A parade marched through the stone arches and the paved roads. People stared at iron behemoths, slow yet immovable. In their eyes, no spears would put a dent on it's all-rounded iron hull.
The rhythmic stepping, the melodic yet foreboding march of a thousand soldiers thundering through the streets of the newly invaded city. Their steel rifles resting on their right shoulders. At the very front of it all, a truck carries the most important payload. "How is soldier morale?" Hierd rested his right leg on his left, laying back onto the cushioned metal seat.
"Pretty… High, lord." Gelmund answered; "I suggest, lord, that we head for the southern portion of Hesia, we have just obtained a map of the continent from the city's hall… And, we should be moving swiftly, lord."
"Indeed." Hierd grinned slightly. "Long battles are frustratingly bad. Logistically, physically… Mentally… And any word really with 'LLY' being it's affix."
"We're heading inside the city's manor." He continued, "the baron'll be there, we've detained him, lord. And right now is helping us in the detaining of the nobles hiding in the city."
"Good."
---
Cold, heavy footsteps. With each thud darkening the already dark hallway in the overcast-gray clouds that were looming over Hesia that day.
"The lord enters." The sentence was uttered every time Hierd passed a doorway, accompanied with two squads of his finest, best of Venit Ille soldiers, his own squad.
The recurring sentence began faint and far, but as time grew the distance shortened. The baron's heart was on the crux of failing; "The lord enters!" The wooden door before him opens. The soul in the man gushed out his mouth, seeing the blonde man standing before him.
"Baron of Jane, you are before the chancellor of Germany, raise and bow." Friedrick put, blunt and powerfully.
"Y-yes." Nervously, he stood up, being extremely careful as to not stare at him directly without being given the order to, or the order not to. "Y-your Majesty, I bow to you; I welcome you to my abode. The mercy his majesty shows me, I gratefully accept."
This brief silence. A silence that lasted years. Hierd was offered the chair completely opposite of that of the baron at the other side of the eight-chaired table.
"I do not know much of your kingdom, baron; but I have heard one thing." He sprawled the map of Hesia he was given. "The magic kingdom and it's magical capital. Regarding magic, I've seen it being used more so, than when I invaded Krimvald. Which… Scares me. Regarding that; your teachers and magical instructors will go to Germany, their students too if you'd like. I grant them protection."
"If you wish it be, your majesty." Sweat poured down every pore of his, and even near the cold; he felt as hot as summer.
"My soldiers will gather them in trucks, then they'll ride on to Germany. And, I believe some backlash will be at play from their parents and too the children, so reassure them with monthly letters, and their children's safety."
"..."
"But as of right now, I believe my soldiers should be heading north, south, and east. Conquering. Invading. Every village and city. We won't be killing innocent people. We'll be putting them here. This city will become the center of life. You will be our puppet. And you will follow us, if you deviate in any way, expect your body dropping dead the second after."
"I-I will service you, as you wish, lord."
"Thank yo-"
A knock! "Lieutenant coming in bearing news!" The door behind him opened, the lieutenant hurried to Hierd, giving him a letter. "Lord! The eastern company is being attacked by a magic brigade, they are have retreated further back and requesting backup lord!"
The room darkened, shocks and booms rang about, though they weren't near any battle. In everyone's ears they heard shouts, guns, and tanks firing. Hierd stood up. "Prepare."
( * )
Mortars were firing left and right, and the three Vicker machine guns were firing defiantly at the approaching sorcerer knights. The knights were smart enough, hiding behind small hills and invigorated their shield magics. Which were not strong, but not so weak as to break under three consecutive shots of rifle fire.
The battle took place upon the perimeter of a river, with the bridge being protected under attack, but if one of the two sides were desperate enough, they had plans upon collapsing it.
The three tanks the company had were further back, firing HE rounds at high elevations, being far enough as to not get hit by magic spells or the enemy's own siege weapons and field cannons. Of which the company experienced with great despair.
"Reinforcements are coming Lieutenant. Hang on and we're coming."
Those words calmed the lieutenant, but the reinforcements won't be here for awhile. He needed to fight back better.
"Sir!" A soldier burst into his tent. "The mortars are making progress, but the enemy's line is holding strong. Sir, the front defense's runnin' low on ammo. A-and the Venit-Ille lieutenant is suggesting a retreat."
