure standing slightly apart from the discussion — the smiling and eloquent Sir Patrick Morgan. His eyes flashed cold for a brief second. He knew exactly who he was looking at.
Ares.
The god of war, hiding beneath layers of diplomacy and false empathy.
But now wasn't the time to say anything. Diana still needed to see the world for herself. The truth, Arthur thought, is not something you just hand over. Sometimes, you have to bleed for it.
Arthur entered with a light step, placing a friendly hand on Steve's shoulder with a pleasant smile.
"Looks like you could use some help, Steve."
Steve jumped, startled.
"Ah! Arthur?! What the hell—" He turned and saw Diana standing beside his friend. His surprise quickly turned to relief — mixed with urgency. "Why are you here?"
Diana answered before Arthur could speak:
"We're here to help. We need to know what's in that notebook."
Arthur pointed at the object on the table.
"I'm fluent in over a dozen ancient and modern languages. I can try to translate it."
One of the older officers frowned, visibly displeased.
"Mr. Trevor, who are these people?"
Steve improvised like a true spy whose life depended on convincing lies.
"My friend and his... secretary. Both have valuable skills. They can help."
Another officer — a lean man with cold eyes — stood up.
"This is a classified matter. If these civilians lack credentials, they must leave immediately."
Arthur resisted the urge to roll his eyes. So much arrogance disguised as protocol.
He folded his arms, staring calmly at the man until Steve stepped in.
"Gentlemen, please. We're dealing with something urgent. If this notebook contains plans for a new weapon, and he can help us translate it... I think we should give it a shot."
After a few tense seconds of silence, one of the officers reluctantly handed over the notebook.
"Very well, Mr...?"
"Arthur Morgan." He shook the offered hand firmly.
"I hope you know what you're doing, Mr. Morgan."
Arthur simply nodded, carefully flipping through the pages.
They were filled with chemical formulas, technical diagrams, and handwritten notes — some in German, others in a nearly forgotten script that seemed to date back to ancient Mesopotamia. He squinted, somehow able to understand fragments of the writing.
(How is this possible? I've never studied this language...) he thought, brows furrowed.
Understanding parts of an ancient language without having ever studied it was completely unexpected for Arthur.
"Diana... come here for a moment."
She stepped closer, and as they examined the symbols together, Arthur realized how natural it felt to work beside her — as if it had always been this way. She tilted her head to study the writing, and in a steady whisper, began translating aloud.
(What a strange situation...) he thought as he listened to Diana's words, some of which matched exactly what he had understood.
A few minutes later, Arthur shut the notebook with a sharp snap. The silence in the room was nearly tangible.
"This notebook..." he began, "contains what appears to be the formula for a new chemical weapon. Hydrogen-based. Deadlier than any gas used so far."
Arthur went on, his voice laced with gravity:
"This woman, Dr. Maru, called it Mustard Gas. This new version corrodes even protective masks, killing indiscriminately and efficiently. There is no defense against it."
He pointed to a diagram of an aircraft in the corner of the page:
"There are also logistical records. Ludendorff plans to use this weapon during the signing of the armistice. If that's true... hundreds of thousands could die."
Steve slammed a fist on the table, furious.
"We have to destroy that weapon. Immediately!"
The same cold officer raised a hand.
"We cannot jeopardize the peace negotiations. Sending troops now would be a political disaster."
Arthur held himself back, but his irritation was evident.
"With all due respect... if that gas is released on the front lines, there won't be front lines. Only corpses. Remember, you're negotiating with monsters."
"That is not your place, Mr. Morgan."
Diana gently squeezed Arthur's arm — a silent reminder that there were still other ways. But he'd had enough. He stepped away from the table and took her hand.
"Let's go, Diana. We've done our part here."
And with that, he walked out, leading her with him.
Outside, beneath a gray sky speckled with soot, Diana stood silently beside him. The city felt trapped between two worlds — old and new, peace and war.
"I don't understand... Why are they abandoning the soldiers?" she murmured.
Arthur stared into the horizon.
"Because that's how humans are. Some fight for glory. Others for profit. And some... pretend to seek peace just to hold on to power."
Diana lowered her head, disappointed.
Arthur continued:
"Even if Ares is pulling the strings... men still choose to fight. The generals, the politicians... they look at soldiers like pawns. And pawns can be replaced."
She turned to him, her eyes brimming but firm.
"But I don't fight for them. I fight for peace. For the children who don't yet know fear. For the women who still mourn the dead. I fight for love, Arthur."
He was silent, absorbing her words. There was such beauty in that conviction. Such hope. It wasn't something you heard from just anyone.
"I'm not a good man, Diana," he said with a half-smile. "But I promised Hippolyta I'd protect you. And as long as I can, I will."
She smiled — calm, tender, grateful. Then, without hesitation, she embraced him.
It was a brief but powerful moment. Arthur felt the warmth of her body against his, and for an instant, the world felt lighter.
"Thank you for being by my side, Arthur."
A deliberate cough broke the moment.
"Ahem... Uh... Am I interrupting?" Steve appeared, descending the stairs, trying to act like he hadn't been watching them.
Arthur slowly stepped back, casting him a playful glance.
"Meeting over?"
"They won't help us. We'll have to do this on our own. I'm going to rally a few allies." Steve turned and walked down the street toward a distant tavern.
Arthur and Diana exchanged a look — and without needing to say a word, they knew: it was time to act.
They didn't have an army.
But they had each other.
And that, in that moment, was more than enough.
(End of chapter)
"Hmph. If you really want to be useful, then entertain me, try to throw those pathetic power stones at me. Let's see if even your insolence can amuse a king."