Saartholm
Confederate Consulate
July 22nd, 2016
The grey line of men slipped through the streets. People went about their daily business, it was a market day. “Does he even know you’re coming?”
“No.” Uhtred grinned. “He’ll see me either way.”
He pushed through the door into the consulate building and looked at the guards. “Inform Consul Gildedhorn that I am here to see him.” He stripped his weapons off and passed them to one his men, four knives and a heavy sidearm. He smiled at the guard. “I’m ready now.”
Gildedhorn was once again pleasantly surprised by the appearance of the Serreten leadership at his office, and ordered his secretary to bring them up immediately. The Serretens were certainly fans of the pop-in visit, but the consul didn’t mind. It was not like there was an awful lot to do during his day, and most of his former responsibilities had been taken on by the newly arrived military advisors. Gildedhorn stood as Uthred entered the room and reached across his desk with a smile “Ah! Your highness! Always a pleasure, what brings you here today?”
“I wish it was just for a friendly bit of tea. Something far worse, I’m afraid. You remember that pounding rain we had a few weeks back, maybe two weeks ago? Flattened every wheat and barley field in Serretes and drowned most of our root crops. Now we are woefully unprepared for winter with no chance to replant in time to bring in a winter harvest, that is by the time the fields dry out.”
The Consul nodded and sighed. “Yes, I remember the rain. I had feared that there might be some damage to the crops, but I didn’t realize the extent of it. The Confederacy would be willing to provide you aid to get you through the winter, of course, should you need it. We have ample stores of wheat, potatoes, and sorghum that can be delivered in a moments notice.”
“That is exactly why I am here. I do not wish impose upon the Confederacy, but I have little choice at this point. I do ask that you keep this manner as quiet as possible. As always I fear the specters of my immediate neighbors and would prefer to not have to deal with forceful humanitarian aid.”
“Of course. Discretion is always key when it comes to international politics it seems. Do you have any figures off hand, that I may be able to pass on to Paradise City?”
“Well the hay crop should be fine, a little less nutritional than usual but nothing impossible so the livestock should be fine mostly. But if you could send maybe 200,000 tons of grain? The rest of my people’s dietary requirement can be sourced from the seas or the herds.”
“This is certainly doable. To keep out of the limelight, we will make deliveries hidden in other vessels. Routine trade vessels and passenger flights can always find extra room to bring in the necessary foodstuff. I will pass the information on to the Senate immediately, but I would expect the first shipments to begin shortly.”
“It is always a pleasure doing business with you,” Uhtred smiled again. “I have another matter, much less pressing. Maybe you have heard, but I am trying to standardize my militias. Would you maybe have some surplus bolt action rifles no longer in use? The AR-2s you gave me earlier have proved themselves excellent, compliments to your engineers.”
“The Confederate government does have a small cache of older rifles on hand….” the consul thought for a moment “but I do know that the C-1941, the rifle I am thinking of, is still produced for the civilian market in some quantity. I would not think it too out of the realm of possibility for an order to be placed for your militias. I am sure the company can use the cash as well. I can pull up the specs of the weapon for you and your staff to review, if needed.”
“This is good news. I will be sure to send along what money from the defence budget there is to spare.” He motioned for one of his aides to make note of what he had just said. “There is nothing more at this time but I will try to keep in touch.”
“As always, it is a pleasure doing business with you, Uthred. The Confederacy is always here to help”
Uhtred nodded and headed for the door and on to his next meeting, this one with the press, both foreign and domestic.
Press Room
Holdings of the King
Saartholm, Serretes
July 22nd, 2016
Most rulers spoke to crowded press rooms when making statements. Uhtred spoke to a nearly empty room. There were a handful of Serreten government officials, maybe twenty Serreten reporters and an odd collection of foreign reporters, invited especially for the statement.
James McManus had been a senior correspondent with the Caprica City Times for more than a decade now. He had earned his ‘’bones’’ covering Caprican military operations abroad, before finally getting noticed by his editor and being upgraded to the political office a few year ago. It came with perks such as a corner office, an intern and free flights abroad.
Donning one of two conservative suits that he owned, he jumped on a plane and then immediately into a cab to catch the speech in Saartholm. He was a little surprised at the lack of a foreign journalist in the ‘’press room’’ , if it could be called that with it’s lack of actual press but he simply attributed it to other events around the region that ambitious young reporters placed higher on their lists of things to cover. He had already proved himself several times over and had no such need to travel to far off places in search of record breaking stories, but he was still a reporter.
