9. Chapter 9(1)

Chapter 9

Decimation

May 2nd, 1964

Imperial Capital

8:32 AM

The Kitchen was unusually warm that day despite the somewhat cooler morning temperature as it seemed the previous night's morning dew had been bolstered by a drizzle during the previous night, something the young American hadn't felt as he had actually been able to fall asleep.

The spirits were unusually high, as well.

It was odd to describe as the staff kept talking on like normal, but Dennis couldn't help but sense an air of optimism that hadn't been there when he first arrived over a month prior.

Of course, this optimism and an overall lift in spirits excluded him in more ways than one.

They didn't speak to him, of course; few ever did. August and Kelvin being the ones he interacted the most with, Chef Clef now only rarely saying anything other than "Your shift's over, get lost" for quite a few weeks now.

Today was no exception, but there was more to it.

Dennis could feel his heart pounding and he was a touch nervous as he kept mulling the inevitable conversation with Captain Rhodes in his mind.

The young man was still only 18 years old.

In his mind, that was no excuse.

From what he'd heard, his parents had married even younger than he currently was... though his mother never did settle on what her age was when married, the story changing every time he'd asked it as he grew up.

Seventeen, I married him at seventeen.

Oh, I was about fifteen when he proposed... we married that summer and it was lovely. It was a bit different back then, with the war and everything, but your father was steadfast.

I was eighteen, actually. He proposed after enlisting.

Sixteen, I married him at sixteen. Things were different given the war was going on and everything was so muddled with our parents out of the house.

The corner of his left eye twitched slightly.

Still, even if his mother married at his age, it didn't make him any less nervous.

He knew the law in Georgia.

He'd always joked about it, certainly. He'd never envisioned himself actually finding a girl he'd be attracted to, let alone wanted to genuinely be with forever in this other world. He stopped cutting the lettuce then and stared at the knife in his hand, less examining it, more his mind looking for a distraction as it screamed the exact quote at him, the young American had gone out of his way to read it in the school's library once.

The amalgamation of the races is not only unnatural but is always productive of deplorable results- Virginia Law Review, October 1955.

Dennis went back to cutting, a subtle frown on his face.

He didn't buy that for a second.

Why should he?

While he'd never gone to school or really interacted with many "colored" folks, he knew plenty of regular "white" folk who, as James Hastings had told him not too long ago, were "half-something". Dennis had met several American soldiers who were just like anyone else despite being "half-something", even if he didn't interact much with them.

Where was the "deplorable" result, exactly?

He wasn't a scientist at the end of the day, and he doubted there weren't some biological differences between races, but the issue for Dennis was: what did that matter, exactly?

He'd seen Italians and Germans have healthy kids before. He'd read a small news article about British war brides marrying and having kids with American GIs during and after World War 2. He vaguely remembered hearing that the current president had intervened to help an American soldier bring his Japanese girlfriend home.

How true that last one was didn't matter to him because he had seen no evidence of the "deplorable results" come from a man and a woman forming a family. If anything, the deplorable results came from the culture, not the people. After all, was the nation's cultural views on liberty not what made his country superior to all others?

He closed his eyes, shoving some chopped-up vegetables aside.

In the end, what he thought and what the law was were two different things entirely.

Maybe I should move to Indiana...

As he pondered this, two of the female kitchen staff walked over, not facing him, but stopping close enough so that he could hear their conversation.

"Did you hear what happened to that wench his majesty has as an advisor?" one asked the other, a strange glee in her voice.

"No, not really." the other replied, a similar glee in her words.

"The praetorians were talking about how she got stabbed today."

Dennis stiffened at the words.

Tyuule was stabbed?

He nearly turned to ask about it, but remained still, eyeing the cut-up vegetables.

As if irritated from the lack of a reaction, the older of the two women spoke then.

"Son of Tobias, are you not listening?"

"To?" he replied quickly, pushing the chopped-up lettuce onto a plate.

She huffed, and moved along then, the other girl following her, muttering "Boring child..."

Despite his outwardly calm appearance, the young American felt his heart rate spike in seconds as awful implications and possibilities entered his mind.

Had Bouro killed her?

Had he tried?

Was this some betrayal?

Someone else?

Maybe Zorzal?

Had the emperor grown bored of her and decided to just end it all?

Or worse...

He remembered her tired demeanor, her attempting to keep her distance from him in recent days.

Dennis put the bowl next to Kelvin, who was reading something from a parchment.

The young cook turned, saying "Good, leave it there."

Dennis did so, nodded, and quickly began to leave, bumping into Chef Clef.

"Where are you going?" the old man asked with an irritated look in his eyes.

Patience wearing thin, Dennis quickly said "To ask if you need anything else."

Clef glanced behind him, then turning back to Dennis, said "No, but you don't get to pick when you leave... I do. You were out yesterday, and if you intend to keep your job here, then I suggest you take it seriously. Only I dismiss you, understood."

"Of course, sir..." Dennis said, leaving the words hanging in the air.

Clef glanced at the kitchen staff and groaned.

"Good... get out of here."

Dennis only nodded and walked past the older man, leaving the kitchen.

The female staff member sighed, saying "He's probably going to go visit that rabbit whore."

