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Dux Consul Herius Octavius Verullus had accepted the commission to Khonsia because he thought it'd be a quiet place where he could serve his twilight years with honour. The role of Dux Consul was, it was long coveted, trusted only to the most senior and respected veterans of the Imperium's elite: a mandate granted directly from Caesar, they were responsible with governing the many vast territories and reaches of the Imperium. The young would often scoff at the old, saying they were being put out to pasture, but Verullus and his peers who held the Consulship's knew the vast honour and responsibility they held. Very few men and women in the Imperium's hierarchy held as much power as this, and even this was pittance compared to what the Caesar wielded. Still, Verullus' legacy and the well-being of his family was immediately safeguarded as soon as he took the commission: not only was their a sizeable financial endowment, his name now carried considerable weight in circles he previously did not have access to which were now also accessible to his daughter, a young aspiring senator back home in Kylarnatia.

Provincia Khonsia was also quite the prize: the Imperium Antiquum's first non-Gothic colony, settling and conquering lands once owned by the ancient kings of Nippur and Karkemish, the land was named after the moon spirit Khonsu following early settlers remarks on how the land always seemed to be dark, like the night, due to its many lush and dense jungles in the interior. These would prove to be very rich in both minerals and resource, and while conservationism in the Imperium Antiquum meant that a large chunk of the natural habitat was properly protected, sizeable inroads had been made to allow the resources to be put to use. In modern times a number of the coastal cities had become hubs of trade and tourism, the most popular being the paradise metropolis of Byblos. The coastal city of Arwad was also home to a natural deep-water port which had since been expanded tenfold, thus serving as a useful base of operations for the Caesar's Imperial Navy in Varathron, and hosted a large array of shipyards commissioned with constructing new vessels for both private and defence purposes.

Verullus had once remarked to a close friend upon receiving the role of Dux Consul, "This has got to be the cushiest promotion in the history of promotions. Tucked away in the corner of Varathron, enjoying some peace and quiet away from all the commotion in Krytopia. Bless the Mother for this amazing gift!"

Those words continued to ring through his mind while he sat - still slightly dazed - in the conference room of his residence in the early hours of the morning, with two much younger individuals standing on either side of him. Trying his best to rub the sleep from his eyes, the senior statesman took another sip of the black coffee he had made for himself as he tried to focus on the maps and documents that his unexpected guests had brought for him. For a moment nothing really seemed to sink in, it was all just some noise about goings on in the divided lands of Ozbekskinia to the north - something the Imperium had long since declared neutrality on - but then suddenly two words stood on clearly above the rest: Kraven Reich. Verullus blinked twice and read over the words again, and again, before shooting concerned glances at the two individuals in the room with him. Those two words struck him with two feelings: fear and pain. He was a veteran of the Great Gholgothic War, and the resulting trauma of that experience - a shrapnel tear through the knee, which had put him out of action and now left him using a cane, as well as untold mental scars - had left it's mark on him. He was a man with hard skin and usually unfazed by most things, but this fazed him like nothing else could.

"We're sure of this?"

He was able to muster some words after a few quiet moments. The two uniformed individuals - male and female intelligence officers of the Caesar's Imperial Armed Forces - nodded, with the woman responding, "Yes, we've run through the reports given to us by the Disian's several times. Everything checks out, and our own satellites..." She pulled some images from a separate manilla folder. Showing them to the Dux Consul, she pointed to them, what only seemed to be different shades of pixel on top of one another, "...have picked up patterns synonymous with what we know of Reich Subjugator Fleets. Supreme Command has deemed that it is no longer a possibility, it's a certainty."

Holding one hand to his face for a moment and resting his chin there, Verullus took some time to read the reports much more thoroughly now that he was more awake. The more he read, the more tense the expression on his face became. "What is our course for action? Do we plan to intercept the fleet? We have the numbers to do so."

The male officer shook his head. "No, an interception would only provoke the Reich and likely start the war earlier than when we'd like. Our best course of action is to, unfortunately, wait and see what they do. According to Drakonian intelligence..." He pointed to the map, to the large coastline that stretched between Nannasia and Disia, "They believe that this is the most likely destination, and our own intelligence seems to agree. The Reich always prefers the path of least resistance, and the growing conflict to the North provides just take. Still, there's no knowing, and any move that's too preemptive could leave us exposed and alert them to our readiness. Once we do know where they're heading however, our plan is to meet them there and hold them there: our ground forces will engage in a cosy little stand-off reminiscent of the front with Arcadia while the Navy will encircle the Subjugators and deny them the means to leave, as well as cutting their means of supply."

