Great Nordic War (IC, Nadey)

[Sjealand]

Border-town of Ny Brisak, Grand Imperium of Sjealand March 1697 AD

Valdemar X stood on the redoubts of Ny Brisak, admiring the Dannevirke. The mighty fortification strechted the entirety of his horizon, definitively marking the border of Sjealand. There would be no doubt who ruled beyond this, and incursions from the backwards yokels that inhabited Petrokovia. Golden Sjealandian banners proudly flew from the dozens of redoubts scattered across his horizon, and below them proud Sjealandian soldiers guarded the wall and the river from the Petrokovians. He smiled and looked to his courtiers. They were 17 all in all. The pride of the Sjealandian military. Talented generals, tacticians, admirals and spy-masters. All his loyal servants and trusted friends.

''Tell me Count Wilhelm. What do you make of this?'' He gestured to the thousands of tents scattered before them. A young handsome man, with dark curled hair stepped forward. ''This is the pride of Sjealand your majesty. 81.000 men, who will live and die by your command'' He bowed as Valdemar smiled ''Good answer Wilhelm, with these men and all our other forces we will once and for all destroy the beasts we call Petrokovians.

He ordered the servants around them to go, having his advisors gather arround a table. ''Im going over the invasion plan for one last time. This is it. I, Wilhelm Marstrand and Magnus Stenbock will march directly through the southern farmlands to Krasnograd. Carl-Gustav Rhenskjold and Mathias Gyldenløve will go through the southern border, meeting up with our allies from Roelio and take out their southern ports, when you reach the caucasus you will divert some of your army to a forced march to help surround Krasnograd.

Carl-August Samsøe will invade from further north and support my attack on Krasnograd, while Ludvig Danneskiold will crush their northern coast all the way to the caucaus with eventual reinforcements from Samsø.'' the men nodded. ''Tordenskjold. Can i trust that your fleet will make sure no Petrokovian ships make it through the blockades'' a young man barely over than 20 smiled. ''Why your majesty of course you can. You didnt ennoble me for northing. You can trust that Peder Wessel Tordenskjold will sink every last Petrokovian ship''

Valdemar smiled ''Then let us commence. On this day in one week, we begin. Faith and unity till Asgård falls!'' the men repeated it and ran for their horses. Valdemar saw them and their escorts gallop out of the city, spreading out towards their positions.

One week later, Dannevirke
The Red-white banners of the danes and the Golden banner of Sjealand filled the Horizon. 81.000 Valdemares were lined up in formation, artillery, horses, supplies carts, everything was in formation as Valdemar rode down through the ranks. Every line he passed saluted him. Upon the redoubts of Dannevirke thousands of men were loading up the artillery, yet when they saw him they saluted. Finally Valdemar stood by the gates. He turned his horse and admired his army.

''Once and for all we will destroy the vermin on the other side of this gate. Once and for all we will cement our position as the sole power on this continent. Who can stop us? The Roelians? Hesperians? Maybe even the Ilmenians? the men burst with laughter ''No nation on Euphestia can rival us! I command hundreds of thousands of men, and you are the crown of those! You are my elite army! The Valdemares!'' the army roared with applause ''Our border with Ilmenia is filled with fortifications, the alps are heavily guarded and our navy rules the waves! No one will be able to stop us! Are you with me?'' the crowd erupted. ''Then light the beacons!''

Upon the redoubts a giant fire was lit, signalling to redoubts across all of Dannevirke to do the same. The signal spread to the northernmost and southermost point of the border, and the cannons opened hell. All settlements, fortifications and people were targeted as the Sjealandians opened fire.

''Over norden jeg hersker! Med den arv som jeg har! Gang på gang, syng din Kejsers sang! Krigens kunst jeg behersker, må mit navn sprede skræk! Gang på gang, syng din kejsers sang!*'' he drew his sword, as the gates swung open, marching his way across the wide stone bridge. His men followed suits and huge collumns of Sjealandian soldiers marched into Petrokovia as cannon-balls flew over them. The hussars just behind Valdemar thundered with him to the Petrokovian side, cutting down the confused Petrokovian guards and taking the eastern shore by storm. The Valdemares followed suit, crossing the 3 bridges and establishing a foothold in the Petrokovian side, and as they all had crossed the Sjealandian war flag was raised and the Sjealandians marched for Krasnograd.

*Over the north i rule. With the inheritance i have. Again and again sing the song of your Emperor. The art of war i master, may my name spread fear. Again and again sing the song of your emperor

Sjealandian Embassy Krasnograd, Tsardom of Petrokovia
Markus Vilmutsen calmly rode down the streets of Krasnograd, stopping by the Palaces of the Tsar. He showed his diplomatic passport to the guards as he arrogantly marched up the stairs and into the palace where he demanded an audience with the Tsar. When he was allowed he took out a large letter and began reading.

I His Imperial Majesty, By the Grace of the Gods, Emperor of Sjealand and Vernicht, Conquerer of all Russia, King of the Danes, Jarl of the Swedes, Lord of the Norwegians, Thane of the Finns, Knays of the Sami, Duke of Asgård, Västergötaland and Vestfold. Grand Emperor of the Nickel Empire and Galbeon Marquess of Ahletoft, Lion of the North and Lord Protector of the Realm Valdemar the tenth spit on you and your nation. For too long has your country broken the treaties that bind you, you have provoked our colonial interests and made incursions into Roelio which is Sjealandian territory. You seek to expand your petty sphere of influence into civilised areas where you do not belong!

This can not be tolerable. Euphestia is Sjealandian! And dirty slavs have no place among us, you may play with your little friends in Florin, but your actions here are henous! As such i hereby declare war on the Tsardom of Petrokovia! You may hide away your women and kiss your children goodbye. For i am coming for you, and i will watch your nation burn

Imp. Valdemarius X

War map

[Roelandia]

Knight commander Thomasso, Eral do Orlivca sat on his knees in the divine temple on top of Hillo Sacrado in the center of the great city of Quinifar.
He was praying, praying to the gods of which his great master, the Roelician, ruler of Quinifar and all it's holdings was the earthly representative of.
He prayed for victory in battle, for the wellbeing of his men and for his hometown Orlivca, that it long my prosper.

As he sat there, footsteps started ringing through the mostly empty hall.
Slowly they approached Thomasso.
"I thought I may find you here" a voice suddenly rang through the building. "It's early, no soul's awake yet"

Thomasso slowly opened his eyes and replied "I like the peace and quiet" He stood, his sword rattling against his metal leggings.
He always dressed in full body armor when praying. He believed he owed the gods nothing less than to stand before them in this way.
As he turned around, a man in a royal tunic stood before him.
"What do you require of me, Hermitess do Zignifer, personal courier of our great Roelician Fernandiss do Quinifar?

Hermitess smiled and handed him a lettre. "You have been summoned by our great ruler." he said "apparently a great event is about to commence"
Thomasso opened the letter and found orders inside. He was to assamble his men and ride for the alps as soon as possible.