"Did he react when you brought up Miss Tyuule's attack?" Clef asked.

"No, but did you notice how he was in a hurry to leave?"

Clef only sighed, saying "Yes, which is why I ordered him gone... as long as he has some link to Miss Tyuule, we must be careful around him."

The woman said "Are we not winning this war? If he's a traitor we should-"

"I shall hear nothing of this... watch what you say." Clef hissed in a dark tone.

Part of him could feel eyes watching him from the shadows.

…

Dennis walked as fast as he could without appearing suspicious or out of place.

He wasn't bringing breakfast to anyone today. Not his turn. Being free for the day only meant he could go talk to his captain, but now a priority was on mind, and that was making sure the person he was there to protect was alive and well.

A few wrong turns and dead ends later, he found the door to the office of the leporine advisor to the emperor.

He sucked in a breath and knocked on the door, his heart racing.

Silence for a moment.

He was about to knock again when the door opened on its own.

Tyuule stood in front of him, eyebrow raised.

"Well, you seem well-rested..." she mumbled.

It did nothing to hide her appearance.

To say she was "disheveled" would be an understatement.

There were drops of now dried blood on her small vest, her hair was a mess, the dark circles under her eyes were somehow more emphasized, and despite the casual statement, her voice sounded far more exhausted than Dennis had ever heard her.

He quickly said, "I heard you got attacked."

She didn't reply, looking at the hallway.

"Tyuule? You-"

She grabbed his shoulders, pulling him into the room she was using as an office before shutting the door behind them with a strength that surprised the American, her ears lowering further.

She then pressed her forehead against his chest for a brief moment, as if listening to his heartbeat.

At this, Dennis, mostly on instinct, moved to hold her, but she placed a hand on his chest then, pushing him away briskly, as if she'd surprised herself by what she did and decided to stop herself before going any further.

She stood there for a moment, not speaking.

Finally, she whispered, softly, cautiously, "She was one of my warriors... a survivor of Zorzal's conquest... he... killed her... after she tried to kill me, he killed her. I couldn't stop him. I couldn't even intervene."

"T-"

She didn't let him finish, closing the distance again and pressing her face against his chest.

"It was like that then, too! He didn't care who he was killing or what he was doing! My people... my family... and I did nothing!" she said quietly, a mix of sorrow and anger in her words as she punctuated her frustrated words by softly hitting her curled up right hand into his chest, tearing up but not yet crying.

He felt her shaking form against him, his mind lost for words as he was finally able to hold her, but unsure of what else to do. He wasn't sure what he could say or do to comfort her after something like that other than try to be there.

After a moment, she finally chose to face him, speaking in a tired tone, nearly empty of emotion, only a hint of her internal turmoil coming through.

"I'll ask you this once, Dennis Orville... can your people... bomb this city so that it was as if it never existed?"

"Yes." He replied, quietly.

And then, with a shaky breath, she asked "Are your leaders... willing?"

"Yes." He said again, very certain of the desire for revenge on the minds of many American generals.

But instead of asking what he expected, Tyuule asked him "Is it the right thing to do?"

Dennis winced at the question.

"Huh?"

"Is it the right thing to do?" She repeated.

He stared at her, a part of him wanted to say it was perfectly fine to bomb a civilization into the stone age, but...

"I... I don't know..." he finally said, clearly unhappy.

She smiled slightly before allowing herself to laugh just a bit.

"What's-?"

"Even now... even now you're honest with me... you're like a kid."

Dennis grimaced, saying "I have a mission, remember? Lying to you wouldn't help anyone."

"Right... right... the mission..." she breathed, tired as she pulled away from the embrace.

"Why'd you ask if-?"

Her tired smile never fading, she said "Maybe to see if I could provoke your people to bomb the capital away... I don't know anymore... I just want this Empire to burn and that man to suffer."

"Do you really?"

"I should, shouldn't I?"

"That's not what I asked."

Tyuule's smile vanished.

She said nothing, apparently finding the floor a more interesting sight.

Dennis sighed, laying back against the wall, saying "This mission's taking a toll... on both of us..."

Tyuule replied with "...I suppose..."

"I can get you out. Tonight."

"The mission isn't over yet. You know it. I know it... if you can't handle it, then leave."

"Not without you."

At this, she felt her cheeks grow warm.

Dennis didn't smile, pressing the issue further.

To hell with waiting.

"Look... you helped me last night, and... I didn't get to thank you... now, I want to help you-"

"Stop!" she cut him off immediately before he could finish the sentence.

Dennis swallowed his words, noting the look of anguish on the girl.

Tyuule, taking a deep breath and composing herself, spoke in a small voice as she seemed to shrink away from him.

"You're already helping me, Orville... and, despite my tiredness, I'm perfectly fine. The Royal Healer is a skilled man, see?"

Dennis, in an equally small voice, said "But there's something you're not telling me, isn't there?"

If only you knew...

"Obviously there are things I can't tell you right now. They're not related to the mission. And-" Her words caught and her ears twitched.

"The emperor is coming... he wanted a list of... Leave. Now. I'll meet with you later."

Dennis opened his mouth to try and argue, but swallowed his words as she said "I'll be fine, Orville. Now go."