Uhtred dressed as he usually did, just a grey BDU type uniform. His hair was pulled back and his beard trimmed. He stepped to the podium, cleared his throat, and tugged at his beard. Such formal statements were a rare thing for Uhtred, he was a private man and tried to keep his inner machinations to himself.
“I come before you today, to address the single question that has been weighing on all our minds as of late. The matter of the Rombergian encroachment into Lorecia. In this day and age, it is quite frankly scandalous that we must deal with such inhuman vestiges of the past, vestiges such as imperialism. Imperialism is at the root of many evils. It is not only the subjugation of a people but the exploitation of them, the raping if you will. And it is with this in mind when I say that the Rombergian government's movement into Lorecia is a blatant act of imperialism, and we will go about sanctioning Romberg in the near future. Such acts cannot and will not be tolerated by an upstanding and moral people such as those of Serretes. That is all I have to say on the matter, but as is customary I will allow a few questions provided they are not overly invasive.” He drank from the cup set out for him on the podium.
One of the few Serreten reporters there raised his hand to offer a question. “Yarrow of Saartholm, Saartholm Times. In these economically challenging times for Serretes, is it really wise to cut off a potential market?”
“To allow Romberg to go unpunished only serves to encourage others and Serretes to seem like a ‘pushover’” he airquoted “we will not suffer, I promise you, due to the generous and supportive nature of our many allies.” He drank again.
Yarrow spoke again. “How complete will these sanctions be?”
“I am sending our ambassador to the Confederacy to sign the EATA sanctions. I expect them to be total. If they are not harsh enough, I will lower further sanctions. If Romberg can lay claim to Lorecia, then why not Serretes next?”
‘’James McManus, Cap City Times, How do you expect these EATA sanctions to effect change in policy in the Tundra lands? Wouldn’t the Kaiser lose more if he backed down at this point?’’
“I can only speak for Serretes, and we will continue to not over extend ourselves across the world like so many of our allies. The Kaiser will undoubtedly lose the most if he backs down now. I do not condone imperialism by saying this, but it is the truth. Something I am always concerned with. It will take time for the sanctions to be lifted. The Rombergian people have shown their true color, and while Serretes may lift her sanctions, it will be a very slow process in the hopes of deterring similar incidents in the future.”
‘’So what you’re saying is that you don’t actually expect them to back down at this point. If that’s true then what I’m getting from this is, that these sanctions will only have a negative effect on relations and might actually escalate the situation?’’
“We must plan for the worst, and the worst is Romberg pushing forward with their foolhardy attempts at modern imperialism. The sanctions are entirely reactionary. Romberg destroyed any relations, especially with Serretes, the moment the first Rombergian people entered Lorecia. If the situation does escalate, God help us all.”
‘’ Last question, if these sanctions start to hurt the global economy, would your government consider lifting them?’’
“We will not. Serretes is able to support herself. If other members of the EATA grow weak and lift their sanctions, then so be it. Serretes will not lift sanctions until the Rombergian government leaves Lorecia.”
James scribbled furiously in his notepad, he might be missing his flight later on tonight. He wanted to get a rough draft of his next article to his editor as soon as possible.
Deck of SNF Direwolf
Bægsea, Western Serretes
July 24th, 2016
The corvette cut through the waves. The sea was calm enough. Men milled the deck in droves. Uhtred moved to visit with his childhood friend, Eadric of Wesbourough. The very man calling into question Uhtred’s morality. He carried with him as many men of SEREA as could uncomfortably fit aboard the deck of the little ship. The boat was cramped beyond measure, but Uhtred needed the extra men and he could not wait for a slower troop transport to bring the extra men. There was no airfield in the remote vicinity of the island as it was, so Uhtred had little choice but to use one of his corvettes. Uhtred needed Eadric in order to stay in power, that much he knew beyond reasonable doubt. If Eadric’s slander was allowed to abound, then more and more people would doubt him and invariably defect or become unruly. In all likelihood, Eadric was playing an elaborate joke only he was privy to, his father’s death aside of course. In order to bring an additional three platoons of SEREA, Uhtred had been forced to draw a platoons from Hythe, Langceaster, and Saartholm itself. No other units were available. He had likewise drawn the marine garrison from Langceaster in order to reinforce his men, they were maybe a day behind him.