Thomasso closed the letter and walked with hastly pace out of the temple, followed closely by Hermitess. As the two men stepped out of the temple gate the sun started to rise of the Quini lake, orange light reflecting of the water illuminated the most powerfull city in the south.
"What shall I report to the Roelician?" Hermitess asked while having trouble to keep up with the very fit Thomasso.
"Tell him, I'll be there where he wants me"

Hermitess nodded and started walking in the opposite direction towards the Roelician's palace.
Meanwhile Thomasso proudly stepped with fast pace through the city that was starting to wake up. Doors opened, windows unlocked, the city was starting to come to live once again.
as he walked Thomasso was deeply drowned in thought. "This is a war, it has got to be. The alps on our side are firmly under our control. The only reason he would want me there with my band of elite Condhusstirian cavalrymen is to cross them... We're making for Sjealand we got to be. Finally I'll be able to prove that the Quinifarian empire is strong once more. After the losses we have suffered lately at the hands of Ilmenian Cossacks that I personally stopped at Orlivca, my hometown and the renewed offensives of the Central bond, we shall show the world what we are made off once and for all!

[Exaequatio]

Archer Siegel, leading his band of mercenaries, all came marching to meet up with the other Sjealandian and allied troops. Siegel was a mercenary, but a strangely honorable one. He had sent a message to both governments offering to help the highest bidder. With the Sjealand government being the only one to respond, it was obvious that the Sjelandians were the only noble ones, after all, the Petrokovian government didn't give the courtesy to respond to Siegel's letter. Was it because the Petrokovians disrespect the Exaequations? Was it because the Petokovians disrespected him and his mercenaries? If this was the case, which it likely was, then this would mean Siegel would need to settle a vendetta against those loathsome Petrokovians. This war would be personal. How dare the Petrokovians insult Exaequations, the once mighty empire that controlled the world.

Siegel preferred to think that these Petrokovians, however, were too uneducated and barbaric to even read and understand his letter. The Petrokovian king, or whatever ridiculous title they gave to their leader, likely lived in Petrokovia's best idea of luxury: caves. And their arts and culture were based on stick figure drawing on cave walls. Siegel had never met a Petrokovian, as Exaequatio had no contact with these strange Euphestian nations. He imaged the Petrokovians as some strange unibrowed, unshaven creature that was called a human by only the loosest definition. On the other hand, while Siegel had never met the Sjealandians either, he saw them as an elegant, civilized empire and one that must protect itself from those dirty barbarians.

He rode his trusted steed, Silver, a bright colored brown and white terror bird. As part of the Exaequation tradition with warriors, she was raised by Siegel when he was a young boy and she a hatchling. This would establish a strong bond between the two, a bond that would be crucial on the battlefield. Silver was well protected behind armor, and so was Siegel. He looked back at the rest of his men, some on other terror birds and many others travelling by foot. The Sjealandians had also given the Exaequation mercenaries some four legged mammals. Siegel found these 'horses', as the Sjealandians called them, to be very alien-like. It was yet another example of how exotic Euphestia was. In fact it was a wonder how humans endured so long in Euphestia. It was freezing in this place. And where was the rain? Where were the lush greenary? And what about the mighty marble pillars which made up the foundation of modern architecture? Instead it was cold, damp, strange looking trees and buildings made of strange stones. Siegel thought of bringing pterosaurs too, used in Exaequation aerial raids, but it was far too cold for them. Plus an aerial raid was simply not personal enough to deal with these Petrokovians. He wanted to hear their screams and watch the life drain from their eyes when he killed one.

He put his hand up to signal his troops to slow down. He could see the allies he was supposed to meet up with through his telescope. He yelled out to is men in Exaequation, "Alright men. Our allies are can be seen from afar. The Sjealandians have given us free rein of what we can do to those barbarians. We may take their gold, their silver, their gems. We may burn their villages and take their food, clothing, and weapons. I know many of you have not had any pleasure with a women either for some time. Rest assured, you will have your chance. Everything is for our taking. We are Exaequations! We are the cream of the crop! But do not underestimate these creatures. They have strange ways and are aliens to us." Siegel cried out. "This will be the first time we meet these Petrokovian barbarians, and so let's give them the 'respect' they deserve!" He mocked, with his men cheering and laughing. He then gave another signal to resume walking, "Then let's go meet our comrades!" The men started marching ahead again. Siegel took out a drawing of his wife and looked at it. It had been months since he had seen her and missed her greatly, he had so much to tell her about this strange place.

With the arrival at the allied camp, Siegel would make his way to the ally commander's tent to inform the Exaequation mercenaries had arrived.

[Russo-Byzantine Empire]

The tall, dignified man strode onto his Third Rate, the Sophia, his cape flapping in the wind. This was his first time as a real Captain, and the fates had seen fit to, in this hour of need, have the evil Sjealandian barbarians invade his glorious motherland. Then again, thought Captain Ivan Dogson, how glorious can any Motherland that produced Father be? He still walked with a limp from the last beating. Shaking his head, Ivan carried on. He couldn't dwell on the past now; his country needed him.

Ivan strode to the head of the ship, his crew assembled below him. He cleared his breath, and began to speak. "Well, boys," the Captain began, "As I'm sure you're aware, Sjealand's Emperor just declared war on the Motherland? You know what I think about that?" At this Dogson paused, before continuing into his punchline, "I think that he's a f*cking sh*t c*ntwaggle mother*cking mother*cker!" The men were jubilant. Easy to please, Dogson supposed. Perhaps in the future, someone would exploit that. Ah well.

"So," the Captain continued, finally getting to the point, "His Imperial Majesty the Little Father is naturally rather displeased with this Emperor Valdemar. So you know what we're going to do, right?" He waited patiently for his men to answer, then sighed when none came. They would learn. "We kick his ass so hard, it goes up to his throat!"

At this the men cheered.

Captain Dogson smiled. "Alright, so how are we going to do this? Well, I don't know if you've noticed, but the navy isn't exactly in the best shape right now. That's fine! We're so great we don't need stuff like that! I guarantee it, men, we'll all go down in history! Your descendants will tell their kids stories about how you served on this ship. So, lets show the Sjealandian navy what a real badass can do!"

Little did Captain Dogson know, but this was the start of his legend.

[Sjealand]

Sjealandian Southern Army Camp, Tsardom of Petrokovia

Mathias Gyldenløve noticed Siegels entrance into his tent. ''Ah Siegel! Come in, come in. Wine? He handed him a golden goblet and waved to a servant so he could fill it up. ''Wonderful of you to come this quickly. I can certainly see our southern contacts were right about your *exoticness*. The slavs will definitely be surprised by your forces and your way of fighting. Now our plans are to push through the southern coastline and destroy the Tsardoms naval capabilities. Before that we are to meet up with reinforcements from Roelio and take thre capital of the coastal areas. Kiev. Now seeing as your army is a very good form of shock *cavalry* ill pretty much give you free reign upon the slavs. You are to do what you find fitting in battle unless you recieve direct orders from me.

Oh yea i forgot'' he threw a package to Siegel ''Consider it a taste of what awaits you''

He walked outside the tent, signalling Siegel to follow him. Commossion and loud noices filled the entire camp as they walked through it, long lines of blue stretched westwards as thousands of Valdemares were still marching into the camp. As they walked upon a hill music filled the air. Several Sjealandian troops were stomping in unison as musicians and a soldier-wife were playing ''The Peasant and the Crow''.