He nodded slowly.

Part of him wanted to say much more but he forced himself away and willed his feet to walk out the door and down the hallway. Whatever place the conversation would have led would, unfortunately, have to wait.

Tyuule sucked in a shaky breath before nearly collapsing onto the wooden chair behind her.

She forced herself to wipe away any tears that threatened to fall.

Why?! Am I that weak that I wished to lean on him further?!

It was one thing for her to lean on him for military support. What choice did she have? Their goals coincided and she could provide more help in ensuring Zorzal was kept on a tight leash until the Americans had everything set to destroy him. It was a win-win even if Zorzal was allowed to live by the Americans, something she would see to it didn't happen.

But to emotionally lean on the young man?

A part of her desperately wanted to, especially after how warm it felt to be held, but another part of her was screaming that she was far beyond deserving any form of comfort, and to even drag the kid down with her would be even worse than what she was already doing.

As the footsteps got closer, her mind was settled.

Remembering those she indirectly killed, she knew she wasn't any good.

Her vengeance wasn't any better than what had been done to her.

But at the very least she could leave innocents out of it.

The door was loudly pushed open.

"So, my little bunny!" Zorzal called, grinning from ear to ear "Ah, all better?" he asked, pulling at her vest to see where the knife wound had healed.

His grin somehow widened.

"I'm alright, majesty. Thank-"

"Did you find the list of the surviving warrior bunnies?" he asked, moving to her desk.

She nodded, reaching for the parchment on the desk and handing it to him without removing her crimson gaze from his own.

Zorzal looked it over with some excitement before letting out a disappointed sigh.

"All of them?"

"The ones the Haryo could track down, it seems. That one slave was the only one remotely close to the capital, and even she appears to have traveled quite some distance."

Zorzal huffed, mumbling "Well, at least that puts their threat to rest... however it leaves our little cook without a genuine toy."

Tyuule felt her eyebrow twitch at the mention of the American.

"There are plenty of concubines-"

"No, no, that won't do. I really wanted to pay him back, and it's clear he sees the fruits of my conquest and covets them, which is perfectly understandable. Plus, a warrior bunny would likely dominate him, which would be hilarious to watch. I can imagine that child squirming and squealing like a pig due to inexperience." he laughed.

Then, glancing at Tyuule, said "I'd ask you to pay him a visit but you're too submissive... both of you would probably struggle to even get on the bed properly."

Tyuule only looked at the floor, too tired to speak as Zorzal walked over, continuing to speak.

"Yes, too submissive indeed. After all, I've done, you certainly have shown fealty to me alone. Understandable given all that happened to your people." he mumbled, smile disappearing, a lascivious glimmer in his eyes.

She felt her body begin to shake and she shut her eyes tight as the prince passed his hand over her chest, leaving marks where his nails met the skin.

He grinned then, saying "Not once have you lashed out, not once have you tried anything... look!"

Opening her eyes, she felt her breath catch as Zorzal showed her a familiar blade.

"It's all clean now... quite pathetic for stabbing but excellent for cutting. Not to mention how much hate she must have poured into that attack."

Then, mockingly, he laughed "All to be cast aside! I mean, honestly, what were your parents thinking?! You savages can't hope to organize any form of lasting peace. Just look at your blades!"

Tyuule said nothing, staring at the knife, unblinking.

Zorzal said, "Remember when you thought you had a chance?"

He pressed the tip of the knife to her vest and began cutting its buttons, the blade passing through them with great ease.

"M-majesty, the-"

"Oh, are you defying me?" he asked, grinning.

"N-never-"

He gripped her hands then, dropping the knife as he pushed her to the wall, pain pounding in her head as he pressed himself against her.

"Never? Did you not defy me then?" he asked in such an excited and almost ecstatic tone.

"I-I-"

"Yes, the answer you are searching for is yes! And I enjoyed every moment of it... it's no fun to conquer a passive foe, but father always insisted on it... It's probably why he had the Haryo poison your parents, less resistance." he added in a whisper.

Tyuule felt her breath catch.

Zorzal's cruel grin burned into her mind.

The knife wasn't entirely beyond her reach.

But she knew well enough it was what he wanted.

So, she met him halfway.

She allowed the tears to begin to flow silently.

Zorzal's smile vanished.

He let her go and groaned as if seeing the tears of grief was a disappointment.

He picked up the knife and walked out the door, muttering "Come now, I was only playing... I was playing! You're becoming less fun, Tyuule."

He paused at the door, looking back at her with a bored expression.

"Honestly, you should pray the enemy has no women like you... for your people's sake."

Tyuule stood there in silence, the tears flowing as her face contorted in fury.

Dumas Mountain Range

9:00 AM

The plans had been drawn out as best as possible, which wasn't exactly great given their circumstances, but it was better than nothing.

And in the end, isn't that all they had to work with? Being limited to an increasingly barren mountain range with now dwindling supplied, what choice did they have?

Tiberius glared at the American lines from the ridge before ducking back down.

"How long do you reckon they'll take?" one of his generals asked.

Tiberius only said "Minutes at best. The problem is whether or not they were seen."

