Den of Vipers [Vapor]

[The knights of kings]

Den of Vipers
Feb. 25th, 1908

In only a few short years industrial civilizations had spread to both fringes of the continent. Sprawling across the face of the entire planet. Ransacking the soil for precious metals and fouling the air with its pollution as well as ash. This gargantuan society had already reached its peak centuries after its establishment. Ahead lay only an abrupt time period of violence. The cities would burn and the smoke would cloud the sky, many remember it as the days leading up to the Great War. The peace which should have followed humanities new discoveries was lost; with the world’s fertile plains being turned into sterile wastelands. Metal would rain from the sky as mankind would live out through the twilight years...

While much of Prinnia was crafted into a pleasure resort, those living within the towns and country side had very much their own culture. Though the denizens of Prinnia did enjoy the casinos and many baths they also enjoyed the simple life, working in the factories and merely enjoying life as a commoner, if one could. Thus the many towns that dotted the country where quaint, yet they held many elegant buildings that brought a breath of fresh air from the crowded and rowdy cities.

Ingree, Northern Tomekian Province

Several miles from the Prinnian-Averi border

Sophie threaded the needle carefully as a cloud of smoke from a passing train rattled her window, the tracks where dug into the ground creating a trench like rail system that didn’t interfere with busy ground level traffic. Several steam cars chugged along the busy streets as an over burdened trolley system was packed with commuters heading to their morning shifts at the nearby factory. Like a dragon the factories and mines spewed forth a dark green cloud from their smoke stacks. Many drove horse drawn wagons, filled with farm produce, to and from a near mob of a farmers market. Stuffed in vendors competed with their voices for the best sales and deals underneath the radiant rays of the sun, draping the town in warmth as the spring season brought with it a fresh wave of smells and new life. Several street urchins ran about ducking in and out of legs stealing coin purses and apples much to the discomfort of the police who chased after them, their slightly pudgy faces red as they heaved themselves down the road blowing into their whistles. Yet none of this bothered Sophie, she was only twenty three and of perfect courting age, yet she preferred her little flower shop then to romancing men. Lost in her own little world. She quietly continued to knit as several old men stood in a semi circle outside the shop speaking excitedly about what had been in the days newspaper.

"They say there is gonna be a war!" One bearded old man spouted clutching the paper into a roll. The others nodded as they grumbled amongst the vibrant chirps of the birds.

"A bloody one too! Those Averian pigs! We'ill show them what’s what!" An old man lifted his cane like a rifle and shot at invisible enemies.

"We haven’t fought a war in quite some time...the fact that Averi annexed the northern half of Prinnia does not mean well..." One sad solemnly.

"We aren’t at war yet you dolts! The King of Averi just sent us an ultimatum! I doubt he will actually keep his promise!"

Sophie stood from behind the counter and pulled out a bouquet of flowers and walked out the door, looking it behind her as she did so. The old men visibly brightened as they heard the door chime. They waved and she waved back, such kind old men, even if they got rowdy up by the paper. She draped her shawl around her shoulders and caught a ride on the trolley as it rolled slowly past. The clack of the tracks giving an almost soothing melody as Sophie made her way out of town. Slowly she made her way up the rolling green hills that over looked the boarder, she was walking up the dirt road when a rumble of a truck convoy made her step aside. She covered her mouth as the trucks thundered past kicking up clouds of dust and exhaust in their wake. The easily identifiable blue uniforms let her know it had been Prinnian troops. Prinnia hadn’t fought a war of major proportions in years and though she had been gearing up for one they had failed to change the uniforms which were fit for a parade ground then a battlefield.

Passing large artillery batteries on her way up the hill Sophie ignored the whistling soldiers who sat perched by their guns. They called to her asking her to have a cup of tea or partake in their conversation, and undoubted in their tents she thought. When she finally reached the crest of the hill she was greeted by several soldiers with big smiles. Sophie smiled and handed the flowers to a thin officer his black hair barely showing under his blue cap with red trim.

"Sophie you know it’s dangerous the Ultimatum runs out today. Those Averian bastards could attack any day now." The officer chastised as he peered over the trenches and wire to the woods across the valley. Somewhere in the woods was an Averian army, they had heard movements, but the forest was so thick that no one really knew what was going on. Though the threat seemed far off in the towns it was very real here on the border fortifications. Sophie only tilted her sunhat back to soak up the golden rays.

"Oh Rastel you fuss too much! I will always make sure my friend is safe in these dank trenches and all these brutish men." She teased as Rastel's men all laughed. Rastel blushed clearly embarrassed as he shook his head disapprovingly.

"Well I still..." Rastel never finished as a torrent of bullets started ripping the earth works around him. Rastel and his men instinctively hit the dirt and slithered on their bellies cursing all the while. A soldier grabbed a stunned Sophie and threw her to the dirt as well. Whistling death filled the air as the woods across the border erupted in light from the muzzle fire. Rastel unholstered his pistol and moved over to a lookout post, a small slit cut out so he could see the field below. He could barely make out men running through the woods and firing at them from the cover of the brush. They were too far away for the enemy to make their fire accurate, but that didn’t stop the Averian troops from sending down cascading waves of rifle fire which filled the air along with the telltale chatter of a machine gun. As suddenly as it started though the fire quickly ceased, it had been like a flash rain storm, doing its damage then dissipating quickly. Yet that was not the end of the attack, instead of bullets from the dark tree line came a thunderous war cry. Brown uniforms came spilling out of the woods like a dirty tsunami crashing against the shore.

Prinnia and Averi had their trouble filled past. The last conflict had left both nations badly bruised as Averi tried to reclaim the Northern half of the province of Tomekia which had come under Prinnian occupation some time ago. This meant that Prinnia had always anticipated another war fortifying her northern border as much as she could to deter any further conflict. Now Averi struck back with a fury and thirst for vengeance as well as blood. The situation though ran much deeper than that in Averi though. Her people grew disgruntled by the rising taxes, hunger, and humiliations at the hands of the Prinnians. They blamed the monarchy and the government and the King needed a way out, showing their anger in the form of armed mobs and burning of government building, bordering on the threat of civil war. Yet the monarchy repressed the people with an iron fist bringing down the rioters and censored the papers. There was a descent into near anarchy if it hadnt been for the quick thinking of army officials to start churning out propaganda. The only option to return glory to the land was the retaking of the Tomekian province which had eluded them for so long, a victory over Prinnia would not only bring in a surge of national pride, but the Tomekian Province was quiet rich in minerals and rare earth metals making her a war chest to be plundered.

Waves of armed Averian soldiers poured to the first of two barbed wire lines set to slow an enemy advance before the trenches. Rastel took at his whistle and blew into it til he felt his lungs would give out. Instinct not fear dominated his mind, as it did the other Prinnian soldiers who moved to firing positions. When the first enemy soldier hit the barbed wire and began cutting it the clatter of Prinnian bullets rained down on them. Each Prinnian solider armed with the standard issue C109, a semi-automatic rifle, and though it didn’t have the range of a bolt action rifle it laid down an impressive amount of fire. The blasts of rifles was quickly followed by the angry scream of machine guns which raked the field in a deadly cross fire.

Averian troops fell as if something sapped the life out of them, crumpling where they stood. Blood splattered across the green grass and brown uniforms. Many men screamed and kicked as they fell about, but more and more poured out of the woods. The Averian's and successfully crossed the first barbed wire line and began rushing forth to the second line only several feet in front of the fortifications. Their bayonets glittered in the sunlight and danced like demons as they continued the suicidal charge up the hill. The continual pops from Rastel's men reassured him as he picked up his own rifle and let off several rounds, steaming cartridges flung out and landed on the ground. Sophie covered her ears and curled into the fetal position as bullets darted all around in a macabre dance of death. One of Rastel's men shrieked as a bullet lodged itself into his shoulder and crimson liquid began bleeding onto his blue uniform. The urge to vomit nearly overcame Rastel, but the instinct to kill was much greater.

More and more enemy soldiers surged from the woods as if the entire army had concentrated at this very spot, leaving behind massive mounds of dead and wounded. A Prinnian colonel ran up and down the line surveying the attack, he had little doubt that the Averian’s had moved in hundreds of troops into the area to over run them... and it was working. The mounds of dead piled higher and higher as the charge continued in broad daylight. The first wave had been incinerated, yet the brutality continued as the human wave reached the second barbed wire line up the hill. Prinnian men could now stare eye to eye with the enemy as they were only mere feet apart. A grenade lodged itself on the earth works in front of a Prinnian machine gun, the blast tore out the gun and slammed it back into its operators, crippling them. The colonel peered through the dropping dust only to hear blood curdling scream. There was no time to help even with the Prinnians throwing everything they had there were gar too many Averian soldiers tumbling over there fallen brethren. A Prinnian soldier slipped a new clip into his C109 and fired at a man only ten feet away, the man fell backwards as two bullets slammed into his chest.

Suddenly Rastel heard something that sounded like a freight train hurling past followed shortly by a sharp, yet earth shattering explosion. He peered over the sandbags and began firing again only stopping to swoop in another clip, but before he could fire again he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. A dismembered arm lay at his feet, the tattered brown cloth around it said it was an enemy soldiers, but that didn’t stop it from being vomit inducing. He emptied his lunch and nearly fainted, yet the sight of the enemy wave breaking past the second barbed wire line snapped him back into action. Screams and bayonets filled the air as the Averian soldiers came up to the earth works. Rastel was about to pull out his knife when another explosion from an artillery shell eviscerated the Averian's jumping over the wire. Prinnian Artillery had finally gotten ready and began lobbing shell but they were far too late now.

"Fall back! Fall back!" The colonel shouted as he dug his bayonet into the shoulder of an unfortunate enemy soldier before slapping open his skull with the butt of his rifle. "We have to fall back to the bridge and hold them there! It’s the choke point!"

Rastel slipped his arm around Sophie and scooped her out of the trench his men falling suit as they broke out into a sprint down the other end of the hill. The colonel ran and turned every so often to keep the enemy from breaking out after them, the other men followed his lead and dropped to the ground every so often to fire off a few rounds. The Averian soldiers opened fire at the now exposed Prinnians dropping several as they did so. They had taken the hill, but the operation called for the securing of the bridge across the river into the town of Ingree.

Prinnian artillery was already packing up and scurrying to the bridge when Rastel nearly carrying Sophie over his shoulder arrived. They ran through the near empty tent city to the bridge now packed with wagons and trucks carrying artillery pieces across to prevent capture. The town itself was in chaos as people began to fear the eventual Averian advance. Yet the brave Colonel stood his ground at the base of the hill and jumped into a small earthen trench at the end of the tent city. Rastel and the surviving Prinnians did also, they had lost at least a third of their men were dead or dying on the hill, but the Averian soldiers would pay for every inch of Prinnia. Rastel grabbed onto a terrified Sophie who was on the verge of tears.

"Sophie you gotta listen to me!" He gripped her shoulder tightly the fear in his eyes obvious, "You gotta run we will hold them here! Get to the bridge and get inside please!"

She nodded slowly clearly frightened, he shook her lightly staring at her letting her know he wasn’t kidding. He let go of her and picked up his rifle and began firing again not even really aiming. Sophie tore her dress so she could run and made a break for the bridge, bullets dancing at her feet but she made it. The Averian soldiers rushed down the hill sustaining more casualties than Rastel thought would ever be possible for a man to endure. That’s when several chattering machine guns opened up, Rastel looked about confused, and all their machine guns had been on the top of the hill. To his astonishment several troop lorries with machine guns perched on their cabins began to spray bullets across the open field. Averian men tumbled down the hill bullet holes rapidly spreading across their chests. Blood smeared against the green grass, dirt kicked up as the men fell like animals to the slaughter. Rastel couldn’t believe his eyes, so much destruction...everything was moving in slow motion. Blood splattered on his face as one of his buddies was struck in the throat by a speeding bullet sending him reeling to the dirt floor. Rastel gulped in huge gasps of air as if he was drowning. He clawed at the buttons on his uniform as if that would allow him to breathe.

"Rastel! Rastel it’s over!" The Colonel lifted Rastel to his feet, their elegant blue uniforms covered in dirt and blood. The Colonel had a stern face his bushy mustache only adding to his piercing eyes.