''You see Siegel, folk music is important in holding up morale, including religion, and of course'' he laughed ''quite a steady stream of beer''. He nodded to a Norcist priest and they both got up, the priest carrying a horn and a barrell. When they priest got there, he placed the barrell down inbetween the soldiers, who stopped playing immediately. ''What are you doing?'' he shouted ''You dont celebrate without Beer and Mjød! That is a crime to Ægir and the feasts he hold for the gods'' he grabbed an axe from his belt and chopped off the valve to the barrell before filling his horn and emptying it. The men shifted to playing a different song, and the priest joined in, dancing a ritual trance-like dance as he consumed several berries and mushrooms, throwing others out to the soldiers and the 2 officers.

Gyldenløve caught some mushrooms, eating them without thinking about it and then laying down as he began to laugh while watching the increasingly eratic dance the priest and a couple soldiers did.

Torshavn, Coast of Western Sjealand

Peder-Wessel Tordenskjold ordered the hawsers pulled in and the Sjealandian banner raised. He stood in the stern admiring his fleet as they one by one left the fortified port. ''Raise the sails! All deckhands report to me in 1 hour for further orders! Set sail for the strait of Samsø!'' he had 34 ships under his command and intended to decisively destroy the Petrokovians.

Tordenskjold was without a doubt a child prodigy, born norwegian as most Sjealandian admirals were he had been raised for a life at the sea from birth. His father was in the navy, same with his father, and his father. At the age of only 16 he had defeated taken command of a Sjealandian frigate as they were under attack by Delian pirates outnumbering them 3 to 1 and had sunk them all. The Grand Imperator had personally knighted him after this, and when he had saved Valdemar X's life when they were sailing for Greenland, Valdemar had ennobled him and given him the name Tordenskjold (Thundershield)

[Nickel Empire]

Hill overlooking the harbour of Port Nickel

Jens Otto-Kragh, the person appointed to command the forces being sent by the Nickelian-Sjealand colony was on his horse on a hill outside the capital city of Port Nickel. Beside him stood Admiral Niels Juel, who was also on his horse and would lead the fleet to Sjealand. They were both watching the harbour workers as they were loading supplies, guns, ammunition, cannons, gunpowder and along with animals for the long crossing across the ocean. Niels Juel turned and smiled at Jens Otto-Kragh. "I can not believe I am going to command a fleet of eighty ships, even if only twenty of them are considered combat ships."

"And you would be wise to not destroy the fleet before it reaches Sjealand." a mysterious voice said behind them. Both men turned around and looked at Edward Dimes, the viceroy of the colony. Both general and admiral got off their horses and bowed before Edward Dimes. "What are you doing here Prince Edward?" Jens asked.

"You both may rise. I am here to make sure the fleet leaves in good working order and to make sure you don't waste all the money I spent on this fleet. Even with help from the Fatimids I still had to empty the entire treasury to outfit the fleet and army being sent across the ocean." Edward said as he dismounted his horse. He was noticeably sweating and shivering, signs of malaria infection that would kill him later in the year which he got from a campaign he had just come from in the Lake Mumakil region.

"What, you don't trust us?" Niels Juel said. "The only thing we have to wait for is the ten mumakils the Fatimids sent us which will arrive tomorrow and then we can leave three days after that."

"It is sad we can't bring the more massive delta mumakils, their bigger size and greater strength will strike more fear into the enemy." Jens replied to Niels Juel

"When I send reinforcements in three months time, I can send baby delta mumakils. They won't be massive when you get to Sjealand and you can still train them then while they grow. Get back on your horses, I want to throw a feast for all the officers before they leave for Sjealand. Besides I have been feeling really tired lately and this sun is not helping." Edward said before riding off with his horse back to his palace in Port Nickel with Jens and Niels Juel in tow.

[Kubraria]

Lieutenant-Colonel Anton Sorenson, standing on top of an observation tower, looked over the assembled forces that stretched before him. They numbered in the thousands. Anton was the commanding officer of the Sjealandian Penal Battalion, a rag-tag group of conscripted criminals drawn from Sjealand's prisons and typically assigned to suicide missions in which the regular army was deemed too valuable to risk. It was, technically speaking, a Penal Brigade, but its numbers were regularly diminished into the hundreds anyway so it did not particularly matter. The men were either hardened veterans or raw recruits, with there being no in-between. The Brigade consisted of scum of all kinds, from petty thieves to forgers to murderers - they all had one thing in common, however, and it was the fact that they had been lucky enough to escape the noose in favour of lifetime service; whether it was good or bad luck depended on who you asked. Most of them stood to attention dutifully. Others slouched. One unit near the back had evidently decided it wanted no part of this campaign, its men having leaned their weapons on rocks while casually chatting with each other. It was hardly an army to take pride in, but Anton did anyway. It was his army, and that was all that mattered to him.

After surveying the forces at his disposal, he turned to his second-in-command, motioning to the defective unit at the rear.

"What's with them?"

His second in command cleared his throat before speaking carefully, trying not to anger Anton. The heavily scarred commander was known for having an extremely violent hair-trigger temper.

"Fresh recruits, sir. Apparently they refuse to accept service. Shall I order the standard 100 lashes for each?"

Anton sighed, clearly having seen this happen many times.

"No. Just have them shot this time. They'll serve as an example to the others. In fact, I have a better idea. Tell the men in their immediate area to open fire on the traitorous unit and to destroy it."

"Very well sir."

As the aide saluted him and scurried off to carry out his orders, Anton looked back out again over the horde of soldiers - his horde of soldiers - and climbed back down the tower, walking to his tent. It was going to be a big day tomorrow and he needed to get as much rest as possible. The long overdue invasion of the Petrokovian subhumans was finally underway, and the Grand Imperator was in need of his services. Naturally, Anton was more than happy to assist - no matter how much blood he had to spill, whether it be his own or that of his men.

[Exaequatio]

Siegel took the goblet of wine. "Thank you." He said, as he nodded his head in appreciation. "Yes, we pride ourselves in our speed. The early bird catches the worm, after all." He smirked, as of course, the faster the arrival, the more loot that could be acquired. It was an excellent business ethic. 'Exoticness?' He thought. This place is far stranger. "And I am sure my own soldiers will be just as impressed from your forces." He complimented. "I hear Sjealand is becoming the dominant empire in this continent. Take pride in that. It is of true accomplishment. And when those conniving Petrokovians are extinguished, you will be indomitable." He lifted his goblet, "to glory," he said and then took a sip of his wine.

Siegel listened to Gyldenløve talk about the plans regarding the attack. The battles and the plans seemed simple enough. And with the help of the Sjealandians and the so called Roelio, the allies should have the advantage. "Sound excellent." He said. "I and my other officers will form an attack strategy for my men. And yes. My cavalry are quite advantageous. Unlike your... oh what are they called?... Horses?... Right. My cavalry will kill and eat their targets." Siegel still was curious as to what a Petrokovian looked like, however. "Speaking of which. Do you have any captive Petrokovians at present scheduled to be executed? If so, I'd appreciate if you gave several to me, I would take care of their... 'execution'. My doctors are, indeed, eager to dissect and analyze one." He laughed, "You know doctors..." He said offhandedly. "And it is always good to give the terror birds a taste of what's to come, if you know what I mean."