Town of Langceaster
Southeastern Serretes
July 26th, 2016
Wulfric of Dunfirth stood, and walked across the stone floor of the town hall. He looked back at the pile of destroyed weapons, all of the the triggers had been removed and the barrells crushed. He had no other way to prevent the rioting mobs from accessing the weapons once he had left, Uhtred would understand. Company 1 Platoon 4 of SEREA had been trying to maintain order in the port town of Langceaster. The only other government men in the town were a handful of Port Authority, a large militia company, and the ealdorman. The marine garrison had been pulled to reinforce Uhtred in the west, as had the other SEREA platoon. Wulfric had his doubts about the militia and the ealdorman, so really he had 50 men in the town he could trust, counting himself. At about twenty thousand, Langceaster was the largest city in southeastern Serretes. The very nature of the city put it at odds with Wulfric. The town was a southern port, and being so received many of the imports of Serretes. All those imports made the people weak and sympathizers with the outside. The town was ready rise up, no single city had fought as hard for the imposter king.
Wulfric knew that waiting any longer would only make things worse, the people were already crying for the blood of SEREA. And mobs were not patient. Better to try to leave on their own terms, then be forced to fight their way out when the mob eventually stormed the building. Water to the building had already been cut off, so they could only wait so much longer. Night was falling as it was, and his men had figured out that the crowd was the thinnest on the north side of the building. When the sky was fully darkened, they would push out and hopefully clear the walls of the town without having to fire a shot. He knew militia bands were roving through the town, patrolling in case something like this was attempted, but Wulfric had little choice.
By the time all of his men were ready to move out, it was dark. Parts of the mob had gone home. The rest had encircled the building and went to sleep in the square. Wulfric nodded to his men and touched the hilt of his knife for good luck. “For Ðan Ðe Ðu Eart Dust Ond To Duste Gewyrst.” Wulfric whispered, his men replied with the same. One of the men lifted the braces from the small side door, and Wulfric pulled the door open. It had been agreed upon that they would head out as a single unit. If any militia were encountered, the numbers would favor SEREA. Wulfric stepped out into the cold night; using the lights of the sleeping town, he made his way down the steps. His men followed quickly. They made their way across the square, one by one. At the far side, Wulfric counted heads. Satisfied with the results, he quickly moved up the road. His men fell in behind him, the only sound the rustle of their garments. Even the platoon dog was silent, a miracle in itself.
After ten or twelve minutes of walking quickly, the platoon reached the open area between the last house within the wall and the wall itself. The walls reached up nearly thirty feet, and were at least twelve feet thick. A staircase ran next to the wall, the steps steep and likely slick due to the pounding rain. One by one, the men stealed themselves before sprinting the 300 feet of open space and climbing up the steps. Wulfric heard alarmed shouts as the twelfth man made the trip. Soon after, gunfire erupted. Men clothed in grey militia uniforms streamed towards the crossing man. He somehow stumbled across, and reached the steps unscathed before rapidly climbing the stairs and joining his squadmates on the wall.
“Move, get behind the house!” Wulfric screamed at his men, shaking them from their stupor. In the little alley behind the house, the thirteen men crouched nervously, listening to the gunfire from the wall top and the street below.
“You want us to cross? Hope we make it?” One of his men asked.
“No. Let’s hope Ulf and the others have enough bullets for the militiamen. We’ll wait here for a bit.”
“Fucking hell.” After ten minutes, the gun fire quieted down. After a minute or two, Wulfric motioned for two of his men to attempt the trip across the open space. He watched as they scurried out from behind the house and up on top of the wall. He motioned for two more to follow suit. They crossed successfully as well. Finally, he gave the order, and all nine of the remaining men made the crossing. As they climbed the steps, gunfire erupted again and the man in front of Wulfric collapsed, screaming. Those atop the wall immediately returned fire. He grabbed the strapping on the back of the fallen man, and with the help of one of the other men hauled him up the rest of the stairs. As he reached the top of the wall, he saw two more of his men carry another man up the last few steps. “Get over the wall. Ulf, keep the militia pinned where they are.” He heaved.