The sun was already up in the sky, and Tiberius was certain this would be their final chance. The green of the forest was completely gone, and while the forests within the Dumas Mountain Range were never impenetrable, they were certainly thick enough to provide cover and concealment from the enemy. Enough that these Americans hadn't really bothered going up the mountain much if at all. Tiberius could still see the perimeter they had established around the mountain, making it easier for them to stop any attacks.

So now, he had to do work with what he had.

He glanced at the men marching down the mountain paths.

All armed with bows and arrows, with what few crossbows they had been able to acquire split amongst those who had proven to be excellent shots with them. Beyond them were the rest of his legions, sitting, waiting for the order to charge.

He knew it was suicide.

He didn't care.

"We will not win the day, you understand?" he spoke aloud, the only one to notice being Pullo.

The leader of the Brigands huffed, saying "I only intended to fight a war... I'll be happy to have claimed some enemy lives for myself at this point."

Tiberius smiled slightly.

That was the needed attitude.

Men who would simply charge at the enemy fully expecting to die.

It gave them a single edge that he hoped would be enough.

"Right then, the American lines are strong... but as we can see they don't have as many men guarding them or as powerful defenses as castle walls. Probing attacks have shown that they don't need that many men... but... if we can just... break them in one area..."

The generals only nodded.

A crack, even a small one, in those lines of trenches and barbed wire would create an environment that would allow their men to flood in and claim as many lives as possible before dying.

The mission was not to push the Americans back, in the end.

It was to hurt them enough, something he had failed to effectively do despite the traps and random attacks. He could only hope the emperor had taken the time he'd bought him to create the greatest army in the Empire's history and overrun the enemy.

Soldiers arrived then, out of breath, but with the discipline only seen in his legionnaires, the men spoke quickly, efficiently, and clearly.

"The men are in place, general."

"The catapults are also in position."

"The archers are ready for your orders, general."

"We need only the signal."

Tiberius nodded.

"Alright... we begin."

Finally, turning to his generals, he spoke "I want each of you to bring me five heads of either the Americans or the traitors. Good luck!"

…

Beefeater only smiled brightly as the men with blue berets took what they called "photographs" of her. Immediately behind her was a relatively small combat outpost overseeing the stretch of land between them and the dead forest that led up the mountains. Machine gun nests and now dirty sandbags so characteristic of their current strategy of static defense as they practically starved out the enemy. Given the lack of effective attacks against their positions, it was a relatively easygoing if not boring job for the young knight, and now that men from other parts of that other world had arrived, she was happy to learn more in her free time.

Bozes frowned slightly. Disapproving the bizarre ritual of smiling at a small gadget that made eerie and unnatural clicking noises. Like some kind of insect, yet not quite.

The man then said something she didn't understand.

Cheese?

She sighed, unsure of the purpose behind it, but maintained her composed figure, not about to potentially fail in a potentially contestable situation where she could be seen as "more" of something.

The young woman was indeed competitive.

One of the men with the blue beret approached, smiling slightly as he asked in a broken variant of her language "What is your name?"

Her response was to establish she had absolutely zero interest in the men from another world by huffing and turning her head away.

Beefeater chided, "Come on, nothing wrong with some-"

"We're knights on a mission, Caty. As relaxed as things have been recently I don't have time to meddle with common men." She added the last part with a growl as she glared at the man in a blue beret.

The Canadian seemed to understand that and appeared to be about to give up, but quickly asked "Uh... you... want... see... Rai-Full?"

Both Rose Knights winced as the man was referring to the weapon slung on his back.

Unlike the more common American M14s, which they could tell were made out of wood, the FAL appeared very alien and even if it was entirely similar to the other weapons from another world, the knights hadn't gotten the chance to actually try the weapons for themselves.

"You're... allowed to just hand over your weapon like that?" Bozes asked.

The Canadian smiled slightly, saying "May I see your... blade... Um... exchange?"

Bozes cringed at the proposition, but Beefeater was all for it, already taking her sheathed blade from her belt and handing it over with one hand, her other hand outstretched and waiting for the rifle.

"Sure!"

The Canadian appeared slightly disappointed, but handed over the FAL nonetheless, making a point of removing the magazine and clearing the chamber, grabbing the single 7.62x51 millimeter bullet and showing it to the knight.

"Ooh... what is it?" Beefeater asked.

The Canadian only said "Bullet."

"I know what that is, dummy, I'm just curious about this." She said pointing to the carry handle on the rifle.

"Oh. Easier to carry!"

"Oh... Interesting. Even if I didn't know how to use it properly, I think I could crack some skulls with it!" she said with a cheerful grin as she shouldered the rifle by grabbing its barrel, the only saving grace being that she didn't accidentally aim it at anyone.

The Canadian swallowed.

Bozes sighed.

Colonel Jean was keeping a vigilant eye on his men while they stood on the hill in a field a fair distance from the Dumas Mountain Range. It wasn't exactly uncommon to compare weapons with your allies, but even if his men were being careful, he'd rather not risk the locals accidentally shooting one another. But even if he wanted to chastise his men, he was doing the same thing.

Colonel Jean eyed the M14 with some degree of confusion, less at the gun and more as to why the Americans had chosen this over the FAL variants readily available thanks to the Belgian Fabrique Nationale.