He caught the package and opened and saw the gold necklace. He smiled, admiring it for several seconds. "Its beautiful. The first spoils of war, I can say. It will make an excellent gift for my wife." He said, putting it in his satchel.

Siegel smiled. "Yes, it is." He looked around at all the commotion. It appeared the Exaequation mercenaries and Sjealandians were more alike than he initially thought. "I think my men will enjoy their time here."

[Petrokovia]

Tzar Alexandr XV watched the man in front of him with contempt as he read the message aloud. As soon Markus was finished, the Tzar gave a signal to a couple guards next to him, who both pointed their guns at Mr. Vilmutsen and proceeded to shoot him in the head.

A mere hours later, dispatches were sent out from Krasnograd to prepare for a defensive war. The Petrokovian forces would lay traps and wait under cover of brush and improvised underground bunkers to catch the Sjealandian forces by surprise.

A force of about 5,000 would be ready in Polish Petrokovia, to fight to the last man to defend against the Sjealandian invaders. 1,000 of them made use of a new musket design incorporating three barrels for faster shooting. The entire group would make use of underground bunkers, foxholes to take the enemy forces by surprise and fire from adequate cover, despite being in a plains environment. The foxholes would put up small pieces of green cloth with black markings on them for communication with other foxholes, whose commander would see the signal via binoculars. This would allow silent communication between the groups, to know exactly when to strike. They would wait until a group of the Sjealandian forces were surrounded, and then attack by firing cannons into the crowd of enemy soldiers.

Example of the foxhole layout: They would each have two cannons (red lines are the boundaries for field of fire), and be laid out in such a way that the entire field was visible to at least two of the foxholes. They would have cloth with turf on it covering the holes to be put up when the Sjealandians were spotted, so as to better hide them. Several Infantry would also be in each hole, waiting to come out and attack from all sides once the Sjealandians were thinned out.

Lt. Col. Alexandr Mikhailovich Krichevsky would be waiting with a force of 45,000 more troops hidden not too far away from the foxholes, but far enough as to not be seen by enemy forces. His orders were that once the foxholes saw Sjealandian troops, they would allow them to walk into the middle of the field and open fire from all sides; Three foxholes were also assigned 1 trumpeter each, which would give a signal to the Lt. Col.'s forces to advance onto the Sjealandian's position from horseback. The cavalry of this force would be wielding sabers, muskets, and lances (which would only be used by the front line of cavalry); The infantry of this force would be carried into battle by wagons; Similarly, a couple dozen wagons would be pulled with small cannons on them, which would be used on the move while passing by Sjealandian forces, and fired into their ranks.

Alexandr sat on his horse, smoking his pipe and looking out into the fields. He would not see the Sjealandians coming, but he would hear them-Something that would go both ways. He hoped that the foxhole maneuver would work, and would buy enough time for his main forces to arrive and take out the Sjealandian forces by surprise.

"Sir." one of the cavalrymen said. "Are you sure this will work?"
"No idea. But it's always good to think outside of the box. Other Euphestian armies are too regimented. They stand around in formations waiting to be killed."
"Hopefully by our forces."
"Well, how else do you think we expanded so far?"

A group of about 10,000 soldiers would be ready in the Caucasus, and meet the Sjealandian Southern Forces head-on if they made it that far, forcing them into either crossing the river or mountains to avoid a fight, or getting bogged down and stopping their advance. An army of almost a million troops would start amassing outside of the capital city of Petrograd.

OOC: Krasnograd didn't exist as Krasnograd at this time. It wasn't even Petrokovia's capital city until 1865 C.E., when it was named Nikolagrad. At this time, out capital would have been Petrograd.
Location of Petrograd:
Link

[Sjealand]

Port Nickel
''Admiral on deck!'' using the boatswains call the sailors piped aboard Niels Juel as he boarded the ship of the line ''Hvide Ørn''. He easily swung aboard the ship, and nodded to Jens Otto-Kragh. ''Raise the sails! We sail for Sjealand!'' he ordered before he rushed to the stern where he could enjoy the view of his fleet as they left the colonies for the homeland. ''Sir we have recieved news the invasion is under way, orders are to sail for Bramming and let the Colonials move the alps'' Niels Juel quickly studied his map before looking to the messenger ''Signal the other ships that we make way to the middle isles to restock and then the channel the messenger bowed and picked up the necessary flags.

As the fleet left Port Nickel, the warships escorting the transports fired salutes to honour the Viceroy and the colonies before raising the Sjealandian naval flag in the middle mast and the the Imperial Standard in the stern. The marines and sailors paid their respects, and the ships Priest began singing for Njord, Ægir and Ran.

Theme
Sjealandian Southern Army Camp
Gyldenløve laughed ''Of course they will enjoy themselves Siegel, they are with Sjealandians, the pinnacle of perfections among people'' a servant came and fetched Gyldenløve as he began laughing and rolling around on the ground due to the hallucegenic mushrooms.

Mr. Siegel i am terribly sorry, this is part of tradition for beginning campaigns, tomorrow he will be much better.'' He escorted the still laughing Gyldenløve who had begun singing a Danish folk song, which prompted the soldiers to sing with him.

The day after
An officer opened Siegels tent ''Siegel, get up General Gyldenløve requires your prescense'' the officer escorted Siegel out to Gyldenløve who was sitting on a Sjealandian war-horse. Besides him stood several Sjealandian soldiers with robes holding down Siegels terror-bird while others were franticly trying to keep it in its place by threatening it with pikes. ''Goodmorning Siegel, i took myself the liberty of preparing your steed he was interrupted by the screams of a sjealandian whose arm was bitten off. ''Anyways i got the idea to take you and your men out to a small village a couple kilometers away from here. Wonderful little place, mostly men and women seeing as the men are serving in the army. And i got the idea. Why dont we let the terror-birds have a little taste'' the Sjealandian soldier was bleeding heavily and lying on the ground sobbing. ''Oh for Truds sake someone find a doctor. But follow me.

To their sides the camp was breaking up, long lines of soldiers, cavalry, artillery and wagons poured out from the hills they had been using, and engineers were already taking down the defences they had built up around their camps. Norcist priests were holding mass for the departing scouts, blessing them by throwing holy water from the Maris Baltici and ox-blood on their faces.