"wha..." Rastel noticed for the first time everything was silent. He peered over the shallow trench to see the hill littered with bodies, blood forming small creeks as gravity pulled it downhill. Shifting figures on the hill showed that the Averian soldiers at massive cost had taken the hill, but made no effort to press their luck. Rastel slumped back down and wept.

A messenger would later give a letter to the Colonel stating that an Averian attack was imminent, the colonel merely crumpled the letter and threw it on the ground. Later that night, under the cover of darkness the Prinnian troops would withdraw into the town and take up defensive positions on the opposite bank, ready and waiting for another attack. News of the Averian attack would send shock waves throughout the international community and certainly through Prinnia. War had begun...

[The knights of kings]

I find no solace above or below.
Only man, small, striving, competing.
Battling one another.
I have no use for a god.
I pray to myself.
For myself.

Kingsbury, Provincial capital of Tomekia
Feb. 28th, 1908

Following the attack made on Feburary 25th, 1910 by the Averian Royal Infantry at the foothills of Ingree, several other massive infantry and light cavalry attacks had been made all along the Northern border of Prinnia. Though the nation had been preparing for a war to the east she had shifted a bulk of her forces north when Prinnia-Averi relations began to boil over. Prinnia had a contingency plan for such a thing as an Averian invasion and was in the process of setting up further fortification when Averian generals took the initiative and overran a chunk of the defensive line running across the country, though casualties had been horrendous, a fact withheld from propaganda papers proclaiming the victory. The Averian army had advanced some fifteen miles into the province with the Prinnian army reeling back to more defendable positions. The fortress city of Ingree which sat on the southern bank of the Hostel River was one of the clinch pins within the Prinnians new defensive line...

Field Marshal Bremmen von Schwartz stood staring out the window of his Provincial palace down to the city streets of Kingsbury which were rife with life. Though usually the city streets were busy with merchants and working men shuffling to their work places or markets, with the numerous near pathetic honks of automobiles, today's commotion was much much different. It was a near riotous scene, though not the type Bremmen had anything to worry about, as he pulled at the end of his graying beard. No this was the type of commotion he wanted, a surge of nationalistic pride! The mob was crowding the city square, every man, woman, and child held a leaflet distributed by newspapers, telling of the "revolting & disgusting" atrocities committed by the common Averian solider. How dare he try to take their identity away! They shouted and chanted demanding an equal response to the carnage the Averian soldiers had created these past three days. Bremmen grinned as some teenagers brought out the royal flag of Averi and burned it, stamping on it with angry stomps. The city, as well as most of the country was in uproar. The many tourists visiting the nation felt it was time to leave, but the Imperial envoys assured them that the war would not affect them in any way, for now at least.

A knock on the heavy oak doors sounded more like a light thump, but it still snapped Bremmen out of his trance like thoughts. He quickly beckoned for whomever was on the other side to come in. The doors swinging open with a creak, but their sheer size and grace distracted any thought of rusting door hinges. A young officer stepped in, his eyes still held an innocence in them that men in the service often lost, indicating the boy had never seen actual combat.

"Sir," The officer saluted the rolls of paper shifting under his new position, "The Imperial War staff has arrived."

Following behind the boy was a series of business looking men, undoublty the armaments ministers, as well as several men dressed as himself, field marshals. They all quickly stepped inside where they took their seats along a large marble stone table, a magnificently old table at that. Bremmen saluted each one and stood standing at attention until each one was seated, he then pulled up a large stand which held the map of the Tomikeian province in its entirety. The young officer unrolled the papers in his hands and spread them across the table, again a number of maps and strategic locations. The other men pondered over them and began whispering amongst each other.

"Shall we begin this meeting in earnest then?" Bremmen asked stoically.

"Indeed, why don’t you give us the run down?"

"Very well," Bremmen nodded as he tapped his horse whip against the map in a graceful gesture, “As you all know that three days ago, on the eigth of March, several battalions worth of King Aethelred III's light infantry made a successful attack on the defensive perimeter surrounding Ingree. Here and here."

Bremmen tapped the map and the others nodded.

"We at the time of the attack only had a small battalion of around three hundred men sitting on a series of hills overlooking the border. This force was only a preliminary one, we were under the process of reinforcing the elements of the 103rd, when it was attacked. So it is sufficient to say that when the attack commenced we were severely undermanned. We believe that an estimated two thousand light infantry force had accumulated in the woods just on the Averian side. Now when I say light I mean very light...They had not artillery cover what’s so ever, if they had I can assure you our own casualties would have been much greater..."

"Just how many casualties did we sustain field marshal?" One general asked tapping his pen as he looked over the estimates on paper.

"From the border garrison," Bremmen sighed clearly displeased,” Some one hundred men dead and wounded."

The room clearly stiffened uncomfortable as whispers again filled the room. Finally one man spoke up in near rage.

"God damn that’s a near a third of the border garrison in that area! Jesus!" a general rubbed his eyes frustrated as he brought his other hand down in a fist.

Bremmen nodded, the truth was the truth, no matter how dark and desperate.

"Yes, for the elements of the 103rd the casualties were quiet high. Though the colonel in charge of that sector was correct in retreating. Had he not they would have been slaughtered. Regardless the Averian troops were equipped with their standard bolt action rifle and had no heavy guns such as machine guns, as a rapid advance would render them useless. Our boys held well gentlemen, the enemy sustained horrific casualties, five times as many in fact by our count, perhaps higher. Our surviving boys retreated to the northern river bank and held off the remaining Averian attack which we believe their objective was to seize the bridge into Ingree. In that they failed. Also on good note all of our artillery on the northern side of the river managed to cross over the bridge. I have ordered the infantry to use the cover of night to cross the bridge and secure its southern side only."

"How do you propose we move ahead? The Kaiser has made you GruppenFuhrer of the Tomekian army for the duration of this war, congrats." A general presented Bremmen with a golden baton which signified the position of head of combat operations in any given theater.

Bremmen didn’t smile, but inside he was beaming with pride.

"Thank you, but now is no time to rest on ceremony," He turned back to the map, "The fortress city of Ingree has its own garrison of four hundred men as well as a citizens militia of one hundred, though granted these are old men who see it more as a club then a military organization. With the elements of the 103rd we reinforce the banks and thwart any attempt crossing it. In the meantime we move up two regiments of heavy infantry from the 12th and 13th Imperial guard by rail to Ingree as well as a number of guns and pontoons. Ingree will be the site of our first counter attack
. Also have the diplomatic channels open, I believe if I remember correctly that Sarmandars has a mutal protection pact with us and perhaps they can honor that promise now. We need men to isolate this as well as other choke points along the northern border."

The men all stood and saluted.

"It will be done Gruppenfhurer!" They chanted and everyone set to work.

Ingree, Southern Bank of the Hostel River

Sophie plugged her fingers into the wound which squirted blood onto her once white apron, she turned her head away and closed her eyes as if wishing the bleeding to stop. Her once well styled hair thrown back into a quick pony tail, a thin strand of half curly hair draped over her tired face. She was pale, too many restless nights filled with groans of the wounded. She had slept in the local cathedral ever since running from the front three days back, she could have slept in her bed at the flower shop, but she would rather help the wounded, or rather she was afraid but she would never admit that. A doctor held her hand and removed it from the bloody wound of the soldier, who had grown silent, his eyes glazed over. The young man hadn’t even seen life in its entirety, now he lay dead on a church pew, hand clutched around the granny photograph who could have been anybody. Sophie trembled and felt like weeping, tears formed at the edge of her eyes before the doctor rubbed her shoulder, his face solemn, he was afraid he was getting too used to seeing men die.

"Why don’t you take a break, get some fresh air." He said quietly looking up at the cathedral stain glass window, light filtering in softly through. Where was god? Did he not see the suffering? Maybe it wasn’t his to know, but he couldn’t help wonder.

"Yea ok...Thank you Dr. Andrews." She said quietly rubbing away the tears with her forearm. She walked quietly towards the church doors when a figure stepped into the light. Her eyes widened and a broken smile crossed her lips as she rushed over.

"Hey..." Rastel said in a hushed whisper. "I see you made it back."

Sophie nearly jumped into his arms as they held each other, he was covered in dirt and blood, but still very much ok. She buried her face into his filthy uniform and her breaths became heavy, the tears now flowing freely.

"Thank god you’re ok..." She said between gasps of air from her crying.

"Yea I don’t have much time, but I brought you these." He pulled out some wild flowers, she smiled and nodded. Perhaps not a good gift for one who owned a floor shop, but it meant the world to her.

"Thank you." She took them and looked at them graciously.

"I just came to say im fine and I have to go back now, but il come around tomorrow afternoon we can have tea." He smiled wearily, it was clear he hadn’t gotten much sleep either.

They parted with that hug and he trudged down the cobble stone street where he met his remaining men as they trudged off back to defensive positions along the Hostel. She would withdraw to her home to place the flowers in a vase before falling asleep exhausted.

Colonel Ribbentrip strode down the brick and stone bank of the Hostel, the citizens of Ingree had widened the river long ago to allow for more shipping and now the bank was perfect for defending. Citizens of Ingree not working, mostly young boys, old men, and women quickly filled sandbags with sediments from the bank. The Averians watched from their position in the small trench where the Prinnians had defended the tent city several days earlier. Every so often they would take shots at the civilians only to be met by overwhelming machine gun chatter from the Prinnians in response. The bank had become a wall of sandbags and machine guns, not too far away were perched artillery pieces overlooking the river.

An Averian officer, Casper, looked over the bank with his binoculars, scanning the Prinnian lines, though it was hard to get a good picture. His men huddled eagerly for the attack, bayonets at the ready. So far their advance had been successful at the cost of six hundred men, he gulped displeased by the number of casualties sustained on the first day, but they were necessary for the advance, more too would perish today. He looked down at his wrist watch, a gift from his father, and saw the second hand ticking away. He had received dispatches to take the bridge, an order from the war ministry itself. He had a thousand men at his disposal and he would be damned if he wouldn’t take that bridge. Rushing the bridge would negate the Prinnian artillery, they wouldn’t dare destroy their own bridge. Command had also supplied him with small boats and oars with which to cross the river en mass. It was only a matter of time, without artillery there would be no softening bombardment, only courage, and bullets. The few machine guns they captured were damn near useless unless defending.

"Advance platoon ready sir." A soldier whispered to Casper who nodded.

"Alright." Casper whispered, he had the sudden urge to piss himself, but he kept his pants dry.

Casper withdrew his sword and jumped to the top of the trench, across the river those filling sandbags instantly knew what was going to happen and scurried up the embankments and behind the sandbags. The resounding clicks of rifles and machine guns at the ready filled the air. Casper rattled his saber which glittered in the sun as he fired a pistol round into the air.

"Charge you bastards!" He screamed at the top of his lungs before making a full on sprint towards the bridge. Hundreds of brown uniforms with rifles flooded out of the trench, many carrying with them small rafts which they dipped into the water before clambering aboard and making way with oars, paddling furiously. Hundreds of other men rushed onto the northern half of the bridge and began racing down its length. For a moment there was no gunfire just the war cries until an artillery shell smacked right on a raft and capsized another. The men in the raft rained from the sky in bloody chunks, that’s when the machine guns and rifles opened up. At the southern end of the bridge was a line of sandbags and three machine guns which opened up with a blood lust. They barked words of death as the first bullets shredded into the brown uniforms spouting fountains of red crimson. Casper moved liked the wind sword pointing forward even as men screamed and hit the bridge with a lifeless thunk. Blood splattered across his face as a bullet lodged itself into his companions head, spilling gray matter all over their brown uniforms. No one stopped to help the wounded, it was fate.

On the river those paddling furiously were being strafed by rifle fire from the Prinnians as well as machine guns. One raft was shot full of holes and began to sink, those who couldn’t swim sank with it. Other rafts were disintegrated by artillery shells and still other pooled with blood as a machine gun tore the intestines of a rower. Though the boats kept coming and the blood kept flowing.

