IV Spearhead - 1

At dead of night. Tank after tank, truck after truck. Moving swiftly on the muddy ground. The day before, it rained heavily, and now, the same rain that drenched the roads, are ravenged by the weight of the iron chariots. 

Riding in the third to first truck, Friedrick, at the back of it, was looking at the map laid on it's center. Full of soldiers, they all observed and made mentions. 

"Already halfway till we've reached the capital, about thirty minutes, Lieutenant Colonel, sir."

"Thank you." Friedrick said whilst looking at the back, the seemingly endless amount of vehicles and the almost lulling sound of engine and puff puff. 

"It's been five days since that meeting of the lord's. And yet we've pulled some crazy things recently. These tanks being one of them. We waited for the recruits to be fully trained-up before executing the mission. And if it all goes into plan, we'll have the capital in two days. We have a combined total of three thousand trained troops. A thousand for the navy and two thousand for the army. I have already given my recommendations to skilled soldiers of Ridge brown, and right now, there should be two hundred Venit Ille black." 

He sighed. 

"Everything should go exactly as planned."

---

Three ships moved undefiantly in the rough ocean waters. Even at night, the sea was raging. The third captain for the third K-3 was given honor to Gelmund. For he has had ample experience with the journeying the sea before. Hierd sat at the bridge, overlooking the darkness that laid ahead.

He looked at his watch. "The battalion should be about halfway in the northern highway."

"Aye, me lord. But we'd be first to contact dee' capital!" Captain Jack said enthusiasthically. 

"Yes, indeed. But as planned, we wait from near the shore."

"Aye, lord."

From the corner of his eye, Hierd saw the very man who was beside the Krimvaldian admiral he had shot days prior. He turned to the man.

"Ah, if it isn't the captain from that time." He smiled as if meeting an old friend. 

"Good evening, lord." He bowed. "I am pleased to be part of this voyage."

"I was not aware that you had finished your training."

"Dat is' lawd." Captain jack started. "Because I personally got em' here to see the knick of things."

"Ah." Hierd recognized. "Maybe it'd be good, yes, that you get some experience on this ship. I shall let this slide, but please, captain Jack, tell me of your wants before executing them without my heed."

"Y-yes, me' lord." He swatted off a sweat pouring down from his forehead. 

Hierd stood ever still, eyeing up the horizon, the night glow of the moon hitting the angered waters, it seemed like he was in the inside of a sea of ink. The waters were pitch black, but the stars above, where it seemed so many unlike the world he was born in. It was one of the first times he had ever saw that many stars in his living. From the day he first came into Auferstan, he had always hid his admiration of the night sky. The twinkles and the occasional shooting star. It was all beautiful. 

He looked away, as he felt that if he kept looking, his eyes'd tear up remembering of a past he had. His eyes met with the captain. "Say, I had never gotten your name. What is it, Krimvaldian captain?"

"It is Farway, lord." He bowed once more, showing his upmost respect upon Hierd. "Farway Willums."

"Well, Farway Willums, I hope you become a great asset for my naval endeveours in the near future." He smiled.

"I will, my lord."

( * )

A quarrel began to promt itself from the mass of citizens. Noble or of peasant upbringing, the people below the king's castle were scrambling for the gates, hurrying out and towards some other place, but by God's love, not this place. But there the gates were getting closed, and the knights were serious in their keeping the citizens inside. A tiny rebelion of sorts started but just a second after, the knights prevailed and the people, whoms't still were scared, were forced to turn back for their houses.

The deceitful sun did not smile for them today. However, something else was very much so indeed. 

In the noble district, where laid at it's center, the large and very bright castle of Krimvald. The many towers and it's almost cathedral like shape was breathtaking to the eyes, frightning? No, were one to look at it, they would think it the home of worship than the home of a leader. 

A moat of water, about seven feet deep surrounded it's outerwall, with all a measly wooden bridge connecting that, and the outside. Though in disguise with it's intricate design and most deceiving architecture, it was truly a fortress, a fortress meant for defense, a last stand, a capital of hope.

From it's highest tower, King Rafferty looked at the ongoing calamity at play with a face as stale and emotionless as does a deceased body. White hair and tall stature, he was the dracula in the sky, and it seemed too that he has lived the same years as the dracula. 

The king's door busted wide open, a panting knight.

"My liege!" The knight yelled distressed.