The infantry-men were cheerfully singing a Sjealandian war song ''It was at Helgoland we last saw the foe'':

It was at Helgoland we last saw the foe
At full sails we thundered in, prepared for battle
we raised up our flag and thus we fully kicked his ass

There was a man amongst his name was Schwarzenberg
he got by danish brothers a fully clear message
it will serve him well for long what he was given
for we shot salvo upon salvo in the man

And when the fire was spreading around his ship
he turned around his ship and sailed for his loved home
but even then he once again was given
a salvo so he no longer could play with us

Radetzky was the name of their other vessel
it sailed the same route towards the same home
it thought that we had become and all too nice
we shot it down upon the sea, something it didnt like

Now i think that the slav believese we're making fun
As he says time and time again that we gave up
But listen brother mine, and remember these words
That we will never give up when Niels Juel is onboard

Huzzah for the Emperor and Huzzah for all of you
who hunt the slavs from our pure, beloved home
Beneath the slavs ugly bird, we never ever will live
Huzzah for Heimdal, Jutland and Niels Juel!


Gyldenløve shouted something in danish and 50 Sjealandian cavalry-men mounted their horses and followed him and Siegel whose men were also instructed to join them. ''It is a mystery to me how your people has survived so long without good horses and having to ride those monstrosities. They must devour your people by the thousands. Horses on the other hand are perfectly suited for the enviroment we have here. They can be trained for war, farming, transport and of course as companions. They slowly approached the village, still within good distance from it. Gyldenløve smiled ''So Siegel, they are all yours, all the people, and all the loot''

Army Of Valdemar X, scouts
Johann Refsborg was weary, for 2 weeks he had been leading the scouting detachments and honestly he was tired of surveying the territory of the barbarians, while his colleagues could march with the Emperor and certainly earn promising new estates in Petrokovia once it was conquered. He meanwhile had to ride in front of the army with 500 cavalry men and scout the terrain.

They were riding in a narrow gorge, with Refsborg in the front, flanked by two units of standard cavalry, behind him ride 75 winged hussars, behind them wee 150 Guard Hussars, light horse-men on the level of many cossacks.

This was a waste of time, if there were any petrokovian forces here they would have encountered them days ago. He sighed, drinking from his hipflask. A bang could be heard and a musket bulled ripped through his head, sending his body flying to the ground...

[Exaequatio]

The pinnacle of perfections among people? He laughed quietly to himself about the comment. He knew of course, it was the Exaequations which were the pinnacle of life.

The next morning, Siegel jumped of bed and stormed out of his tent, "Are you mad!?" Siegel said, cringing at how they were containing his bird. He looked over at the brontornis, "Silver!" The bird then looked back at Siegel, and Siegel began speaking Exaequation "Et fessab tellus!" The bird suddenly became more relaxed, as she finished eating the Sjealander's arm. She was about to rip into the Sjealander's abdomen when Siegel said "Nihil!" She hissed at several of the others with pikes and moved closer towards Siegel. "What in the hell was that!?" He said in disbelief to Gyldenløve. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?" He whistled a signal to one of his men and they rushed up with the saddle and fixed it onto the terror bird. Siegel stroked Silver's beak and gave her a piece of chicken before he climbed up onto her.

He looked over at his men, "Men! Prepare for our first battle! This will be the first Petrokovians we see! Remember. I want several Petrokovians alive. As such, use your bolas to catch them. The rest may be killed or done with whatever you choose. Burn all their houses down! Round their children up and tie them to the ground! We will let them dehydrate or freeze in the night and let any Petrokovian know that the Exaequation mercenaries are one of a kind!" His soldiers cheered, throwing their hats in the air and waving their bottles of alcohol back and forth. His men were excited to attack the Petrokovian cavemen. They began marching as Siegel gave a hand signal to follow him.

"There is a certain respect that is needed between our two species." He said to Gyldenløve about terror birds and humans. "Both our species are natural killers. We hunt for enjoyment. Have we not invited the cat into our homes and have we not tamed the wolf? Are they both not killers that have been befriended? The dog will hunt along side its master just as a terror bird will hunt alongside its own master. Today, the apexes will together hunt down our prey, the Petrokovians. My life, as well as every other Exaequation, is quite safe in front of 'these monstrosities' as you describe them. We understand the respect needed between us. Together, we become an unstoppable flock."

He looked out at the village. It appeared to be undefended, it was a small border village, after all. He saw the Petrokovians cooking a pig over an open pit flame. What loathsome creatures. He thought. They are probably eating their own children. He looked over to his men and gave hand signals to spread out and form a semicircle around the village. "Will you and your Sjealand men be joining us?" Siegel asked Gyldenløve.

[Kubraria]

Several long columns of marching men came into view as the sun rose over the valley. Once the order for general mobilization had been given, Anton had immediately ordered a forced march. After several days of travel, the exhausted soldiers had finally reached their destination with fewer losses and much faster than he had anticipated. The threat of being bayoneted and left for dead should you fall can keep you going longer than any good breakfast - not that a conscript's breakfast was any good, of course. Now at last the arduous journey was over, and the battalion had reached their first target - Gyldenløve's encampment. He prayed that they had reached it in time. He had resolved that if Gyldenløve commenced an assault and was killed in action due to Anton's failure to provide the necessary support, he would have one tenth of his unit executed in reprisal.

Seeing what looked like an encampment that had been abandoned just hours before his arrival, Anton swore. He would have happily forced his men to march further until they caught up with the advancing army, but as much as it pained him to admit it the losses accrued from doing so would be too numerous. His men's wellbeing may not have concerned him, but his tactical ability certainly did. All men had to rest sometime, even these pond scum who had been granted a pardon by their most gracious emperor despite being unworthy of forgiveness. Riding at the front of the centre column (he was fortunate enough to have a horse, being the highest ranking officer of the battalion), he gave the order to break rank and establish a fortified encampment immediately. His men started complaining until the threat of being whipped to death convinced them to construct the necessary fortifications. Dead on their feet and desperate for a rest, they eventually completed their duties and were given permission to rest.

Anton dismounted, his back sore from days of riding. After stretching backwards until he heard a nasty crack, he too retired to his quarters. His stomach growled, but such trivial concerns could wait. He had no time for such frivolities right now, when glory was so close at hand. He and his battalion would eat tomorrow, for now he wished for nothing more than a good night's sleep.

[Roelandia]

The atlier was dark and uncomfortable.
Menoss was cutting the leather that would be used to complete the orders of the day.
Ever since he was 12 he had been learning to become a shoemaker and he hated every minute of it.
Him being an orphan meant that he had little choice in the matter though. In orer to survive later in life he would have to learn a "usefull" trade.
He guessed he could be worse off, if only his boss wasn't such a pain.

Just as he thought that his boss walked in and started insulting the work he had done.
"You're cutting the leather all wrong! I'm taking the damage out of your pay"
Menoss sighed... again! Sometimes I think he's making up excuses on purpose in order to save expenses. But not this time! I've seen him cut leather for years, it's done in this exact way! He's bullshitting me.
Menoss stood up and started walking towards his boss who was standing in the door opening which provided the only source of light in the room.
As he approached him he started looking up with a bored expression on his face.

"Sir, that leather was perfectly cut"
He said condfident.

His boss looked up with a half bored, half surprised expression on his face. He obvioulsy hadn't expected Menoss to stand up to him like this.
"No it was garbage, get back to work you lazy cunt!" He said with a dismissive tone in his voice.

