3. Chapter 3(1)

Chapter 3

No Senator's Son

April 3rd, 1964

Dallas, Texas, United States of America

1:20 AM

Being a journalist was not as fascinating as the pulp magazines and midnight screenings liked to portray it.

But he couldn't say it didn't take him to interesting places.

He had, unfortunately, not been selected to go along with the swab of other American and international reporters who would be allowed to tour the main American stronghold, established after a week into the invasion.

And an invasion it was.

The reporter glanced at his notebook and compared it with the vehicles just sitting outside of the fenced-off area around the Gate, the main street barely having room for one car to go through at a time. Sitting on large transport trucks, covered in a large tarp, more to hide from the elements than from prying eyes, were the first airplanes that would be sent across the Gate.

By now everyone knew the pair of squadrons that had been taken from varying air wings across the nation, some were rumored to have been on the way to being shipped to Vietnam before everything went topsy-turvy with that bizarre structure across the street.

Only two types of jets were being sent along for the time being, although a part of the reporter suspected the American military was more than happy to start experimenting with secret projects once the "war" on the other end was over... who knows? Maybe even before!

He checked his notes, reading them internally.

F-4 Phantoms and F-105 Thunderchiefs... six of each, all to begin flying once the runway is constructed... status of runway construction unknown, expected armament of these jets also unknown, pilots unknown, officer's unknown... possible plan to bomb the enemy capital?

The reporter scratched his head with the tip of his pencil, wondering if he could strike up a conversation once the guards changed posts.

He needed a story.

As he stood up to stretch, the man he was waiting for arrived on an Army jeep, quickly hopped off and ran to the entrance.

The reporter walked over, asking "So what's the situation?"

"Big fight happening right now. Helicopters keep coming and going, and yesterday we had an even bigger battle... Army ain't kiddin' when they said this was a war. Make sure you deliver these to the studio ASAP." the man said, handing him a box with what the reporter assumed were recordings and footage.

"Got any good scoops you can send my way?"

The man rolled his eyes in exasperation and said "Yeah, for elves, being a hundred years old barely makes you a teenager. Now get to it, this is going to be the front-page stuff!"

The reporter sighed and did as was told.

Internally, he wondered what was happening on the other side of that strange structure that had his fellow journalists on edge.

Trading City of Italica

1:30 AM

Dennis continued running steadily ahead, the men around him keeping up, although to their surprise, so were the two young armor-clad women.

They reached the very edge of the entrance; the gunfire becoming ever louder and they froze.

Having spent his entire life out in Rural Georgia, he had never seen chaos like this. Bedlam, no real organization, no real coordination, just a mad dash of violence and death as all sides slammed into each other on the top of the walls and on the sides around it.

The gate to the city was destroyed and men were trying to pour inside, a few slipping past the hail of bullets from the American machine guns and actually managing to get into a brief melee with the worried-looking militiamen on the ground unable to hold the hastily set barricades. The top of the wall wasn't faring much better. Riflemen firing at the attackers trying to climb over, militiamen trying to keep the arrows off the Americans, all while keeping other men from jumping inside.

One shirtless man with two daggers attempted to lunge at a kid who was trying to retrieve his blade from a dead body. A fellow Ranger got in between them and stabbed the man's neck, a bayonet affixed to his M16, before firing a three-round burst and backing away to the nearby homes, dragging the kid with him.

Now on the wall, the Americans still held control, firing into the crowd forming on both sides, the nearby mortars unleashing hell from above on the enemy forces outside.

A man from the 7th simply unloaded on a monster of a man that measured easily seven feet in height and five feet in length, all muscle, useless in stopping the heavier rounds of the M14, but the rounds along couldn't have ended his life right away. The bleeding giant gripped his wounded chest, but slowly pushed his blade into the ground in an attempt at standing back up.

The somewhat familiar figure of the gray-haired man named Gray charged the large figure, decapitating the dying man, killing him much quicker.

"Gray! What's the situation?!" Pina called, an arrow zipping over her head.

The man began to pull back towards them.

"It's-"

"Son of a bitch, get the princess outta here!" a lieutenant shouted over the ever-present thump of the M2HB.

Dennis reacted before the other interpreters and shouted as loud as he could, ignoring the carnage mere feet away.

"Mister Gray! Get the princess away from here now! We'll deal with things here!"

The older man smiled and ran towards the smaller group that was now taking positions near the entrance to the main street and firing into the crowd of attackers that had destroyed the large wooden doors and were trying to pour inside.

"Wait- no, I order y- oomph!" Pina began when Gray picked her up with one hand.

"Sorry, your majesty, but we really should prioritize your safety! Let's go, Norma, Hamilton!"

"W-wait- I- hey!" he was carried away, her fellow knights chasing after, albeit somewhat reluctantly.

Dennis would've shaken his head in disappointment if he had the time.

He stuck to Rhode's back and rushed to the nearby machine gun nest, pressing himself against the wall, rifle aimed down at the destroyed barricades.

"What the hell happened?!" Rhodes demanded.

An explosion of dust and rock answered his question.

"Enemy started firing some huge God damn spears! I think they're out of range and our illumination rounds have only helped them. That poor bastard over there tried to find use our binoculars to find them!"

The lieutenant pointed to a headless body near the shattered entrance, chainmail armor splattered with blood that glistened in the light of the illumination rounds. Dennis made a mental note of keeping his head down, no time to consider the awfulness of the situation.

Another loud CRASH sounded off as a second arrow slammed into a home.

"They fire every five minutes, three shots, consecutively. Two homes are already badly damaged and the barricades were taken out in that last wave." as he finished saying that, two men managed to break through the hail of rifle fire, and the gunner quickly fired off a long burst, cutting the men down with disturbing efficiency.

"Well, on the bright side we just have to hold for a few more hours, right?" Rhodes said, an arrow jamming itself on the wooden roof above him.

Dennis winced as another explosion, obliterated the outer wall of a nearby home, screams beginning to come from inside. The other men that had accompanied them had quickly begun to spread out individually, some rushing to the nearest ladder to get on the defenses of the wall and help the forces just barely keeping the attackers away from the entrance, while some others ran for a nearby piece of debris they could use as a firing position.

None had gone near the house.

"They waited until the choppers were gone... charged in full force... we're going to need more men if we're going to hold this line 'til sunrise!"

"Yeah, Alex, head a way back and radio for more backup! Dennis, on me!"

Somewhat to his relief, the captain ran straight towards the almost demolished house, Dennis quickly following.

Flipping his light on, the captain focused on the barely audible sobbing from inside and kicked the door down with ease.

A younger woman was bleeding from her leg, splinters stuck all over and the iron tip of the ballista embedded into her thigh.

Both she and the little boy on the floor were sobbing almost uncontrollably, the woman trapped and unable to reach the child, and the child was seemingly frozen in place.

A man screamed, and both men turned to look at the entrance as an attacker with a large ax knock a militiaman off the wall before being shot to pieces by two men with the 7th Cavalry patch.

They're almost clawing their way through...

"Damn..."

Dennis said, "I'll cover you, captain!"

"Yeah... don't get yourself killed."

"Hoo-ah!"

Dennis manned the door and began firing into the distant crowd of savages trying to get a foothold inside as Rhodes quickly ran to the injured family.

Dennis saw a man jump from the wall, likely breaking a leg as he began to limp ahead, blade in hand, before Dennis fired into his torso, dropping him immediately.

He heard his captain trying to soothe the injured woman as he dug her out.

Nervously, he checked his rifle, trying to distract himself from the likely possibility that the men only a brisk walk away would do to the inhabitants of the home.

His mind briefly jumped to the farmer whose hands had been lobbed off, family chopped to pieces, and entire livelihood was taken away. Internally feeling some degree of satisfaction being the one putting a stop to it.

At the same time, the pressure wasn't exactly helping him concentrate.

Here he was, the only line between civilians and an unspeakable fate.

Another man, one that seemed to have walked out of a Viking's picture book used several corpses as human shields, stopping some rounds of rifle fire long enough to rush out of the way. He began rushing toward the nearby machine gun nest with a yell.

Come and die, you savages! Come and die!

Dennis fired a quick burst and saw as a chunk of the man's cheek flew away with the first bullet, the second bullet tearing a chunk of his skull along with his helmet away from his body, and the third bullet hitting the stone wall behind him before the .50 caliber rounds cut through the already dead body and the small contingency of smaller men following behind like sawdust in the night.