"Yes, yes, I know already." He stood at the window, outlooking outside and out onto the sun-saturated grass field. "They have arrived."

Outside the capital's walls the tanks lined up in linear fashion, the trucks were behind with the brigade of soldiers out and about, setting up mortars along imaginary lines set by Friedrick. All guns aimed at the walls, the tank barrels took higher elevation, the king swore he could see a gold shimmer inside the abyssal hole that he saw inside that iron cylinder. Yet he fret not. 

The door had bust open once more, anothing panting knight.

"My liege!" He yelled with equal distress as the first. "T-three warships, sailing by sea!" 

It was quiet. In those very moments, the two panting knights, and the king who outlooked the situation from his tower window. All that could be heard was the dissonant clammor of civilians from below. And adding into the chaos was the thuds of hundreds of horses. The mage battalion makes their way to the gate where Hierd's forces awaited. 

"Three warships capable of destroying our armada of galleseas. Weaponry above our own. We cannot win this battle." He turned to the knight. "But I will not let their coming here be in vain." He chuckled a little, then his chuckle and faint smile faded as he remembered his daughter in his enemy's grasps. 

"We will hold out until the duke comes." The king made his way out, stopping at the doorway. "Please, go back to your garrisons."

---

"The capital." Hierd said, smiling as he looked at it from his bridge view. "I've heard this was the first, 'true' capital; this redefined a city, and ultimately, set an example for future cities there on."

"Aye, me lord, that's why it're called the capital. Because she be the first uns' of er' kind. Truly a marvel I say."

Hierd chortled. 

Then, from out of one of the doors, the impressionable, Farway held two hot cups of tea. He gave one to Hierd first then the other to Captain Jack, "Tank' ye kindly." He said after carefuly grabbing it by it's handle. 

Hierd put it down on a flat surface, letting it's heat simmer down for a bit before drinking.

Hierd outlooked the giant castle from that stone-bricked shore on the bridge. It was a majestic building, the towers were 'towering' sky scraping. And the docks were full of ships, from merchants or from the military. Yet not one of such technologies would defeat his warships. 

"Are we waitin' for dems to surrender, me lord?" Captain Jack said, sipping his tea. 

"Kind of."

"I don't get it. y're we waitin' when we could be shootin!" He laughed.

"This guy was in the damn meeting I did like five days ago, how the fuck did he forget already." He chuckled, although in his own context, looking at jack; "It's no use telling him now. But if all goes into plan, that they surrender or that they succeed this city to ours, the citizens here, already knowing the monumental defeat from that last battle, will without doubt accept our rule. I mean, fuck their king when you can come into my more advanced one!" 

"Now all we need to do is to wait." He took one more sip before turning around, the rest of the sailors that were supposed to be here were not, as they were taking their small break at the lower deck. Standing there ever so silently, his eyes met with Farway.

"I suppose you know of the ways the radio works now? I am sure you are taught that at the second day of training."

"Yes, lord." He did a little bow. "I kno' how it works, and've tampered with one of them for some while." 

"Good. Please get into contact with Friedrick, the frequency his cell emits shouldn't be too hard to find, since it's the only thing in the airwaves." He chuckled a little.

"Yes, lord."

He immidiately marched to the mechanisms of the bridge. Though he himself did not know how to operate the ship's mechanics, as he has not been taught so, he gathered his bearings, and remembering the grueling work at training, pulled through. After some click and clatter, some rolling of dials, he was eventually able to get a voice at the other side. 

"Hello?" Farway said.

"Ah, hello!" A queer yet enthusiatic voice came up from the other side. "This is Friedrick camp."

"I call from Captain Jack's ship, the lord wishes to speak to Friedrick."

"Right'a way!" There was a brief silence from the other side, the faint sounds of moving, and some occasional plats from the dirt broke it up, but after a few moments a voice picked up.

"Yes? My lord, this is Friedrick."

Upon hearing, Farway looked at Hierd. "Lord," He bowed. "Lieutenant Colonel, Friedrick awaits in the call."

Hierd walked to him, Farway handing him the telephone; backing away. "Friedrick."

"Yes, my lord? You had called for me?"

"Yes." His face turned serious. "I do not believe they'll be surrendering anytime soon. At the first hour, fire the tanks straight towards the castle. A little scare of ours, but I want for the castle to be a bit unscathed, so try aiming a bit lower."