The aging Dux Consul breathed out heavily. He rubbed his knee as the thought of waiting made him incredibly uneasy. "That's a bold move, but I suppose it's the best we've got right now. I guess we'll want to be as ready as we can be to move when the jackboots hit the ground: assuming that they do turn up in East Varathron, how quickly could we get our forces to a prospective front?"

"In full force, a few weeks. If we start by moving our active forces to the border with Khirazskinia - about two whole legions worth, not to mention the Auxilia - they can use the Disian Highway to move quickly into Disia and further on if needs be. Unfortunately the Highway project is less complete once we get onto the Disian side, so if it does come to pass that the Reich ends up on their side, we would have to look at speeding up development so that we have much more effective means of reinforcement and supply. For now, our forces can take the Disian Highway from Til-Barsip to Profuga City on the Disian coastline, and from there we can do sea and air-lifts of our troops to wherever they may be needed."

Verullus nodded as he was briefed. He knew of the current complement based in Provincia Khonsia - three whole Magnificum Legio, some fifteen million legionnaires in all - but only one of them was currently active and ready for deployment, a standard policy in Imperium territories, but even those five million would take some time to deploy in full. On top of that there were several cohorts of Auxilia, each two-hundred thousand men and women strong: these were men and women from the territories and other far-flung places of the world who enlisted in the Caesar's Imperial Armed Forces on the promise that they and their family would be granted citizenship after serving the full term of service, with the possibility of even being enlisted as a vaunted Legionnaire if you were recognised for excellent service. They were neither heavily armed nor armoured, but that was not their role: the Auxilia were meant to be a versatile, quick-response force who could help shore up where the Legio could not immediately reach.

"I assume since you've been briefing me on all of this that I have been granted the fasces?" Verullus referred to the ancient custom, which essentially meant he had been granted military command. Dux Consul's did not have military command by default, but it could be granted in the event that the Imperium Antiquum anticipated conflict on it's territorial borders. This was why those who held consulships were usually desired to have suitable amounts of military command experience, of which Verullus had the required amount, although he had never commanded on a scale this large before. Fortunately for him, he knew he wouldn't have to do it alone: Supreme Command would likely dispatch the designated Dux Imperator of the Magnificum Legio within the next few days, and they would be there to counsel him on how to proceed.

The two intelligence officers simply nodded once again.

"Then let us raise Caesar's Vexillum and wait to face the foe." The old warrior remarked as he grabbed his cane and stood, slowly making his way from the room.

In the early hours of that morning, the first elements of what would become the Imperium's designated response force to a potential Reich attack began converging on Til-Barsip, a once ancient trade city that had since become the key entry and exit point to Khonsia from the east. It was connected directly to the Disian Highway, a road and belt initiative begun by the Drakonians during the last Varathron War to better connect Eastern Varathron, and something which Provincia Khonsia saw as worthy of investment due to how it aided their own development. Still under development, the order had been given for the sappers of the Caesar's Imperial Army to communicate with the Disians on making plans to hasten the development and complete it, just in case it would be required for the response. It would be a massive logistical undertaking, but the Imperial Engineers - sometimes referred to as Vulcans, in reference to the Grand Mother's seventh son, the Aspect of Material Creation - prided themselves on achieving such massive feats with both ruthless efficiency and finesse. Already, huge amounts of construction material for roads and railways was being moved to Til-Barsip along with the first cohort of Auxilia, who would be joined by several more in the coming days.

Among them was Pvt. Husaam el-Suleiman, a Khonsian native of the city of Harran in the northernmost reaches of Khonsia, who signed up to the Auxilia as soon as he had turned sixteen. He was now in his early twenties and a part of the cohort that was scheduled to arrive first in Til-Barsip and remain on alert status, pending immediate redeployment. His superiors had been tight-lipped as to the reasons why - perhaps it was some secret exercise - but Suleiman had long since learnt not to ask questions uninvited. Sitting in the back of his troop transport, he occasionally peered out through the little clear window he had. He noticed how there were no other cars or vehicles on the road except for the ones he recognised as being owned and operated by the armed forces, and they weren't stopping for anything. Murmurs had been going around his unit and others within their division that this was far more than just an exercise, and whispers that the vaunted legions would also make an appearance. Suleiman was a model auxiliary however, and didn't partake in such rumours and hearsay.