Ulf just grunted as he loaded a fresh belt into the machine gun. Seconds later, he opened fire with the machine gun. Slowly, the SEREA men clambered over the wall until only Wulfric and Ulf remained atop the wall. Wulfric motioned for Ulf to climb over the wall. He nodded, picking up the machine gun and awkwardly carrying it across his chest. He dropped the various components of the gun over the wall to his waiting squadmates before dropping down himself. Wulfric had strapped his AR-2 across his back, and was about to follow suit, when a man rushed towards him with a knife. Wulfric heard the man, and at the last second rolled out of the way. Before he had regained his feet, Wulfric had drawn his scramasaxe. The man rushed him again, this time Wulfric caught his hand, and forced the man back onto the crenulations. The man screamed in fear now as Wulfric shoved the knife blade into the man’s gut, twisted and ripped the blade towards the man’s groin. He pulled the knife loose, and sawed through the man’s throat. Blood spilled over the wall. Wulfric wiped the blade off on the garment of the man and dropped over the edge. Even now, more militiamen had gained the wall and were sprinting towards him. Before he had hit the ground, his own men had opened fire upon his pursuers who were just now visible over the battlements.
Wulfric ran towards the nearest house, most of his men already there. Despite all of the gunfire, only two major injuries had been sustained and both men would likely live. The weapons and supplies of the two wounded men were split up over the remaining 23 men, including the heavy bags of rifle triggers. A few minutes later, the column headed out towards the one of the farms that Wulfric knew lay to the north of the town. By the time the sun was starting to rise, the SEREA platoon had cleared the outskirts of Langceaster without incident. Finally, they encountered a large farmhouse, Wulfric went with a few of his men and the dog to discuss with the owner the possibility of renting the house or a portion of the house. Even as he did so, both platoon sniper teams were set up, scanning the vicinity, searching for potential threats. As far as they knew, the remainder of the militia had stayed in Langceaster and in all likelihood the Port Authority had taken to the their ship and left the harbor. As to Offa, the ealdorman of the town, Wulfric did not care, instead only hoping that the man would die of some horrible venereal disease.
Wulfric knocked on the door. A voice called from within, wishing to ascertain why armed men were on his land. Wulfric identified himself and explained the circumstances. Finally, the man opened the door.
Town of Hythe
Northern Serretes
July 27th, 2016
Harald of Fearningham listened nervously as the leading citizens of the town spoke. His hand rested on the hilt of his scramasaxe, his foot drummed against the flat flagstone. The wooden bench was splintery beyond measure, but much more pressing things rested on his mind. Why am I even here? I know what the outcome will be. But I guess I do have orders to act on. God, fuck this hell hole. I just want to go home, but that will never happen. He refocused his attention on the speaker, Edmund of Langceaster, perched atop a flimsy dias. Why a man requested a meeting in one of the most reputable brothels in the country, I will never know. He didn’t fucking skimp on security. Harald smiled, no longer caring what happened. He loved Uhtred, and he would die for him if the need arose.
The rouser continued to ramble on about the importance of uniting the town as a single entity, loyal to the true king, Aldhelm, who had so recently been robbed of life by his imposter brother. I’ll fucking shut his mouth since he doesn’t seem to want to do that himself. The torture part may be a little challenging, but I’m sure I’ll figure something out. The rest of the SEREA platoon was already within the brothel or just outside, waiting for him to move. They had made the plans not thinking the man would bring such a large security detachment. Harald rose slowly, grimacing, and walked towards one of the younger, more attractive prostitutes in the vicinity. None of the men acting as security took note, SEREA men were a fixture in brothels.
“How’s your day been?”
“Oh, well enough. You ready to go to my room?”
She gets right to it and SEREA men are using her, Uhtred will have to hear of this. “How would you like to make double what you usually make?”
“What do I have to do?” She asked, looking slightly concerned. A prospect this good made her worry, there was usually a rather unpleasant physical component.
“Have you ever been acquainted with my friend over there?” He smiled widely and pointed at the rabble rouser.
“Too many times.” She rolled her eyes. “I have bills to pay, nonetheless.”
“Once he is done with his little speech, why don’t you take him to your room? Make sure you lock the door. Tell him that a certain admirer of his provided your services for him.”
“And I will get paid double just for that?”
“Yes. Easy money for you. How often does he come here?”
“Every time he is in town. Usually he stays here.”