"Yes, lord." Friedrick said. "Will that be all you wish?"

"I wish for you to be safe, so too Jeane and Heduc."

A faint chuckled could be heard from the other side. "Y-yes, lord."

Hierd dropped the telephone. 

"So, me lord, we'd be actually' using aur' turrets?"

"Hmm, maybe at the the twentieth minute after the next hour, then yes, I'll permit the shooting."

---

"Status." Friedrick put notice on the soldier that came in his tent. 

"Lieutenant Colonel, sir, the mage battalion is moving in and putting reinforcements, and from atop the walls, what looks to be mages and archers are posted."

"How goes our protection against the arrows?"

"Still in the midst of building the mini-shelters. However, we're assured that it'd be done at twenty minutes."

"Well hurry on with that, I want it done in less than ten."

"W-what, sir? Ten?"

Friedrick chuckled and looked at him with sarcastic eyes. He said nothing. And the soldier silently made his exit in pure embarrasment.

Friedrick's camp was built about five hundred meters away from the wall, and just a hundred meters after his are the tanks. The 'mini-shelters' were being made at the four hundred meter mark. They were made out of metal, with the same thickness as does the tanks, making the metal-tipped wooden arrows useless. But the mages remain a problem. With their fire, or with their water blades, Hierd was unsure of the effectivity of the iron plates against such elements. But better than nothing, he thought. 

Jeane and Heduc laid at the four hundred mark with their company of soldiers. Though it was not instructed by Friedrick or by Hierd, the soldiers felt it was safer to also make small trenches, and as they were already used to trench digging, the work was ways easier and a big trench was made in nigh twenty minutes, and by that mark, the mini-shelters were also done. 

They were ready and the soldiers were anxious yet raring to fire their guns. The knights, though their faces were hidden, their fear was not. They quivered on their white-mained horses. The clattering sounds of metal banging metal was prevalent among all the knights, as they could not control their nervousness. In their minds, they thought they were being led to their dooms, to their deaths. May it be a slow death or a fast one. Whatever the case, to them, it seemed like the king was just giving them away. 

They knew their armor could not combat that of the fire of Hierd's 'iron-staffs' they called it. And by God, what were those giant things farther back!? Were they even battling humans? Were they battling with a God? Were they waging war with a force beyond comprehension!? 

Seeing the silent yet ever so loud and heavy atmosphere, captain of the corps; Breevil came into the view, and from the sides, galloped his horse to the very front.

"I have been the captain of this... Battalion, for many years now." The knights looked at him, as if it was their only relief in a world of despair. "I have known of every knight that has died, every knight that has excelled, every knight that fell from top to bottom in my being captain. This may very well be my last day alive, but who knows! I lived that first battle, why will I die this time!? And to you all! You have too lived that battle! You had fought, however bad our damages, we had fought. And fight we will till the very end. Isn't that right men!?" In the silence, the once overwhelming atmostphere from before had dropped. "Isn't that right!?"

"Yes, sir!" One had yelled, then another, and another. And soon after, the whole battalion, turned battery, yelled out a cry. 

Once the shout had died down, Breevil had a thought come up his mind; "These guys, their iron staffs, I'm sure that we'd lose in the same combat we've always done. I should think of improvising. Just enough so that the king can fulfil that want of his whilst we hold down the fort."

"Everyone!" He shouted at the top of his lungs. "We need to copy them! Dig holes! Dig trenches! We want to be shielded from their attacks!"

"Yes, sir!" 

Friedrick stared from afar with his telescope. He saw the mass amount of knights getting out of their horses and getting down and dirty with the grass. Using makeshift shovels, the men started digging. He chuckled. "Copying our methods now are we?" 

Beside him, another man chuckled, "We should shoot them." 

Friedrick pulled his telescope away and looked at the man beside him. A gun the size of a tank's turret, all metal and a singular, powerful scope. The PTRS-41, where only five have been seen, and only one man wields it. Matthaus was proned, sighted in, and ready to fire without hesitation.

"Calm the fire first, Matthaus. We're not war criminals now are we, let them have a taste of our chivalry."

Matthaus got off from his proned position and shifted his body to the right, his suit's chest could now be seen, and clearly, he was already climbing up the ranks. An iron cross, another marksman medal, and the rank of second lieutenant, the man was obviously going places. He smirked at him, "War criminals? I think we are already labeled that by the general public of Krimvald, maybe even the whole world rather... or... maybe just our continent, the whole world's maybe overestimating it."