Rastel had just arrived when the fighting opened up again, he quickly found his place on the left side of the bridge and ordered his men to do the same. They opened fire on the hundreds of brown figures on the bridge, leaving a deadly cross fire. The troop Lorries that had saved Rastel's ass several days earlier rumbled up and joined the other guns as they roared to life. The rafts began being swept down river by the current bringing them across a line of fire which ripped through them like knives to cloth.

Casper was about half way across the bridge when he felt like he had been punched in the thigh by a stone fist. He stumbled but didn’t let up, the adrenaline overcoming any pain he felt. He shrieked courage to his men as more and more fell by the wayside, yet unlike their first charge the Prinnians were well prepared for this attack. One of Casper's NCO's and dear friend slumped over quietly and with no other thought into his pitiful death. Before Casper could get a good look at his position or remaining men he felt five smacks to the chest as several large caliber rounds pierced through him like nails into a tree trunk. Blood and dangling flesh poured out of him as he smacked the metal bridge with his face. He twitched as the lasts bits of life fled his body. Remaining infantry stopped and turned on their heels to retreat, but found that bullets were faster. The attack had faltered and collapsed, the area now covered in a ghostly silence.

Rastel fired his last shot before dropping his rifle, he stared at the hundreds of corpses littering the river and bridge. It was a frightening sight, tears rolled down from his hazel eyes...How could it get any worse than this...

[Ardkonia]

Stanimir Tikhonovich walked out of the car along with several other men. Exchanging several nods, two of them guarded just outside the entrance to the building. It stank, but they were ready for everything.

"Password."

"Grigio la Bella."

"Come in."

The doors opened, Stanimir and another man walked in. The room was filled with the smoke of tobacco. The pillows were arranged in a circle, a square table in the middle of it, a box of Rahat Lukum just waiting to be eaten by those of Mostro Grigio military organization. The other man who walked in along with Stanimir shoved Rahat Lukum away and put a black case on the table. He flipped it open, revealing lots of money.

"Twenty million in Falks." Stanimir said.

"What do you need then?" Eugenio Mariani, one of the generals of Mostro Grigio asked.

"We want this to be kept secret. We are funding Mostro Grigio if you take down the Averi government and await further tasks, as well as declining any and all big contracts if it is not from us."

"What is your name?"

"Dr. Coniglio. (Dr Rabbit)."

*Chuckle*

[The knights of kings]

Occupied town of Restenbol, Northern Tomekian Province
1908

Twenty miles from the original Prinnian-Averian border

While many of the lights of the town of Restenbol had been cloaked behind drapes and curtains, the town’s popular tavern was abuzz with activity. Inside were men of the Averian 1st Royal cavalry and they were feasting, the men slobbered over hunks of meat and the bar maids who brought them tankard after tankard of ale. The bar tender, a slightly pudgy man and owner of the tavern sat angrily in the corner, he had been a pioneer, a Prinnian engineer for the military. He was nationalistic, but not a fool to resist especially if it would cost him his life, the men at least paid for their food. Averian soldiers occupied every table, food and drink scattered everywhere including the floor, which was covered in crumbs and bits of food. The troops were a rowdy bunch fighting and laughing along with the piano which filled the room with song, they had already broken two tables and chairs. Supposedly, as far as the bartender could tell, there was quiet a food shortage in Averi due to famine and even the military was having issues procuring enough food for its men.

So send them to savage our fertile plains to relieve them, thought the bartender bitterly.

"Why the long face Rosen?" A clearly drunk Cavalry officer who went by the name of Stark asked boisterously. He wrapped his muscular arm around Rosen's shoulder. Rosen resisted the urge to pull the pistol he had under the bar and blow the man's brains out. He plastered a fake smile and nodded silently. Stark didn’t seem to be interested in him anymore, he was more focused on the voluptuous blonde bar maid who balanced two trays with amazing skill.

"You know Rossen I haven’t gotten laid in somme time." His words reeked with liquor and came out slurred. He patted Rosen's white oxford covering his rotund belly. "You sure are lucky to have such fine women here in Prinnia...Well Averi now!" He roared with laughter only infuriating Rosen further. This had been the scene for the past two nights ever since the Calvary strode in declaring the town and its resources under Averian authority. The towns garrison of two hundred men had retreated to god knew were leaving the town defenseless, the people couldn’t help but feel betrayed. That was until some noticed figures sneaking around the woods at night, the citizens quickly caught on to what was going on and kept quiet. The 1st royal cavalry had some five hundred men and they were all armed with sabers alongside carbines. A standoff in broad day light would have been suicide had they fought on the flat plains around the town. Thus they snuck off and waited for the opportunity to present itself to strike back and hard.

The 1st cavalry had set up a tent city and tied their horses to the nearby trees under the watchful eyes of a handful of sentries. The others proceeded to feast on the stores of the locals and satisfy their need for a drink. At this time most of the Averians were in a state of inebriation, leaving the new recruits to keep the horses calm into the dead of night.

Solen was only twenty and had joined the 1st Royal cavalry with the desire to be the best and serve the best. Yet slouching against a tree and feeling the nights call for sleep as he watched over the war horses wasn’t what he had in mind. His carbine was at his side and sabre secured to his waist, he took a long draw from his canteen before letting some run on his hands to splash his face. This was boring as shit. He kicked off his boots, he wasn’t going anywhere soon, plus the Prinnian cowards had run straight for the hills when cavalry arrived. There was no threat and tomorrow it would be his turn to fondle the delicious women of the town and enjoy actual meat instead of the rations unfit for the conqueror he was. He licked his lips at the thought, and rested his head against the tree. The horses began to stamp about nervously, their eyes glued at the underbrush several feet away, Solen instantly snapped to attention, his right hand gripping the barrel of his carbine. He stood without boots and with carbine at the ready he approached the bushes, it was too dark to see clearly and he moved in cautiously. Suddenly a squirrel jumped from the bush a nut stuck in its mouth as it scurried away. Solen nearly leapt with fright and just nearly stopped himself from firing. He almost threw up, but held his composure, damn horses getting worked up over nothing. He turned around only to be met with a steely flash in the moonlight.

Solen flinched and dropped his carbine, he gasped for air but the air didn’t come. A bayonet protruding from his gut, the tip coming out barely from his back, blood slid silently down the edge of the glorified knife dripping to the ground forming a small crimson pool. Solen's eyes peered from the blade to the eyes of his assailant. The man was nothing more than a glorified shadow, the moon to his back, but he was a sturdy soldier, his blue uniform crisp and neat, eyes staring straight back at him. An angry scowl crossed the Prinnian's face as he pushed Solen off the bayonet with his boot. Solen collapsed silently feeling the wound spill his intestines and more blood. The world was growing cold and he felt his consciousness melting away until he drew his last short breath.

Richter jammed his bayonet one more time into the lifeless corpse just to make sure, his cap bent forward making him look more intimidating than he was. A bead of sweat dripped down the edge of his nose, he had no time to dwell over the death of an enemy soldier, good riddance he thought. He waved for the rest of his platoon to come out from the brush and they did so silently, shadows moving in the wind. They crept up on three other Averian sentries and disposed of them the same way. Richter grinned wickedly as he gave the signal to cut the horses, his men running down the neat rows of horses and cutting the lines holding them. When the first horses were untied a large mob of Prinnian soldiers appeared from the woods and started slinking off into the tent city before them. They slipped into tents and started cutting throats and bayonetting Averians as they slept.

All was going according to plan, most if not all Averian troops were asleep or too intoxicated to know what was going on. So much for Royal discipline, Richter thought spitefully as he jabbed his bayonet into a drunk officer laying on his mat, the enemy only groaned before silencing. After nearly twenty long minutes at least three hundred Averian Royal cavalry lay slain, blood pooling in the dirt from the silent massacre. For the men of this Prinnian unit the battle wasn’t over, there were the drunks in the tavern to take care of. They moved swiftly bayonet no longer glittering, but soaked crimson.

Rosen was watching with anger as Stark sang the national anthem of Averi. How dare he! Rosen thought spitefully as he picked up an empty tankard and he began washing it with a rag. He spat into it and hoped that a drunken soldier would ask for a drink soon, Stark finished bellowing out sung as he grabbed the ass of a waitress. She took it with stride, it wasn’t the first time nor would it be the last. Stark decided she wasn’t worth his drunken attention and made his way to the front door as his men began another song. He had an increasing urge to piss and decided that the street of a Prinnian town was the perfect place to start. As the world spun around him he reached for the door, his first attempt was a complete miss, but his second attempt his large hand grasped the handle and swung it open. When the butt of a rifle smashed in his skull he stood their stunned, the world wasn’t spinning anymore it was just red. Stark smacked the ground with a sickening thud, followed by stomps as Prinnian soldiers rushed inside. Some Averian soldiers who were quiet as drunk as their fellows fumbled for their swords or pistols, but it was too late, several cracks could be heard outside as Prinnian troops shot the drunks in the gut. Cups and plates smashed as the screaming bar maids ran into the back room, Rosen reached for his pistol and disposed of a stunned Averian sitting at the bar. Blood splattered onto the counter as the Averian slid off the bar stool. Richter pushed aside some dead bodies and stabbed into the chest of an Averian who was crawling towards a sword. Rosen started wiping off his pistol with the rag as Richter stepped over the body and the counter placing the stool upright while taking a seat.

"Il have an ale please." Richter grinned as he reached into his pocket pulling out several coins which clicked on the bar.

"It’s on the house sir." Rosen smiled back.

Valhedge, Capital of Averi, Royal Palace
1908

The Royal palace in all its splendor and glory was a symbol of imperial pride rising above the stuff and poverty of the city below. Beggars and vagabonds had become increasingly numerous in recent years, only with the help of the royal guard were they cast off from the gates of the palace. Though the kingdom of Averi was slowly stumbling into oblivion it was too slow of a death for the nobles to see as they casted their noses to the sky above the insolent peasantry. King Aethelred III who had assumed the throne at seventeen was now twenty six, wasn’t necessarily a terrible king, though he did bare the brunt of the criticism from the common rabble, he perhaps was more of a king thrusted into a situation not totally under his control. With economic depression, national humiliation, and the added effect of a famine brought on by farming techniques the nation wasn’t pretty sight. Aethelred had dreams of recreating the Rothian Empire, a glory age of Averian domination, but reform was harder to create with a starving people despite all the force they used. Today the well to do people were enjoying the Averian ball which was hosted annually and gave the nobles the ability to mingle while creating new contacts.

Aethelred watched the dancing from his throne, head in the palm of his hand as he slouched with an intensely bored look gracing his face. Eldred the most respected advisor to the late king Raeys was dressed or rather undressed in a simple green tunic and black leather boots. He was swimming through the crowd of elegantly garbed nobles looking incredibly out of place. He carried himself with pride only showing submission when he reached the throne and gave a deep bow. Aethelred grunted and waved him closer as he drifted off into thought again. Eldred smiled as he walked over to the wooden chair placed beside the throne, when he perched himself on it the wood creaked angrily. A grin pressed against his lips as he sipped on some fine wine from a crystal glass, only the best for his lordship, Eldred chuckled softly. He turned to his king who seemed even more disconnected than usual, perhaps that wasn’t so unbelievable, the king was more interested in progress than he was with the pleasantries with people of privilege. His lordship had eagerly or perhaps tacticiously, started a war. The Averian-Prinnian war waged by Aethelred's grandfather, Corpious, was a national humiliation. What was now the Tomekian province in Prinnia was once a vital mining region in the south of Averi, but then Corpious desired war and bleed his country against Prinnia only to lose it all.

Aethelred saw war as a return to the Rothian Empire, choosing to strike Prinnia while the bulk of her army was supposedly in the east. A quick attack which would force a fast surrender before the Prinnian military could reconstitute itself and form an effective counter attack. In the previous war the Averians had learned that Prinnia trained her army well and that Prinnia was a wolf in lamb’s skin with all the tourism. Yet Aethelred had not achieved the quick victory he had hoped for. Though the bulk of his army was still steadily advancing, all along the flanks the army had been stopped with horrendous casualties. Even the army group center was taking heavy casualties as they headed for the Prinnian city of Somme. It was at this city that the Averian war ministry was hoping to lure the elusive Prinnian army and crush them in a single battle. The Somme was a the largest railroad hub in the province and strangling that would halt a majority of rail transportation, Eldred knew the Prinnian psych and knew they would expend every ounce of blood to protect it.