"Hmm." He looked at the soldier, his face angered. "Then tell my men not to waste their ammo! Weren't they taught the proper way to fire at an enemy! We still have one truck full of supplies, resupply the soldiers with their rounds and grenades. It won't be long that that magical line of theirs'll be shattered."
"Yes sir!"
"There's a battalion of magic knights standing at the other side of the river, when the reinforcements come they'll back down and retreat. But dang those cannons!" He looked at the battlefield, his frustration evident as he tightened his fists.
---
In the heat of the battle, the knights and soldiers were replying with their magics and rounds. It wasn't clear but the some of the knights were retreating back. What was their plan? The lieutenants that oversaw it didn't know. Could there be a bridge somewhere along the river? The map didn't say so.
It was a guessing game at that point. But the Germans were winning in spite of the number of their soldiers being injured.
So caught up with shooting, the soldiers weren't paying attention to their bullets. Despair was spelt in their ears, whilst their eyes could not hold their distraught. The painful click, no ammo.
Machine guns,
Bombs.
Gone.
Only their pistols had ammo.
A silence only broken up by the occasional tank round still shooting in the background. The knights were confused at the lack of fire, but this could only mean one thing. An opportunity!
"Charge!"
A rush of knights coming down from the hill, the scene itself was a thing to behold. The soldiers stood and watched bewildered by it all, but their nerves catched their eyes as they saw the men clad in iron shouting cries with their pikes, their spears; spraying forth into the air thirsting for a body to plunge into.
Carrying their guns, leaving the mortars and other equipment, they bolted; retreating. His soldier running toward his tent was certainly a heart-attack in real life form. He went in again towards his radio, "Tanks! Charge!"
The lieutenant screamed into the radio and into the ears of the radiomen inside the Tigers. This rush of urgency usurped their brains. The tank drivers drove forward, rushing at the full speed of the Tiger I. Opening the cupola; the tank's machine gunner rang hell onto the field of charging knights rising forth the small green hill after the river.
Three iron giants were rushing at them. Tearing each grass blade and bush in their way like it were air. Sharing the same expression as did the soldiers, the knight infantry were baffled, the footmen with their pikes more so. "Sorcerers! Cannon-naders! Fire at will!"
Instantly; they blasted forth their magicks, hitting the tanks (well, attempting to) but the tanks only suffered minor melting, and quiet dents which made no impact whatsoever to the moving behemoth as it rumbled the ground rushing toward them.
The machine gunners made ample use of his rounds, whilst the tank operator lowered the barrel as much as possible till elevation was at negative three!
A silent countdown.
-3-
-2-
Phish! Three shells and a hundred dead. The combined blast combed through the un-shielded knights, detonating with an excellent mushroom of fire!
"Everyone! Come out of your hidey-holes and unholster your pistols! Shoot at the knights!" Yelled the Venit-Ille soldiers, plastering the field of retreating knights with a hail of 9mm.
"Yes, sir!"
Rushing into the water, onto the bridge, they were shot from the back with their iron plates not protecting them, it only making the shot from a bullet much more painful. As the bullet ricocheted inside the armor, one measly bullet packing more than three bullets with it.
The Ridge Brown soldiers focused their line with their empty Kar98ks as a ramming force. Charging down the knights who turned back to retaliate, with their bayonet-tipped rifles.
It was too early to call it a victory; and too late to call it a defeat. The retreating enemy forces were enough, the soldiers were tired.
"Men." The lieutenant climbed upon a high mound. "Build yourselves tents and cook your rations. After reinforcements come we will reinforce the bridge. Ease yourselves."
"Yes, sir!"
---
Reinforcements came just an hour after. Four tanks, seven trucks of supplies, and two platoons of heavily fitted soldiers. Friedrick stood as their leader. "What a sight." Friedrick climbed out of his truck and out onto the battle-ridden dirt.
"Sir!" The lieutenant saluted. "Medium casualties, but my men will heal overtime, we're expecting another attack and want to reinforce this position, sir!"
Friedrick sighed; "I don't think I can do that."
"Why, sir?"
"Let's talk in your tent. You have a map yes?"
"Yes, sir."
The two trotted onward, past the tents of soldiers sleeping or otherwise eating. Friedrick's men set up their own tents, helping the lieutenant's company in any way they can.