"Maybe. But let's not make our tarnished reputation more tarnished now, shall we?" 

Matthaus smiled. "Yes, sir." He got back on that proned position of his, sighting in on the soldiers. 

*BOOM!

A shot hit the wall behind a couple soldiers!

"God, Matthaus." Friedrick immidiately put on his telescope as he saw and heard the shot get fired. "They're scramming now. But maybe you helped them dig faster because of that. But still, you didn't follow a direct order."

"Direct?" Matthaus said sarcastically. "Sir, the way you had said it told me that you too were satirical in your putting, and was by no means direct. But maybe I misheard, my months of firing this rifle may have put my hearing down the well."

Friedrick frowned a little as he looked at him, Matthaus still scoped in. "Don't take a second shot, and this is a direct order from your superior."

Matthaus sighed a little. "Y-yes, yes." He laid his hands down and away from the gun. 

He looked at his telescope again, this time, his eyes on the wall and the archers. "Now you've done it, Matthaus..."

"W-what is it? Did I aim too high?" He said sarcastically. 

"No." He turned around, preparing to yell the loudest he's ever yelled. "Everyone! Arrows!"

Arched to the sky, then tumbling downwards. The sheer amount of people posted on that wall, the amount of archers and their arrows. It had seemingly blocked out the sun's gaze upon the green grassy field, the black small figures could not be mistakened any further. Arrows. 

The soldiers made a run for the iron shelters, and to the rest who knew they were too much out in the open. They ran for the nearest truck to hide in. The shiiiii of arrows falling down, then as if it was the only and most loudest sound, arrows landed on the iron shelters, thud after thud after thud. Sharp arrows turning blunt at every hit of iron surface. 

The exposed parts of the trench was covered with arrows, and as it was safe to come out once again, the soldiers came out and out they came with a field of arrows replacing that green grass. A frightful sight to a knight, but not to a soldier. 

Friedrick looked at his watch. A minute more and it'd be the first hour. "Change of plans, lord, I'll be hitting the walls." 

The soldiers immidiately returned fire with their machine guns. The Pak-40s going all out, and the Vickers Machine guns roaring fire. The knights were hiding in their trenches, but the sheer power of both shell and bomb could not overcome a swiftly done trench. Before the second barrage of arrows could come once more. Friedrick came to his tent and to the singular radio atop a wooden table. He turned it on, and immidiately it was tuned to the five tanks. "Shoot at the wall." Friedrick turned it off. 

He ran outside the tent and hurried to a vacant spot of trench, watching. The tank turrets began to move. Their barrels going from the highest elevation to a midpoint elevation. It was surely to hit the stone wall four hundred meters away. 

---

Splatters of blood and the gory scenes of injured knights, as Breevil walked past injured knight after injured knight, their ghastly screams and cries was unbearable and cruel. The highest of healing magicks could only do so much, and even with conventional ways, what will you do with a leg gone, a life as a knight done, and a state of mind broken? 

He did not know, but he hoped to just keep firing arrows, magic, and all that was in between. But the forces were just a bit too far for shooting magic. Fireballs and water blades have only so little range. Air blades could go further, but even that has limited damage as it traverses farther and farther yet. He trembled, he balled up his fists in anger and he was restless in his ever-so gradually towering rage. His eyes turned to the battlefield that lay before them. 

His eyes caught a glimmer from the slow moving steel cylinders. Alike those alien cannons from the warships and of those smaller ones that rest from the ground; were these of the same affect? Or were these ones greater!? He did not have time to question the facts. "Everyone! Duck down! Duck down!" The chaos was overwhelming, and the sound of fire was too much and his voice could not be heard and be spread as far as he thought it would be.

In a flash.

As if his eyes were stuck in a fixed postion. And the world slowed. A golden pointed cylinder. A tank round. Whizzing right past his head, milimeters apart from collision. And only miliseconds apart from impact. 

A tear rolled down his eye, and his fists relaxed. 

*KABOOM!

The explosion blew out the wall into several pieces, and all came tumbling down. The knights however, did not retreat. They kept firing arrows and magic, slowing down the fire of the guns, just doing everything they could to hinder the path of those hellish barrages of bullet-fire. 