All he could imagine is how this would be one hell of an exercise.

Dawn had just broken in Krytopia and the Caesar had already been awake for a few hours. She always started her day with a light breakfast and black coffee, before then proceeding to her private gymnasium for her regular routine of strength and endurance training, after which she would then start the business of the day with a morning briefing in her private study with her Chief of Staff and then proceed on with the many meetings and phone calls for the rest of the day that had been scheduled weeks in advance. The Fangthane Palace was a well-oiled machine, perfectly timed down to the last second, always keen to avoid even a few seconds of something being overrun. Hundreds of staff - both civilian and military - worked within it's many labyrinthine halls around the clock, ensuring that there was never a moment when the Caesar wouldn't be abreast of the latest developments on hundreds of matters both highly strategic and sometimes utterly mundane. The Palace's public website proudly boasted the fact that almost two-thousand pieces of information were processed and condensed every day, and that was just on average. Though the Fangthane also had protocols in place for when things didn't go exactly as planned - like a national emergency or international development that demanded Caesar's immediate attention - and today was one of those days.

The Situation Room was in fact more than just one room, but a tightly knit cluster of rooms inside the inner sanctum of the Fangthane, within the same wing as the Caesar's Private Study. The three most important rooms were the aptly named Nerve Centre, Emergency Room and Situation Room itself. The Nerve Centre was where staff pooled from the intelligence service, Department of Defence and Supreme Command worked together to have a constant surveillance of unfolding situations, collating and passing on information for the Caesar and her subordinates to digest during briefings and emergency meetings. The adjoined Emergency Room was a rather straight-forward affair used to get people seated and responding to an immediate incident before being transferred to the Situation Room, with plain walls and a long boardroom-style table. The Situation Room was much more ornate and kitted out, with monitors all around the walls and clocks showing the times of all the major capitals in Gholgoth, as well as the present time of the location of the Caesar. The Situation Table was one long wooden oval, the centre hollowed out and replaced with a touch-screen monitor that was able to display three-dimensional images, giving those present a full view of an unfolding situation. All of the chairs around the table were large and spacious, designed for long periods of use, with those closest to the head of the table marked for key individuals, while the head was reserved for the Caesar herself, a small raised tablet giving her control of everything in the room, to the displays, cameras and microphones, as well as the lighting and air conditioning. Smaller adjoining rooms were used for breakaway conversations and planning, as well as secure communications, as all telephones and personal devices had to be handed over before entering, and the room was lead-lined to prevent any unwarranted communication from both inside and outside. There was also a private room for Caesar alone, where she could take calls as well as use a private restroom facility to stay fresh.

The Room was already abuzz with activity as representatives of the Imperial Intelligence Community and Caesar's Supreme Command, as well as her Secretary's of State and Fangthane Palace Advisers chatted amongst themselves. They were all either statutory members or regular attendees of the Caesar's Imperial Security Council, a group of twenty individuals tasked with supporting the Caesar in consideration of matters ranging from national and imperial security, to military actions and foreign affairs and the implementation of her decisions. They met three times every week by protocol, perhaps more in the event of a developing incident such as was currently the case. Meetings could be as brief as thirty minutes or as long as several hours depending on the situation. Judging by the large amount of refreshments that had been prepared for them at the corners of the room, they were destined for a long one.

Everybody fell silent and rose to attention from their seats as four members of the Caesar's Guard marched in, posting themselves at each corner of the room, the glaring red eyes of their helmets and proud display of their plumed helmets and furs decorating their armour distracting from the large automatic rifles they all carried. Following in next was the rather tall and slender figure of Maximus Cantius Maursus, Caesar's Chief of Staff, his steely blue eyes shooting a sharp intimidating glare at everyone present in the room as he grimaced and stood by his seat near the head of the table, a folder tucked firmly under one arm. After him came the loud, thunderous footsteps of Lord Hyperion, whose towering form dominated the room as he stood directly behind the Caesar's chair, paying little mind to all those present. Lastly came the Caesar herself, a towel around her neck and a hint of sweat still gleaming on her forehead as she was still dressed for her morning workout, having not had the chance to change before having to make her way. All those present in the room bowed their heads deeply in respect and waited for her to sit before taking their own, their eyes turning towards her.