Red... gory... sawdust.

Rhodes stepped outside, the woman on his back, her face contorted in pain.

"I got the lady, medics should-"

Another wave of arrows landed above them, most landing on the broken home, but one finding its mark in the woman's back.

Rhodes didn't notice, but the kid did and promptly started screaming, the woman now too in shock to seemingly react.

Dennis couldn't say anything, surprised at the cruelty he was witnessing. He had known these men cared nothing about killing women and children, but to actually see it was an entirely different experience, one that distracted him from the battle for just a moment.

Then some other victims of the arrow attacks managed to scream over the gunfire, bringing him back to reality.

Then, almost in response, a loud, hateful laugh spread amongst the attackers, sounding over even the unending gunfire.

"W-what the hell is wrong with these people?" Dennis asked out loud, finding himself shaken by the sheer madness of it all.

Rhodes yelled back "Don't matter! Help me get this girl somewhere safe so that we can kill these freaks!"

Dennis only nodded, throwing the thoughts aside, following his captain, rifle always aimed at the wall as they backtracked to a safer area, two guys from the 7th following, one helping the other walk, an arrow stuck on his shin.

More Americans ran past them to help put fire on the meatgrinder that the south wall was becoming.

…

The battle was raging well into its fifth hour, the leader of the large army finally began to realize his largest mistake.

His force was much too large.

He could not have all nine- well... now likely seven thousand remaining men attack the same wall at the same time, it just wasn't possible. The south wall, while certainly a formidable structure, was not comparable to the walls of the capital, Italica was many times smaller than that grand city after all... which meant that defending it and garrisoning it was far easier.

The wall itself had been designed to prevent any large-scale attack from succeeding by virtue of having areas that any defending force could target and promptly destroy any invaders, designated kill zones, and in theory, a siege was the best option for actually taking the city.

A siege was what he had the men for.

A proper siege that would take at least a month.

A siege that he had realized this as soon as he saw the enemy flying machines, that he had no time for as he knew for a fact these men from another world would arrive sooner than he thought.

He figured they would arrive the next day at the latest.

So now his men had been hammering away at the weak zones, drowning the defenders with sheer numbers and bloodlust.

The only support he could offer them was the ballista strikes he was able to coordinate from the forest not too far from the entrance, although to what effect he wasn't sure.

They had probed the defenders a few times, never getting the destructive force seen on the Holy Hill, and even here, where there were strange explosions that would rock his army, they were not comparable to what the Imperial Army had suffered before, let alone the allied armies.

Sometimes these annoying eruptions didn't even seem to kill many men, knocking them over or leaving them screaming, which was certainly frustrating as any man disabled before he could reach the wall was useless.

And whatever those eruptions were, they weren't targeting his set of ballistae.

That's how they had finally breached the gate.

A well-placed ballista strike that broke the wooden door enough to have his army push it down and flood in... unfortunately he wasn't seeing what he wanted to see.

He expected the defenders to break and run once his men were inside and the advantage of ranged weapons was practically gone, but the defenders were still atop the walls, fighting and trying to hold them from both sides.

A valiant effort, that much he was willing to admit.

A part of him considered having as many men as possible, maybe a thousand, just rush to the other walls and swarm it as well, but another part of him decided that would do little good if all the walls were even half as defended.

No, he had to break them here and he had to break them soon.

But how?

As his men reloaded the ballistae, his vision fell on the tired man who had made earlier rains of fire arrows possible.

Wait a minute...

"Wizard!"

The young man winced and quickly, albeit weakly, got up.

"You can ensure the fire is protected within our arrows, yes?"

"Y-yes, sir..."

"Can you do the same with our line of ballistae?"

"S-sir?"

"Say..." the leader turned to look at the four ballistae he had hidden behind several bushes before turning back to the young man, trying to ignore the screams of death and fire in the distance as the invaders continued to cut his men down as they actively tried to breakthrough whatever weak spot they could squeeze through.

"Say we... say we take as many dry bushes as we can and tie them to the shot, light it ablaze... can your magic contain that fire, increase it to the point that it not only stays lit but... but causes devastation remotely similar to what we saw on Alnus? Like a flaming barrel of oil, just..." the leader made a motion with his hands that represented an expanding flame.

The young man seemed to follow the logic of the line of attack but nervously shook his head.

"It would be too much even for five of us, and I've barely the strength-"

"Can it be done?!"

A pause.

"Y-yes... yes sir..."

"Good... you three!" he shouted, turning to the men loading the ballistae.

"Get me as many dry bushes as you can find! And someone, find me some rope!"

2:02 AM

Princess Pina Co Lada impatiently walked from one end of the room to the other, unable to sleep.

She couldn't understand the words being screamed over the bizarre contraption the Americans called "Radio" but it didn't sound good.

She had no reference for words like "Evac" or "ammo" but she had come to learn what a "Medic" was.

She saw them treating men out in the open, though some had been taken inside, their wounds too great to treat there, and she heard some had even been taken away by the flying chariots, but if they were American or not had yet to be made known to her.

She saw one of the men, his skin a rare ebony color that she normally would associate with the Dark Elves, and identified him as one of the interpreters.

"Mister, do you have any news on the battle?"

The young man rubbed his eyes and said "Not much, not sounding good."

"Is the south wall holding?"

"Yes," he said, nodding.

"Is there anything we can do to help?!"

"No," he said simply and walked off.

Shaun really wasn't used to women other than his own mother talking to him so casually, let alone a white woman who was apparently a princess. At least with his fellow soldiers in the 7th Cavalry, he could understand that they were all "equally worthless" but he found himself surprised by how cautious he was around the princess who clearly saw him as a superior in some way.

It genuinely felt alien to him.

Then again, his interactions with whites in his country weren't exactly plentiful.

Blacks stuck with blacks, whites stuck with whites, integration or not, which meant he had, at best, only had a handful of interactions with whites not in the Army.

Still...

He turned and said "We plan on holding, ma'am. You got guys from the best Army in the world holding that line. They'll hold and we'll relieve them if things get more difficult."

The small relief force was quickly becoming drained, however, with units quickly moving to replace the wounded, and the other two walls quickly seeing a lack of US troops.

"How many have died so far?" Pina sighed, knowing that they were being whittled down no matter how few had died.

Shaun said "Militiamen? About a dozen due to blood loss. We haven't lost any of our guys so far, though."

That doesn't include those already dead at the South Wall, though...

"Robinson! Get your gear!" a man ran over.

"El-tee?"

"South wall is getting hit even harder and they need more assistance. We are going to have to form a wall of guns at this point..."

The man stared at the princess.

"Tell her I get it, I don't want to just wait around while our boys do the fighting either, but if she's lost, then she can't hope to properly lead, can she?"

Shaun did as he was told.

Pina sighed, saying "Thank you, but that doesn't help me worry less about things."

A very distant explosion was heard and when the trio turned, they saw a very bright fire coming from the south wall.

Pina cringed at the sight.

Shaun said "Huh. It looks like they're handling themselves pretty well."

"I don't think that's your men." Pina nervously said.

South Wall,

2:59 AM

"Get more water!" a militiaman shouted.

Dennis fired a brief burst into the seemingly retreating soldiers at the entrance, as some were trying to run since the continuous fire from the M2HB that had now gone silent as the attackers had taken the opportunity to pull back. Coincidentally, they had pulled back just as another element of madness had been thrown into the battle.

Dennis immediately whirled around to another Ranger and promptly screamed "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!"

"YOU THINK I HAVE ANY IDEA?! JUST GET-"

A second explosion rocked the defenders, this time another house apparently burst into flames for no reason.

One of the few remaining militiamen from the top of the wall started screaming.

Dennis barely comprehended the yells but understood enough.

"It-it's the ballista! They're-"

"INCOMING!" a member of the 7th screamed, standing up and running from his position on the top of the wall.

The third shot slammed directly into the outside of the wall, fire, and smoke spreading through it as if the entire structure was made of dry wood.

Some men, American and not, were tossed aside by the shockwave, some jumped off the fiery wall or fell off as the flame spread and the surprising shockwave ran through them. Not dead, but certainly not far from it.

"That's a God damned H-E... when did Romans ever invent H-E?!" another Ranger demanded to no one as men ran to pick up their wounded.