From the crater, a hand arose; it dropped down and it landed on the rocky ground. Breevil's face lifted from the cloud of ash and dirt, not pained, not sad. He was angry; no. Furious. He grunted up with all his power, then leapt to a fragment of the fallen down wall to escape from the relenting bullets. 

He looked around him, back to front, up to down, left to right. There were too many casualties all around him, and even with the arrows, nothing could be done. They need something stronger! There were no cannons installed on the capital's outer wall, there were however cannons on the castle. Then his mind found himself face to face with the ships at the yard. It was not a brisk walk, but a walk that can atleast put down some salt on a table of sugar. 

A group of knights were huddled with each other. As they couldn't do anything, they merely helped the archers, casting wind magic to propell the arrows faster. Yet, at the other side of the battlefield, the metal shelters stood strong, only favorably did the shelter get hit and a small dent was placed.

"Come!" He shouted for them, hearing their commander, whom they thought had already perished had relieved them to some degree. 

"Captain!" One of them stood up.

"No don-!" 

A bullet pierced his head, his body came tumbling down and onto the rubble. A river of blood exited the eyeholes. Breevil laid his head back and sighed in exhaustion, then after some recuperation, "To the two of you, tell the sailors to bring cannons to the main line. I want every warship we have to be emptied of cannons and brought here!" 

"Yes, sir!" One of the knights almost stood up by habit, but got out of that mindset after seeing the body of the first one. The two ran for the heavens, half-crouched, trying their best to be in a clearing, a line of fire from those bullets, the whizz sound of the bullet fire missing them by centimeters apart was as if a scornful additive, a taunt. Breevil's indignation grew. And his blood boiled. 

---

Friedrick observed from afar, now in his tent. "The tank fire did alot of damage, we can advance and do over the city, but I'm not risking a death." He looked at a big tent about two hundred or so meters behind his, the medical tent. "There's already five injured, all from arrows piercing some part of their body, thankfully not any from anything too major. Hmm. I should focus on whittling down the amount of forces from this position. Continous tank fire'd do it for me." A thought approached in his mind; "The lord, I should report the tank fire's effects."

He picked up the radio and after some seconds of radio silence, that sea-like hiss, he connected with the warship.

He spoke; "This is lieutenant colonel, Friedrick."

Then a voice came through. "Yes, lieutenant colonel?" Hierd spoke nonchalantly.

"I wish to report of the current happenings."

"Well I think I've already seen much from my view at the sea." He chuckled a little. "What will you report?"

"We have fired the tanks already, to no avail. We have blown out their walls but they don't look to be surrendering. They're on the pickup with arrow fire, it is my own suggestion, but... After we dwindle their forces from our current position, I wish to advance forward and into the city. I'll make sure the citizen casualties are low."

There was a long pause from Hierd, but he answered; "I'll accept it. We won't be going anywhere by waiting right?"

"Thank you, lord." Friedrick dropped the telephone.

Hierd was left to his to thoughts.

"Ah, well, this isn't going as well as I thought, isn't it? Approving the advance 'll just cause harm to civilians. And civilians are something I want, soldiers, recruits. I want an army of ten thousands. Not of just thousands." Hierd stayed motionless whilst looking at the castle yonder. 

Jack looked at Hierd, he looked to have absorbed what he had just spat out of nowhere but chose to ignore it and deliver upon a want of his. "Me lord, I say we do a little bit of Captain Jack's Finest!"

Hierd looked behind him, where the enthusiastic captain Jack was fiddling with his beard and looking at him with the same eyes as would a child wanting a toy and asking his mother. "Captain. Jack's. Finest. I wonder what you'll wish to do." He grinned. "He's already broken down the wall. And they have yet to surrender." His eyes opened wide up, realizing something. "They have yet to surrender?" 

He looked at the city, the rancous rage of men and women. The horde of horses, knights, pikemen, and men with shields. The warships, the sailors, why are they moving!? Surely they wouldn't be trying to attack the warships, would they!? Hierd was tempted to say it, to say they were. But upon second look, the sailors were instead getting rid of something. "Cannons!?" Hierd blurted out aloud. 

"They're gonna use cannons to turn the tide to their favor."

"Lord?" Jack looked a him with a little inkling of concern. 

He hurried to the radio and rotated the dials a little, after a little while; "Lieutenant Colonel, Friedrick."