Opening the tent, already was the map of Hesia sprawled onto the wooden table. Quickly, Friedrick made his way to it, gliding his gloved-hand city to city until it landed finally onto one. "The magical capital." He said with a glimmer of suspense.
"We're headed due east. We'll need to take three cities, Hesia's army of sorcerors and finally to claim and destroy their capital."
"T-that's…"
"Insane." Friedrick finished his sentence. "But the lord insisted so, so we'll do as asked."
"Yes, sir." He paused a little before questioning; "when do we depart? I need my men to recuperate before we start any battle."
"Tomorrow noon at the latest. My lieutenant in charge should already be contacting base for more supplies seeing as your company has already none of that."
A nervous chuckle.
( * )
Waking up the next morning, the soldiers rejoiced in hot tasty food and new bullets for their guns. Having a little moment for themselves, the lieu's in charge looked from their tent as their soldiers ate, drank, and sang as if it were a small village festival.
"Their morale should be better." The lieutenant commented. "The news that we'll be going forward noon hasn't changed them one bit."
"That's probably because of the tanks." Friedrick retorted jokingly. "And the armaments my men carry."
The officers inside focused themselves onto the singular large map sprawled before them, each intricate detail painted into it. Road, river, city, and forest. Friedrick sat down. "The southern company's job is to take a hold of a port city for the Atago to dock in. That'll take five to six days. That, unfortunately is the time we're allotted."
"What? Why can't we increase it?"
"The Atago is set to go to the east, the same destination as we will be going, she'll also be bombarding any cities along her path. We'll need to bombard the capital with our tanks, before she reaches it."
Seeing their still confused faces, he continued; "The capital has, as Jane's baron dictated, very powerful and robust cannons that can reach any distance. If the Atago takes any hits from said cannon, the Lord fears she'll sink needlessly."
Murmuring filled the room. "Are there any more questions?"
"..." Silence.
"Now, prepare your men; it's nearing noon."
"Yes, sir!"
---
Barreling through the path, the tanks and trucks marched on as fast as they could. The soldiers were all shoved atop of and inside of the tanks and trucks. It was a comical experience for the soldiers.
Friedrick sat in the passenger seat as the lieutenant drove. The uncomfortable seat and the rugged road was enough to pain their backs beyond meaning.
It was twelve when they departed, and now it was three. "We're nearing the first city! no signs of any enemies yet. But expect the local forces to bear guns and cannons." Friedrick radioed in for his soldiers to hear across the tanks.
"Sir." The lieutenant started. "The magical battalion should have fled to here during the last battle. And I expect they've also reinforced it expecting our arrival."
Friedrick turned to him. "Then let's have the Tigers have a go."
"All tank units, lead the path, and load your HE shells. Expecting magic attacks, we'll attack from long range."
"Copy that, sir." The tiger I's radio men said in unison. The trucks before them slowed down, steering right letting the tanks pass. Lowering the barrel's breach, the loader slowly put the tank round in and closing it in.
"We're loaded. Sir."
"Fire upon my command." Friedrick relayed with a serious tone.
"Aye, sir."
The distinct rumbling of a tank's tracks, and the metallic, murmur; the hum of the engine. Blasted through the dirt path. It was nerve-wracking, as the distance neared and the elevations differed from hill to hill, then it hit them when they saw the silhouette of a city far out.
"Sir, we have eyes on the city. Taking position."
The news blared across the several trucks, the soldiers had their blood pumping through their veins faster than before, loading their guns, the familiar bolting of the Kar98k and the STG-44. The appearance of the Vickers, then the MG42. It was all a matter of time.
---
The silhouette was distinct, and recognizable. "They've come." The captain of the sorcerers grimaced.
"What should we do captain?"
"Considering their long range cannons similar to the capital's we need to be weary." He looked at his knight. "The citizens have evacuated towards the capital yes?"
"Yes, captain."
Then he turned way around, toward the city; where down under was an army of sorcerers, footmen, and knights. The captain smiled. "Fire the land cannons under my command."
He saw the tanks still standing on that land down the horizon, the distance was too far for any cannon to reach them, but the sheer power that he witnessed the day before at the river was something he could not underestimate.