Dennis couldn't answer nor did he care.

He nervously watched as the large wall began to crack and break apart.

It crumbled before he could scream any warnings, the only possible blessing from the previous attack being that the men on it had moved away from the parts that were shattering to pieces. As the dust cleared, the remains proved that the main entrance of the wall had collapsed in on itself, allowing a much wider entrance, no longer permitting much of a chokepoint to prevent the attackers from entering by targeting the broken door with gunfire.

Now, it was a wide entrance.

The maddening cheer from the attackers followed it as they came out of the shadows and smoke now accentuated by the burning stone and mortar.

"They're through! Get those mortars on them now!" Rhodes shouted as Alex got on it right away.

"South wall! South wall! They're right on top of us!" Alex screamed into the radio, ducking behind a wooden beam that supported a burning home.

Dennis and the other Ranger began pulling back, firing wildly into the oncoming crowd with swords. What men stood on the remaining tops of the walls began firing everything they had down on the crowd as it began charging through the now gaping hole.

M60s, M14s, a random bow and arrow mixed in between from the militiamen, all began cutting down the mass now taking great advantage of the larger entrance, the men now able to move much more freely now that the narrow entrance was a somewhat jagged slope of stone and debris.

Countering them, came the eighty-one-millimeter mortar fire that had been hammering the attacking army all night, only now the target was much clearer, turning the courtyard between the main entrance and the outer homes into a mess of blood, bullets, smoke, and shrapnel.

Dennis took the chance of the mortars destroying the attackers to reload.

An arrow zipped past him, hitting Alex in the head, knocking the man down, his M1 helmet just barely stopping the archaic projectile.

"Alex, you okay?!" Rhodes demanded.

"Y-yeah, I'm good... damn..."

Dennis gasped, realizing he had been holding his breath

He whirled around and continued firing.

He estimated every shot fired killed at least one man.

He watched the bodies fall almost like a wave, some cut to pieces, others left whole. Some began to try and hide behind them, use the mounting piles of corpses as cover. Dennis fired into them relentlessly, stopping only to reload before continuing to kill.

All he could do.

…

The leader of the Brigands cheered as the portion of the city wall collapsed.

"Yes! Another volley of these and we're through! All we have to do is target the remaining defenders on the edges of the wall and whatever force remains inside! Wizard Ready another-"

The young man was on the floor, motionless.

The man in charge frowned and picked up the motionless boy.

No blood, no visible wounds.

He shook the body.

Dead.

He frowned before dropping the corpse.

"Guess he must've given up... he has been overexerting himself... shame."

He turned to the men reloading the wooden artillery.

"We have to focus on the men inside, if we can break through that line, then we can take the city."

"Their weapons have done a number on our men... look at that." one of his officers said, pointing to the piles upon piles of dead bodies littering the ground all the way from their shelter in the trees to the now obliterated entrance into the city.

The older man frowned and said "Send a messenger to tell them to use those bodies as shields. Our wooden shields are not working, but whatever these weapons are, not all of their... strikes... pierce through human bodies."

He glanced at a body that had dropped dead not too far away, the front clearly bleeding, but the back not, whatever projectiles had been fired into him hadn't pierced their way through.

Although some clearly had, if the torn apart corpses were any indication.

Another explosion tore several men apart, and the leader groaned.

"We must be swift... another ballista strike at their center and they will break. They MUST break now! Send that messenger!"

…

Yet another man screamed as the attackers continued trying to push through the barrage of bullets.

Dennis wasn't even sure what was happening anymore.

All he was doing was shooting anything a few yards in front of him. Killing over and over again, watching the bodies begin to pile up awfully close to their lines.

The burning home behind them could potentially become an area of defense once the fire died down, but there and then it was just another mark to hold in front of, the flames, unfortunately, making it easy for any archer or bowman to see their silhouettes.

He noticed several attackers pick up the bodies of their dead and charge forward.

He had seen a few try it earlier, but now...

"Frag these guys! Come on!" another man shouted, grabbing a grenade.

He saw a few others do the same and he considered tossing his remaining grenades, all two of them but preferred to wait it out.

He wasn't sure why seeing the men toss the small fragmentation grenades into the oncoming crowd to devastating effect.

At this point, though, he wasn't really concerned with the body parts flying every which way.

He was more worried about the possibility that some of these psychos could breakthrough and establish some kind of stronghold and cause similar damage to what was seen in Dallas just days after the area was taken back.

As if he was the only thing standing between the city and that.

As if to punctuate that point, the M2HB suddenly ran dry, the machine gunner screaming "Ammo!"

A panicked yelp came from nearby, and Dennis saw a militiaman, an older one, get grabbed by the man he was stabbing, and tossed back into the oncoming crowd of attackers.

It was over in a second.

Just one.

Said crowd didn't even hesitate to stab the man into a bloody mess with whatever they were carrying.

Swords, spears, daggers, battle-axes... the screams only lasted a second, and the man was literally butchered and crushed into a bloody mess of flesh, bones, and whatever armor he was wearing.

The brutality of the action and the possibility that it could be him made Dennis stumble as he reloaded.

Get it together, you idiot! Deal with this now, deal with the consequences later!

The attackers seemingly hadn't lost their strength or motivation no matter how many were killed, and it was starting to have an effect on the defenders as they waited for reinforcements.

Dennis managed to insert the magazine into the rifle when someone else screamed, an American this time, and Dennis whirled to check who.

A kid from the 7th, maybe older than him, not that he could tell, fell backward, his arms shakily hovering over the arrow sticking out of his stomach.

Another guy from the 7th quickly grabbed him, screaming for a medic.

It was one second that he looked.

Just one.

Then Dennis felt a hand grab one of the straps on his vest.

He barely turned in time to see the masked muscle-bound thing pull him with one arm into the crowd of attackers.

Huh?

It was too sudden for him to scream, barely managing a gasp as he was flung into the air.

"Den!" he heard Rhodes shout as his body slammed into the dirt.

Like earlier, they were on him in an instant.

Too fast.

Too fast for him to even realize what was happening.

The first attacker, a man with a spear, missed his head by a millimeter, but the second attacker almost cut him open with a long sword, and the only reason that didn't happen was entirely due to chance.

The 81-millimeter mortar landed not exactly close, but in that packed courtyard, it didn't matter as the explosion cut its way through the attackers.

Shrapnel slammed into the men looming over him, dousing the 18-year-old with blood while the survivors fell to the floor.

Dennis screamed in shock at the explosion, gripped his rifle, and tried to check if the magazine had been placed properly.

It had.

He began to sit up as another large man began to swing a large sword in his direction.

With a satisfying click that he felt much more than he heard, he knew the 5.56 round had gone into battery effectively enough, and he smiled, stupefied over what had just happened and the fact he might survive.

Gripping the M16, he didn't even aim as he squeezed the trigger and let out a long burst on full auto, the rounds cutting into the attacker's chest, ripping the man's heart to pieces as he fell to the floor, dying.

Bullets whizzed centimeters above him as men continued to charge, trying to kill the exposed American only to get cut down by the fire of the nearby soldiers.

"Orville, get the hell out of there!"

Dennis heard Rhodes, he took a breath and began to crawl back to the defense line, bullets whizzing overhead as he retreated, the ground under him feeling strange as he did so.

Oh... it's the dead bodies...

He tried to ignore the flesh and blood he was crawling on, but less out of disgust and more out of convenience, he got up on two legs and crouched as low as he could, head peering over his shoulder to make sure the attackers weren't right on him.

Dennis got to the line and sat down next to Alex who was still screaming about air support.

"You okay?!" Rhodes demanded.

Dennis nodded, checking his rifle, noting that the twelve-round burst he had fired into the man had jammed the M16.

He cleared the rifle easily enough and stood up.

Alex grabbed him, saying "stay down! Backup is right here, take a break!"

Dennis swallowed and sat back down as several guys from the 7th ran past him and started firing into the attacking army.

He kept watching the bodies fall and pile up, almost creating a small wall, his hands shaking slightly as he did so.

At this rate, they'll replace that wall in no time...

Another Ballista strike hit the nearby wall, actually knocking a rifleman to the floor.

Or... maybe they won't have to... damn it all.

Dennis got up and inserted a fresh magazine into his rifle.

"Den! DEN!"

He ignored him.

Rangers take point...

3:22 AM

The leader observed the men still trying to take the city and frowned.