"This festivity bores me greatly Eldred." Aethelred groaned as he shifted to his other hand.

"Ah sire you must at least appear to be enjoying yourself." Eldred spoke eloquently, "A king is as much as a leader as he is a portrait for the state of the country."

"I should be in the war room right now," Aethelred spluttered angrily, "Army group center is marching on Somme and this could be the deciding factor. My generals have failed to secure me an early victory as they promised and now I am forced to thrust all of my cards into this battle to destroy Prinnia."

"Your highness I don’t think now is an appropriate time to be discussing such a vicious thing at such a festivity." Eldred hissed.

"I don’t fucking care!" Aethelred gave Eldred an icy glance, "Right now my army is digging in around the fortifications of the enemy city and we are here playing dress up for these ignorant buffoons."

Eldred cusped his hands together and sighed disapprovingly.

"What do you intend to do your highness?" Eldred resigned to humoring the king.

"Our army is digging in around the defenses at the Somme, I have secretly built up a large number of guns and shells and we are going to unleash hell to force Prinnia to quit." Aethelred gave a nefarious grin that Eldred recognized in the late king Raey's eyes.

[Sarmandar]

Town of Bambaque, Province of Agron Gáte, The Imperial Sarmandars
1908

Music

Be aqúo ertenden do saxa marten.
Be aqúo salanden do saxa conquesten.

He who enters the sand dies.
He who leaves the sand conquers.

The merciless rays of the eternal sun beat down upon the large town of Bambaque, the last Sarmand settlement before Prinnia. It lied just five miles from the province's namesake of the Agron Gáte, the mountain pass which signaled the end of the harsh Serañe wastes and the beginning of the fertile pleasure house of Prinnia. The railroad ran through the pass, and it was the railroad station, along with the oasis, which denoted Bambaque's most prominent feature. It ran right through the center of the town, and from it the townspeople sold their rural produce and bought the many manufactured comforts of the cities.

Industrialization rose quickly throughout the Sarmandars ever since the beginning of the regency period in 1885; the Empress-Regent Arranne du Thrag rapidly expanded the building of factories and and railroads throughout her young son's far-flung desert lands, bringing a sense of modernity the ancient Serañe dunes had never seen before. When Hectaar du Thrag finally took control of his empire, he continued his mother's reforms with earnest, for he had to in order for his nation to survive.

Even a fool could see that the Sarmand faced a harsh world. Only the Sarmand worshipped the ancients lovers of Amaule and Kar-Azad; they shunned any missionary attempts of their neighbors, and for that they held no allies. They had to be sharp, for they were on their own. Then again, the desert-dwellers always had been. Centuries of living in the barren wastes had taught that Death was inevitable and close, a quiet companion, ready to embrace the traveler at any moment whether he be Sarii, Uriharid, or foreigner alike.

Yet in recent years, the Sarmand had finally found a friend in their northern neighbor, Prinnia. Both nations shared a history with the Averians. The Sarii had conquered the deserts and coasts from Averi, stealing the native Uriharid serfs and riches for their own. The Prinnians had revolted and slaughtered their Averian masters. The two new Emperors had sometimes banded together despite their cultural differences to repel the Averians' many attempts are recreating their empire.

A mutual defense pact in 1903 sealed this informal agreement permanently, and it was now finally being enacted. The Sarmand, priding themselves on their honor, would rightfully come to the aid of their northern neighbor. Little did they know that the events of this war would lead to the greatest conflict ever known.

And so now, in the border town of Bambaque, 50,258 Soraye cavalrymen and infantrymen organized into the 5th Imperial Soraye Army stood on horseback and on foot outside the train station led by Lieutenant General Davide Orbesone, about to depart to the north, to fight in the name of their emperor. The Sorayes were the famous troops of the Sarmandars, the tough, hardened desert soldiers recognized by their red uniforms and turbans the color of the imperial flag. They could live in the Serañe as easy as vultures.

People from all walks of life stood in the crowd behind the soldiers, everyone in silence. The Sarmand military was a compulsory service for the Sarii; Uriharid were banned from the imperial armies for fear of revolt, yet that did not stop the Uriharid residents of the town from gathering in crowds alongside Sarii families to see the soldiers off. Stoic Sarii women, some of them noblewomen, stood holding children by the hand or at the hip, their high cheekbones rigid and stern. They wore flowing cotton dresses of blue, green, purple and red, pearl necklaces and jewels, their eyes adorned with black kohl to protect from the unforgiving sun along with loose hoods. Their curious Uriharid counterparts also wore kohl along with colorful bandanas and hoop earrings, bright bodices and skirts decorated with centuries-old patterns. The Uriharid men, nearly all of them laborers, wore simpler attire, with loose white shirts barely tucked in by trousers and bare feet and shins.

In between the station and the troops was the young Emperor and Autocrat of All the Sarmandars, Hectaar du Thrag. He wore a Soraye uniform with a plethora of medals, yet instead of a turban he exposed his curly blond hair, his normally-twinkling green eyes now somber as he sat atop a white-speckled grey stallion which strut back and forth. His powerful voice broke the silence as he boomed to the men before him.

"Great sons of the sea and the sands! Centuries ago your forefathers conquered this land with blood and iron, murdering the haughty Averians who stood and lorded over the sacred land of Kar-Azad and Amaule, building a home for the children of the waters! Many times the scourge of Averi have tried to reclaim our rocky homeland, and every time they have failed! Many times they will try again, and every time, I swear to you, they will fail!" He continued, "Yet our brothers to the north are not as strong. They have not had to withstand the anger of the sun as we have. We cannot blame them for this! Instead, we must teach them how to fend for themselves as we have!"

A burst of cheers erupted from the troops and crowd behind them. "So go, brave lords of the Sarmandars, kings of the rocky mountains and endless waves, lions of the Serañe dunes! Show these Averians that we are as strong as our ancestors have been through every age!"

Hectaar then suddenly whipped the reigns of his horse, riding along the lines of the brigades, shooting his pistol in the air as the soldiers exploded with enthusiasm. As he passed, the troops he crossed charged up to the station and into the train carts, the roar of the train engine sounding out above all. The railroad's hymns would not die until it reached Tomekia Province in Prinnia.

A flock of vultures flew above, decrepit seers who knew of what would come next.

[Ardkonia]

"Wait here." A man hissed into a crate of sorts just about to be put inside a truck, just about to be transported from Prinnia to Aventia. At the southern tip of it, a bulk of forces was standing out, and a certain person by the name of Eldred was to inspect certain regiments, as the King's ego cried. The men sweated. They were both Prinnian and Aventian, they deep inside loathed each other, but they were brothers bond by blood and flesh, as Jesus have cried, for we eat and drink wine and bread, feast on him as he sacrifices himself for our sins, which are yet to come in the following days, for it will involve gore and death.

A day before they had been seated in those crates, they were to receive their instructions. Maldred clearly remembered how boldly the instructions were given to them. The forewarning of what would happen with those that shall betray their mission, it was all too red. One of them, a lad by the name of Osbryht, clearly, pardon, fucked up. A man not too big of mind, thought the police would save him from Doctor Coniglio, and he was wrong. The instructions were found stabbed right into his forehead with a big kitchen knife.

As you clearly see, Mr Osbryht acted not worthy of a saboteur, and I believe he shall not be a pest in your task.

Regardless, however, of his actions, this is not a note to taunt you nor discourage you, it is only to show your significance. For you play a crucial role in history, and you must acknowledge it is not only for money that you do it, but for your homeland, for your culture, for your people. You all shall live in a hut just outside the border. Do not make contact, our people will be providing food and drink for you. After a couple of days you shall receive the word to move out, however, if you do not, we'll provide for your safe return and the payment. If you do receive word to move out, move north by the river and then off to the road. Several high ranking officers have just been shifted from one garrisson to another. They were already been taken care of, and a car will arrive at the crossroad approximately at 9:43 to pick them up. You can find uniforms which you will use in the hut you will live in for a couple of days. As assigned, these are the names of the participants.

-Cynidr - Tenente Attilio Luntz

-Maldred - Aspirante Metrofane Ciccilio

-Aristarco Pitre - Aiutante di battaglia Arnaldo Lembo

-Osbryht - Capitano Ireneo La Civita*IS SICK*

-Melchiorre Mancera - Tenente Colonello Tancredi Celia

They must have a meeting a day later to which atleast one of you shall be invited. You shall be assigned your beds at the barracks by our "people". You have an array of weapons you can take to the meeting. Kill Eldred and flee to scene, if it is not possible without being tackled down, either kill all the other officers or eat the cyanide capsule. When you flee, a train will take off to Inoroth. You all have tickets under your matresses too. Rent a couple of rooms in Hotel Ventimiglia in Roth, and you shall receive your payment.

[The knights of kings]

Battle of the Somme

Generals gathered in there masses,
Just like witches at black mass's.
Evil minds that plot destruction,
Sorcerers of deaths construction.
In the fields the bodies burning,
As the war machine keeps turning.
Death and destruction marching to the fife,
Poisoning their brainwashed minds.

-poem carved into an Averian trench wall

Somme flat lands, Tomekian Province
March 8th, 1908

150 miles south of the original border

Several weeks would follow the recapture of Restenbol in the Averi-Prinnia war before Averi had a chance to strike a death blow to the Prinnian war effort. Army group center, the main Averian army had steadily advanced across the Tomekian provincial city of Somme near the center of the province. Though Army group center had met much success in its quick advance through Prinnia they had suffered heavily in terms of casualties. Prinnia was on the retreat, but every defensive line the Averian army broke through only revealed another several miles behind. Not only that, but Army groups East and West had been halted and were locked in a war of attrition on the foothills of Restenbol and Ingree. Thus Army group center was just a large bulge now threatened by the Prinnians on their flanks. The core of generals leading the operation, code named: Ludwig, were concerned that if the army staled before reaching the Somme and the railsystem it held, they would be encircled and ripped to shreds. Somme represented a quickly fading hope of a quick victory, King Aethreld III had taken it upon himself to coordinate the attack. Assembling the largest army and artillery battery Averi had ever seen. This was his moment to prove a Rothein empire wasnt such an impossible task.

The bombardment had lasted seven days, seven days of pounding shells and raining shrapnel, seven days where men almost were driven to the brink of insanity. From the rear the scene was something out of revelations. A hellfire spread along the entire front as Averi put on a display of military might. Black oily clouds drifted into the air like serpents, slithering outstretched blocking out the sun. A foul stench of gunpowder and burning flesh filled the air as crows, the only birds not shaken by the deaths of hundred came down to peck at the disembodied ligaments for an easy meal. The trees, one ripe with life and produce, now stood as ghostly onlookers in a sterile land, only blacked trunks stripped of branches remained. Green farmland now scorched with burns and cratered beyond recognition, the land once a beautiful sight, now looked like a black moon. Craters filled with water and filth, debris scattered what had been dubiously called "no man's land". The grass was brown and dry, dead. Lengths of barbed wire, undisturbed by constant Averian artillery shells sprawled across the muddy field. There was nothing, death and destruction the only things being sowed in these fields. Prinnia would not let the crucial railroad hub of Somme be taken despite the horrific casualties on both sides so far only weeks into the war. Dirt trenches of the two opposing armies staring each other in the face like boxers in opposite ends of the ring.

For seven days the shells churned up the earth as if trying to take away the soul of the soul. Reducing it to an emotionless rough dirt terrain, all the vegetation had been burned away, leaving the dirt naked and filthy. When the shells finally stopped their ghastly screams and cries only one thing could follow, silence. An eerie silence in which neither side really knew what was happening, only that one thing was for sure, you could hear the song birds. Then the slice of heavenly peace, a peace which could have lasted forever, was defiled by the blood lust of men. A fierce attack followed as the entire Averian army made itself known to its Prinnian opponents.