A look of mild annoyance etched across her face, she wiped away the sweat and proceeded to drink from the glass of water that had been prepared for her, before immediately taping on the tablet in front of her. All of a sudden the lights dimmed and the table's display came alive as it projected a map showing Southern Gholgoth and Varathron, various different forms starting to take shape, denoting the movement of forces both allied and enemy alike. Looking out at the people sat before her, Silvier projected her voice with a simple authoritative utterance.

"What is the situation?"

Clearing her throat and standing, Flavonia Thrasea - Director of Imperial Intelligence - began to speak. "As things currently stand, the Reich Subjugation Fleet that slipped away from Fortress Cydonia has entered Varathron and has just passed the island chain of L'Enet-Areth. Judging by its current position and trajectory, our predication that it is likely to make landfall in the northwest of Eastern Varathron seems to be holding true." Using her thumb and index fingers, Thrasea adjusted the focus of the map and zoomed in on northern Varathron, where the projection showed a scale model of the Subjugation Fleet along with other present naval elements. A dark blue line showed the course the Subjugation Fleet had taken thus far, while a bright flashing red line showed the predicted course of the fleet moving forward, having been calculated by a mixture of both Imperium and allied intelligence reports and simulated models of potential outcomes, with the most likely outcome being presented.

"However, within the last hour naval forces belonging to the Solisian colony of Nannasia opened fire on the Subjugation Fleet, according to allied forces present." Thrasea pressed a button on the graphic showed the much smaller Nannasian force engaging the Reich, prompting a few hushed voices around the room. She then pointed out the Mian Taskforce that had been shadowing the Subjugation Fleet when referring to the source of the information. "Allied forces have also confirmed that they engaged the Nannasians, though they were light on the details of the engagement other than to say it was a communication error." The comment peaked Caesar's interest, though the Director of Imperial Intelligence didn't seem to think much of it and moved swiftly on, so Silvier let it go for a moment. Accidents happened, after all.

“Interestingly enough, the Reich Subjugation Fleet did nothing in response. Soon after the engagement however, our satellites over Fortress Norska picked up vastly increased levels of activity at all their major port sites, with vessels massing in the southern waters of the continent.” She shifted the position of the map back to Southern Gholgoth, where scale models of Kravenite ships were beginning to converge on one another. “This type of activity is, according to both our and allied intelligence, the likely activation of Naval Arm South. While we’re still uncertain of exact numbers, from the composition of what is amassing thus far we have good reason to suspect that this is a Resource Fleet, likely destined for the Nannasians who dared to poke the bear.”

Another round of hushed voices circled the room as Thrasea took her seat upon finishing the brief. They were quickly silenced as Caesar raised her hand demanding that they ceased, closing it slowly into a fist before lowering it. “Has there been any further build-up of allied forces since the activation of Naval Arm South? What is the status of our own forces in Southern Gholgoth and Varathron?”

“Our allies in the Most Serene Republic and the Empire of Jagada have confirmed that they have activated naval elements to respond to the Kravenite build-up.” Thrasea confirmed, presenting a folder to Caesar which was passed down to her which included the communications and approximate numbers. As she took a swift glance through the pages, Dux Imperator Tertius Atilius - First Lord of the Caesar’s Joint Chiefs of Staff - stood next.

“Of our forces currently present or closest to Southern Gholgoth and Varathron, The Eighth Fleet is still carrying out it’s policing and reconnaissance orders as part of the Mare Nostrum strategy in the northwestern seas of Gholgoth Minor, while the Second is conducting exercises in the central Gothic Ocean.” Both fleets took shape on the projected map, with details of their numbers and command appearing in neat little info-panels next to them. “Meanwhile in Varathron, the Thirteenth Fleet is converging in the sea between Dietsland and Disia, awaiting orders to encircle the Subjugation Fleet once it makes landfall. The Khonsian Naval Auxilia and Coast Guard are on active standby to conduct replenishment and operational support duties alongside the Thirteenth’s auxiliary ships to and from the deep water port of Arwad.”

The map changed back to Varathron, flying over the mass of allied and enemy ships in the waters north of Eastern Varathron before arriving to it’s south, where those present would be able to see the Thirteenth Fleet to the west of the Disian coastline while the Khonsian Naval Auxilia and Coast Guard ran operations along the southern coastline, operating out of Arwad in the centre of the natural deep water port along Khonsia’s southern coast. Caesar observed the scene in front of her intensely as new shapes began to appear, this time on land.