"Why aren't they retreating already?"

The messenger he had sent returned.

"What did you see?"

"It's a wall of death, sir. The men on the inside have bunched together, firing their wands into us and tearing us to pieces before we can reach them regardless of what they try. The ballista strikes are doing their damage, but we haven't hit the men yet!"

The man spat.

He had no way of knowing exactly where his Ballista strikes were hitting! Add to it the fact they were attacking from out of the effective range of the Ballistae, and there was no way the ancient artillery would work as well as intended!

It was all guesswork thanks to the mostly still standing wall!

Sure, they could carry the attacks almost indefinitely.

The nearby forests had allowed them to adequately resupply their spears and arrows, but he knew very well they would be destroyed once the main invading force arrived.

His men had gotten wise at least, and it seemed like they were at least lasting longer.

But it was clearly not going to be enough unless they broke through!

He rubbed at his chin, recognizing that the ballista fire was certainly effective to some extent, but nowhere near what was necessary.

If he could redo the fiery attacks he had launched with the now-dead wizard, he would already be inside the city, raping and pillaging to his men's content.

But it was impossible.

This wall of men on the inside was preventing his forces from taking advantage of the wider entrance.

The few remaining men on the remains of the south wall were desperate, but effectively halting his own from taking advantage of the smaller resistance, cutting them down with just as much efficiency.

What could he do?

He had half his forces focusing on the south gate, but he knew the north gate would be an even bigger death trap.

Perhaps all he had to do was throw a few thousand men all at once at the east or west walls?

Could that work?

As he pondered this, he began to hear the noise he feared the most.

They're back sooner than I thought...

Above him, the metal birds began to dive from the sky, he then froze.

There were several larger birds, these didn't seem to have the weapons that spat death on the field, and were clearly headed to the center of the city while the smaller birds circled over his army, killing many.

He froze as he realized what was happening.

Troop carriers... flying troop carriers... the main army must not be far behind...

"Forget the city! Grab what you can and begin pulling men back into the forest! We must remain hidden and preserve our-"

"Get down!" one of the men yelled, tackling him to the ground.

He heard the whistle of the projectiles as they shot towards their ballistae.

He wasn't surprised when they exploded.

The leader and all of the men who had deserted their armies had no way of knowing the UH-1s were armed with XM3 rockets, nor did they know that said rockets had originally been designed as air-to-air projectiles in order to destroy enemy bombers. This would make the UH-1s formidable enough against the somewhat agile flying dragons of the Empire, their M134 machine guns serving a similar purpose. However, the weapons had proven just as effective at destroying ground targets and were now reminding the leader of the brigands the importance of taking Italica before the main force arrived.

Something they had clearly failed to do.

He angrily got up.

"Damn you! DAMN YOU! DO YOU THINK THIS IS A WAR?!"

The metal birds ignored him, firing on the men trying to run back to the forest, cutting them all to the man, chopping some in two, blowing apart the men that tried to run in numbers.

No mercy was shown.

No quarter was given.

In a way, it was no different from what the Empire had done to many armies and peoples.

But at the same time, it was so impersonal!

Where was the skill? The weight of the deaths one caused?

These men clearly knew nothing of war, they were just good at killing.

"I'll teach you war... mark my words I will teach you war! Call the retreat! Now!"

…

"Retreat?!" the man demanded, pointing to other men not too far away were falling dead to the hail of bullets as they tried to climb over their dead into the city, the metal birds killing them from above, the men inside shooting those that got lucky and managed to enter.

His force was thankfully out of the line of fire, but that would mean little if one of those metal monsters caught wind of them.

But still, to retreat? NOW?

"Those are the orders! If you wish to die here then do as you please! The rest of us must live to fight another day!"

"After all this death?! No! I say no! I say follow me to glory! We fear not death!"

"You wanted a war! This is how wars are fought now! Do you want to be a suicidal madman?! Go ahead!" the messenger shouted over the screams and gunfire before quickly turning to run.

The man glanced at his imperial armor, and his men in reserve, standing behind a hill, not entirely in view of the defenders of the city as the sun had yet to rise.

"Alright... which one of you cowards wishes to retreat and wage a coward's war?!"

None dared to defy him in spite of the massive amount of death.

Such was life in the land of Falmart.

Death was always expected, so what did it matter when it happened?

All of his men had seen death in some form or another. Some had fought against the barbaric "warrior-bunny" tribes, telling awful stories of women hiding their beauty behind demonic symbols painted on their faces' swords and daggers so sharp they could decapitate a man with one swift swing. Many had seen the atrocities committed by such savages, and many had wrought equal or worse horror unto their tribes. Many more had likely lived in the villages near the capital, where escaped slaves would try to flee to in hopes of escape only to be punished by losing a hand or a vital appendage and being left to die.

This was a world that raised survivors and warriors, men who fought to their last regardless of adversity!

How DARE this child even suggest they retreat after such a drawn-out battle?!

Still, to lose the vast support of the main force, which was still formidable was a heavy blow to the war-hungry commander. They had been fighting all night, not bothering with a siege, not bothering with most traditional rules of war, and just attacking head-on in multiple costly probing attacks, before their leader had apparently decided to throw it all out on the South Gate... and to abandon it now?

No... he was a warrior, one who would fight to the death, as would his men!

Had he retreated when the Bunny Warriors, with their greater speed, tore into his men?

He had seen heads fly, soldiers bleed to death... this was nothing new!

He risked a glance above, and in the light of the enemy flying chariots, he saw something that made him grin with the cruel bloodlust that could only be seen during medieval times.

"Good news, men! Looks like their garrison on the remaining walls have fallen!"

…

Dennis shakily breathed, trying to remain steady, his rifle still aimed at the entrance, as the men who had stayed on the wall, firing on the attackers were either escorted or carried away from the mainline of the defense by their fellow soldiers.

Most had an arrow on their shoulders or backs, some who had lost a lot of blood, preferring to remain standing in their position until the air support arrived, were being carried out on stretchers, medics already working to keep them alive.

Keeping the enemy from breaching the city was not an option, and they had been trained to handle battles that were this difficult.

He glanced at Alex, the young man had also abandoned all notion that they would get a break and was now aiming his M16 at the entrance, the Huey gunship having taken care of most of the attackers gave them some semblance of relief, but they couldn't rest yet.

The reinforcements that had arrived were only replacing the wounded.

Americans aside, Dennis saw there were only a few members of the Italica militia left, six that he could see, and it was likely there weren't many more on the South Wall.

The gunfire was, at the very least, dying down, now exclusively reserved to the gunships outside the wall clearing what they could.

Alex lowered the rifle briefly and focused on the radio.

"Captain, enemy forces appear to be retreating. Seems they're moving back to the forests in all directions," he said after a moment.

There was no cheer.

Ten thousand men were a lot at the end of the day, and even with the literal piles of dead bodies and the ground being almost impossible to see under the corpses, they all doubted they had even killed half.

Rhodes only walked to the radio, picking it up and listening in.

The air was chock-full of smoke as the nearby homes finally finished burning, the civilians managing to keep the fires from spreading.

The gunfire certainly hadn't helped things.

Dennis shifted his left leg and nearly slipped on the spent shell casings littering the ground.

Cleanup is going to be a nightmare...

Still, he kept himself standing.

US Army Rangers were trained to handle long battles, pushed to the extremes, with little time to rest despite the technically shorter amount of training.

He closed his eyes briefly and he began to lower his rifle. As if, he could assume the danger had passed.

Internally, it was more of a challenge.

Look at me, I'm letting my guard down. Be a shame if someone tried to jump out of cover to cut me down...

Nothing happened and the gunfire from the helicopters began to die down.

"Is that it?" a guy from the 7th asked no one in particular.

"Maybe... God, what a mess." Rhodes muttered.

"They just kept comin'... I heard the japs did stuff like this but..." another man spoke shakily as he began to sit down.

It was no exaggeration to say the ground was covered in bodies, the blood on the street was beginning to pool into large puddles of gore that we're only now becoming visible to the weary Americans.

The only bright side was, in Dennis's mind at least, that the battle was over.

Then a distant scream sounded nearby.

"Oh, God damn it! They're charging again! Get the mortars on them now!" Rhodes shouted, loading a fresh magazine into his M16.