Rastel had arrived some time ago, his body ached as he fired off the machine gun which kicked like a mule with recoiled. The gun dug into earthworks and surrounded by sandbags to keep flying shrapnel and bullets from piercing its operator. With every buckle and empty steaming cartridge that was discharged, he knew meant a bullet was about to pierce a man with a family's body. Yet like all Prinnian soldiers, he kept firing. His head was slightly bandaged, an Averian trooper in his red uniform had gotten a good smack at his face with the flat end of an entrenching tool, and Rastel was saved as one of his friends plunged a bayonet into the enemy’s spine. He would never forget those eyes as the Averian had tumbled on top of him that day. Regardless of his past though his hands clenched the firing mechanism and swung the machine gun on a pivot, raking the alien landscape with a bloody rain of bullets. This was the third Averian charge of the day and by far the largest, the first two were just probing attack, and this was the real thing.

A thunderous war cry over took the entire field, what looked like a massive tidal wave of red uniforms and glittering bayonets surged out of the trenches meters away. There beady eyes just as haggard and hungry as those of their Prinnian counterparts, their faces bruised and bloodied as they charged forth with courage that they would break through. In the trenches Prinnian soldiers lined the firing bankments and began tearing to shreds the bodies of men like men scything a field of wheat. Red uniforms ripped open as bullets tore through them and crimson liquid dyed them an even darker shade. Scowls were made on the lips of dying men groveling like worms in the mud or screaming for their loved ones. Rastel grit his teeth as he swung the machine gun at a man entangled in the wire, with a quick burst the man simply ceased to exist as he tumbled over. The Averian soldiers were sprinting with bayonets forward like a mighty wall as they passed bodies of their own brothers. They jumped over craters and puddles filled with corpses as mortar fire tore limbs and bones. Rastel's men opened fire with their semi-automatic rifles which clicked greedily as they sent speeding bullets into the mass waves of red soldiers. One of Rastel's replacements was thrown against the back of the trench as a grenade sent him sprawling, his insides having been jellified, blood trickling out the corner of his mouth.

This was a ferocity not yet seen on the earth, ninety nine infantry divisions in total of the Averian military fighting fifty Prinnian ones in a massive slaughter. Both sides throwing everything in what would certainly become a decisive victory or defeat. Wave upon wave of Averian troops moved forward like waves, only to break upon the rocks of Prinnian rifles and guns. They became entangled by the wire and funneled into killing fields in which machine guns could easily pick of hundreds of men at a time. Prinnian troops were taking heavy casualties, but remained dug into their positions, knowing full well the city's fate rested here.

Rastel watched as a pair of stretcher bearers sprinted past with a Prinnian soldier crying for his mother, his stomach was torn open in a grotesque manner, chunks of meat bleeding through the wool blanket they covered him with.

"Don't let up boys! We got to stop them here!" A Colonel shouted over the chaos as he stabbed an Averian officer with his saber before giving him a gash against his chest. Blood trickled down the blade as he sheathed it.

Averian troops reached the wire and became ensnared in its thorny vines. Some men trampled over their dead to cross over, while others were shot down. This massive wave was a nearly unstoppable force as it crashed into the Prinnian trench, they jumped in as hand to hand combat ensued. Rastel, the blood from his old wood now covered in a crusty yellow bandage pulled his rifle up with a bayonet attached menacingly. A red Averian soldier tripped next to him, before he could stagger to his feet Rastel brought the silver blade down on the man's back, blood coursing out of the multiple stab wounds. There was no time to think, only reactions would serve him now as he regrouped with his remaining men all fighting for their lives. He watched as an Averian officer decapitated a clad in blue Prinnian soldier only to get two bullet holes in the chest. War was a cruel display of man's darkest side. An Averian soldier pulled the pin on a potato smasher grenade only to be shot down, the grenade still active threw two of his buddies several feet in the air as it gave a loud puffing sound.

"Fuck!" stammered one of Rastel's friends as he was being choked by a desperate young Averian, fear in his eyes like a panicked animal. Rastel smashed the Averian's skull in with the butt of his rifle, the soldier’s skull giving a grotesque snapping sound as he flopped over. Rastel picked up his friend who was breathing heavily slightly stunned before shoving a rifle into his pale hands. How ghastly they all looked, covered in mud and blood, like beasts he thought silently.

A Prinnian soldier took his entrenching tool and brought it down between an Averian officer's shoulder blade, nearly chopping his head off. The fighting was vicious until a regiment of Prinnian heavy infantry from the 101st ran up from the support trench systems to stifle the enemy attack before it could bear fruit. An explosion rocked the ground and tore open a large crater in the trench system, an unfortunate Prinnian soldier became trapped under a pile of dirt and refuse.

Yet as suddenly as it happened the red uniformed Averian soldiers began to back pedal back to their own lines, bullets and grenades chasing their heels causing some to stumble lifelessly like rag dolls into the murky marsh like puddles. They splashed in floating on the top as bullets danced around them. When the firing finally ceased Rastel collapsed from exhaustion, he was covered in new cuts and a jagged piece of shrapnel he hadn’t noticed earlier was lodged in his left thigh, he lay silently as medics and stretcher bearers ran past with bloody mangled messes. Rastel stared into the grey sky and took out the picture of Sophie he hid in his breast pocket, he held it tightly as his muscles began to tense up and he could scarcely move.

How long could this go on?

On that day 40,000 casualties were taken by the Averian army, Prinnia followed suit with 20,000 men: MIA, wounded, or killed.

Somme Railroad station
1908

A Prinnian officer Karl Eukart, stood alongside the railroad platform as the train from Sarmandars arrived on time, its whistle heard several miles away until it pulled into the station. It was an exciting prospect to see foreign troops enter the nation not as conquerors as the Averians intended, but as friends. Karl pulled on the ends of his thick bushy mustache as steam engine hissed to a stop at the end of the line, he managed to catch a glimpse of the well-dressed cavalry men, all worthy looking soldiers. Yet perhaps Eukart was more pleased with the fact that more troops had arrived to reinforce the city of Somme, though he knew that the Sarmandars' would work under the command of their own officers, any friendly men with guns was far more than welcome. The only thing Eukart would change though was the fact there was a large troop train filled with wounded, some horribly disfigured were covered in bandages and had more akin with mummies then actual men. There was also the unpleasant sight of a line of troop Lorries unloading hundreds of wooden coffins which would be used to bury the thousands of men lost in yesterday’s attack all along the front.

When the Soraye cavalry men began to disembark it would be Eukart's job to quarter them in several luxury hotels, they would get warm beds and food before being sent out into harm’s way. Gruppenfhurer Bremmen would likely want to meet with the commanding officers to hammer out the details, but for now the Soraye men were in no imminent danger. Well from bullets Eukart thought of the prostitutes that made new found profits to be made in the pent up troops, STD's could be just as uncomfortable as a piece of shrapnel, he shifted uneasily at the thought of pain coming from his groin. When the commanding officer disembarked from their long ride along the rails, Colonel Eukart gave a well disciplined and graceful salute, bidding their allies welcome. After a simple exchange of pleasantries he asked the officers to assemble their men at the address of their current home. As they passed through the city streets, they would notice that buildings were scorched and crumbling, Eukart explained that the Averian dogs had set up some large rail gun miles away that fired massive shells into the city, to little effect other than psychological.

The hotels the men were staying in were top of the line casinos, which had been taken under the jurisdiction of the military much to the discomfort of the owners. There would be four men to a room to conserve space, but the baths worked and the bed freshly made. Eukart offered his numerous allies to hearty meals which any Prinnian soldier on the front would salivate over, hopefully they wouldn’t find cultural differences too overwhelming. It wouldn’t matter on the field of battle, but as of now this was the first time in the five years of the mutual protection pact between the two nations had been called upon.

GruppenFuhrer Bremmen stood and saluted the commanding Sarmandar officers, after some friendly had shakes Bremmen threw a rather stern smile.

"Welcome to Prinnia my friends, it saddens me that we must meet in times of great strife and peril. Yet with mutual cooperation the Averian bastards will pay for their trespassing in blood."

Averi
1908

Eldred rode in the back of his limousine which followed a motorcade south towards the front, he had been asked by Aelthred to visit the front as his eyes and ears. Usually Eldred wouldn’t mind such a task, reviewing the military was one of the many duties he had to preform, but usually the army was at home and not on a war path. He was simply going to review the 34th Imperial Averian heavy infantry division, which was stationed outside of Restenbol. The place where the honorable 1st Aethlerd cavalry division had been slaughtered by a small band of Prinnian soldiers in a barbaric display of bayonetting. thought Eldred bitterly as he watched the passing country side. Since then Prinnia had shifted her prepared invasion forces north, something the Averian high command feared when the king started the war. Long gone were the early days of sweeping victories, now land came at a price, a price paid in crimson. Suddenly Eldred's car began to slow, he quickly became alert to his surroundings and looked around to see the motorcade stopped. A group of royal guards moved up on Eldred who looked about surprised, he had a slightly concerned look on his face.

"Sir the situation at the front has quickly deteriorated in this sector." The royal guard said forcefully, "I have been requested to ask you to cancel your review of the 34th infantry as they are currently being sent to the front."

"What? What do you mean deteriorated?" Eldred stammered, "You mean a Prinnian counter attack?"

"Indeed sir," The royal guard nodded, "They were attacked this morning by a sizable Prinnian force attempting to threaten our main drive south on the flanks."

"How desperate is the situation?" Eldred pondered aloud.

"It is very grievous to keep my loath to the truth. Thus it is imperative that you return to the capital, we will reschedule your military review to a later date when the situation has changed. Until then this area is no longer a secure rear."

As if to exemplify that fact, several large explosions from falling Prinnian shells roared in the distance. Black plumes visible several miles away. Prinnian troops had secretly moved into the area in an attempt to swing around and attack the supply lines from the west. Eldred gulped nervously before quickly nodding, this area was no longer safe, and it was time to depart. He thought himself a courageous man, but he wasn’t stupid, a Prinnian counter offensive could be quick and the road he was parked on now could very well be crawling with Prinnian pond scum soon.

"I see...well then we must reschedule for another day, perhaps in Somme?" Eldred chuckled as he saluted the Royal guard. With that the motorcade made a quick withdraw from the area, Eldred pondered on the thought of what might have happened had he stayed on course. Yet war was filled with curious little twists of fate.

Somewhere in Prinnia

A routine patrol of Prinnian soldiers packed into an uncovered troop lorry rumbled down the soft dirt roads which blanketed the countryside. Most of the troops were bored and wished to be at the front, but there orders were merely to keep an eye out for suspicious activity. There were six men total, all clad in blue and shouldering the standard Prinnian semi-automatic rifle. As the truck rumbled down the road and around a bend it came to an odd sight. A civilian truck was parked off the road slightly, some man appeared to be near large crates before disappearing from view. The driver slowed down, this area was somewhat close to the front and generally people in the area relied on horse drawn carts then more expensive trucks. Though it wasn’t uncommon nowadays for farmers to start investing in better technology that would increase profits in the long run, so the truck itself wasn’t too out of the norm.

What made the driver slow down were the crates, they weren’t simple produce crates, and perhaps they were making a delivery. Yet where would they go? If Averi was at war with Prinnia why what destination could they have. As the truck grumbled to a slow stop the four Prinnian men in the back disembarked rifles still shouldered lazily. They walked up and examined the truck, they heard a man hiss around the other side to "stay put." which stirred up more curiosity.

The patrol turned the corner to see the man earlier near the crates, they flashed him a disarming smile as they did so.

"Hello sir." One man nodded politely, "Do you mind I ask what your business in this area is?"

[Ardkonia]

"Good day, officers!" The man jumped on the closest of the crates. He talked very funnily, obviously friendly and respectful towards them. "Transporting cabbages. Atleast what was left of them.." He aroused the stank in the boxes, it was sweat and partly excretion, but somehow made up to expectations of a poor Prinnian with Averi ancestry moving over in fears of being picked on by the other peasants. He gently carressed the back of his head, and then jumped up. "Hey, those kids are picking your pockets!" he turned their attention away from himself as most things like that were looked over by Mostro Grigio. A couple of youngsters began to run as they have been revealed. "They've got your watches! Good god, they've got your pistol!"