"Friedrick!"

"Ah, yes, lord?" He sounded distressed over the abrupt yell. "What has happened?"

"They'll be firing cannons at your location, those things can reach a kilometer, I suggest you advance now." 

A sigh came from the other side. "Yes, lord, I will." 

The call was dropped and Hierd found himself fixated on the ships. "Lord." Hierd looked to the man who called for his name; Jack. 

"Yes?"

"Vie' kan shoot dee' warsheps'in frum dis' distance. But I don't kno' if we'd be sufferin' dem' civilian casualties. Et' seems too close to a civilian road." 

Hierd switched his gaze to the dock. The sailors and the knights. Who knows of the merchant ships besides the warships. Will shrapnel bring death upon someone? Of course it could, and if it could, it'd definitely happen. He sighed, then looked at Jack. "Tell the two, fire at your mark."

Captain Jack smiled from ear to ear. "Yes me lord!" 

Farway, who was had just entered the bridge to report for duty was immidiately called by Jack. "Farway! I want yee' to contact sir Adelheid and dum' that Gelmund guy."

"Yes, sir!" He went to the panels and went straight to work. Flipping the buttons left and right, the dials a quick turn. Then after some seconds, Adelheid's voice then Gelmund's. The two understood, and targets were set. 

From the pier, the sailors and knights saw the three iron warships moving slowly. The two smokestacks per ship, exuding forth into the air a dark plume gave the ships a mysterious and frightful aura. The same way as one would feel as they first walk into a blacksmith's shop. 

The king's eyes gathered interest. Whatever could Hierd be doing? he thought. The turrets started to move, turning, turning.

-90°-

-120°-

-130°-

-140°- A click, then the barrels started to rise. A high elevation, it would reach that distance. Said after careful and swift calculation. Now, all that would be needed to be done, was to fire. 

Captain Jack held in his breath as if he was about to shoot a rifle. 

"Fire!"

Not a second later, a deadly blast, this mushroom-like extrusion blasted forth from the hit wooden ship and to the skies. Then came the two other warships, shooting the few wooden Galleseas still afloat. The mix of a cannon's gunpowder, and the undeniably powerful shot from the sloop, made for a hellish combination. 

"Beautiful." Hierd uttered unconsiously. Indeed it was, from afar, the red and the plume of smoke had this almost aluring effect that one cannot help but look at. Hierd then immdiately peered towards the city with a pair of binoculars, the pier was a mess. Wood ash sprayed forth as a raging fire burnt ship to ship. And no doubt, there were some innocent casualites. The sailors who were aboard the burning ships jumped for the waters, their brown uniforms, with fire burning leather away, extinguished at plunge.

Hierd succeeded, maybe too much so, however, he spotted a row of knights gathering. Not to help people, but to bring some saved cannons from out the dock and towards; "The walls." Hierd said, still eyeing up the happenstance. "Some of the cannons survived, making it's way for the walls. Or what'll be left of it." He cracked a half smile, then looked at Farway at the comms. 

"Please, inform lieutenant colonel, Friedrick of the situation at hand. That there were some cannons that survived. Expect cannon fire. And," he said, drumming up a dramatic rise. "tell him that he may advance."

( * )

Friedrick's face jolted awake. He set down the phone and he was jovial. He could finally advance. And with a smile on his face, he got out of his tent. He immidiately saw Major Jeane huddled in a trench. "Jeane!" He called out. 

She immdiately looked for the source of the shout, and then she and he met eyes. "Ah!" She replied. "What is it sir, Friedrick?" She ran to him as she looked to see if the coast was clear. 

"The lord has given us full permission to invade." He said, not hiding that thrill and excitement he had when first he heard it utter from Hierd's lips. "I wish to first bombard the walls completely before we fight for the struggle. Then, showing our power, they should either retreat, or surrender." His saying of it was as if it were like the flick of a finger. A simple blink. But in well fact, it was not. 

"Got it, sir."

It took some preparing the newly planned assault. The tank crew men were just chilling in the iron hunks, safe from arrow fire and to them, they felt safe from everything, magic too. They got the orders after a brief yet important radio-in by Friedrick. They wouldn't have done anything if not did the knights come preparing cannons. 