Dennis let out an almost animalistic growl as he began to fire into the entrance, not even seeing any soldiers yet, just going by where he had gotten used to firing down on, the smoke somewhat interfering with his field of view. He was joined by other M16s and the M60 opening up just as a few figures began to emerge from the darkness, not unlike a little kid's nightmare.

The crowd was certainly smaller than what they had been facing, much more fluid and less bunched up as they entered through the broken wall.

Which meant they weren't as big a target anymore.

"Don't let them get through! Alex, get those gunships over here NOW!"

Dennis fired in more controlled bursts then, getting on a knee and trying to make a smaller target of himself as the Browning and several M60s started mowing the men down, but the fact they were no longer bunched up meant they were harder to kill en masse.

And now they were getting actually gaining ground.

An American screamed nearby, falling to the ground, an arrow on his chest.

Dennis didn't bother to look, focusing more on the oncoming attackers.

"They're on the wall!" Rhodes shouted.

Dennis cringed, realizing what was happening now that the men on the remaining walls had been moved out.

Several men with bows and arrows were on the walls, firing into the American line.

Dennis felt something slam into his head and he fell onto the stone road.

His steel helmet had a dent on it and an arrow broken in two was on the floor by his feet.

He got up, staring helplessly as the attackers began to yell in an odd manner that resembled a victorious army.

A very tall man stood on the wall as his men continued getting mowed down by the American gunships.

"Is that all you have, invaders?! Kill them all! Kill them all!" he shouted, laughing loudly.

Despite the mounting pressure to shoot him down, the men coming at the Americans were, unfortunately, a more pressing priority.

They were getting closer, despite the literal wall of bullets making every centimeter taken cost them literal gallons worth of blood.

This was madness had not been seen in by the American forces at any point in their training, and Dennis had no way of knowing how much worse it was when his father and grandfather were in the Army. The remaining militiamen began to step back, no longer able to hold the attackers, an older one rallying them as they retreated behind the Americans.

"Hold the line! We either break them here or die trying!" Rhodes barked, clearly exhausted, though doing his damndest not to show it, nearby officers giving similar orders.

Some men quickly affixed bayonets.

A guy with an M60 reloaded it by himself so quickly it might have been a record.

No one really said anything else as the gunfire picked up again and attackers continued to fall, every fallen body slightly closer than the last.

Dennis heard a man scream over the gunfire, an arrow hitting the soldier on the M2HB, silencing the gun in an instant.

His M16 dry fired, and Dennis realized that he was running short on ammunition despite the steady resupply chains the 7th had set up. He reloaded quickly, albeit nervously now, as he missed inserting the magazine for a few seconds.

He felt like this was it and that Rhodes was right... either they broke the enemy here, or they would be broken and torn apart by the attackers, turned into the mushy remains of their victims nearby.

Images of the blades that had nearly stabbed him flooded into his mind, and he forced himself to focus, jamming the fresh magazine into the rifle.

He glanced at Rhodes, who may have been about to give another order, but the battle was suddenly and almost anticlimactically interrupted.

Then the wall exploded into large bits of stone and body parts, disintegrating the laughing man supposedly directing the charging men.

There was no pause to acknowledge the explosion by the Americans, but the remaining attackers visibly paused in confusion and recognition of the explosion.

The Iron Elephants had arrived...

Dennis smirked slightly, encouraged by the pause of the enemy to begin shooting them where they stood.

In a battlefield hesitation was death, and whether because of trauma or ignorance, the attackers had been paralyzed by the explosion of a high explosive tank round impacting behind them.

"Armor's here... The armor's right here! Pour it on, boys! Pour it on!" Rhodes shouted just as another soldier grabbed the .50 caliber and began unloading its remaining ammunition on the attackers.

With no longer an incentive to conserve ammo, the remaining Americans emptied their weapons into the invaders, a crescendo of gunfire combining into an even louder wind of death as all pretense of control was tossed aside in favor of putting as many bullets on the attackers as they could.

The remaining men whirled around and lunged at them, some trying to run past them, none getting far.

Dennis saw a man who didn't even bother firing on the skinny fellow with a dagger, simply slamming the butt of his M14 into the attacker's head as he got too close for comfort.

It mattered little in the end.

Bullets beat swords 9 times out of ten.

Outside Italica, the battalion had fired into the city walls on direct orders from the men inside.

The tank commander watched as the wall collapsed with the invaders around it, crushing some and maiming others.

He smirked, taking the large cigar out of his mouth before speaking, trying his hardest to emulate the man his tanks were named for.

"Good hits, good hits all around! By God, the flyboys aren't about to get all the credit on this one! Ha-ha!"

Their .50 caliber machine guns and 90-millimeter main guns tore into the attacking army that remained outside, which at this point could not be more than thirty or forty men, now desperately trying to retreat.

Some simply broke, dropping to the floor and hugging their legs, their bravado, and what foolhardy bravery they'd had moments ago having instantly disappeared.

The battle was over before anyone realized it.

5:49 AM

Dennis silently observed the men carrying corpses and rubble out of the way, cleaning up the main entrance, taking a final sip from his now almost empty canteen. Just over the distant mountains, the first signs of the sun were beginning to make themselves seen. The same applied to the corpse-riddled battlefield. Some of the men still watching the entrance looked like they had spent a day in a chimney, they face riddled with residue from the guns they fired, soot from the homes that had burned down, and dirt from the occasional artillery strike that landed too close for comfort.

One of them was speaking and Dennis decided to listen in.

"They just kept coming, man... I'd heard stories of the Japs doing this sort of thing, but nothing... nothing like this."

Another soldier, one with a camera said "They're a different people... they're probably used to the idea of charging straight into death."

"That doesn't make it better! Look at all the people we killed while they kept charging!"

Dennis turned his attention to just that.

They're really going to need tractors for this...

"By the gods..." a shaky voice whispered.

Dennis lowered his still dented helmet, trying to hide his face from the red-headed princess who was now looking at the scene in front of her with shock.

She was trailed by her knights, of course, but also another American interpreter.

Good...

"How... how many were killed?" she asked.

The American sounded familiar as he said "I don't have the numbers right now, miss."

"Surely you can guess!"

"Well, they attacked us across all the walls until they seemingly decided to focus all their forces here. We slaughtered them everywhere... we estimated they had ten thousand men... maybe we took out half their force?"

Dennis felt the urge to comment and argue that odds were that they took out most of them but suppressed it.

The princess looked around, getting a good look at the "war elephants" the Americans called "tanks" that were standing right by the destroyed wall as men continued working to rebuild what they could.

Up in the air, she saw the American helicopters, carrying wounded away as the sun only now began to rise.

"What madness motivated them to such a suicidal charge? Surely not this mad desire to wage war..." she mumbled.

Dennis kept his focus on the pile of dead bodies, but the words resonated.

Why the hell didn't they retreat?

Desperation?

Madness?

Arrogance?

Genuinely believing they could win?

Had they honestly thought they could have maintained the cost of the battle after so many deaths?

Seriously thinking about it only added to the headache he was feeling, so he decided to avoid it.

Pina Co Lada on the other hand seemed to be almost hellbent on understanding it.

"No armies in our realm have seen this level of death in decades! Certainly not in a single battle! How many prisoners did your men take?" she asked the dark-skinned man following her around.

Wait a minute... that negro soldier looks familiar.

"Twelve here that survived, and twenty more near a forest by the west wall."

"I wish to speak to them... let's go!"

Dennis turned to eye the dark-skinned man, this time making eye contact.

Shaun paused and said, "Holy hell, Orville?"

"Who's that?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Man, what happened to you?"

At this, Dennis only said, "Been fighting for damn near eight hours, no big deal... who are you?"

"Come on, Orville, it's Shaun!"

"From summer camp?"

"From the reserve, man! I-"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm just messing with you... least, trying to given the circumstances... God, what a mess."

Shaun turned to look at the piles of bodies.

"We didn't see much fighting on the north wall. A couple of scouts our sniper took out real fast, not much else."

"Must've been nice, all quiet, and... you find any white girls you like, Shaun?"

Shaun shook his head, saying "Trying to focus on staying alive at the moment, man. Medieval or not, those arrows-"

"Yeah, yeah... don't need to remind me."

A few meters down the street lay several bodies neatly lined in a row, all militiamen, a few women, some older, some younger, wailing as they identified their dead.

"Jesus..."