"It feels like a Garand." he finally said, handing the rifle back to the American Colonel.

"Yeah, it's a shame it isn't. Works just fine as a gun in combat, but every one of the guys we send up there has to go with the black rifle. This gun's just... it's good, it's just not made for this kind of fighting. They charge us... well, we'll have to hold them off while the Air Force gets here."

A few meters away, American soldiers were now comparing their M14s to the Right Arm of the Free World, to the swords carried by the Rose Knights, with the two young women only looking on in what he could describe as "mild interest" as to the exact specifications of modern weapons, blissfully ignorant of the less-than-ideal baggage behind the two rifles. The sordid history of how both guns were adopted was, unbeknownst to many, filled with misconceptions as well as betrayal.

"Heard y'all were in the Congo." the American asked.

"Indeed. Quite a show, but I heard you all were headed to Vietnam before this."

The man shrugged.

"We already had special forces there. Now things are apparently relaxing if the papers are anything to go by."

"Well, that's not how we're seeing it back home. Seems to me the Southern government was disintegrating and your country is doing damage control."

"Maybe, but I don't really have the time to think on all that right now. Focus on staying alive. Bows and arrows are still deadly weapons despite their archaic nature."

"Indubitably."

After another moment of stillness, the American glanced at his wristwatch, frowning.

"Those knights don't cause any trouble, tactically?"

"No, they help us here and there, eyes and ears, some picked up English pretty good... but honestly, having a shield for your guys doesn't hurt against an enemy that primarily uses bows and arrows."

"Ah..."

"Speaking of... where's that princess?"

The Canadian huffed, saying "I can't imagine you're letting a girl like that anywhere near the front lines."

"She's one head of state, not the head of state... yet. Honestly, if she wasn't so hellbent on seeking peace... no, if she wasn't around, we'd already taken the capital by force."

"You'd likely be dealing with a more problematic situation then, to be honest. I'm no historian, but Romans didn't exactly take losing sitting down. Carthaginians learned that the hard way..."

"To be fair, the Carthaginians didn't have enough firepower to burn an entire continent to the ground."

"No, but they did burn down almost all of Italy and destroyed just about every Roman Army they faced. The same goes for the Germans in the 40s and the Communists in Korea. Just because you open up a war-winning doesn't mean you'll win."

The American Colonel said nothing.

The Canadian chuckled slightly.

Bozes asked "Italy?"

Switching to the local tongue, the American who was inspecting the C1 said "A nation back in our world, it was very similar to your Empire two thousand years ago."

"Ah, the Romanos?" she said in broken English.

"Yeah... hey, Quebec, this rifle doesn't... I mean, it's fine and all, but it just doesn't feel like a rifle, you know?"

The Canadian sighed, scratching at his mustache as he took the gun back.

"You from Texas?" he asked.

"Yeah, Hudspeth."

"Ah... haven't been."

Beefeater took her blade back and, in the local tongue, asked "So... your countries are close together?"

The Canadian interpreter inserted the magazine back into the C1 and said "Yes. We're north of them, they're to our south, and there are a few other countries to their south."

"We also share the largest border in the world." the American added.

"Lots of fighting?" Bozes asked.

"Not in the last hundred years."

"Really?"

"Yeah, our landmass has been fairly peaceful for most of the last century."

"Hmm... we've kept an easy peace for the most part as well..." Bozes replied.

The American only nodded, knowing it had less to do with international relations and more with the Empire just being that big of a powerhouse in this world. Comparing the modern world to the ancient wasn't impossible, but the scale and nuance of everything would likely be somewhat difficult even for the Romans to imagine. Empires weren't empires anymore, and powerful nations set up spheres of influence, not so much direct conquest. Wars were heavily unpopular, there were written rules about protecting civilians, rules that if failed to be met would easily result in some form of international backlash.

They just couldn't sit down to explain all that there and then.

Before they could say anything else, however, the telltale sound of hooves on dirt was heard as the princess approached.

She had company.

The red-headed princess quickly stopped her horse and hopped off it, her half-brother remaining mounted and eyeing the men with blue berets with suspicion.

Pina smiled politely and awkwardly as she approached the men.

She was shorter than both of them.

It wasn't even a contest.

Still...

"Officers... I am Princess Pina Co Lada of the Empire... I take it you're with the... United Nations observers?"

Colonel Jean smiled politely at her brave attempt at English, saying "Indeed, I am. We're very curious to see how things are being handled here, learn of your tactics, plans... we can help where possible if needed." he said smiling, and then turned his attention to the long-haired young man on horseback. Their eyes met and the Canadian's face immediately switched from mirroring the young woman's warm greetings to the prince's obvious suspicion.

Pina quickly noticed, saying "That's my brother, Diabo... he's helping our senators work out a... a constitution?"

She had asked, turning to the American, as if to confirm if that was the proper English word.

The man only nodded.

Diabo decided to speak then.

"Gentlemen, it was my understanding that our dealings would only be with the Americans."

At this Pina turned around, somewhat confused, saying "Brother, these are just observers. I told-"

"Perhaps, but it does complicate things, does it not?"

