Codename Black: Rise of the Fallen Commander

Coat Pocket

Alex arrived at the towering glass-and-steel headquarters of Helix Dynamics, a corporate behemoth with military and industrial ties that stretched across continents. Alex had no intention of admiring the architecture, though. His goal was clear: Heinrich Lancastriel.

As he approached the entrance, two uniformed security guards immediately stepped forward, blocking his path.

“State your business,” one of them ordered.

“I’m here to see Heinrich Lancastriel,” Alex replied calmly, hands resting at his sides.

The guards exchanged a glance. “Do you have an appointment?” the other one asked, clearly not expecting him to.

“No,” Alex said, locking eyes with the first guard. “But I don’t need one.”

“That’s not how it works here,” the guard responded, taking a step closer, his hand subtly inching toward the comm unit clipped to his vest. “This is Helix Dynamics, sir. We have strict protocols. No appointment, no entry.”

Alex didn’t flinch. With a measured movement, he reached into his jacket and produced a small, sleek badge. The moment the guards saw it, their expressions changed from suspicion to shock.

The badge bore the insignia of Helix Dynamics' Strategic Operations Division. It was a division deeply involved with military contracts and secretive operations.

The first guard straightened, clearly recognizing the authority behind the badge. “One moment, sir,” he said before hurriedly speaking into his comm. Moments later, he nodded to Alex and stepped aside. “You’re clear to proceed. The executive floor is waiting.”

Alex nodded once and strode past them, his eyes focused on the elevator ahead.

The elevator ride to the top floor was smooth, the kind of seamless luxury that made it easy to forget you were climbing fifty stories in a matter of seconds. As the doors slid open, Alex stepped into the opulent waiting area. He was expecting to see Heinrich Lancastriel waiting for him.

Instead, a tall, poised young woman approached him. She had sharp features. Her long, dark hair tied back into a sleek ponytail.

“Alex, I presume?” she said smoothly, her voice as confident as her appearance.

Alex’s eyes narrowed slightly. “And you are?”

“My name is Isabella Lancastriel,” she introduced herself with a distant smile. “Heinrich’s daughter.”

“Where’s your father?” Alex asked, not one to waste time with pleasantries.

Isabella’s expression darkened slightly. “That’s actually why I’m here to meet you,” she said. “My father… he’s been missing for three days.”

Alex’s brows furrowed. “Missing?”

“Yes,” she continued, her eyes flashing with sadness now. “He left for a confidential business meeting three days ago, but no one’s heard from him since. His last known location was one of his private properties outside the city. We’ve tried to contact him, but there’s been no response.”

Alex’s mind raced. If Heinrich, one of the most powerful men in the city, had vanished, it couldn’t be a coincidence. Especially not now, when Alex needed him most.

“Do you have any leads?”

“Very few,” Isabella admitted, crossing her arms. “But I don’t think it’s a random disappearance. My father has too many enemies. And if you’ve come here, I assume you’re not just any visitor. You know something, don’t you?”

Alex met her gaze, weighing his options. He knew how critical Heinrich’s loyalty was to his plans, but now, it seemed there was a much bigger problem at hand.

“Not yet,” Alex replied, “but I plan to find out.”

Isabella studied him for a moment before nodding slowly. “Good. Then perhaps we can help each other. I’ll give you access to any information you need, but in return, I expect you to help me find my father.”

Alex gave a slight nod, his thoughts already beginning to formulate a new strategy. “But I’ll need to know everything.”

Isabella’s eyes flickered with something unreadable—worry, maybe—but she straightened her shoulders and gestured toward a nearby conference room. “Come with me. There’s much to discuss.”

***

Isabella returned home early that evening, rushing into the grand halls of the Lancastriel Mansion.

“Is it true, my father…” she quickly asked the steward, an older man named Hawthorne who had served the family for decades. “He’s back? Where’s he?”

“Yes…” Hawthorne’s usually calm demeanor shifted slightly as he glanced up from his ledger. “In his study, Miss Isabella. He… he hasn’t left the room since he arrived this afternoon.”

Isabella frowned. Heinrich was many things. Calculating, ruthless when necessary, but reclusive wasn’t one of them. He never shut himself off from the world, especially not when business matters were pending.

“Has he spoken to anyone?” she asked.

Hawthorne shook his head. “Not a word, Miss. He ordered me to bring him no visitors.”

Her frown deepened. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something far deeper than just a business crisis was gnawing at her father. “I’ll speak to him myself,” she said firmly, already moving toward the grand staircase that spiraled up to Heinrich’s private wing.

“Miss Isabella, if I may,” Hawthorne called after her, stopping her just before she reached the steps. Isabella turned to him, her eyes narrowing slightly. The steward hesitated for a moment, then continued in a quiet voice, “There’s something you should know about your father’s current state. It’s… related to an old acquaintance. Someone from a long time ago.”