"They did their part... an adequate meat shield... I sure as hell couldn't have faced that mob without this, let alone a sword. No idea how they did it." Dennis sighed, motioning towards his M16.

Another UH-1 flew overhead, a red cross on its sides identified as an ambulance.

It quickly flew away.

"So... you interpreting for the princess?"

"She kind of goes from one guy that understands her to another guy that understands her and tries to get information. Wanna know what's messed up?"

Dennis didn't reply.

"I don't think her old man sent her here to negotiate."

Dennis jolted forward at the statement, the realization hitting him like a truck.

"She never did say she was here on her father's orders."

"Yeah, and that doesn't exactly bode well for negotiations."

"No wonder she's all scrambled like that! She has no idea what she's doing! General's going to have a ball with her!" he said, chuckling much louder than he meant to.

"Feel bad for whatever dumb bastard has to translate for her..."

Dennis turned serious.

Shaun asked "What?"

"I know the guy..." he answered, monotone.

"Oh... um... wish him luck."

The princess began arguing with a nearby officer who was guarding the prisoners of war.

Dennis shook his head.

Women...

Shaun looked down the street before turning back to Dennis.

"I better catch up to her before she gets herself shot. Take care, man."

"Good talking..." Dennis replied, turning his attention back to the dead bodies.

It was just a bunch of arms and legs jutting out in random directions, very few visible heads, let alone faces except for a few here or there.

One was staring back at him; a bullet had gone clean through the man's left eye socket leaving only a black hole on the otherwise untouched face that had a closed eye.

Dennis stared at the hole in the man's skull; eyes unblinking for a moment as he did absolutely nothing else.

How many did I kill?

His headache returned.

Images from the larger battle at Alnus on that first day flooded into his mind as he felt like he had been stuck in that hell for months even though the entire campaign was still only on its second week.

The screams of dying horses were the most memorable to him even though he wanted to drown them out with the sounds of helicopters and car engines and anything that could take him back home.

The thought of home slipped into his mind and he froze up as an unwanted voice echoed through his thoughts.

You'll lose it all and gain nothing...

With a tired sigh, Dennis stood up, glancing at his uniform in the early twilight.

The blood from several dead attackers had already dried and a part of him doubted it would wash off so easily.

Still, he knew he had to be presentable for the meeting that was about to take place between very, very, very important people.

It would serve as a fine distraction from the images seared into his brain.

Then a member of the 7th walked over.

"Hey, your unit's up for the bathhouse. Take a load off, son. I'll take it from here." A fresh-looking US Army lieutenant said, smiling as if he was doing Dennis a favor by appearing friendly.

Dennis only nodded and stood up, happy to get the blood and dirt off his person.

Moscow, USSR

The General Secretary, the head of the communist party, the man in charge of one of the two superpowers on the planet, tapped his desk as he read the information upon it.

South and North Vietnam agree to a ceasefire in order to allow for democratic elections. US officials continue pulling out advisors. Plans are being put in motion to ensure a safe and legal election in the coming months, the current date was expected to be August 2nd, but that is yet to be made official.

What bothered the man was the irritating tidbit right at the bottom of the newspaper.

American support for the South continues to rise, and many call for intervention should the Communist North win next year's election. President Kennedy has vowed to protect the interests of the nation's allies in the region but claims he will not interfere with a free and fair election.

That much the Russian knew, but it was still worrisome.

The Americans were starting an election year, and if the slightly more relaxed Kennedy was replaced with a more aggressive rival... oh, there would be hell to pay indeed.

An aide entered, a young woman, saying "The photographs have arrived."

He nodded and let her through.

She handed him the folder and he opened it.

Several black and white photographs of the American base of operations greeted him.

He sighed.

Lots of tanks, lots of men, lots of fortifications, and lots of virgin lands ready to be conquered.

That much would bother his comrades in communist nations.

He could hear them already...

"America likely has no right to demand we decrease our operations! They have a whole world to themselves now!" some would likely say.

"We must find a way to open a portal like that ourselves! These imperialists cannot be allowed to spread their ideology unchallenged!" others would argue.

For him the issue was simple:

I do not want the world to resemble the surface of Mars over a stupid disagreement!

Defending the motherland and its allies was one thing, and they had stood strong as the allied nation of Cuba was threatened during the October Crisis. He had quashed dissent in the Union, he had pushed against needless reforms, and he was planning more.

This was not the time to be aggressive.

Of course, if the Americans get aggressive...

He grabbed a notepad and a pen, scribbling an order and placing it in an envelope before handing it to the young woman.

"If you please," he said simply.

The woman nodded, taking the note and leaving.

He then picked up the newspaper and briefly considered the orders he had given.

See how far you can get into these lands. Search for possible sympathizers.

He then pushed the thoughts aside as he noticed the newspaper had a hit piece on a recent French artist who had sculpted some abstract... thing.

His disdain for artists grew, but life went on.

House of Formal, Italica

8:00 AM

Stupid bitch...

Dennis didn't really know what else to think of the young princess, though a part of him was chastising him for thinking of a woman in such a way.

But what else was he to think?

She had "led" the militia in a mostly pointless effort to defend the city during the opening hours of the battle, and while she had certainly assisted him at one point, what had she really done?

Of the two hundred Americans in the battle, seventy had been gravely injured.

Of the hundred-plus Italica militiamen, it was clear almost all had been wounded, and many killed.

None of their own men had died, thankfully, though if the report he was hearing was accurate in any way, more than one had lost their limbs and would soon return home in wheelchairs.

And that was still ignoring the deaths of the militiamen who had done their job dutifully, keeping the main attacking force from reaching the American firing squads.

The term "firing squad" brought back unwanted images into the forefront of the 18-year-old's mind that he rushed to quash back down, forcing himself to look as formal as he could as an interpreter or translator or whatever the classification actually was.

I need a break...

He glanced at the tired-looking knights, trying to see the younger one as some form of eye candy to distract himself.

Maybe I should start flirting... wonder how old she-

"Dennis?"

Relieved for a distraction, he turned to face the general.

"Ask the princess the following..."

Dennis listened, nodded, and turned to the expecting red-headed princess.

"Let's get right to it. What are the odds your father will surrender?"

Pina winced at the question and her knights tried to hide their surprise.

"He... he said that negotiations should always be an option, so I am certain-"

"It wasn't a question about negotiations. Will he surrender?"

Another wince, as if the question was a slap to the face.

Dennis forced himself not to glare at her.

He didn't send you here to negotiate...

"I... I don't know... I know we have no chance of winning, and I'd like to believe my father will make the intelligent decision, but..." she paused, a nervous expression on her face as she avoided eye contact with the Americans.

"But you aren't certain?" Dennis asked.

Pina nodded, shrinking into her seat.

Dennis turned back to the generals and spoke.

They spoke.

He turned back to her.

"Say we took you hostage; would he surrender then?"

At this Pina got up and said "That would absolutely make things worse!"

"Princess-" Gray tried, but the girl ignored him.

"My father already sees you like an invading army out to destroy the empire in hate! If you give him anything that confirms his suspicions, he'll-"

"I don't know if you've noticed, but we are here to destroy the little plot of land you call an empire. We're negotiating to avoid that outcome, but we will destroy it if you give us no alternative." Dennis said, desperately trying to keep his voice from sounding like a growl as he reminded the princess what they were getting at.

"But my father won't surrender if he thinks that!"

Dennis turned and translated.

He turned back.

"We need him to surrender. You've seen the destruction this war is causing. If the quickest way to do so involves destroying your empire, then why shouldn't we?"

There was a pause, and Dennis could see the gears turning in the girl's head.

Yeah... stupid...

Pina turned to the Generals and nervously muttered "Is there no way we can achieve peace without such destruction? I fear destroying this empire will be far worse for everyone."

Dennis promptly turned and translated everything she had told him.

A moment later, Dennis asked, "How exactly would things be made worse?"

Pina paused, considering the question.

They were already at war, were they not?

The translator was correct, it was a war, and despite her efforts, their goal was to destroy the empire, and while she was trying to stop that, she wasn't in command of either nation's militaries.

She doubted her father would simply surrender, especially given all the atrocities committed under him.

She slumped down slightly and said "Wars here often result in the complete destruction of an enemy faction, sometimes regardless of surrender. Just ask her. It's normal."

Dennis glanced at the bunny-girl standing guard near the young ruler.

She gave the princess an obviously fake smile but said nothing.