The cannon barrels (what they presumed the cylinders pointed at them were) stared at the captain, almost as if it were some dire wolf frothing from the mouth, the black hole of the barrel being it's mouth. "It's too far, even for my land cannons to hit those things. If they can reach the city from that distance, then it'll be over."
A distant boom.
That familiar sound, it erupted within the footmen and knights. Then the captain took notice, the seven behemoths had moved.
"GET BACK!"
The stone wall came crumbling over!
The first round, the second, came the fourth and fifth. With each round penetrating, exploding. Destroying the whole section of hard castle wall. There was no time to react, for at the next moment, another bombardment of shells rained over them.
The knights and footmen cowered over where the captain should had been. But his body was not found, in their minds, their captain can only be in one place. Buried in the rubble. "The captain has gone! Fire the land cannons!"
"Aye!"
They were behemoths of cannons, larger than normal ones my three-fold. Needing a boulder and a boulder of gunpowder along with it to fire. As the fuse reached the last of it's short stem. The powder within ignited!
Not a second after; large cannon balls came scoring through the sky. The knights observed hidden from view of the tanks up on that horizon. The first that landed was a dud. The second and third also. The tanks were too far! "Ah! Screw it!" A knight yelled. "Everyone, we retreat!"
There was not a second of doubt, the knights and footmen all ran with their weapons away from the tanks still relentlessly bombarding the city of shells. Hitting building to building, house to house. And wall to wall. With his binoculars, Friedrick sighted-in noting the fact that they were retreating.
"Give the go ahead lieutenant."
"Yes, sir." He put his hands onto the radio receiver, opening it; "Everyone, we have the go ahead, make forward!"
The once busy lot of tanks and trucks were now vacant. With only the dust left by the kick-off of the wheels settling down like the afterimage of a bee flying off. Rising from the tank cupolas, the tank commanders observed the destroyed gate. "The trucks aren't getting through that, ring to Friedrick we're going to the other side."
"Copy that, sir."
The company moved to the left and right of the city. The expanse of walls were overbearing, but upon reaching the other side, they spotted some few knights still left there fleeing for their lives. But the gunners atop the tanks shot them down mercilessly.
Friedrick's truck stopped at the city. "It's empty." He commented, climbing out of the truck. "Troublesome, but at the same time a miracle. Hey, lieutenant."
"Yes, sir?" He popped his head out and looked at Friedrick.
"Radio in that a platoon will stay here to build a radio operations base, have two supply trucks come here. Then tell them to uncover everything in this city."
"Aye, sir."
"A-and." He raised his voice, getting him to pop his head once more. "Tell the men we'll be charging towards the next city."
"Yes, sir."
---
It was a massacre of an unprecedented level. With every knight they encountered; they shot down. And for every roaming horse, or footman, they'll have them gunned-down till' blood spurted out every wound and pore.
The lieutenant took a look at the map, sprawling it on the dashboard. "We'll reach the city by an hour. But it's nearing dusk, I want our men to eat first before we do get to the city."
Friedrick looked at him. "Sure." He turned the radio on; "All troops we'll be taking a break." He took a sharp swerve. From the back of his truck there was a wave of excitement and satisfaction. As well as the soldiers in the other side of the radio call. "We'll move by six-thirty, so eat while you can and refill the tanks and trucks too while you're at it."
The soldiers hurriedly went to the supply trucks and unpacked the foods and water. Then they set up a big bonfire, where had they found such wood at such short time is beyond Friedrick, but he thanked them for the needed warmth in the cold of night.
As their rations heated up, they threw in spices into their soup, stirring in the lot of anything they could get their hands on to make the flavor of their rations combined a much more appetizing treat rewardable enough for the long grueling journey.
Then the sound of music, as plates were filled; the few soldiers there who carried their lyres and flutes with them played tunes. From the faraway tent of Friedrick's the melodious anthem that played was simply beautiful, and the soldiers sang in a chorus worthy of being played in choir.
Friedrick closed the tent doors, turning to his officers and the map. He placed his map on the city they had just invaded. "Once they clear the path on this city and get supplies, they'll handle the citizens that we'll be taking in charge of once we reach the capital. Which is where I think they took them."
"Indeed, no other place than that, sir." The lieutenant looked at the second city on their path. "But I am worried about one thing, sir."