“God, he is a perverted fucker. And now a dangerous one as well. He is a cloth merchant, no?”
“I think so, never really discussed it with him. I try to get in and out. I know he hates the King for limiting exports.”
As Edmund finished his speech, the young woman approached him coyly. “A certain admirer of yours is gifting my services to you.” She smiled at him.
“Really? Which one? I have many.”
“I’m sure you do. He preferred I did not tell you.” The girl said as she led him up the narrow stairway. His security detail seemed more than happy to remain downstairs with their drinks and own women of ill repute.
“Well, I am not one to decline a gift. Which room is it? Oh, this is my favorite room in the place.”
The prostitute pulled the door shut behind her, deftly locking it. She began undressing herself, Edmund had all of his attention focused on her. Downstairs, she heard commotion and men screaming, but she continued. Double pay was worth whatever it took. Edmund was undressed when she heard a knock at the door. “I wonder if maybe your friend sent up another girl?” Edmund had not heard the shouting downstairs, his ears had weakened with age, he was nearly 60 and prone to hard drinking. She had barely opened the door when it was thrown open by a press of men in grey uniforms. She had seen them earlier that day, but SEREA was always at the brothel. Three of the men grabbed the man and threw him into the bed, where they promptly bound his still naked old body. She recognized the man from earlier. She reached to cover her nakedness, qualing in the presence of the newcomers.
“Here is the double wage as I promised. You do not mind if we use the courtyard for some routine tasks do you?” Harold passed her a few coins.
“Thank you. Not my yard, so do as you will. If you need anything to assist in your routine tasks, let me know.” She smiled, this was not the first time a SEREA unit had asked to use the courtyard. Last time, they executed someone or other. She could not remember the name of the man, but watching his death had made her happy. She expected it would be the same with Edmund.
Usually, the full platoon would gather for an execution of any kind. Today, the platoon was spread throughout the brothel, ensuring the security of the place while a few men carried out the execution. Naturally, every single one of the prostitutes turned out to watch the spectacle. Harald did not mind them, they were simply additional witnesses. The entirety of the rabble rouser’s remaining security detachment was awaiting their deaths, roped together in the corner of the courtyard. Harald had nothing legitimate offense with which to charge the security escort, but he really did not care, they would die the same as their leader, their only real offense being their association with the rebel.
He watched as the platoon executioner, Ivar of Blackbourne, removed a wickedly sharp knife from his belt and chose his first victim from among the prisoners. He and Harald had agreed upon the charges before hand and there was no need to announce the charge to those that waited for their death. Besides, knowing the sentence was a privilege, not a right, so Ivar wasted no time in forcing the first man to his knees and opening up his abdominal cavity. He allowed the man to bleed out as he attended to the next man. The leader of the men watched the events with horror, the prostitutes with interest and disgust, and Harald with boredom. “You'll get worse than that you treasonous bastard. Oh, much, much, worse. You'll be screaming for your death before we’re done with you.” Harald laughed as Edmund shivered with fear.
He would have left Ivar to his work and checked on his men within the building, but executions called for official witnesses. At least he had not heard any gunfire. Finally, only one man remained.
“You, Edmund of Langceaster, stand accused and guilty of treason. The punishment for an offence as grievous as this in our fair land is death. Do you have any final words for the good men and women, including your mistress and favorite whores, assembled here to see the judgement of God enacted upon you?” Admittedly, they had no proof of treason, but they both knew that his death was necessary. His death was more important to Uhtred than a minor technicality such as proof. Besides, if needed, proof was easily fabricated. Who knew what whispers abounded in the shadows?
Ivar removed the bow from his back, strung it deftly, and drew twelve arrows, laying them at his feet. Harald had forced the final prisoner against a tree and had tied him there. Ivar laid the first arrow across the rest, drew back, and released the arrow. The arrow punched straight through the man’s kneecap, and he screamed in pain. Ivar worked quickly, attempting to fire as many arrows as possible while keeping the old man alive and conscious. The man was dead before the sixth arrow had hit him. Both SEREA men walked across the yard. Ivar to retrieve his arrows, Harald to sever the head of the dead man. The yard stunk, too many men had died bloody deaths within its stone walls.
“At least he’s dead. Regardless of what happens to us, Uhtred will be happy.” Both men laughed. Harald ordered the watching women to dispose of the bodies, allowing them any valuables they found, before turning away to check on his men.