“Meanwhile, as you’ll no doubt recall my Caesar, Dux Consul Verullus of Provincia Khonsia has begun amassing forward elements of the Khonsian Ground Auxilia at the city of Til-Barsip on the border with Khirazskinia, along with the materials necessary to construct a functional forward operating base once we know exactly where the Kravenites land. As per the recommendation of Supreme Command, Imperial Engineers are working with their Disian counterparts on plans to hasten construction of the Disian Highway, which will become a vital means of transport and supply in the event that the front does indeed emerge in the northwest. Finally, the First Khonsian Magnificum Legio has been placed on maximum readiness, with two whole legion’s already prepared and able to deploy to the predicted frontline within a week of a given order. The Second and Third remain on heightened readiness, though Supreme Command feels that, in the interests of public order, bringing them up to maximum readiness should be avoided unless absolutely necessary.” Finishing his brief, Atilius sat down.

Taking a moment to observe the situation laid out in front of her and digest the information on the pages passed to her, Caesar thought about her possible options. The activation of Naval Arm South had certainly increased the stakes of what was originally looking like just a tense standoff in Eastern Varathron. It was looking more and more likely that it was going to turn into a full-blown conflict, but she had to gauge whether this would be the conflict she had always predicted would arise against the Reich, or whether it was just something else. Part of her tried to fathom how on earth the small Nannasian Fleet felt it was appropriate to engage the Subjugation Fleet, though due to their lack of response it seemed as if the fates were being kind to them.

“Perhaps we should commit the Eighth Fleet to tailing the Resource Fleet, keep some pressure on them to perhaps dissuade any further action in Varathron?” Suggested one voice. Before Caesar even had the chance to acknowledge them, Hyperion’s booming voice echoed from behind.

“No. The Stratagem requires that our forces remain concentrated and focused; spreading our forces too thin is exactly the sort of thing the Reich would benefit from, especially with our current engagement in Shen Almaru. We must trust that our present and allied forces in Southern Gholgoth and Varathron are sufficient. We must not be so preemptive as to respond to every move before anything has happened, but be prepared for the potential outcomes.”

He continued, “Judging by the Subjugation Fleet’s own lack of response, they deem the Nannasian’s too unimportant for their present task, hence the summoning of a Resource Fleet. It is a sizeable threat to get us on edge, but if the Nannasian’s were to disengage I would wager that the Resource Fleet would remain in Southern Gholgoth. Just like us, Naval Arm South would not wish to be too overextended, especially with the exponential buildup of Dephirian forces and the construction of Fortress Pelion.”

Caesar, having listened closely to Hyperion’s comments, turned her attention back to the rest of the room. “Any objections to Lord Hyperion’s assessment?”

Nobody objected. Turning her attention to her First Lord, she asked him, “Has the Supreme Command decided on a Dux Imperator to support the Dux Consul in making tactical decisions in the East Varathron Theatre?”

He nodded. “Yes, My Caesar: Dux Imperator Marcus Nero Maximus. He is already on his way to Provincia Khonsia as we speak.” He passed down a folder her way, but she did not need to read it. Maximus was the youngest Dux Imperator of the Caesar’s Imperial Armed Forces, having risen through the ranks quite quickly due to having demonstrated sound tactical knowledge and execution during joint military exercises. Silvier knew all of this because she had been the one to award him with the colours befitting him of his high station.

“Good. I want a conference call with both him and Dux Consul Verullus as soon as he arrives. For now, I want all senior commanding officers of our relevant forces in Southern Gholgoth and Varathron briefed on the latest information as we currently have it, with continued updates as and when the situation changes. I want Supreme Command and Imperial Intelligence to continue running simulations of various models presenting possible engagement scenarios, as well as cost analysis of every possible action we can take, and I want that information in front of me within the next twenty-four hours. Any questions or objections?”

Again, none raised their voice. Finally smiling, she stood, at which point so did everyone else. “Good. You’re all dismissed to start setting things in motion; let’s reconvene here at the top of the hour to go over every detail and discuss further options.”

As she finished, they all bowed their heads again. “Your will be done, Caesar!” they all uttered before proceeding to break away into little groups, going into the adjoining rooms to make necessary phone-calls or have private discussions with the relevant people on enacting Caesar’s plan. She gestured for the attention of Maursus, Atilius and Hyperion respectively, who all came over to her promptly as she beckoned.