"What is it?" He and the officers looked at him, curious.
"Those cannons they had threw boulders at us, though they didn't land, and carrying one of those things would be pretty much impossible without five or so horses. It makes me wonder if they have more of that in the cities as we get closer to the capital."
"They should, and they could." Friedrick commented. "I've been radioed in by the southern platoon, Atago two days away from the port; yet they've been bombarded by sorcerers and these cannons, which fit the description of what we've been fired with; land cannons, they say."
"Sir, could we have a description of it's range?"
"They said it was about a five hundred meters. Which is not as much as our turrets, and neither their own lighter field cannons. But because of the weight of their damned boulders, being hit by one means being crushed by, and destroyed by one."
"We're going to need to change our tactics, sir."
"Well, not really?" He smirked. "We'll do as we have done to the city before. But better if we were stationed farther."
---
Seven fifty. It was almost eight when they encountered their next victim. The city's lights from that distance were overbearingly bright. And beautifully striking. "There are still civilians in that city." Friedrick stressed the fact. "Which makes the bombarding method not as good an approach than we thought."
The soldiers looked at the city ahead of them. "Sir, why not don't we try sneaking in and attacking from within?" An officer suggested from behind him.
"No, too risky. I don't want to risk someone dying."
"Then," the Lieutenant started; "We surround the city from the exits. Judging from the map, it's three exits sir."
"We can go the peaceful route." Friedrick buckled off the telescope off his neck and sighted in. "Or the not so peaceful route. I count twenty bowmen, and ten field cannons atop that first gate. It's also reinforced to the teeth."
Friedrick looked at the lieutenant. "Let's do that plan of yours, I want one tank on each gate, the rest of the tanks'll be here as well as all the trucks. Get on it."
---
"We're under attack!" Screamed the knights after the hit of the first tank.
"Send the cannons!" Yelled another!
The knights, in a frenzy, filled the streets. Knocking on the doors, telling their people to run out. For every door knocked; came the crowd of people gushing out.
Carrying with them anything they could while mumbling in their breaths spelling curses; 'they said we'd be safe!' And, 'how do they call this handling it!? My children and wife should have just left!'
The field cannons did nothing, some were close to the target it needed to fire, but ultimately none landed. "Where are the land cannons!?" A knight exclaimed. "Sir! The sorcerer battalion has taken them!"
"What!?" The man's eyes popped out of it's sockets in anger. "Ah dang it all! Bowmen fire! Cannons fire! Anything that can fire, fire!"
The second attack of tank fire sent a segment of the main wall into pieces, the rubble obstructing the road directly behind it, crushing a few in the process. The streets were full of people weaving through other people. The crowd itself crushing people in the middle of it all.
But just when they were getting to the gates, there was now another opposing rush of people. "They've surrounded the city!" One yelled, then the rest of the men cried; "We're doomed!"
Despair rushed over them, for the families, a fit of hopelessness. No movement would help them out of their situation now. What will they do now? Beg? Their invaders have usurped half their country in less than three days, what will happen now!? Will they be forced to slave away? Will they die meaninglessly with their children by their side? They couldn't find answers, and they sure weren't waiting to find it out.
Trampling over them, knights with their horses jumped through the mass crowd of people; whatever cries they uttered hadn't mattered, what did was getting to the other side, where the true battle was at.
Third.
Fourth.
At the fifth shell, the whole front section of the city was destroyed, the people were in a frenzy. Hiding in their houses, climbing onto carriages, into barrels, and some accepted their fate. Whatever fate was that that awaited them.
Then, coming; approaching faster and faster. The knights emerging from small piles of rubble were face to face with iron giants. The behemoths going overhead them, crushing them under the tremendous force of a thousand boulders.
Their fates were closed.
( * )
"By the time we move, the Atago should have already docked." Friedrick remarked, looking at the map before him, then his eyes darted towards the lieutenant. "Progress on the trucks?"
"We've already sent three hundred out, sir." He sighed. "A thousand more to go."
Friedrick stood up, walking over to the window. The city's plaza was full of people, from his view up on the second floor; he saw blurred faces. His soldiers fed the citizens, kept the accommodation up till' they were sent off in trucks.
"I'm sure the adventurers have caused trouble." He hinted at the question.
"No, sir. They could not legally do that. Adventurers cannot fight another country's army. Neither any of the guilds."