Fort of Wesbourough
Western Serretes
July 29th, 2016
Evelyn gazed out over the harbor. She could see her brother, his men behind him, formed into platoons on one side of the dock. Across from him, her husband had drawn up nearly three times as many men, arranged loosely. She heard her husband call to her brother and both men stepped from their lines and processed towards the center of the dock. They embraced fiercely, which surprised her, her brother had never been interested in physical contact, openly at least. Sensing that the standoff had been diffused, she quickly walked towards the harbor, her own guard, comprised of retired SEREA men, following her. Both men were talking when she reached them, both returned to a normal demeanor. She heard her brother order his men to stand down as Eadric did the same. Uhtred hugged his sister. “Eadric, what can I do for you?”
Eadric laughed. “Oh that, I just wanted you to come out for a visit.”
“So this was all a joke?” Uhtred was incredulous, though slightly amused.
“Partially. Many in the west believe that you must atone for what you did to your brother. I am only voicing their concerns.”
“I knew it. I will atone, you will order your people to cooperate.” Uhtred chuckled.
“Yes, that can be arranged.” Evelyn had rarely heard the two men so civil, camaraderie had bred certain profane casual degradation between the two.
“Also, I will need 500 men from you.”
“For what?”
“Have you not heard of what’s happening in the south? I only received word of it yesterday. From Wulfric of Dunfirth. Langceaster is in open revolt. Then, Harald of Fearningham sent word that he is trapped in a brothel in Hythe today. Well, not trapped. Just unwilling to move.”
“Fucking hell. You’ll have the men. I’ll go with you, wife permitting.” He gazed at the young woman stand next to him. “My people will take food as payment. The rain and all.”
“Of course.” She smiled.
“Again, I am sorry for the death of your father. That will be no issue, I have that all worked out.”
“In order to live you must die. I will begin arrangements for our little trip.” He turned and walked back towards his own men.
“How is Mildrith?”
Uhtred grimaced. “Why put such an awful taste in my mouth? She’s more rebellious and angst filled than before. She hates me for killing Aldhelm.”
“Understandable. Their relationship was much like ours. Where is she now?”
“Locked in a nunnery in Saartholm. Too risky to let her wander about.”
“Uhtred! You put her under house arrest?”
“I did what I had to.” He turned and stomped back to his men. “I want you to head for Langceaster as quickly as possible, Eadric will resupply you. Peacekeep as best you can until I arrive, there is to be no open rebellion. Send as many marine units as you can towards Hythe, Harald of Fearningham needs saving. Protect those Confederate missile installations and order the Confederate men to assist you in anything you need, they will cooperate.” He turned from the platoon leaders as he bade them good luck.
A few hours later, Uhtred and Eadric reconvened within the church of the Wesbourough fortress. The building was packed with people, representatives from all of the islands of western Serretes, eager to see Uhtred repent and the old earl buried. A sort of double feature. Uhtred rose and walked to the confessional, a tradition adopted from the Catholic side of the religion, and knelt within the small, wooden box. A priest sat on the other side. They began the confession. Uhtred had only one sin to confess. He freely admitted to inflicting undue pain on his brother as well as killing his brother. He expressed his sorrow, promising not to do anything of the sort again (he only had one brother, an easy promise to keep). The priest issued a penance, a twelve day fast. Only water and tea were excepted. Uhtred groaned but nodded. They emerged from the stall and both walked to the altar. The priest announced that Uhtred had fully confessed and was abstained in the eyes of God.
A mass followed in which Eadric the Elder was buried. It was a dull affair, much duller than his own father’s burial. The west was too poor for such extravagance. Uhtred found himself crying for the old man, something he never expected. He hadn’t mourned his own father. No feast followed due to the food shortages. In the morning, Eadric and Uhtred left the island, nearly 750 men in tow in a collection of the largest ships Eadric owned.