Friedrick saw them, from after another volley of arrows, this time it's tips were wooden yet sharp. Friedrick saw the knights gathering in groups, and it the center of such groups, cannons. They were hefty, packed a punch, didn't do alot with the warships, but things are different in land where the armor used in tanks are in some ways, way less dense. 

*KAPLOW!

The cannon barreled back in recoil, the steel ball carried impressive meters, Friedrick had warned the soldiers in the trenches of the newfound danger before the danger presented themselves, and when they saw that distinct yet far-off spark, they hid in the iron shelters. 

It pounded through the iron!

The force was enough to shatter a decently thick plate of metal, the surrounding soldiers were not hurt as the cannon ball had landed straight down after the hit, as it loss already alot of speed, thankfully enough. A second lieutenant came to Friedrick to report the assessed damage. 

Hearing, he did what he thought would be best done. Send a nice letter back. 

The tanks began to move forward. The knights, seeing the movement, shifted the cannons to fire by that general direction, but they couldn't get a shot, the tanks were too fast, evading any cannon fire that would come their way. 

The turrets began to rotate, and for each degree it passed;

90.

100.

110.

The knights feared the worst.

retreating into the walls, as they knew the power that those mobile guns could do. Breevil was disapointed, and obviously angry. The cannons had failed something that he wanted to succeed, but Hierd's army wasn't letting up after that first shot. 

"Three indestructably warships at sea, destroying the galleaseas." He thought. "Five iron horses that can level walls with their tall snouts. And most unfortunate for me, intellegent people with intellegent weapons." He sneered, seeing his knights run, he was ashamed. But there were some few who remained who continued to reload and shoot cannons. 

"What can I do!" He screamed internally to that inevitable nothingness. "The castle must be protected, the city must be protected. As I have been ordered to, I must keep this position until the 'duke' arrives. But where even is he and his promised army! Does he even have one! Or is he but a traitor!?"

*BOOM!

The first tank from the formation fired forth towards the wall, shattering it to many pieces as did the cannons to the steel wall. The crumbling stone bricks, sent hurtling down to the ground, made shocks to the ground and to the people's face. Then to the second, and the third tank. They made rubble to the still standing walls. Plumes of irritating particles of concrete, the occasional fire, and the bodies. The bodies, they were everywhere. Covered in rubble, in blood, or within the arms of a loved one. 

Frantically, the people who stayed there at the road were all running towards the other side, but to what side of the city was safe even!? To the south, the docks; are the warships. To the west, the broken walls; are the enemy's army. But to north and east? Was it even safe to leave? Or was it better to just stay?

"The formation quickly dwindles." Said Friedrick, observing from yonder. "We've broken the walls, I do not think there will be any archers remaining still." He looked to Jeane. "Advance the troops forward by truck after the tanks clear an entrance for us. And then, arrest any civilian. Remember. No. Violence."

"Yes, sir." She ran fast towards the front of the line, a lengthy run at that. Reaching Heduc at the very front, supervising the shooting of and shooting back. Seeing her, Heduc's attention immidiately came to be in her grasps. 

"Jeane. What is it?" He questioned with a smile. 

"'We advance forward by truck after the tanks clear a way for us,' said Friedrick to me." A slight smile before hopping straight down into the trench.

"I see." He looked at the now fallen walls, revealing the wooden buildings of the city's inside. "The lord wants them to surrender, for minimal casualties, hopefully resulting in more soldiers in the future. After we arrest the citizens, I would have them brought to a camp of sorts."

"I'll inform Friedri-"

"No," he said, staring at the tanks. "That's our queue." He pointed at the tanks, making a way inside the city. He looked at Jeane, "lead the charge. I need to prepare the tents."

"W-what." He stuttered with a half smile.

"Just. Do it." He gathered a platoon of his soldiers and made way. She stood there like a statue, absorbing the words that entered her ears. Then, when he truly was away, she awoke like a gargoyle. 

"Everyone! To the trucks!" She shouted. "We make our way into the city, arrest everyone we see. Civilians, everyone. But not the knights. Kill them!"

"Yes, ma'am!" 

The trench full of soldiers was quickly emptied out, man after man, then the occasional woman. Storming out the trench by a small dug out, dirt staircase. Then, the sergeants came onto the trucks, getting on the driver seats; waiting for the soldiers to mount at the back. Then, after a brief wait. A traffic brewed. 

A huge line of trucks, getting longer and longer still. And at the very front, Friedrick drove smiling.