Pina continued.

"However, our empire is the largest in this continent, and if father believes it's a fight to the death, he will act accordingly, even if your intentions are not to completely annihilate us. The suffering of the people would be unimaginable. We have the largest, most advanced army in this land. To divert it entirely into causing as much damage to the land, the people, and you as possible... I can't imagine the outcome. The land would be unusable, people in areas you cannot reach would be exterminated if they side with you, or starve to death as everything breaks down... it would destroy us, but it would also be impossible for your people to establish a rule over this land."

Dennis turned to the generals and said "She says that wars here usually result in complete destruction of one faction, so if we capture her, her father may think we're as bad as they are and react accordingly. She says he could divert their entire army into making any attempt of ours at gaining territory absolute hell. Kill the people, destroy the land, and overall make an occupation on our part impossible."

"So, guerilla warfare, scorched earth... last resort tactics... that sort of thing?"

Dennis turned and asked the princess who only nodded.

The General crossed his arms, glancing at the wooden table with a pensive look in his eyes.

"Are there no senators that may oppose this?"

Translate, turn.

Pina sighed with some relief.

They aren't bloodthirsty marauders; they actively want to end the war... good.

What wasn't good was that she knew convincing her father's to surrender wasn't going to be easy.

And that took into consideration the role of the senate.

She turned to the boy and spoke.

"Senators don't really have much power even if they oppose his war," Dennis told the General.

A pause as the officers considered this.

"...is she the heir should her father die?"

Turn, translate, turn.

"No. She's third in line to the throne along with another half-brother, and the current heir is the individual named Zorzal."

Dennis and the officers noted the slight change in the posture of the bunny-girl once the name was uttered as if the name caused her to shudder in an attempt at containing her anger.

The general rubbed his chin in contemplation.

He glanced at the princess, then at the 11-year-old girl who was in charge of an entire city, and finally at the 18-year-old translator.

"Ask her this..."

Pina continued trying to hide her fears as the Americans spoke.

The 18-year-old turned to her and said "If you were in charge, would you be willing to surrender?"

"I... yes. As long as you guarantee the security of the people, I will gladly surrender."

"Your Majesty-" now it was Gray who spoke.

She turned and said "Please, Gray... I just want to save our people... that is all. I know I sound naïve."

She was an idealist, naïve at that, but she knew as much.

A part of her knew these men from another world wouldn't be as merciful as she would have liked, but she would take it if it meant saving her people.

Dennis didn't react to her honesty, simply turning and translating what she had said with little interest.

"Alright... what we're going to need the contingency plan in order to get her into power and potentially destroy all hostile forces within this empire. Tell her..."

Pina listened intently as the man spoke, despite not being able to understand the language.

She knew her country's fate hanged in the balance of her convincing them to try and wait, just wait a little longer so that she could convince her father that peace was the only solution, that the empire had no way of winning a war with a foe so advanced, and that said foe wasn't out to fully annihilate them as the Empire had done to so many others.

The American finished talking, and the boy turned to her once more.

"Alright, princess, here's what's going to happen. Our warbirds, the ones that kill your dragon riders without difficulty, arrive in a week. You have until that time to get your father to see reason and surrender."

Pina winced at the bluntness.

Steeling herself, she shakily asked, "And... and if that effort fails?"

The boy blinked and turned to the general.

There was a short "clearing up" of any doubts and the boy turned back to her, speaking in a cold, uninvested tone.

"If that effort fails you and your Rose Knights, as well as any senators and officers that sided with you, are to be evacuated in secret."

No...

"Special Forces will have already been inserted into the capital by then."

Please, no...

"If your father sees reason and at least comes to the negotiation table, we won't have to kill him, but if he dies, it's on him. Once that's done, we'll work to keep the heir, Prince Zorzal, from doing anything drastic. He's inexperienced and odds are we'll find some way to manipulate him. Our flying birds will be dealing with whatever hostiles attack us between the area surrounding the capital as we take control of the areas surrounding it. If Zorzal thinks he and his armies stand a chance, we'll let him think that all he wants, and eventually allow him to march right out of the city with his armies where we will crush him. You will be placed in charge and negotiate an immediate peace."

"N-no... way..."

"Or we could just destroy your capital as soon as the week is over and our warbirds have arrived."

She was speechless.

"We call them Phantoms, by the way. Thunderchief's, too. We have plenty of options to turn your capital into a crater."

Pina quickly turned to the American officers, their faces a hard look that she needed no translator to understand.

We don't need you to end this war, we can do it ourselves.

"We'll get it done!" she said impulsively, quickly clearing her throat before composing herself.

The Americans said nothing, staring at her with a raised eyebrow.

Pina allowed a defeated sigh and said "I understand... I will convince my father to come to the negotiation table. I promise. If I can't then... then I'll continue to work with you."

She turned to her knights and shook her head, silencing any possibility of dissent.

Dennis translated to the officers, who seemed pleased.

"Good, good... I think we can all agree that there is no need for pointless bloodshed. We'll send some forces to the outskirt of the capital tonight, and if your knights can sneak them in it would greatly help us."

"I will see to it that they meet you."

"We'll also need a map of the capital."

"I... yes," she said, defeated.

This is bordering on treason... but if it saves-

"Good. Let's hope we can avoid more bloodshed." the boy appeared to have finished translating.

Pina allowed a relieved sigh and was about to thank them when the men spoke up and the boy translated.

"There is another question, regarding the enemies your empire has destroyed."

Pina froze.

They hate slavery, they hate empires, they hate us... oh, what are they going to ask NOW?

"Y-yes?" she asked, no longer bothering to hide how nervous she was.

Dennis glanced at the officers who spoke, he nodded and turned to her and in a quieter voice said "We were told a queen betrayed her people in order to save herself... is that true and do you have any other former heads of states enslaved?"

Pina was caught off guard by the question.

She thought about it, and the image of a white-haired girl being brought into the palace to be mocked after her defeat came to mind.

But other than that, none came to mind.

"You mean Tyuule, yes?"

Dennis nodded, as did the generals once the name was uttered.

Pina said, "No, she's the only one we... my brother... spared."

Dennis winced and said "What?"

Fast on her feet, Pina tried to clarify.

"H-he led a war into their lands, which my father approved, yes, but the queen surrendered somewhat quickly, seemingly to spare her people, so my brother took her-"

"Lies." the calm statement came from the bunny maid named Mamina.

Before Kaine could scold her, the general spoke up and Dennis quickly translated.

"Please let her speak."

Though visibly composed, she refused to look at anyone, facing the opposite wall and closing her eyes, she spoke firmly.

"She surrendered to save her own skin. That is what the messengers said. She would be safe while we were either enslaved or slaughtered. She is a coward who betrayed us. Do not paint her as a sacrificial lamb when she was a snake, princess."

Pina said "But... it's true. My brother was boasting about how he took her offer and then continued the slaughter. At no point did he say she was trying to save herself, she offered herself as his... slave... in order to spare her people."

She nervously glanced at the Americans at the mention of the word.

Dennis quickly translated and the generals immediately spoke back.

Dennis turned to Pina and asked, "Then she's just your brother's servant?"

Pina visibly cringed at the description.

Everyone knew how awful her brother could be with his concubines, but the bunny girl was a target of greater abuse from the crown prince.

"She's... she's his..."

Annoyed, his patience at an end, but acknowledging rank, Dennis spoke slowly.

"Princess, please tell us the truth."

Pina looked embarrassed as she closed her eyes, saying "She's his favorite... toy. Her armor is a decoration he placed on the Senate floor near his seat, he drags her along his other... concubines... and he boasts about how he conquered and destroyed her people. She's his toy."

Dennis didn't translate.

He asked her "By... toy... you mean..."

"I've only seen her a few times, but the wounds I saw speak for themselves. Please don't make me say more."

The boy's facial features visibly hardened as he turned and translated.

Pina got nervous as the generals' faces also hardened with disapproval.

Dennis turned to her once more.

"You have no other heads of states enslaved or imprisoned?"

"No! Usually... usually we destroy or execute enemy leaders, that queen was... brother wanted a trophy... we aren't usually this barbaric!"

The American clearly didn't believe the last sentence, but turned and translated it nonetheless.

Dennis had actually forced himself not to scoff at the statement.

The General said, "Well, that's awful, but... it makes using her much easier."