Speaking to Maursus first, she instructed him promptly. “Clear my schedule for the next twenty-four hours, with tentative rescheduling of the next forty-eight; any important phone calls I will take here, otherwise the meetings will either have to be rescheduled or covered by a relevant Secretary.” Maursus nodded promptly before departing the room, his strides full of vigour and determination, posture full of imposing dominance. While he could present a friendly demeanor when necessary, the Caesar’s Chief of Staff had quickly become renowned for being ruthless and almost downright cruel - uncharacteristic of your average Kylarnatian - which is what made him such an effective enforcer for the Caesar within the vast Imperial Bureaucracy.

Then, to Atilius. “I want Supreme Command to propose a joint command with allied forces for the Eastern Varathron Theatre, and I want something put together within the next forty-eight hours depending on their response. Include the Nannasian’s, and for the love of the Mother tell them to disengage from the Subjugation Fleet before they get themselves pointlessly slaughtered. I also want it clear that we have zero interest in what’s going on in North Ozbekskinia: they started that conflict, they can finish it.”

Pounding his chest in salute and bowing his head, Atilius then proceeded to use one of the secure telephone lines in one of the adjoining rooms. Finally, Silvier turned to the Aspect of the Night.

“You’re in charge while I’m gone. I need to take a fucking shower.” She whispered to him as she then quickly proceeded into her private restroom, Hyperion watching her as she went, a low rumble under his breastplate resembling something akin to a chuckle.

Pvt. Husaam el-Suleiman and his unit had been assigned to rotating shifts of guard duty, keeping an eye on the growing amount of construction materials and military resources in a loading yard on one of the many industrial estates in Til-Barsip. Several others had also been commandeered by the Armed Forces, as well as multiple community centres and buildings large enough to help house and feed the growing number of Auxilia which were funnelling into the city by the day. The local population were incredibly curious, but also excited to see many of their own native Khonsian’s in uniform, patrolling the streets and performing regular duties, as well as putting on regular drills for their enjoyment. It made Husaam happy, and despite the heightened alertness of everything he was having to do he found himself to be quite calm and collected. The same could not be said about his fellow soldiers: while they were trained well-enough to conduct themselves properly in front of both the civvies and their superiors, whenever they got a private moment they would start to talk. “What was this all about?” they’d ask. “What’s really going on?” - the official line, both from their superiors and the local press, is that it was still an ongoing exercise for a hypothetical war scenario. That was enough for Pvt. el-Suleiman, but not for his good friend and fellow unit member Pvt. Imraan el-Ghaffari, who was posted with him at the front entrance to the loading yard.

As trucks continued to stream past, Imraan took every opportunity he could to try and speak to his friend. “How on earth can you be so calm right now?” He whispered. “There’s no way this is an exercise dude. No way. We’ve never done anything like this before.”

“They’re just trying to test our nerve. They want to see how we’d cope in a genuine war-ready environment. If this is anything, it’s proof that you and the others still have a lot to learn.” Husaam answered calmly, not taking his eyes off the road in front of him.

Imraan furiously shook his head. “Nah man, we did stress environment tests. This ain’t it.”

“I hope for your sake it is, because at the moment you’re failing. Now calm down and focus on the job.”

Imraan scowled as he eventually calmed down and turned his attention to the road. A moment of silence followed, along with another heavy loading vehicle passing through, laden with vast amounts of heavy ordnance. Having caught a glimpse of the contents on the manifest as he then proceeded to let it through, his eyes reignited again as Imraan shot a concerned glance at his friend.

“Heavy ordnance. Heavy-motherfucking-ordnance. What sort of exercise is this, huh? Since when did we get to use this sort of stuff? Some of the hardware I’ve been seeing coming through here is Legion-level stuff. Fucking Legion, Husaam. What, are they coming here to hold hands with us and sing songs for the Mother and give us gold stars for effort--”

Before Imraan could spout anything more, Husaam had clipped him around the back of his helmet with his hand. He had eventually lost his patience. “Will you shut the hell up! Why are you acting like this all of a sudden? What happened to the chill you, huh? You’ve been listening too much to Zainab, she’s just messing with your head--”

“That’s enough.”

An authoritative tone from behind caused them both to freeze like statues. From behind the barrier their superior officer, Corporal Akram al-Aly - known affectionately to his squad as “the Ram” - glared at them, his grizzled face showing a look of utter disdain for what he had likely witnessed from across the loading yard, and had marched right over to correct. He was a silent predator, as the squad liked to say, and so had probably been standing there for quite a while.