(EDITED AS PRINNIA TOLD SO.)

[The knights of kings]

Somme flat lands, Tomekian Province
March 8th, 1908

Rastel slammed his fist against a wooden support, as his teeth bit down on the cloth preventing him from not only biting his tonuge, but to stop him from screaming. The field medic pulled the jagged edge piece of metal out of Rastel's thigh, a trickle of blood followed suit as he removed it. Rastel had never felt such searing pain, nor would he ever forget it, it was at that moment he could have plunged the bayonet on his rifle down on the medic's head. Yet the pain was gone and an instant rush of relief overtook him, a satisfying sigh poured out from his lips, that was until the doctor poured a sterlizing agent on it causing it to flame up and sting. He stifled a yelp as the medic gave a large grin, he was probably glad he wasnt injured himself.

"Your doing great kid," He said as he took some bandages and wrapped it around the fresh wound. Both of them were covered in dirt and their once proud blue and red uniforms faded from all the weathering they had been through. The medic took a glance at Rastel's head and saw the old bandages. "You want me to re-wrap those for ya?" He asked kindly.

"No there fine," Rastel said shaking his head, there were more pressing wounded that needed the medic's attention. An old head wound could wait. As the medic pulled away Rastel shifted his leg, he could still shoot and walk, therefore he was fine to stay at the front. His men gathered around him, some of them pulled out smokes, each took a long draw of the shitty tabacco. Rastel didnt smoke, but having shrapnel stuck in his leg then being plucked out called for it. He let the nicotine burn his throat as he exhaled slowly, the white smoke dancing in the wind. He passed along the cigarette to one of his buddies as he fixed his cap on the top of his head, closing his eyes for a brief moment of sleep. He could see Sophie's smile, he hair all tied up as she organized the flowers in her little shop.

He was happily dreaming as a vengeful shell exploded near him sending dirt into the air and raining on him. He whipped it off as he rubbed the dirt clods off his face. His men were already dragging themselves up after dropping to the ground on instinct. The smell of rotting wood and sulfur filled the air. Rastel peered over the trench wall and could see the Averian trench several yards away, just out of range of machine guns and rifles, though it didnt stop both sides from trying. He caressed his sore leg softly as he picked up his rifle lying by his side, he could see a red uniform standing out like a sore thumb. An Averian soldier was crawling on his belly back to his lines from the Prinnian wire, Rastel brought up his rifle and aimed it, letting his exhale steady his aim. He took a shot, a crack resounding in the silence, the bullet lodged itself into a dead tree trunk and the Averian jumped up while beginning to sprint. Rastel aimed his rifle again when the Averian soldier looked back, he couldnt have been more than fifteen, so many boys lied about their age. Rastel lowered his sights only to here the metallic stammer of a machine gun, he lowered his eyes solemnly as the bullets ripped holes in the teenagers back and he fell into a shell crater, his foot twitching lifelessly.

Such was war.

[Vitzenburg]

Sarmandar Desert
March 13th, 1908
12:32 PM Local Time

The hot Sarmandaran sun hung high in the sky, baking the sands of the Sarmandaran Desert. The 3rd Infantry Division moved steadily across the the grounds, headed north, towards Prinnia. two hundred thousand Vitzburgian men were being sent by the Kaiser to aid Prinnia in their war with Averi. While there was still many men to arrive, the staging area was set up early thanks to the gracious Sarmandaran hosts and the 3rd was able to organize quickly due to being rerouted from the Orange Provinces. They were on their way to the first Prinnian city to set up a second staging point.

The convoy was made up of primarily a new Vitzburgian vehicle, the V-1 Bear Transports. Huge apc's that trundled along at a steady pace, crushing rocks into dust beneath their treads. Men were walking alongside or riding on top, their deep blue uniforms kept pack due to the unsavory heat of the desert. Recon Trikes zipped up and down the column, making sure problems with the new vehicles were not arising that might halt the convoy. Wagoneers were interspersed throughout the convoy, providing security, even in friendly lands. The head of the convoy was lead by Field Marshal Schuhmacher, half of his body leaning out of a Wagoneer's top hatch. He scanned the horizon with trained eyes, wiping sweat from his brow. Soon, they will arrive at the next Sarmandaran city to refuel and restock provisions.

"You don't suppose these sand people have any proper toilets, at this next city, do you sir?" Asked one of the division kaptains.

"Why do you think we've brought our own, Kaptain!?" Schumacher yelled over the engine. The men in the wagoneer had a jolly laugh as they returned to their duties. Vitzenburg had not had many relations with Sarmandar, especially due to the pagan nature of the nation. Vitzburgians viewed the indigenous people as backwards, and odd, with demonic beliefs. In light of this, Sarmandar had shown them a deference that made Schumacher reconsider the stories he had heard about their barbarism.

A recon trike pulled up next to the wagoneer, "Field Marshal, all units report mechanisms are fine! The transports are doing well for the extreme conditions!"

"Excellent! Inform the men that we'll be reaching our next stop within five hours!" Shouted Schumacher. The trikemen saluted and pulled away, turning back to inform the rest of the convoy. Schumacher pulled back into the wagoneer and shut the hatch, taking a canteen offered to him by the kapitan. The water felt divine against his dry lips. He settled back in his seat for some rest, as he'll need to be wide-awake for when they reach the city.

[The Holy Dominion of Inesea]

Sapphire Spires, Haven, Promethean Free Cities
March 22nd, 1908

Patriarch Harkan poured himself a glass of fine blue Vitusian wine. Produced form the vineyards around Capetown on the outskirts of Port Joy, it was a rarity to behold.
Vineyards traditionally did not do well in the far north where Port Joy was located. However, Capetown was built on a rare location. Located on, surprisingly, a dormant shield volcano on the tip of the peninsula where Port Joy is, the town was riddled with subsurface magma vents. They intersected over a underwater stream fed by the ocean, creating a hot mist that rose through the ground and heated the surface.This gave rise to a unique environment where grapes could be produced. The grapes and their wine were on the salty side, but in a shockingly good way. They were the only commercially successful salt wine on the market, as far as the Patriarch was concerned. Sipping the wine, he lounged on his chair. The Patriarch was increasingly taxed by his duties to both the State and Faith, and he had finally found solace in Haven, far from his duties. One year after the White Concordant and the end of the Great Collapse, The Union of Mishmite Territories was still rebuilding. The war wasn't particularly deadly nor costly, yet new countries had risen and whole new levels of infrastructure was needed. As well, the duties of the leader of the Mishmite Faith were ever increasing and being defined. The Mishmite Sect had exploded in membership and importance, as well as spread down the Pan-Promethean Railroad. The Patriarch was needed to consecrate new Cathedrals and he needed to perform as one of the leaders of the Mishmite Union. Add to that the increasing conflict between the Mishmite Orthodoxy and mainstream Mishmite and Mishmahigan Christianity, and Harken was ready to drop. His friend and colleague, President Xian, had unofficially ordered him to take a break and relax. Harkan had protested, yet Xian had already had the Archbishop Superior of Mishmite fill in for him. Harkan was inwardly overjoyed. He had retreated to the capital of the Haven Compact, where he could find some solace and quiet. Harkan had taken over the top offices at the Sapphire Towers, a near complete structure composed of Sea Glass windows and steel. It housed the Mishmite Delegation to the Compact.

Yet his solace was being cut short. Reports of heavy fighting between Prinnia and Averi were filtering through the pipeline of information and goods that was the Pan-Promethean Railroad. Apparently, the Averian Kingdom had attacked the Prinnians in order to regain lost lands. A bloody battle was taking place in some Somme area. A few years past, no Inesean would have bothered with that portion of Phaeton, yet times were changing, and Inesea, no Mishmite, was part of a larger body with much larger concerns. Chiefly, the Tylosians were quite concerned that should Averi knock off Prinnia, Tylos would be next ln their shopping list. And so, as the only unburdened and closest Mishmite official, Patriarch Harkan was tasked to handle the situation by the Council. It was a tedious affair, especially for one supposed to be resting. But an order from the Council cosigned by the National Assembly and President was not one he could ignore, even he, leader of the Faithful Mishmite Sect, as he was both an ethereal and corporeal leader. So here he was, enjoying the last of a brief respite. For tomorrow he was off to the capital of Prinnia, too meet with Kaiser Graham Cray to discuss possible aid by the White Legion. His immediate underling, Bishop Ying, would meet with the Compact Government to decide a Compact response, while Harkan negotiated an independent Mishmite response. But for
now, he drank.

Vaporiz, Prinnia
March 26th, 1908

The airship descended over the city, it's shuddering engines struggling to stay aloft at the current speeds. The two day trip from Evenstead had been long and harsh. A squall from the Crystalli had swept over the ship, battering it with high winds and terrible lightning. Yet despite this, it had cut a day off the journey, at the cost of one engine and an expensive tank of helium. The airship lumbered over the streetsof the capital, bearing Patriarch harkan and his staff. A wireless telegraph was sent down to the Vaporiz Air Command.

This is the MUAS Isaiah bearing the Patriarch Harkan on urgent official business for the Prinnian Government. Requesting Immediate Diplomatic Landing Clearances.

[Vitzenburg]

Prinnian Front
March 25th, 1908
3:23 PM Local Time

Private Hanz Krauss sat straddling an artillery crate. He had just finished helping unload the last of the crates from a transport, and was taking a rest by watching the game of fußball that had sprung up. Men had begun to gather to cheer them on as they waited for the last of the 3rd Army to assemble at their final staging point. Here they'll wait until they receive orders on where to move out to. Many doubted they'll even see action, as the Prinnians were in the middle of a massive maneuver against the Averians at some flat lands called Somme. However, Field Marshal Schumacher had made sure the men were ready to move at any minute, which is why officers were gathering and dispersing the men. There was still work to be done, ammunition to be loaded onto the artillery trucks, latrines to be dug. Hanz quickly got up before he could be pulled into loading the same ammunition he's just unloaded. Walking past the bears, he picked up his W2 rifle and decided to go on an impromptu patrol of this already secured area.

Hanz walked for awhile, finally stopping on a hill near the command tents. Sitting down on the stump of a tree, he can see the last of the army entering the encampment from here. Hanz could remember hearing about them, the 1st Armored Cavalry Division. The first Vitzburgian Tank Division! Hanz whistled to himself, from here the tanks looked intimidating, he wondered what it would be like when they're bearing down upon the enemy. He shook his head and chuckled. The might of Vitzenburg couldn't be more illustrated than in these machines of war! As the last of them moved into the encampment, the sun was already low in the sky. It was time for Hanz to return to his unit, hopefully no one was missing him back at the camp...

[Prinnia]

Vaporiz Airship Landing,
March 9th, 1908

Prinnian ground crews were startled by the sudden appearance of a large airship, its streamline shape blocking out the sun, rumbling in towards them. They quickly scurried around like panicking mice fearing the worst, an Averian air attack, needless to say the gun batteries were raising into the sky when the all clear signal rang out. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief as the MUAS Isaiah sent out a telegraph proclaiming their desire for diplomatic clearence. Immediately air control rewired them stating:

Full diplomatic access request has been granted. STOP. Diplomats are on route. STOP. Pleas land your ship in the designated landing zone. STOP.

With that several red flares glowing a nefarious red shot up into the sky, creating a red arch in the sky with smoke. It was nothing more than an empty field next to the concrete strip, used to repair heavily damaged ships without moving them, but it was the closest field in which they could land and Prinnian officials could "watch them.”

A green steam car, pulled around the airfield, with enough room to seat five comfortably only the front two seats were occupied. The driver was nothing more than an enlisted man, but the man beside him had the airs of authority. His stalhelm glittering like the night sky against the vibrant rays of the sun. He had an officer’s sword and when the car finally pulled around under the shadow of the large airship, he gave away no hints as to what he was feeling. His name was Valisemo Von Dernitz and he commander of the 1st air core which comprised a bulk of Prinnia's airship fleet. She had had two major engagements with Averian air fleet, both times Prinnia's newer smaller fleet proved more skilled than the Averians, whose metal flaming skeletons had crashed to earth. It was the battle over the Tomekian town of Jutland which sealed the Averian fleets fate, which now hid somewhere in Averi reluctant to engage. Yet the battles came at a cost and Prinnian airships needed to be completely restored before setting sail in the clouds once more.