"Yes, and if that prince is actively abusing her... unless she's developed some kind of mental illness... she's a half rabbit, right? We know if they go crazy?" the Colonel asked.

Dennis turned to ask, but the General said "Don't. Odds are she isn't all that vital... if we can get her on board, then sure, we could use her to legitimize our authority, even if it just brings one or two people to our side. But if she's unwilling or unable, then we can find other ways to manipulate this... Zorzal. Right now, she should be considered as much a priority as getting the Senate and other Generals on our side."

Turning back to Dennis, the General said "Tell her that in spite of our lack of faith in her success, we'll give her a week, but remind her that she should be ready to evacuate once time runs out without any resistance."

Dennis nodded and did as such.

The princess only nodded in return.

Imperial Capital

9:03 AM

Tyuule weakly stood up as Zorzal angrily dismissed her.

She grabbed the rags she used as clothes and walked out of the room, refusing to look at the bald man who had entered.

The man gave her a somewhat disgusted look as she exited, the armed guards outside ready to escort her back to her cell.

Zorzal grabbed a chalice of expensive wine and gulped it all in one swig.

The bald man was about to speak when the Prince addressed him directly.

"Well, on with the tragic news, Marcus... I thought I could at least relieve some stress, but woe is I."

"Perhaps you should focus on your more human concubines and not that... beast."

Why the prince kept her as a toy was something beyond Marcus. They were the empire! Enemies were to be enslaved, their leaders executed after a long humiliation, of course, but surely 3 years of such abuse was enough? There was no reason to keep the disgraced queen alive.

But still, the prince kept her around!

Honestly, it's quite embarrassing when one considers things...

Zorzal huffed, saying "Oh, please. She at least manages to challenge my libido... those other whores get tired much too... forget it, no one asked you! What's the word?"

"Your father is concerned with your behavior as of late."

"And he sends you to tell me?"

"He is quite busy preparing for the possibility of the Empire's destruction!" the man barked back.

"I KNOW!" the prince yelled in response, tossing the chalice at the floor in anger, passing a free hand through his gold-colored hair.

"Do we have news from the front? Have our... auxiliary forces seen any success?"

The middle-aged man shook his head.

"No official news has arrived, although some merchants speak of defeated armies being seen marching towards the Mountain Range of Ice and Snow. Your majesty, your father worries that you are not prepared for the responsibility of handling the Empire's affairs in such a crisis..."

"Oh, is he going to strip away my birthright now?"

Oh, how I wish...

"No, his majesty says you should participate more in his meetings with the military officers. He is planning a scorched earth campaign to-"

"Yes, yes, deny the enemy resources and supporters, I've heard it before... what I haven't heard is whether they have even pushed beyond Alnus! If this army was able to defeat hundreds of thousands of our own troops in an hour, why haven't they pushed onwards?! Why haven't they-?"

"You can discuss all this and more at the meeting. It is scheduled for tonight, and the king vehemently requests you grace them with your presence."

Zorzal rolled his eyes but did not disagree.

The prince couldn't say no to such flattery, fake or not.

Only a few floors below, Tyuule was already in her cell, sitting on the wooden slab that was her bed, trying to keep the rags she wore from breaking apart further as she tried to keep them on her.

The prince was not kind when it came to stripping her down, and while she had little notions of modesty remaining after 3 years of such abuse, she knew the man enjoyed being in control to the point that maybe not having the rags to remove could be a turn off for him.

And right now, she couldn't afford any "turn-offs".

She shuddered, trying to ignore the pain he had caused her yet again in less than a day when she felt a disgusting finger caress her left thigh.

"Your majesty, I bring news..."

"Leave, Bouro... I'm not-"

"It's from Italica, your grace."

Tyuule hid how much the sentence had grabbed her attention, curious about the progress of these men from another world.

"Go on..."

At the feeling of the tongue around her leg, she tried to focus on the news.

"These men from another world managed to take Italica before the Emperor's bandit army sacked it... it seems they protected it throughout some attacks and are now occupying it."

She winced both at the stinging pain and the surprise of the statement.

"They... took the city?"

"The last I heard they were holding it... what's more, Princess Pina Co Lada made contact with them."

"Oh, did she now?"

"My spies saw her enter the city yesterday; they say they opened the door for her. If she is alive or not has yet to be determined."

Tyuule did her best to ignore the possibility of the wench that liked to play soldier somehow convincing these men not to destroy her precious little empire and tried to imagine how much pain they were putting her through.

"Then they're getting closer..."

"Yes, the emperor has yet to receive news but is actively planning for this outcome. He plans to burn the capital to the ground. Anyone that wishes to remain will burn. He is discussing the possibility with his generals."

Tyuule frowned.

"Do they support such a decision?"

"It seems many do, and many don't. I believe he intends to inform the senate of his decision this week. Continue the war from afar."

"Of course. But if they took Italica after a week, then I doubt there is much that can be done. They have the supply base they need to invade the capital... perhaps this empire will be destroyed sooner than I anticipated."

And finally, this nightmare will end...

She didn't notice the creature beneath her bed seemed to get nervous at the suggestion.

Not that she would care much even if she had.

No, all the former queen cared about now was the destruction of the empire that nearly exterminated her people in spite of her pleas and sacrifice.

Trading City of Italica

9:32 AM

Dennis observed the other forces arriving alongside another Ranger.

"Don't like how they keep eyeing me..." the red-haired young man said as a jeep drove past.

Dennis rubbed his eyes, saying "Well, your freckles are probably scaring them or something."

"You're an interpreter, any weird superstitions about guys with freckles?"

"If I knew I'd tell you."

"You can ask."

"We're supposed to be keeping guard over here, not philandering with the locals."

"Ah, come on, ye dense headed-"

"Don't talk with whatever that accent is... please... head is killing me."

"Alright, alright... any gals catch your eye yet?"

"Yeah."

"Which ones?"

"Hear me out, the human girls."

"Really?"

"Yup. What about you?"

"Well, while I agree that you can't beat typical human beauty... I've got to be honest; the bunny maid's kind of pretty. Reminds me of Maria Fletcher."

"What? How?"

"I don't know... the smile?"

Dennis stared at him, not amused.

"Or she just reminds me of my girl back home."

"Probably the latter." Dennis half chuckled.

The men watched a truck drive past the large doors of the east gate.

Tom finally said, "Any of the strange animal gals catch your eye."

Dennis groaned.

"Oh, come on, man."

"They do, and it bothers me."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. You saw that girl with snakes for hair?"

"She looks twelve."

"Yeah, she scares me. Always looks like she wants to eat me. Her friend the cat? Scares me too. Demon eyes on that one. Bunny girl? I'll admit, she's gorgeous. So's her other bunny friend."

"Wait, there's a second bunny?"

"You haven't seen her? Darker hair."

"No, I haven't."

"I only saw her briefly during the talks with the princess. Point is, they're gorgeous. Curbs, legs, face... 'cept for the ears and tail they might even make Miss America jealous. Elves are gorgeous, too. Still, it ain't natural I reckon. Probably some mutation or witchcraft. Don't feel right, you know?"

"I suppose. I was Austin when that article about the different demi-humans got printed. My mom thinks it's the devil."

"Probably isn't far off. You've seen the princes. They didn't even send her to negotiate! Just to scout! They sent a bunch of barely trained kids to scout us! Honestly, these people aren't anywhere near as civilized as our version of Rome."

"Speaking of the princess-"

"No way is her hair color natural."

"Uh... right... Think she can pull it off? Get her old man to surrender?"

"Nope. She's an idiot."

"What makes you say that?"

"I don't know, the way she talks. She keeps asking questions, some bright some dim... her pop's an idiot, too. Refusing to talk when we can wipe them off the map in a day once our planes come through..."

"Yeah, can't wait for the Phantoms to bomb them into the last century."

"That would be an upgrade. Flyboys would have to bomb them into the previous millennium given how backward they are."

At that, the red-haired young man chuckled.

The chuckle was interrupted by their captain.

"Boys."

"Captain." they both said in unison.

"Later today we'll have a meeting to discuss our next operation. It'll be at twelve-hundred hours at the Command Post we set up at the Formal Mansion's garden. Be there."

"Yes, captain." they both said in unison.

They were silent for a moment, another truck driving through.

Dennis shut his eyes.

The trucks were empty of course, but he really didn't want about their purpose.