Both Husaam and Imraan returned to their posts on either side of the gate and stood at attention facing forwards as the Corporal took turns berating them from behind. He started with Imraan.

“Boy, you’ve always been a bit of a shit-talker, haven’t you? Ever since basic training all you’ve done is shit out of your mouth and into your hands and point the shit-stained finger of blame at everybody else. I have half a mind to send you for medical examination under the pretence of severe constipation because of all the shit that keeps coming out of wrong fucking orifice!”

Husaam had to resist the temptation to laugh, his cheeks almost going red, obviously catching Akram’s attention. “And you, lackey! If you’re going to a hit a fellow soldier at least have the common decency to punch him outright. What the fuck was that thing you did back there? I’ve seen old people fuck harder than that...”

The verbal tirade would continue for several more minutes, along with mentions of formal cautions before the Ram proceeded to return to what he was doing. Allowing at least a minute to pass, Imraan summoned the courage to speak.

“...Hes watched old people fuck?”

The two of them tried their hardest to keep their boots planted firmly on the ground as they let out splutters of laughter, trying not to make too much noise. They’d have to share this story with their squadmates later.

Sergeant Viviana Capmany was frustrated. Thanks to the enemy, the valley is going to be lost. They were able to get their recce through and now they had to deal with the aftermath of the artillery fire. Where the hell even was their heavy artillery support? Were they moving still or perhaps the mountains were messing up the signals? She spat on the hard mountain rocks and brought up her field glasses, an aid that allowed her to see what still went on. She cursed the entire situation.

Her lieutenant was dead. Her radios were still trying to reach the CP of her unit. Worst of all, she had no way to get rid of that enemy tank. The mortars failed. The riflemen failed. Things were going so bad that she was grinding her teeth, one of her comrades worried that she would destroy them.

At last, she put down her binoculars and looked over her shoulder to the faces of her waiting men. She still frowned as she realized all they had, as they too were only infantry, just poor bloody infantry, were rifles, carbines, machine guns and light anti tank weapons. They won't even reach the tank from where she was.

She sighed in resignation and told the ones manning the radios, "We can't hold this position. We must withdraw. Bring everything back to Area Velázquez."

The Area she talked about was actually an observation post six kilometers to the north of the skirmish. Behind that OP by about ten more kilometers was a village named Andras. Around that village was the observation post and waiting elements of the 3rd Company. The 2nd Company was the one that was handling the valley. They failed here and it was better to get more men. Plus, if they gave up some ground right now, that would allow them to do what they prepared for: a bloody ambush.

The 4th Company and the 3rd were key to that ambush. The 1st and the 2nd were the ones who met the enemy now.

Then news came. The radios squawked that they could withdraw. Immediately, everyone took what they could and left for the north. At the same time, elements of the companies guarding this part of the front lines were already withdrawing. Their shots against the enemy died out and mortars became silent. The Nannasians were pulling away...but hopefully to pull the enemy into a trap.

At this time, however, a pair of Nannasian riflemen remained. They were hidden somewhere on the higher places, watching over everything as they were protected by their cloaks and the rocks that surrounded them. Of course, some explosions caused by the artillery disturbed some of their camouflage but it didn't matter. What mattered was their continued contact with the rest of the Legions, the colonial elite troops who were tasked with the protection of this gained ground from the enemy.

One of them, a woman named Leila, reported, "This is Cabal One, do you read me?"

"I read you, Cabal One. This is Cinema, go ahead."

"We remain as we are. Everyone else is withdrawing. They are probably going to send reinforcements up and get their own observation posts in the area. Instructions?"

"Maintain your position and keep reporting to us. Recommend you relocate."

"Negative, Cinema, nobody's seen us here. We'll be fine. But we do want some fly boys and girls to come over and scare some of the opposing force."

"We'll do what we can for that, Cabal One. For now, do as you are told. Cinema out."

At that, Leila grunted and reached slowly, as a snail would, for a tiny flask. She brought it to her lips and sipped the water out before she put it away. Beside her was the one with the sniper rifle. Her name was Marina and she was lucky to hold a Bulldog. Fortunately for her, the scope was small and the lenses were coated enough to ensure that no reflection would give away their position. She still looked through the scope, down at the enemy moving around.

She said, "We are risking so much now."

"Yes. But if we do not stay, our comrades will have no idea of what's going on here. The other recon units available will not come on time. So we are alone as well."