"How?" both Colonels asked in unison, albeit one in English and one in the local tongue.

Diabo understood the question nonetheless.

"If more nations get involved, that means more players and more interests will need to be considered. Assisting them in finding a peaceful solution or not, the Americans are still, technically, in a state of war with our nation. We don't want and should not pursue risking such a status with other powers of this other world right now, yes?"

"The observers being here shouldn't result in more nations interfering, sir. They're like a volunteer force, helping where needed and observing things similar to what your allied kingdoms would do during campaigns."

It was the best way to explain an international body of nations deciding to work together to maintain some semblance of peace in the world.

Diabo scratched the back of his head in mild frustration.

"If it helps, we in the UN have no interest in taking lands or anything of the sort."

Pina forced a smile, turned to her brother, and said "Exactly, so we've no reason to start a conflict."

Diabo only nodded, turning to the American colonel and saying "Well, the senators in Itálica have a working plan to fix our code of laws into a more permanent one that can suit your... requirements... but we intend to keep the monarchy, at least to some degree."

The Canadian jotted it down on a notebook, saying "That's quite good. A monarch would likely help rebuild things with greater ease."

The American frowned but didn't say anything.

Diabo smiled slightly then.

"Exactly! Honestly, given how the Americans behaved earlier, I thought the concept of an autocrat would be rather strange in your world."

Colonel Jean smiled back, saying "Certainly not! Autocrats are still a legitimate form of rule. Perhaps none are entirely similar to what you have here, but-"

The noise was similar to someone humming or failing to whistle properly.

What followed it, however, anyone could recognize.

Someone gasping.

Bozes fell to her knees, her right hand reaching for the arrow embedded in her shoulder, just above her armor. All eyes turned to the wounded knight just as more arrows landed nearby.

"Contact!" came a shout from the outpost as machine guns began firing into the mountain.

Diabo fell from his horse, less screaming, more gasping as he saw the arrow buried in his shoulder. Beefeater barely managed to lift her shield in time to deflect some arrows as several began flying at them from the dead forest, well over five hundred yards away.

The men ducked down, safeties on rifles being flipped off.

"What the hell?! We're supposed to be out of range!" someone shouted firing blindly into the distant woods across the field.

The colonel shouted for the radio as another arrow landed near him.

Beefeater pulled Bozes behind the hill with Pina's assistance, Diabo having been quick to follow them, hyperventilating as he began to inspect his own injury.

"P-pull the arrow-" the blonde attempted.

The Colonel was quick to shout "Do not pull it out! We'll get you patched up once-"

Off in the distance, the unmistakable sound of artillery firing rang out.

Colonel Jean checked the magazine on his rifle and loudly said "Well, time to earn your pay, boys! This isn't N'Djili, weapons are hot!"

"Can anyone see where they're attacking from?!" someone shouted as another arrow slammed into someone else.

Beefeater sucked in a breath, turned to Pina, and said "I'll go take a look."

"Wait! Beefeater-"

The short-haired girl picked up her shield and stood up, trying to find figures in the dead forest.

An arrow slammed into her shield, piercing it just enough to get embedded on it and she ducked back down.

"What are you doing?!" The colonel demanded as the young knight grabbed the arrow.

She showed it to him.

"Flight arrows!" she said loudly in English.

Colonel Jean's eyes widened at the words, more arrows landing nearby, not yet hitting anyone else, but a soldier was clutching his bleeding leg as another tended to it.

He quickly turned and said "If they're anything like the Turks, they could be shooting at us from well out of our own effective range. Those things went as far as eight hundred yards."

"Turkish arrows?! God damn it..." the American colonel groaned, getting back on the radio. "Yeah, we're under attack here, too. Things happening anywhere else?" he called over the wire.

Pina tried listening in as the men fired one round at a time, guessing from the looks of it where the enemy was.

The colonel swallowed as he got the response.

"Colonel, what's happening?!" she demanded.

"Well, princess, looks like this is the big push Tiberius wanted." the older man replied, adjusting his helmet. "Several attacks are happening across our lines."

"T-then I have to go lead the troops!" Pina quickly stood.

"Do not move. Not yet..."

The Canadians were now firing in short controlled bursts of fire from their rifles as arrows continued to fall on the small outpost.

Turning to Prince Diabo and pointing towards the sky, the American said "Keep an eye out, your majesty."

The four locals managed to glance up, focusing on where they were hearing a terrible roar.

Except, as she had already discovered, American planes moved faster than sound could travel.

A little ahead two F-105s screeched above and near the mountain range, releasing their payload:

A pair of Mark 47 bombs.

Pina's eyes widened as the dead forest became embroiled in massive flames in an instant, the explosion of dust immediately lighting up in a bright orange that spread through the dead mountain with a roar, not unlike that of the flame dragon. The arrows stopped raining down almost immediately and almost anti-climactically, like a bird stopping its song due to a thunderclap.

Immediately silence followed.

Diabo visibly shook as the American colonel stood up.

"Incendiary bombs... Expect a lot more of those if this battle drags on."

Diabo turned to the Canadians who only shrugged, saying "Don't poke the yanks, son. Let's move, boys."

Diabo whispered, "They could do all that... then why... why even bother negotiating?"