Menoss balled his fists. He was starting to get really angry. Did he really think he could keep bullying a boy, no, a MAN from the poorhouse. Being poor does not give him that right.
Confident he repeated his statement. "Sir! That leather was expertly cut and you know it!".
His boss looked up, slowly turned around towards the fireplace and suddenly hit him with a fire iron he had quickly grabbed from the fireplace.
Surprised by the sudden blow, Menoss fell and hit his head.

"DON'T YOU SPEAK TO ME THAT WAY YOU FILTHY POORHOUSE SCUM!!! YOU SHOULD BE HAPPY THAT I TOLLERATE YOU AS AN APPRENTICE! NOW GET UP AND GET BACK TO WORK!!!"
He put the fire iron back into the fireplace.
As Menoss got up and recovered from the blow he thought "Big mistake!" He rushed towards the fireplace, grabbed the fire iron and hit his boss with it in turn.
"You think you can keep bullying me! I'm not a little boy anymore you bastard!" He hit him again, again and again.
All his emotions about being regarded as a pest, as a nuisance suddenly surfaced and were all projected on this situation. He did not stop hitting until his rage finally calmed down.

The fire iron got stuck into his bosses skull...and he had stopped moving....
Menoss let go of the fire iron, took a few steps back and suddenly realized what he had done...

"No....this can't be happening... this...I..." He stammered to himself in the dim lit room.
He leaned against the wall and slided down until he hit the ground and huddled up into a fetus position.
There he waited.... Until the authorities found him and his dead boss.


Constabulary office

Menoss sat on a wooden bench in front of an officer of a judge.
He wore expensive clothes and a pair of shoes he was almost sure he had made some years prior.
The atmosphere was tense....

"What am I going to do with you...." the judge pondered.
Menoss just sat there, quiet.
There is a chance you were provoked into your actions which would help your case if true... but I can't help you if you stay quiet.

Menoss looked at him with an uninterested expression on his face. "What does it even matter what I say? You are going to convict me anyway so what's the point?"
The judge's expression shifted from strickt to concerned. "listen mister Menoss do Gartens, I know you are from the poorhouse. In fact, I hav eseen you there many times when you were just a small boy. I donate to that poorhouse you see and I would hate to see anything bad happen to you. Still, my power is also limited to the law and in case of murder or manslaughter, a punishment is required. There is no other way..... I can however...save you from the gallows"

When Menoss heard that hope returned to his eyes. He lloked straight at the judge... Opened his mouth and than closed it again as he did not know what exactly to say.
"I... I did not mean to kill him. He provoked me... He hit me with a fire iron and... you know the rest."
The judge nodded with every word Menoss said, after Menoss had finished he said calmly "Is that your final statement?"
Menoss nodded. "then sign here" the judge said. Menoss took the eagle feather that lay on the desk and signed it.

A few day later

The sun was shining, it was a beautiful day and the sun reflected off the bayonets mounted on the musket rifles of the Gondosian army.
In neat rows the musketeers parared through the main street attracting a crowd from all over the city.
Menoss was present in their ranks. The judge had managed to indeed keep him away from the gallows and made him join the army instead. He was "lucky" that a war was just declared between Sjealand, the imperium in the north and Petrokovia, the looming Tsardom in the east and because of Gondos's allegiance to the Antitsarist leage they needed as much soldiers as they could get.
This option had saved him from death, at least for the moment...
One other upside was the beautifull yellow uniform, they were the best clothes he had ever worn and if he died in battle, at least he would go out in style.

As the musketeer column moved towards the horizon the Gondosian flag waved proudly in the wind, ready to face the danger that lay ahead?

[Petrokovia]

Polish Front

The commanding officer of the surprise attack group was the first to see Valdemar X's scouting forces arriving. Soon, he would signal the other foxholes to be prepared. He took up his musket, and when Johann Refsborg rode by, he opened fire, sending the musketball through his head. This signaled the other foxholes to open fire, and all hell rained down on the Sjealandian scouting forces. Cannons fired into their ranks, and some soldiers fired from within the foxholes-When a soldier fired, they would immediately back away from the front, and allow a different soldier to take a shot while they loaded.

A bugle played a long tone, followed by two others, and all three in perfect unison played an advancing signal. Hearing this, Alexandr took out his musket.
"Today we shall defend Petrokovia from the rotten swine which call themselves Sjealandians! Charge!"

The Sjealandian forces would not see Alexandr's main forces coming from just over the horizon from the East due to the smoke, but they would hear them-45,000 men shouting "Urah!" as loud as they could, using their battle cry as an intimidation technique. The cavalry rode through, firing at the Sjealandians with their muskets, then retreating away from the foxholes. They would circle the perimeter of the battlefield, using their sabers to kill off retreating or escaping Sjealandians. The infantry of this force would arrive in their wagons. When they exited the wagons, a small cannon at the front of one of the wagons in each group of 5 would be fired into the Sjealandians, as a way to disperse them and make sure they didn't try to pick off Petrokovian infantry as they got off of the wagons and onto the field.

[Nickel Empire]

Bramming, Sjealand

After months of sailing the sails and masts of the colonial fleet of eighty ships finally appeared over the horizon and in view of the port city of Bramming. The ship carrying Admiral Niels Juel and General Jens Otto-Kragh, the ''Hvide Ørn'', was the first ship to appear and was also the first to enter the port. The ships carrying the ten mumakils were sailing off from the main fleet to find a more suitable area to unload the beasts of burden.

While the fleet was preparing to unload its supplies, cannons, horses and men, Admiral Niels Juel and General Jens Otto-Kragh were brought to shore in rowboats, to find the governor of the city and to see what would be done with their force once everything was unloaded.

[Sjealand]

Village of Ivanonkova, Souther Petrokovia
Gyldenløve laughed. ''I thought you would never ask! haha. Draw your swords boys! Its time to get them wet! Faith and unity til Asgård falls!'' the soldiers sounded the horns as they drew their swords. ''What do you say Siegel, for Sjealand, Gold and Girls? Hiya! he spurred his horse, leading down his collumn into the village. ''Die you slavic bastard'' Gyldenløve shouted as he drive his sword through a teenage Petrokovia fleeing, his men charging through the farmes still out on the fields.

He jumped off his horse, walking towards a house were the father was blocking the door with his hoe, clearly in panic. Gyldenløve stopped for a second, smiling. The he picked up a log, throwing it in the fathers face so he fell back into the hourse. He then proceeded to hammer the door shut with the tools and planks the father had left outside. A Sjealandian soldier saw what Gyldenløve was doing and quickly lit a torch, handing it to Gyldenløve. Gyldenløve remounted his horse, riding around the building, setting fire to the thatch roof. ''Burn you Florinian devils'' he said to himself before turning to his soldiers who were tearing down a massive stone cross on the town square. The cross fell to the ground shattering and revealing bountiful treasure inside of it, which the sjealandian quickly collected into a sack which the lay on the evergrowing pile of valuables in the square.

Bramming
The govenor rushed towards the colonials, eager to get the Nickelian troops out of his city fast. He knew what effect hosting large amounts of troops had on a city, and these colonials would surely not be any safer than the well drilled Valdemares. Several City Guards escorted him to the pier where he met up with Jens Otto-Kragh. ''Welcome! Welcome fine gentlemen! I suspect you are going to the alps? The people of Bramming know the best direct route to the fortresses of the alps. I can send you some able guides if you want?'' he began sweating seeing how nervous his guards were.