Southeastern Serretes
July 30th, 2016
Wulfric of Dunfirth left the safety of the farm for the coast. He had received word of the arrival of nearly 100 marines, men that would easily turn the tide in Langceaster. In many cities, it might take thousands of men to bring the people to order. In Serretes, towns were so small and organized in such a way that a mere 500 men could bring a town into line in a matter of days. The marine units were to be such a force, but they were not alone. He had received word from Uhtred that nearly two thousand more men moved towards him at the present time. Wulfric would crush the rebellion, or so he hoped before Uhtred had even landed. The marine units were to patrol the coast and to ensure no ships left for other parts of the nation. Wulfric’s men, a few marine groups, and a handful more SEREA platoons would bear the brunt of the fighting. He was shaken from his thoughts as one of his men screamed. As one, the whole unit dropped to the earth, crawling for cover and dragging their dead compatriot. They had been traversing a rocky hilltop, open in many places to gun fire. Quickly, the men spread out, taking cover behind the various rock structure, peering down the hill, searching for the unseen killer. The first victim of the sniper was dead, the first casualty of the Southern Insurrection. More gunfire erupted from the base of the hill. Two more men collapsed, one dead and the other clutching at his shoulder. Bolt action rifles. Militia. Wulfric thought quickly, raising his own weapon and returning fire. The bullets were pouring uphill now, no one dared to move. A few grenades were tossed down, providing enough time for the machine gunner to set up his post between two close rocks. Within a short time, the machine gun returned fire, forcing the militia men to take cover in turn. By the time the machine gun fire had settled, both platoon sniper teams were in place, firing with a steady cadence. Wulfric saw to it that both dead men were laid on the green earth, and ensured any injuries were seen to before establishing a perimeter.
Through the night, the firing continued in intermittent bursts. Two more SEREA men were killed. As the sun rose, bullets for the SAW were running out. Bullets were running low for everyone. Wulfric knew all too well what would happen next. The hill would be rushed on all sides, and his men would be forced to fight with knives, axes, and bows.
It seemed as if as one, the militia band rose from their berths and charged up the hill. Nearly 150 men, Wulfric counted. He crossed himself and drew both his boot knife and scramasaxe. Death was preferable to capture. All around him, men embraced their squad mates and companions of the last 20 odd years. Prayers were uttered. Even as Wulfric watched, the shambled line of militia filled with gaps as the two platoon bowmen poured arrows down the hill towards them. The remainder of the SEREA men hurled rocks, hoping to increase the value of each of their lives before their inevitable death. As the first of the charging men arrived, they were dispatched easily. Out of breath and relatively untrained without the support of their many comrades, they fell easily. The axes and knives of the trapped men rose and fell. Soon, more and more militia men gained the summit, slowly and surely the SEREA men were pushed back against the rocks. Exhaustion set in, weapons flailed as rain poured from the sky, mixing with the gore and forming an all pervasive mush. Wulfric fell beneath a press of screaming men, countless stabs and slashes covering his body. By the time the last SEREA man met his bitter end, nearly a hundred militia men lay dead, scattered about the hillside.
When the marine units pushed through a couple of days later, they were met by the hilltop crowned with the mutilated heads of the SEREA men.
Town of Hythe
Northern Serretes
July 30th, 2016
By the time Captain Anselm of Dunharrow reached the wharves of Hythe, the men under Harald of Fearningham had spent three days in the brothel. They were not met with open revolt as Wulfric had been in Langceaster but instead boiling resentment, threatening to rise up in insurrection. Uhtred and his staff had figured it best to reinforce the SEREA platoon before anything else erupted. Hythe, a port city much like Langceaster received a portion of foreign shipments and thus dealt with a constant influx of new and occasionally harmful ideas. The rebel leadership of the insurrectionists in Langceaster did well in choosing to send Edmund of Langceaster to the other major port.
Harald led his men from the brothel as quickly as he could, meeting the captain as the ship docked. “Greetings, Captain.”
“How’s the town?”
“It’s been calmer. Your orders?”
“Assist you in anything you need.”
Harald paused for a second, formulating his plan. “I want blockades on every road into the city. Anyone traveling north from Langceaster and its surrounding villages is to be detained. People are not to gather in large group. I want every church service audited. How many men did you bring with you?”
“A hundred.”
“So a platoon to the south road. Another to the east. One to the north as well. Order them to fan out, check the forest roads frequently. You seal the harbor from outsiders. You brought hardware?”
“No room for hardware, we had to deliver men to the north of Langceaster before stopping here. You heard we were bringing armor?”
“Shit, I wanted some armor, I hoped things had changed. My men will stay in the city and keep patrolling. Send your men out now, if you will.” Harald turned away and stalked off to distribute his men through the city.
Written with assistance from BC and Caprica.