“What are you talking about?”

The steward cleared his throat, his gaze briefly dropping to the floor as though what he was about to say carried an unusual weight. “A man… a legendary warrior. Someone who played a crucial role in your father’s rise to power many years ago. I never thought I’d see the day when his memory would affect your father like this.”

“A legendary warrior?” Isabella repeated, her brow furrowing. “My father has never mentioned this person to me before. Who was he?”

Hawthorne’s eyes met hers, and for the first time, Isabella saw a flicker of emotion in the old steward’s eyes. “Most people knew him by a different name…” There was a pause. “Codename Black.”

Isabella felt a chill run down her spine. The name Codename Black wasn’t just a name. It was a myth, a ghost whispered about in the shadows of the military elite. Stories of his unmatched prowess in battle, his ruthless tactics, and his ability to disappear without a trace had become part of legend.

To hear it spoken in connection with her father was almost impossible to comprehend.

“He… helped my father?” she asked slowly.

Hawthorne nodded. “Yes, Miss Isabella. In more ways than you know. Your father wasn’t always the titan of industry you see today. When he was a younger man, he was struggling to establish himself. He had enemies, powerful rivals that sought to ruin him. It was Black who intervened, using his influence and military power to protect your father, to give him a foothold in the world. Without Black's help, your father would not be the man he is today.”

"How did you know all of this?" Isabella took a step back, trying to process this new information. “Why has he never told me this?” she whispered, more to herself than to Hawthorne.

“I can’t say, Miss,” the steward replied softly. “But I believe your father kept it from you because he never wanted to acknowledge the debt he owed. Heinrich Lancastriel is a proud man. Perhaps too proud to admit that his fortune was built with the help of another’s strength.”

Isabella’s mind was spinning. Her father, the formidable Heinrich Lancastriel, had been helped by this mysterious warrior. But why had this affected him now? And what did it mean for her family?

“And now?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why is he mourning? Is it because of this?”

Hawthorne hesitated again, glancing up the staircase toward Heinrich’s study. “Yes, Miss. From what I’ve heard in passing, it seems that your father has learned of his supposed death. It’s hit him harder than anything I’ve ever seen. I believe he’s not just mourning a business ally, but a dear friend who saved his life countless times.”

Isabella felt her stomach twist. Her father mourning anyone, let alone a man he never spoke of, was deeply unsettling.

“Thank you, Hawthorne.” She turned back toward the staircase. “I’ll speak to him.”

Isabella made her way upstairs. She reached the heavy wooden door of her father’s study room and knocked softly.

“Father?” There was no response. She knocked again, louder this time. “Father, it’s Isabella. Please, let me in.”

Still no answer.

Taking a deep breath, Isabella pressed her hand against the door and pushed it open. Inside, the room was dimly lit and the curtains were drawn. Her father sat at his desk, his back to her, the outline of his shoulders hunched forward.

“Father…”

Heinrich did not turn around. His voice, when it finally came, was low. “Leave me, Isabella.”

“No,” she said, her voice firm. “I won’t leave you like this, Father. Not when I’ve just learned the truth about Codename Black.”

At that, Heinrich finally turned his head slightly, just enough for her to see his weary eyes.

“He was more than just a friend, wasn’t he?” she continued. “He saved your life. He helped build everything we have.”

Heinrich let out a long, slow breath. “And now he’s gone…”

Isabella’s lips parted as she stood before her father. He was torn between her concern for him and the urgent matters piling up outside the walls of the mansion.

“Father,” she said softly, her hands clasped in front of her. “I understand what he meant to you. But there’s an emergency board meeting happening right now. The company is in turmoil. You need to attend.”

Heinrich remained silent, his gaze fixed on the glass of scotch in his hand. The sharp lines of his once-imposing figure now softened by grief.

He didn’t move.

Isabella stepped closer, her voice a little firmer now. “They’re waiting for you. The shareholders are growing restless. If you don’t—”

“Enough!” Heinrich's voice cut through the air, startling her. He slammed the glass down on the table, spilling some of the amber liquid across the polished wood. His eyes bore into hers. “I said leave me, Isabella. I have no interest in the boardroom right now!”

Isabella flinched at the sudden outburst. Her hands trembled slightly as she tried to collect herself. “I-I’m sorry, Father. I didn’t mean to—”

“I don’t need you lecturing me on business,” he growled, standing up from the chair and glaring at her. “Do you know what it feels like to lose someone who built your very foundation? To lose the only person you ever trusted with your life?”

“I’m only trying to help…” Isabella’s voice cracked. She bowed her head, knowing there was nothing more she could say to console him. “I’ll leave you to your mourning.”

She turned to leave, her heels clicking against the cold marble floor, moving faster with each step. In her rush, she fumbled for the door handle, pulling it open. But as she moved, something slipped from her coat pocket.