Pina ignored his question, staring at Bozes, an American with a red cross on his helmet bandaging her wound as the girl began losing color.

The blonde shakily said, "I'm sorry princess, I-"

"Don't... just get better, alright?"

The blonde managed to nod as the young man tending to her said "She's losing blood, fast... somebody, give me a hand moving her!"

"Beefeater, go."

"Yes, princess."

Pina stood up and turned her attention towards the increasingly growing pounding of artillery guns and cracking of rifles.

She grimaced but began moving towards the outpost.

If I'm to rule, then I have to prove I can lead, do I not?!

...

Seeing the far away smoke, he realized that he truly hated the magery of these men from another world.

The haunting whistle as the invisible projectiles flew towards them barely gave Stillico's men enough time to duck and cover.

Another whistle.

Another explosion somewhere.

They were pounding the mountain now rather consistently, knocking away dead trees and brush that was made all the easier after that mysterious cloud seemed to dry it all away in a few days. He saw a large tree that would have provided adequate cover merely a week ago turn to dust as an enemy projectile caused the ground behind it to erupt and sent a shockwave that killed anything in its path. Soon his men would be far more visible, and worriedly, far easier to target.

The upside was that he could see the enemy's position below, their weapons firing death into the forest.

No matter... we're close enough.

Stillico turned to his men, the catapult already buried in the dirt.

The term "catapult" had become somewhat misunderstood in the modern world. Some knew the word in its active sense "to catapult", and perhaps some more knew of the artistic depiction of medieval catapults launching large rocks against castles during sieges. The truth, as usual, wasn't so simple. A "catapult" was but a blanket term for medieval artillery, be it trebuchets or ballistae, and while certainly used in sieges in the real world, unlike modern artillery that could level entire towns, the smaller, wooden pieces of artillery were incapable of harming massive castle walls.

It had only been a concentrated amount of fire from the larger ones that had managed to disable a pair of American tanks during the battle at Alnus hill, and even that had only been from breaking or simply damaging the tracks. The disabled Patton tanks had always been able to continue firing and moving their turrets, though the men in the mountain could not know that for certain, it mattered little to them as they didn't intend to use it on the enemy war machines.

No, ancient artillery only had one thing in common with its modern counterparts: it was to be used against the infantry.

"Load!" he shouted the order.

The men loaded not one, but many rocks into the nearest catapult, one that used a counterweight system and not mere rope tension. The second catapult to Stillico's left had an equal number of large rocks placed on them.

Though useless against stone structures, Stillico noticed the American fortifications were not of brick or wood, but of what appeared to be bags filled with sand. Good for preventing arrows, certainly... but little else.

If we can just break them here...

"Right... adjust your aim... make these shots count... ready..."

The men acted as told, but most of the preparations for firing had already been made before the legionnaire gave the order.

And then...

One explosion was too close for comfort, a man that was a bit too far down the hill simply crumbled to the ground.

Stillico immediately shouted "Loose!"

Alnus

9:15 AM

The American officers had originally been discussing things with the observers of other nations.

The American base was taking more shape as supplies continued coming through and the front line stabilized as the enemy forces were either all holed up in the capital, or trapped in the mountains, reduced to somewhat effective guerillas. This was emphasized with the office now having a planted American flag next to the window that faced the east, several maps with notes stuck onto the wall alongside aerial photographs with arrows and red string tying them to parts of the map, but perhaps best of all, air conditioning.

With this far more comfortable environment to work with being ultimate proof of the Americans establishing a foothold in the new world, the general turned to the UN officer that had stayed behind to inspect Alnus, continuing his conversation as he opened a glass bottle of Jack Daniels.

"We hope to end this little conflict soon. That way we can begin allowing scientists and other researchers to come through without worrying of an enemy attack."

"The land would still be hostile, no?" the Swedish officer asked in serviceable English.

The American general shrugged.

"We're looking into some of the more fantastical elements, but we won't really find out for sure until we venture out. Our priority, of course, is neutralizing the Empire."

The UN officer nodded, saying "I understand, the worry on all our minds is a guerilla movement being sparked once the capital falls. I... I don't think you Americans appreciate how chaotic and... institutionally anarchical European societies were after the fall of Rome. Fiefdoms, warlords, tiny empires all vying for power..."

"Believe me, we took that into account. The plan is to neutralize the empire's current leadership and replace it with our own. Princess Pina Co Lada is willing to-."

The Swede stifled a giggle.

The American sighed.

"I don't know if it's a good sign that I've gotten used to her name... regardless, she and her brother are willing to work with us and we should be able to keep them on a tight enough leash. The young princess is certainly more trustworthy, and her heart is clearly in the right place given her age and... quite frankly naivety. She'll help us reestablish stability and once that's done with, we can-"

There was an urgent knocking on the door.

Glancing at his guest who merely nodded, the American general nodded to the men by the door, the MPs opening it without a word.

Another officer strode in, saluting while holding a piece of paper in his other hand.

"Colonel. Everything alright?"

"Tiberius is making his big push on our forces, general. Seven combat outposts have been attacked at the same time and they tried ambushing the UN observers near COP George, and two Thunderchiefs have already expended their payloads on the mountains."