"Hmm." He stepped off from the window. "Do what is needed."
"Yes, sir."
A slam.
Friedrick sighed, looking at the letter he was twiddling with. "This isn't good. Dragoons from the capital are heading towards this city. The company doesn't have that many machine guns, no anti-air. The Vickers can help wonders, I'll need to spot them atop towers. So can the tanks. But… What I have isn't enough."
The letter doesn't include a number. A date. Just that dragoons'll come here. By certainty; this day. This hour? These next few hours? Nevermind that, he needed to move. And fast.
---
All round the city came down the siren of war. Hidden among the many cobbled-wooden houses; the Tigers laid in silence, their barrels aiming way up. The arch was enough for the speculated elevation those dragoon riders'd fly at.
They were hidden as much as possible, their grey hulls blending well enough with the surrounding pavement, but; to make it more harder to spot the tanks; the lieutenant had set up colorful rags, connecting from building to building; those windows of the second floor. It, covering the street below. The remaining city citizens helped in the construction.
"From above; they'll see the roads covered in all manor of color, that'll make it difficult, for the first few minutes of battle." Friedrick sighed at the thought. "The tanks'll disperse the second they shoot, while the Vickers we've placed at the wall towers will provide the anti-air. The soldiers will fire at the sky also whilst keeping the people still here in check."
"A tall order with a lengthy check." The lieutenant said in jest, "After this, we're resting, sir."
"Indeed we are." He smiled, "A day's worth. As far as I'm concerned; Atago's run a little late. We rest then move by that then tomorrow."
"Exciting."
Their grins turned round;
A sudden horn blared throughout the streets. It was the bust and boom of the trucks; transporting the soldiers to the front of the gate facing the field where, as said by a passerby soldier; "Multiple signatures seen at the horizon, sir. Dragoons sir. Without a doubt!"
Immediately the two hopped out of the house an onto a truck, jumping on the side of it, holding an iron alloy to not fall from the desperate speeds that that truck was going.
Their faces changed from red to green to purple to blue; the lush amount of colors was distracting, striking. Beautiful. Heading into battle; the gush of colors hitting their eyes were a sight, like rainbows after the rain but inversed.
Finally the truck stopped dead at the gate. The men peared out, but daring not expose themselves out of the limeline of the shadows. "T-there!" Said a soldier, pointing a hand at the sky, the men around him following the point at haste.
"That's a full squadron!" Yelled one;
"Though we extinguished their whole dragoon nest back at Krimvald!"
"But we didn't." Friedrick stepped in; immediately, the soldiers brisked away for his presence. "That, I believe is the last dragoon squadron they have. Fifteen dragoons verse a whole company of guns, tanks, and all whatnots. They won't be getting pass this city, everyone!"
"We're blasting through that squadron fore' they make it to Jane, by damned if we fail we'll be considered traitors!" He riled the piles of soldiers there, "Let's go bitch down some flying crabs!"
"YES SIR!" The combined sound of hundreds of men was a melody to the ears, and it spiked morale to an up-curve. Friedrick looked at the skies, the squadron approaching at every second, faster and faster yet.
"Take your places! Radio-men, tell them when to fire!" A nervous jet of sweat rushed out of him, thinking to himself the possible scenarios where he didn't win this battle.
But! Worry and doubt should not, and will not weigh his judgments during this monumental battle. Atleast; that's what he told himself.
"Yes, sir!"
---
"This Germany was a mistake." The squadron's leader of dragoons blurted to himself; yet the voice was enough to reach the next rider closest to him.
"Helping Krimvald in the middle of their situation was a mistake, if we hadn't involved ourselves with that army, t-then. Our… Our men. Sir, would not have died for something as simple yet as deadly as those german cannons."
"Y-you're right. But the king wishes that we support this city. By the time we've reached--now--it's already been invaded I say." He sighed a little, thinking of the different ways he could approach this. "He need to fly low enough to hit their troops, yet high enough not to get hit by their fire. Everyone!" -he gathered his fifteen comrades closer to him.
"Encircle the city; then fire at any ground forces you see. But by the way they fight, even encircling it will be tough. So we're coming slow, yet approaching fast, got it!?"
"Aye, kommander!"