Suddenly he heard more vehicles coming around the bend, Prinnian air men riding in troop trucks, each armed with standard C109 rifles approached. They lined up behind Dernitz and presented arms to show that if this was some sneak attack at least some bullets would be returned. Dernitz did finally let a grin press against his lips as he placed his right hand on the hilt of his blade and brought it up in the presentation salute. A Patriarch had arrived, from anyone but the Mishmite Faith it wouldn’t have caused a wink, but the man was, therefore Dernitz presumed it to be of great importance.

Somme, rear area, final staging area, Tomekian Province
March 9th, 1908

As supper was fast approaching the rumble of artillery shells could be heard tumbling in the distance. If one climbed the tallest building in Somme they would be able to see the front in the distance, a desolate waste lands with geysers of dirt and smoke sprouting up every so often. From the actual city one could only imagine the horrors occurring so close yet seemingly so far away. The battle of the Somme was still raging and hundreds of wounded men, in both body and spirit, trudged into the rear lines silently like ghosts, their very innocence stripped from them. It was men like these that Sophie felt the worst for. She hated watching the young boys, boys who in a different place where there was no war, would be swooning women and making crude remarks. Yet instead she filled the tins of pale figures, eyes filled with suppressed rage...and fear. They no longer jumped at the chance to dance with the local women as they had when they arrived, they only stared at the long lines of makeshift coffin box being unloaded down the road, wondering if theirs was in there somewhere.

Sophie had recruited a lot of the local nurses, many of whom were just college students, to try and bring some spirit back into the boys. Though they often times had to be pushed and shoved, maybe even teased a little Sophie giggled, once they were up and about the town their faces returned to life. That was Sophie’s favorite part, it was like seeing a butterfly come out of its delicate silk cocoon. She touched her locket softly, her tangled messy hair pulled back into a hastily made bun, her apron askew covered in dirt and god knew what else. With a gentle caress she undid the lock and peered into the picture of her and Rastel taken as children. She cherished every moment with him, even if right now everything was so confusing and dark, he was her torch light showing that all could return to what it had been. Before she had the time to wipe away some burning tears welling up in her eyes she grabbed the ladle and filled another weary soldiers tin. Her friend Estelle, a curvaceous blond and former call girl, was flirting with a Vitzburgian soldier, she giggled in a seductive manner and caressed his arms gently, temptingly. Sophie shook her head and sighed filling another tin in the endless line of soldiers.

Vitzburgian troops had arrived by rail after appearing on the southern border of Prinnia, there had been rumors that Prinnia was having secret dealings with other nations, but this was the first actual shred of evidence she had seen. Prinnia had her own tank core, large lumbering A7V's (ooc: german ww1 tank), they had good running engines allowing them to keep pace with any modern day army, but their high silhouette made them large targets. Hundreds of those tanks were lined up along the street, many well to do and not so well to do citizens were looking at them, men explaining to their wives and girls what they were as if they had a clue. Yet the Vitzenburg machines lined up further down the road looked even more menacing, Sophie had little doubt Prinnian command would want to make some deals after the fighting was over to make her force more potent.

"Sophie?" A gruff voice behind her called, Sophie nearly jumped from the surprise.

"Yes, Colonel Ribbentrip?" She said sweetly trying to cover her surprise. "What do you need sir."

"Well as I can see from some of the filed nurses ogling over the Vitzenburgians, I think its fine time I met with their CO." Ribbentrip rubbed the scar on his cheek from the first day of chaos. "I want your nurses to unpack the field kitchen and get the finest shit you can find...pardon my language little miss."

Sophie chuckled, she had been around soldiers so long and they were still reluctant to curse in front of her.

"Yes Colonel." She nodded happily, "My girls will get it done, and we have lots of good food in this city."

"Alright I am going to leave it to you then. Il go meet these Vitzenburgians and see what the plan is or whether they are getting their own separate orders or taking them from us." He trotted away, saber rattling by his waist all the way.

It wasn’t long before the nurses had set up a field kitchen in the Vitzenburgian designated staging area, they had brought some of the finest food they could get a hold of, fresh baked bread steamed on the trays. Vtizenburgian's would probably have different tastes, but Sophie that they could shove it up their ass if they didn’t like it. Instantly the nurses began flirting with the men, making friends as they called it. They picked out ones who looked the best and giggled amongst themselves as the university girls they were. Sophie smiled when smiled at, but made no moves to show she was interested in any man.

Meanwhile Colonel Ribbentrip paced along the tents heading for the command center, dispatches in his rough hands.

[Prinnia]

"Good day, officers!" The man jumped on the closest of the crates. He talked very funnily, obviously friendly and respectful towards them. "Transporting cabbages. Atleast what was left of them.." He aroused the stank in the boxes, it was sweat and partly excretion, but somehow made up to expectations of a poor Prinnian with Averi ancestry moving over in fears of being picked on by the other peasants. He gently carressed the back of his head, and then jumped up. "Hey, those kids are picking your pockets!" he turned their attention away from himself as most things like that were looked over by Mostro Grigio. A couple of youngsters began to run as they have been revealed. "They've got your watches! Good god, they've got your pistol!"

(EDITED AS PRINNIA TOLD SO.)

OOC: Better, Its just you cant control other people's characters in Rp or else they will consider it godmoding. Just a word to the wise. But il work with this one.

Somewhere on the Prinnian Averian border, Tomekia
March 9th, 1908

The Prinnian soldiers chased after the children, dirty magots the lot of them. As they did so though the two men still waiting off in the distance watched with mock laughter, they were just out of sight. The officer jotted down a description of the vehical and peered into a pair of binoculars tied around his neck. He watched the driver carefully and then two the four soldiers snatching up the children retrieving their goods. In all of this chaos, something was amis, it was strange how the driver, a supposed Prinnian, was not helping the military. Usually atleast it was common courtesy to assist those who had been pickpocketed right in front of them. The driver was about to get out of the trunk when the officer grabbed his arm and shook his head silently.

"Dont." He hissed, "Something is off about this..."

[Vitzenburg]

Somme, rear area, final staging area
Tomekian Province
March 25th, 1908
6:32 PM Local Time

Private Hanz Krauss sat among the men in his squad, having just returned from the food line set up by the lovely Prinnian nurses. All over the dining tents, men were hollaring and laughing, the giggles of women could be heard near some of the friskier troops. Months away from home caused even the most upright men to debase themselves once in awhile. Hanz set to work clearing his plate of the Prinnian food. It was different from what he was used to back home, but it was leagues above the rations they had been eating for the weeks while traveling through Sarmandar. He looked up as he took a swig of water from his glass, looking towards the flashes and thuds in the distance. The artillery had been going nonstop, and Hanz was sure after supper, they were going to position the Vitzburgian artillery as well. Hanz couldn't fathom how anything could survive such barrages, but he was resigned to hard fighting in the morning. Tonight the Vitzburgian men will enjoy a few earthly pleasures before they dive into the action tomorrow.

---

While the men wined and dined with the locals, the top brass were in their tents, meeting with the Prinnian command. A trooper entered the tent, followed by Colonel Ribbentrip.

"Field Marshal Schumacher, Colonel Ribbentrip, of the Prinnian Amry." The trooper saluted and exited.

"Ah, Colonel Ribbentrip, we finally meet." Schumacher set down some files and crossed the tent, holding his hand out for a good shake. "We'll see to it that these Averians are beat back into their borders, Colonel, so help me God."

[Ardkonia]

The man was a little irritated, but stood up. "I am headquarters captain Cedmond Fontray." He flipped open his orders issued from the military center. "Officer, let us go. This is a mission of utmost importance." He spoke as a man higher of a rank than the officer, and the warrant was quite believeable. He carressed his back of the head again, almost transparent as he stood, proud and important face to face with the confused officer. One of the kids bit into the hand of the soldier and began to run again, it was like a constant game of distraction.

[Prinnia]

Somme, staging area, Tomekia
March 9th, 1908

Colonel Ribbentip saluted the field marshal, he had to admit he was impressed that such a large force had been able to move through Sarmandars unhampered. Everything was neatly organized and their war machine moved like clockwork, impressive to say the least, though rumors had it they werent the only nation now interested in them, the Union was rumored to be wanting to make a deal of sorts. Was this all in good brothership? Or perhaps a mere power play to got it in the Kaiser's head that they were friends, Ribbentrip thought carefully. He rubbed his old scar, it no longer heart and a beard would cover it up nicely after the war. Regardless he smiled at the newly arrived field marshal.

"We thank you for your assistance in that regard," Ribbentrip laughed loudly as he exuded confidence, "Field Marshal Schumacher I am very much pleased to see your army here. Yet we must get to work if that is to ever happen."

Ribbentrip placed a series of maps and charts along side timetables on a table, spreading them out for all to see in the command tent.

"As you can see I am a mere Colonel, many of our generals and Field Marshals including the GruppenFuhrer are currently occupied with fighting the Averians! Those bastards as you know struck as while we were unprepared and thus the front is the way it is. The one thing we have to sort out right away is the chain of command. We cannot deviate from plans unless the situation demands it or their is opportunity that will be missed if someone does not act. I am here to inquire whether or not Marshal Schumacher is will you be wanting to lead your own attacks? Or will you be working with Prinnian command to coordinate attacks?"

Somewhere in Prinnia

The two soldiers grabbed the children by their collars and heaved them into the air, all the while their faces rife with anger. One of them looked at the orders and nodded slowly, not letting on what he thought other than annoyance. He looked at his three other companions as one took a pair of rags and tied the children's hands and rags. They were going to arrest the children for assualting a Prinnian soldier.

"Alright let em go." The soldiers returned to the truck children kicking but subdued.

"What they say?" The officer asked calmly.

"He said he was from headquarters...A captain Cedmond Fontray and his dispatches said he had special orders." The soldier himself didnt believe it.

"Alright...This is interesting." The officer nodded as he jotted down more information, as well as the description of the character.

"Why sir?"

"Because...Headquarters doesnt give out special orders to infantrymen."

[Ardkonia]

(lol retcon)

[Prinnia]

Ooc: ardkonia I think you miss read my last post lol. The soldiers essentially let you go. Their officer is in a truck down the road watching through binoculars lol. The soldiers let you go and returned to their own car. Il get a post up later

[Ardkonia]

Maldred witnessed in horror as they were almost caught. He couldn't let out a simple wheeze, couldn't breathe. Because he knew, in that moment, the patrol would whip out their guns and mow them down, simple and bold. They stopped after some time, pulled over at the road. "Get the fuck out." The driver set fire to his insides, putting back in the fantastic Rectan portcigar. They opened up the crates, men stretched their backs, finally seeing something other than the darkness. But it was still dusk, soon to be engulfed with the blood-red sunset, and then invaded by the night. The men stopped at the stream of water running down the hill. "There it is. The formerly holy lands." the other, obese man, who introduced himself as Headquarters-Captain Cedmond Fontray, smiled. "Ever heard of the Holy Gratian water? They lined up the followers of the devil, and sprinkled molten lead on their faces, yet one of them was spared by chance. They would expect horrible deaths, but one would receive the recanting for all their sins." Aristarco glanced at the man. "Why are you telling us this?" "While the forgiven one was clearly a lucky bastard, they'd watch him closely, and even the slightest indication of his return to the dark crafts guaranteed his demise. We are clearly lucky, but for them to lose sight of us, we must first travel to former Gratian territories, and only then to Averi. So ready up, friends." As they began to walk down, Maldred guessed that this wasn't Prinnian territories now. The north of Prinnia was guarded by every inch while here, it was rare glimpses of abandoned churches and huts, tree stumps, rotten paper banged onto the posts. The feeling of desolation and rejection, while in Prinnia it was the feeling of unity and brotherhood. Maldred moved closer to Cedmond.

"They're going to try to find Headquarters-Captain Cedmond now, do they?" He limped up on him.