Polish Front
The cavalrymen watched around them as their comrades fell to the slavic musket-balls. They would however soon join them as artillery-balls slaughtered the last remaining scouts, they were completely annihalated.

Some kilometers west the main invasion force was crossing the two bridges over the river Poltava. Sjealandian troops had already set up defences such as cheval de frises, minor wooden spikes and small trenches. Artillery batteries were set up alongside the defences while the petrokovian batteries up in the hills were bombarding them. Everynow and them a shell would hit target, ripping soldiers to pieces, but their comrades carried on doing their duties. The infantry formed their lines 6 men deep in the engagement zone, with the rest piling behind them as reserves. The batteries reopened fire on the petrokovians, firing to where they saw the muzzle-flashes from the artillery. Soon explosions rocked the front as both sides fired upon each other. The Sjealandian troops however remained unfathed even as mortar shells rained down around them.

Valdemar laughed while watching it all occur. He was riding over the bridge at a slow pace, protected on all flanks by Valdemares. A cannon-ball hit the water besides him, splashing river-water upon him and his uniform, he however continued riding unto the battlefield. Around him his troops remained regulated and in formation even as their ranks were hit by balls. A ball ripped through a back unit, sending men and body parts into the river, the survivors quickly reforming the line. He raised his Command Baton, nodding to the two commanding cavalry officers, and the hussars and dragoons quickly rode north and south, away from the main army and reforming longer up the river. He then swung it around, signalling other commanders to form the outer lines with their men, which they did.

From the hills a horncould be heard, then two, the dozens. Valdermar shouted ''Shall we sit here and listen to their horrendous concert? Lets show them a mans horn" to which the army obliged. The horns from the hills however grew larger each second. ''They are attacking'' a soldier commented to his comrade.

''Liiiiines! Form!'' the musketeers, pikemen and swordsmen fell into their positions, preparing to take the coming assault. but it never came. Then they heard it ''uraaaaah, UraaaaH, URAAAAAAH''. Still no men. Then the thunder of hooves. Thousands of horsemen stormed out of the hills towards the Sjealandians. ''They are charging! Prepare you sons of Tyr! Take it and slaughter the savages.'' the soldiers kept their line, even as the artillery bombardment grew tougher. They could see the Petrokovians faces now. Then suddenly the horsemen fired. Thousands of musket-balls flew into the ranks of the Sjealandians as the Petrokovians fired, and retreated. Repeating it for every line of horsemen. The men fell where they stood, bleeding out at the feet of their brothers in arms, who did not even react to the death and mayhem around them.

''BOOM'' the petrokovian carts their fired cannons as their infantry dismounted, forming their own lines behind the cavalry. Soon a massive army had formed in front of them. ''How many do you think there are Stenbock? 35-45 thousand?'' Valdemar asked. Around that id guess. How many men do we have sir?'' Stenbock asked in return. ''I think around 32 thousand here with the remaining 50.000 men on their way here. We should be able to hold out. Dont you worry. Valdemar said before he raised his baton ''Artillery wait for my signal'' The artillery stopped their bombardment, resetting their sights on the lines the petrokovians were forming. Letting them march closer and closer. He then lowered his baton. ''Fire! For Sjealand!'' a wave of silence fell over the battlefield. Then chaos as artillery across the Sjealandian lines began firing. Units forward! The lines marched forward under the cover of the artillery salvo. This was what they were drilled in. They marched forward lead by their officers, standard-bearers and drummers. The marching drums kept the soldiers marching forward, ignoring the fire and the attacks.

Behind them the artillery moved forward too towards their now position closer to the enemy so that the 2nd salvo would be ready in time.

[Exaequatio]

The men came running in and charging for the village. Their u-shape formation would form a living barricade that would constrict the town and force the villagers to flee in only one direction, where some more Exaequation forces would be hiding and waiting. The Petrokovians would be jumping from the frying pan and into the fire. Other Exaequations and the Sjealanders together invaded the village and help to chase the villagers out. While there, the Exaequations would kill everyone in sight, simply because it was fun and they were paid to do it. The mercenaries would march into the homes and torch them down. The wood and grasses within the houses and structures expedited the burning and made it start to spread across the entire village. Large volumes of smoke was being emanated. Many villagers ran screaming for their lives but to no avail, the muskets shot through them. Those who did not fight were spat upon by the mercenaries, seeing them as weak and ignoble. Some villagers were even tied up on pillars within their homes and then their houses set on fire. Amidst the action, a large sign was hammered into the ground which read in english, "Come get us, pathetic Petrokovians".

The villagers fleeing the town ran straight into the established ambush. The Exaequations tossed their bolas at the feet of the Petrokovians in which it swung around the legs and made them trip and fall. The mercenaries would then take them and chain them up and force them to march back to camp where they would be experimented on, or used as moving target practice. The rest were simply killed, but the mercenaries knew to reserve their resources for more important battles and using swords to slaughter them was more than enough.

Back in the town, the church was raided and looted as this was where the Exaequations figured much of the resources would be kept. The church was then burned down with another sign reading "Your tiny god cannot help you". As per ordered, the mercenaries would catch numerous children and round them up. They were tied up and tossed onto the floor, helpless to escape. It was the intent to leave them on the ground where their small, frail bodies would fall victim to the harsh nightly weather. The younger women were stripped and tied up and thrown into carts which would haul them back to camp as part of the loot. Other carts would contain some gold, silver, food, and fabrics, while farm animals such as horses, oxen, pigs, chickens, and goats would all be brought back to camp as part of the loot.

Siegel saw a bleeding Petrokovian, his leg was clearly broken. "Пожалуйста, сэр! Помилуй меня!" The Petrokovian pleaded.

What was it even saying? Siegel questioned. He drew his sword and held it up against the throat of the Petrokovian,

"Я всего лишь фермер! Я не ссорился с вами Sjealanders!" The man continued.

"Папа! Папа!" A young girl yelled out, perhaps eighteen years old. She held a club in her hand and was running towards Siegel.

Seigel could see the shadow of her getting closer to himself. He kicked the Petrokovian, who he assumed was the father, to the ground and spun around quickly, slicing the throat of the young Petrokovian woman. She almost instantly fell to the ground as her blood saturated the nearby dirt. He raised his eyebrow and smirked at her lifeless corpse. He turned around to the Petrokovian father screaming at Siegel, he was crying and was nearly uncontrolled with rage, but his broken leg kept him from being able to get up and attack Seigel. "Is that what your crying about Petrokovian? Be a man. Stop crying." He kicked him again, making the father fall to the ground once again. "You people make me more and more sick by the second. You all are running away like small children. You don't fight. Do you not have one warrior among you?" He hit the Petrokovian's head repeatably and spoke real slowly. "Do... you ... understand... what... I'm.... saying.... Petrokovian....? Am... I... going.... too... fast....?" He kicked him again, now in the abdomen. "Hello...?"