His heart beated with his soldiers at his bay. The following hours, minutes? That they will be there will be either the last of such time or the best of their whole life. They'll be renowned as heroes or they'll die infamously for not being able to beat the villains.
A groaned in irritation, coming closer to the dragoon's head. He's known that thing for years now, approaching a decade. Just like the many battles they've fought together; he embraced it with his leather-worn arms.
It whimpered like a dog. "Buddy," he started, "let's get another trophy to take home with."
It growled softly, delighted.
Sudden.
"What was that!?" He looked to his dragoon's left and right wing. Un-able to find the source of that sheering noice. A pew that was unmistakably not from a cannon, yet was so alike to the arrow's hymn.
His eyes flickered, then his dragoon staggered. They both looked down.
"RUSH FORWARD!" The kommander screamed at the top of his lungs, slapping the rope to accelerate the dragoon.
It was a hail of bullets. Yellow daggers with tips sharper than what any blacksmith could create. It was what the feared, what he feared. Quickly his men rounded corners created by bullets, and turned left and right avoiding something faster than even them.
Inevitably, some of the bullets grazed their dragoons and their armors. A dent? It was powerful in great numbers, but the kommander figured based on the singular bullet that hit his dragoon's armor at that time that the bullets; like arrows. "Lose speed." He grinned.
"Everyone! Soar higher!"
"What!?"
"Higher, I said!"
"But, kommander; any higher and these dragoons won't be able to breathe!"
"I'd rather have breathless dragoons than dead ones! Soar, now!"
It was instant. Like a blip of the mind. The kommander, who once saw a knight riding a dragoon, flying in the sky. Now, he saw nothing; with only blood splattered on his face.
He looked down; falling still, the rider and his dragoon's bodies were cut; cleaved straight through with a large hole. Before he could give chance to react; a BOOM! Reared his dragoon's tail.
"What!? They have more powerful cannons!?"
His other riders were already slowly climbing up; but in a fit of frustration, that nervous state still hiding behind his rational one; he feared that one round wasn't going to cut it. There were more. And they needed to release the fire boiling in the both of their bodies. Now.
"Screw up! We're going down!" Quickly, without a second word he soared downward. The ungodly speed was enough to erect a shield of air around them; bullets were seemingly weak, like paper. But, as they climbed down the elevations, the bullets they passed and grazed were strengthening.
A ball of fire was beginning to foam out the dragoon's mouth. Growing bigger and bigger as they neared the front gate.
Closer,
Closer still.
Peering in from the shadows of that gate, like death looming in silence. When the two felt like they were atop the highest mountains, they were now laying at the lowest of oceans. An iron giant, a behemoth of steel. What other words would be synonymous to it? Guardian of hell? Whatever it was, the kommander was forced to rise.
An immature fire of the dragoon's breath caused it to miss by a little, but ultimately hit the side of the gate. "That's the thing that's killed my men!" He screamed angered. "We're targeting that!"
He looked back, his other soldiers were dropping down, firing smaller, faster flame balls at the gate, the wall, and other spots where soldiers were stationed at.
But that was the time when the firing became more rampant. Now overhead the city, the kommander looked down at roads full of colors, was the city in the middle of a festival? No, that could not be. He observed further.
Fire! Barrels, cylinders of iron pointed outward; the gases that escaped it made the surrounding large rags of color blip and contort. "Fire at that!"
His dragoon inhaled deeply, lava frothing, leaving it's mouth slowly dripping out and onto the cold ground a hundred meters below. At the small sliver where one could see the tank… The dragoon fired! Swift and fast; the fireball came hurtling down at full force; a blast!
Striking the tank's front hull; it had melted down; melting the tracks and the internals more so. It was immovable, unbearable, the tank officers climbed out of the cupola, gasping for air as they met with the outside. Their fingers were burning with heat, taking off their clothes in the process.
Celebration would not take itself on a joy ride for the kommander. He didn't feel it at first, all the adrenaline was too much of a rush for any pain to inform his pained brain. A hole; two holes, blood rushed out of his mouth; he coughed.
Looking out at the horizon, his eyelids feeling heavier, and heavier. Weaker and weaker; he saw a glitter of white. Like the reflection of glass. Was that what shot him? A reflection? He frowned, "This is defeat."
He fell.
ns 15.158.61.20da2