"Bah. You're a smart one amongst the herd, no? Such curiosity might lead you either to a big rank or an early grave, depending on how daring or useless you become, either is a good trait. I am Cedmond Fontray and I do have a special assignment. And I do notice stripes on shoulders of officers, to which I must say that fool will never get the privelege to snoop deeper into our case. That is all you need to know."

[Vitzenburg]

Somme, rear area, final staging area
Tomekian Province
March 25th, 1908
6:32 PM Local Time

"Colonel, while it'd be best if we'd start coordinating, I don't think we have the time to set it up if your Commanders are off in the fight now." Schumacher said as he examined the maps. "I think it'd be best if we ended this battle and secured Somme as soon as possible." Schumacher picked up a few blocks, placing them on the map, "We can split our forces up, reinforcing your lines while moving to push the Averians here," He placed a few blocks along the Prinnian line and a few west of it. "Hopefully that will take some pressure off of your boys. We'll maneuver the 1st Tank Corp around Somme for a mile or two and assault these positions here, and here and hopefully break through to flank the main Averian force. It's close enough that they'll send troop to reinforce the position, but far enough away to give time for a push down the middle" He pushed some more blocks east of Somme on the map. "Now, like I said, while we're assaulting their positions, there should be enough time to move up and begin an assault on the main force with your own troops. Once our armor breaks through their flanks, we can squeeze them like a boil until they pop."

---

The supper was turning out great, Vitzburgian troops were riled up by the women among them. Hanz watched as some soldiers ran off and came running back with various instruments. Hanz recognized them as members of the army band. They had accordions, drums, symbols, clarinets, and a few other various instruments. Some men started clearing tables, creating an open area under the tents perfect for dancing. In an instant, they began playing and men taking the various nurses over to show them how to properly dance to the music of the Vitzburgian country. Most of the men here were from eastern Vitzenburg, far removed places from the hustle and bustle of the cities such as Vessels and Vitzburg. Hanz himself grew up on a small farm in rural Wesse, the western most Vitzburgian territory. Hanz had joined the army due to the benefits, such as receiving 100 acres of land for every year. It was his chance to start his own farm and begin a family. He had served three years so far and he only had five left until his contract ended.

Leaning against a table and clapping to along with the rest, Hanz scanned the crowd. He spied a nurse in the corner, by where they had been serving the food. She had the look of most the other nurses, but she wasn't partaking in the merriment. It looked as if she was gazing at a locket in her palms. Looking around, Hanz gathered the courage to go over and talk to her. He didn't know much English, so he was hoping she knew German.

Hanz circumvented the dance floor and awkwardly stepped up to Sophie, "Uh... you... dance?" He made the dancing motion with his arms and twisted his body a little.

[The Holy Dominion of Inesea]

Vaporiz Air Landing Field

A shudder ran through the ship as the somewhat listing the Isaiah touched down on the green grass. Normally, the ship would have tethered at a sky dock or air tower, but there were none available, what with the war on, and because the Isaiah had lost her port nacelle where the docking clamps were. The storm really had battered the old ship and Harkan resented having to give it up to the Air Corp and get a new one. Shame, he thought, the ship had carried him for twelve years. The rumble knocked over his glass of Salt Wine, spilling its contents over the neighboring chair. Grimacing, Salt Wine was hard to come by in these parts, he collected himself and went to the access hatch. In the hallway by the hatch, his Legionnaire escorts, some ten hardened, religious, fighting men of the all veteran White Legion. He opened the hatchway and stepped into the fresh Prininan air. Next to him filed out his guards, their bright white uniforms stainless and crease-less as they took up honorary defensive positions, a double file. Out to meet him was a young(The Patriarch is 70) Field Officer of Prinnia. Behind and around him were several dozen edgy infantrymen. Raising his hands in the sign of universal welcome, he called out, "Peace Brothers, I am Patriarch Doge Harkan. I come as a representative of the Union of Mishmite Territories. Judging by your reactions, the storm has pushed us ahead of the telegram. That is all well, as I represent both the Union and the Haven Compact. Take me to your leaders."

OOC; I couldn't resist

[Prinnia]

Prinnian soldiers stand guard at Somme castle-several miles rear line.

Somme, rear staging area, Tomekian Province
March 9th, 1908

Colonel Ribbentrip nodded silently as he listened to Schumacher carefully, he may have been a mere colonel, but even High command respected this quickly raising star. He examined the places where the Vitzburgian field marshal wanted to strike, these two places were crucial for the Averian defense and even though they had to move troops around, it would still be a blood bath. Yet the plan was sound enough as there would be no gain without a payment in blood. The Averian army had been bloodying its nose trying to ram itself into the Somme which would secure them a victory, or atleast a negotiated peace in their favor. The Averian army had armor, but appearently had bee reluctant to comitt them in any mass action as Prinnia was planning to do. Perhaps this was due to the decisive victory over the Averian air fleet which had retreated into the mountains, or atleast was last seen doing so. The colonel nodded again and tapped the map with his fingers slowly watching it all play out in his mind.

"Yes this seems like a fine plan." Ribbentrip added, "Yet the Averians have been here for some time now, they are learning we will not give up so easily now. So they have dug in and build fortifications to oppose us from dislodging them."

He moved a block and put it on the western side of the map, sliding it with his horse whip behind the Averian lines.

"The Prinnian 103rd Motorized division, comprising of our own tanks and light mobile artillery have broken through the flanks here, its too far west to make a difference in cutting of their supplies, but I imagine we could threaten them by moving forces north into Averi itself. Perhaps create a physicological effect. Yet I am hesitant as Inoroth, our neighbor to the west is still the Averians ally and may not like that their buffer state is being invaded. So perhaps we should wait to send in our troops until they have amassed and can make gains before the international community can react. Otherwise we can use the 103rd to continue moveing east to seal the Averians in. A main attack though through the center should as you have said be the prominent attack. This is the bulk of their army, if we crush them here it will be a total rout. So I say get your troops in place tonight...I know your unloading your equipment, but if we act now we can take advantage of the losses the Averians sustained the other day."

Ribbentrip nodded to himself this time, he felt excitment, an advance was due for the Prinnian main force. It would show the beginning of a massive counter attack which would save Prinnia, perhaps even adding to her prestige.

Camp

Sophie was enjoying the music as the Vitzenburgians began to play, the other nurses began to dance with the riled up men and she thought it a nice escape for men who would risk themselves in the trenches later. They hastily cleared their plates and then the tables to enjoy the music and dance. She hadnt thought to dance with anyone, instead she was too busy helping clean up, that was until a Vitzburgian private had the courage to make his move on her. She was flattered, brushing back her light brown hair which stuck out messily from her half bun half whatever it was. He waltzed up to her with a half courageous half nervous look on his face, which she found charming. As he cirvumvented the dance floor and walked up to her with an awkward swagger she giggled, only breaking to laugh as he pretended to dance in his broken German. She took his arm and smiled, it was her duty to make the men feel at ease, it being fun didnt hurt, but before she could follow his lead onto the grassy field were they all had started to dance their was an interruption.

A heavy shriek whistled over head and before Sophie had a chance to cover her ears, what looked to be a frieght train smashed itself into a building several blocks down. The building disintergrated as yet another landed a few yards away sending debri and shrapnel whsitling through the air, dark plumes rose into the sky. Sophie could feel the concussion blast knock her over as more shells shrieked over head. The Averian army had started pulling up their heavier guns and had begun bombarding the Prinnian lines from front to rear to show them they still had a bite to give. Sophie lay on the ground and dug her nails into the dirt as a column of Prinnian soldiers swarmed out of the buildings to get off the road and into the relative safety of the open field. One soldier picked her up as everyone made a mad dash to the small trenchs to serve as make shift shelters. Sophie covered her ears wondering what had happened to the nice Prvt. she hoped she wouldnt find him amongst the wounded or worse the dead.

edit: will spell check and add on.

[Vitzenburg]

Somme, rear area, final staging area
Tomekian Province
March 25th, 1908
6:34 PM Local Time

Schumacher looked at the map, examining where the Colonel had said they had punched through the lines.

"Colonel, I believe it is time for us to make a judgement call. It is of my mind that the Inorothians would not dare support such an unjust war of aggression. This is war, and if the 'International Community' has a problem with us winning this war, then to hell with them. In my experience, the bureaucrats are as gutless as a roasted pig, as you no doubt know." Schumacher examined the map for a little bit before speaking again, "Alright, our tank corp, once it's punched through the Averian lines here, will divert and drive north. If the 103rd does the same, they'll have two knives heading straight for their vitals" He marks an X on a map. "The best thing that could happen is this causes troops to break off from the main lines in an attempt to support their comrades during our assault, and hopefully cause an all out route as you said. The worst is that they hold out and we divert the tanks back to their lines and drive through their rear." The Field Marshal set a few blocks further north.

---

Hanz was surprised that Sophie agreed to dance, he'd never been a ladies man. He stopped using his broken English as soon as he realized she spoke German, but before they could really get dancing or even introduce themselves, what sounded like thunder exploded a near by building. Hanz and Sophie fell, crowds of troops and nurses scattering. Hanz was picked up by one of his comrades and pulled away before he could see if Sophie was all right.

They waited in the shelters erected by the Prinnians, the ceilings shaking every once and awhile, dust falling. Hanz sat hunched over, squeezed in with other men. Eventually, when the shelling subsided, the men cleared out of the dirty shelters. Almost immediately, they were set to doing work, Vitzburgians didn't take kindly to having their merriment interrupted. As Hanz walked back to help clean up the bombed areas, he saw the Vitzburgian Artillery being moved into positions. Huge guns, they shared kinship with the bombards of old, and were dubbed Kaiser's Fists by the engineers. It seemed like you could shatter the world if you fired enough of them at one spot. They slowly moved past the tents and towards an open field behind the encampment.

It took a few hours to get them all in position, the moon high in the sky when all was set. The Vitzburgians operated separately from the Prinnians, but they had retrieved the proper coordinates for the Averian lines. Men were busy preparing the guns, loading the huge shells into the chambers. The artillery men could feel the chill of night enveloping them as they worked. Soon it was all quiet, men were waiting by their guns, ready to fire. In the time between the last barrage from the Averians and now, a calm had settled in. No doubt the Averian bastards had decided to get some shut eye, right after they patted themselves on the back after their barrage.

A whistle sounded and suddenly the calm was pierced by the immense belching of the Vitzburgian guns. The Kaiser's Fists fired off in succession, one after another boom boom boom! Hanz bolted awake, rolling off of the bench he was sleeping on. He staggered of of the dinner tent and looked to where the belching was coming. Bouts of fire shot up into the air in succession, lighting up the sky. They stopped shortly after Hanz was awoken, but in the distance the explosions of their payload could be heard. Hanz rubbed his chin, looking over in the distance and seeing the flashes over the hill of the explosions at the Averian lines. Suddenly, the Vitzburgians guns began firing again, almost causing Hanz a heart attack. He watched for awhile more, the barrages coming and going at irregular times. The Averians weren't getting much sleep tonight...

[Fanaglia]

OOC: Guys, I hate to do this and throw up a roadblock for a thread with such good momentum, but could you please put on the brakes for just a little while? It's really pretty essential that I post in this RP; Averi's political situation has pretty much obligated me and Ino to do so and, since he's still out of the picture for the time being, I have to speak for both of us, which means it's even more imperative that I have some input in this RP. Both Fanaglia and Inoroth would have had strong words to say very early on in this scenario and you've already progressed at least a week into the war without giving me a chance to say anything. I even printed out everything that had happened so far this morning so I could take it to work with me to get caught up and figure out what to say (and there were some issues I saw that need to be addressed) and I come back to find that I'm another several posts behind. Please, please, please just give me a little while to get caught up and get a response posted before you continue. I know you guys are new, but you're part of an RP group now and some decisions have strong affects on others' nations and their politics -- this is something you need to consider whenever you start something that could have strong, direct implications for other nations.

If you don't feel like having a bit of patience for me (being the region OP makes for busy work), then by all means continue -- just know that it won't necessarily make it into the canon once it's finished. That doesn't mean you can't still have fun -- it's just that you can't manipulate another nation's ally when neither the manipulated nation nor its ally can defend itself without it being a sort of godmod, which is simply unfair.