"Ты убил ее! Вы убили моего ребенка! Вы будете гореть в аду за свои преступления! Пусть Бог ударит тебя сейчас!" He yelled out, now coughing up blood.

Seigel shot another Petrokovian fleeing in the distance. "Ty uby yayaya what?" He mocked. Have you learned even how to speak coherently? Are you so primitive that you merely babble?" He spit in his face. "Pathetic." He sneered. "I won't kill you. But don't think my act is merciful. Either one of my men will run by and finish you off or your blood loss will get you. Either way you are going to die. Pray to whatever god you worship, barbarian, and hope that they be kind to you. He ran off and continued the raid while he left the Petrokovian father to do nothing but lay on the ground, bleeding beside his dead daughter.

The soil had been salted from the mercenaries and the Petrokovian children had now been all tied to the ground. The little children cried for their mothers and fathers yelling out in strange dialects unaware of what was happening to them nor why. Other Petrokovians' arms and legs were tied to horses and the horses forced to run in four different directions, forcing the Petrokovians to be ripped apart. Many mercenaries laughed and clapped at the spectacle they were watching.

[Nickel Empire]

Admiral Niels Juel and General Jens Otto-Kragh looked up at the governor coming towards them. "I'm not sure if we are going to the alps, as were only informed of where to land our forces, however if we are need at the alps, that is where we will go, and yes, we will accept your offer of guides." Jens said. "However we will require several days to unload and organize all of our supplies and soldiers. I assume it will be no problem if we camp outside the city walls for a couple days?" Jens again said.

Niels then piped in. "Hey, do you have any beer or whine? It has been several months since we have had fresh ale. We also would like some women to 'entertain' our men before we move out to the frontline, and some animal feed if you can spare it for our mumakils. They eat a lot and some are facing massive starvation from eating all the food from the ships. We will probably have to kill three, during which we can pay you some ivory and meat from them."

"Speaking of food," Jens said. "We would like to know of the possibility of establishing a resupply and rest base here for wounded going back to the colony and to rest and refit soldiers coming here from Nickelian-Sjealand to replenish those lost in campaign. We will pay you for your troubles."

[Kubraria]

(OOC: Typed up at 1:00 AM, so there are bound to be a few mistakes. Will edit later.)


"All men, pack up kit and assume column march formation at once! We set off within the hour! Any who refuse to pull their weight will be shot immediately!"

The groaning soldiers protested weakly as they were roused from the merciful release that sleep brought them but quickly fell silent whenever the sobering crack of the whip was heard. By studying plans that had been left at the encampment by the advancing army - armies, as he had discovered - Anton had ascertained that the previous occupants intended to return to the area following the presumably successful execution of their orders. Unwilling to wait for a force that may or may not have appeared quickly enough to keep up his invasion's momentum, he had deliberated with his fellow lieutenants and decided that the best course of action was to move onward and regroup with Valdemar X's 1st Army, as well as the feared "Mercenary Division".

Anton had heard several reports of the terrifying mercenaries and their shocking brutality in combat, which naturally made him very keen to meet their commander. If Anton had heard correctly, the man had a reputation so horrible preceding his troop movements that it had lead to, on more than one occasion, the abandonment of entire settlements in his path as citizens fled the area in fear of the unthinkably barbaric cruelties the mercenaries would inflict upon them should they be taken alive.

Anton hoped that one day he too would be known for such hideous deeds. He silently made a mental note to take their commander aside for a few moments and have a quick talk with him. Who knew, perhaps he could pick up a few tips from the man...

[Roelandia]

It was quiet near the Quinifar-Sjealand border in the alps... too quiet.
Near the bottom of the awesome mountains in the valley below a sjealandian army was marching.

"So... they did expect us after all" Thomasso do Orlivca pondered.
He sat high on a mountaintop overlooking the valley, his trusty captain Amelion do Metera beside him.
"is it time yet? Amelion asked.
Tomasso put his hand up. "not yet... they need to go just a little further"
A deathly silence of what seemed to be ages followed. During this time Thomasso slowly put his hand in the air until he suddenly swooped it down with the words "NOW!"

Amelion signaled

Out of nowhere an explosion rocked the mountains. The Sjealandian men down in the valley stopped and turned their gazes towards the mountaintops from where the sound had emerged.

A sound rumbling followed and a became louder and louder and ...louder....
An avalanche appeared and the Sjealandian men suddenly ran for their lives as the snow plunged into their ranks, swallowing up at least a third of the army's strenght.
When the avalanche finally came to a stop, the Sjealandian were dissorganized and had no clue of what had happened.
They weren't given much time to figure it out either.

The rumbling sound of the avalanche was replaced by battlecry's that grew ever louder.
On the flank of the mountains a huge cavalry army swooped down like a flash of red, red as blood and as the uniforms they were wearing.
The feared Condhusstirians had begun their charge. Their nimble horses seemed to glide of the moutain as their plate armor sined in the sunlight. Before he Sjealandians could sufficiently regroup the Condhusstirians slammed into them, wreaking havoc with their lances.
They drove through the entire army, driving several wedges between them.

Little tédid the Sjealandians know that now also the Quinifarian infantry had lined up. They had used the charge of the Condhusstirians as a cover for sneaking up on the Sjealandian and now they stood ready to fire their flintlock muskets.
Before the Sjealandian knew what happened, bullets and gunpowder were tearing up their ranks.

Fire! BLAM!
Fire! BLAM!
Fire! BLAM!

The Quinifarian musketeers executed their line infantry role almost perfectly and many Sjealandian soldiers chose to flee.
A horn blew...Thomasso looked over to their right flank, a Sjealandian cavalry regiment had apparantly escaped the previous carnage.
Amelion almost panicked. "My lord! If those cavalrymen reach our musketeers they will shred tehm to pieces, we have to do something!"
Thomasso shook his head, "Amelion, what a nervous wreck you are. I had foreseen thos eventuality" Thomasso signs to a few hornblowers beside him.
*Horns blow*

The Musketeers break formation and start retreating and a fresh regiment of cavalrymen take their place, ready to halt the Sjealandian charge. They are completely dressed in full armor, just like the Condhusstirians yet different...
As the Sjealandian approach the new Quinifarian cavalrymen suddenly seem to flee away from them.
In an overconfident move the Sjealandians make their horses go even faster until...
Suddenly the Quinifarians reach down to a small saddlebag and pull out a flintlock pistol and start firing.
The first line of Sjelandian cavalrymen fall to the ground. The Quinifarians change position and fire again.
A second line of Sjealandians falls down. The quinifarians fire a third time and now finally, the Sjealandian charge is broken.
The Quinifarains draw their swords and charge frontally into the enemy, slaughtering the unprotected Sjealandians left and right as the Condhusstirians attacked them from the rear.
Suddenly everything was silent...the battle was over, a victory for Quinifar.

Thomasso proudly strolled over the battlefield, occasionally dealing a merci blow with his broadsword to a Sjealandian soldier.
Amelion approached him. "The Condhusstirian Curassarions where impressive today"
Thomasso smiled "Yes they were, those special flintlock pistols they carry are really something!"