"Casualties?!"

The colonel grimaced, saying "We have several requests for medevacs. 7th Cav is already sending men out."

"Then this is the big push?"

"Seems like it, General."

The general nodded, turning to the UN observer before saying "I apologize, but I'll have to cut this meeting short."

The man only nodded solemnly.

The American general marched out of his office and into the hallway. Even inside the main building, he could hear the UH-1s taking off once more. Once outside he glanced at the nearly barren airfield as the remaining Phantoms and Thunderchiefs began to take off, their engines roaring as they took to the bright blue sky above, each visibly loaded to capacity. Helicopters were being loaded with men and supplies.

Organized Chaos.

"God, please let it end here..." he said out loud.

Dumas Mountain Range

Combat Outpost: George

9:42 AM

Hamilton forced herself to remain composed, lifting the shield as arrows continued to rain down on the outpost they were assisting, doing her best to shield the defenses around the outpost, standing just in front of the sandbags, or next to the machine gun nests, trying to make sure the Americans doing the shooting weren't cut down.

It was a hopeless effort as the American's defenses were already as adequate as they could be against the long-ranged arrows, but even with the added wall of shields, the attackers and their accuracy had already proven dangerous, several men already in the outpost's infirmary.

An M60 machine gun chattered away near her, though the man firing couldn't really see what he was shooting at as smoke covered the battlefield after yet another artillery barrage landed on the mountain.

An arrow embedded itself into the sandbag near him, and he angled the machine gun in that direction, firing a longer burst this time.

That was really the major difference in the end.

For every arrow the enemy could send their way, the Americans could easily return ten times the destruction with ease. And yet the enemy fought on, hiding behind now rotting trees that offered little protection, shooting at them with arrows and ballistae that despite being more than antiquated-

A man fell to his knees, gasping for air as an arrow was embedded in his chest.

"Keep them suppressed!" shouted a young captain, letting off two shots from his M14 into the dying brush as the downed American was carried away.

Mortars fired not too far behind them, causing plumes of smoke to emit from the forest.

Suddenly, from those plumes, a large shadow flew out of the forest.

It only took a second to register.

"Incoming!" someone shouted.

The men ducked down as the large boulders slammed into the trench, sending dirt flying every which way.

Someone screamed, one rock crashed against a soldier's chest, knocking the man to the floor.

He was only heard for a second as the roar of gunfire surpassed it with a vengeance, trees falling over in the distance as the bullets went and tore into everything ahead of the combat outpost. It was a wave of death as the bullets completely covered the side of the mountain, bits of dirt and rock flying into the air, trees being chipped away by the second, slowly but surely leaving no room for the enemy to hide or move in.

So, they didn't bother anymore.

The catapults launched their large rocks once more just as American artillery erupted above them, more than likely silencing the ancient weapons for a final time, but at this, from the remaining trees, a large infantry group charged, screaming wildly as they lifted swords and short spears in the direction of the American line, some armored, some not, some carrying blades, others spears, throwing them ahead of themselves, the projectiles flying through the air before pitifully landing many yards away from the American line.

Of course, no spear meant they could run faster, and unless they got shot, they could potentially pick up the spear again and then throw it now that they were in range.

Hamilton swallowed.

The short-haired knight ahead of her loudly said "Draw swords!" an order that was quickly and effectively followed by the women.

The Americans didn't object as the enemy charged.

The riflemen reloaded their M14s and began unloading onto the attackers at 500 yards.

As this happened, Hamilton noticed a man with a blue beret joined a pair of Americans behind several sandbags, quickly firing with his own rifle.

Ah, that must be the men from the United Nations...

What Hamilton would have noticed if she had some knowledge of firearms and hadn't been in the middle of a major battle, facing down a charging enemy army would be the superiority of the FN FAL to the M14. The M14 was meant to replace seven weapons in the American military's arsenal, and despite its design, it couldn't replace any of them. It was too powerful and heavy to replace the M1 and M2 Carbines. It was too light to replace the M1918 Browning Automatic Rifle. Even as a replacement for its older sister, the M1 Garand, it had the problem of simply not being as accurate.

As the infantrymen fired into the oncoming crowd a strange phenomenon was witnessed.

Normally if the target is getting closer, accuracy increases.

Here it was decreasing.

118 yards...

"Control your fire!" someone shouted, an older man, though the order had little effect as men fired quicker and lost accuracy.

110 yards...

The soldiers there were younger men, with little experience in combat. It didn't help the attacking force much, the bodies crumbling as expected when bullets hit, but many were making it closer to the line... too close.

The mortars fired again, killing how many, Hamilton didn't know, but the armed mob continued closing the distance.

75 yards...

The charging force was now less a wall of bodies and more a disorganized mob, scattered and seemingly disorganized except in what direction they were headed.

"Hold..." Hamilton breathed to herself.

She sucked in a breath as the machine gunner behind her gave up on reloading, got up, and grabbed the much smaller M1 carbine next to him.

"Hold them back, we'll pick them off!" someone shouted in the local tongue.

All she did was brace for the attackers.

She faced an older man, her shield stopping his body, her blade crashing into his battle-ax, muscles bulging and straining as he began to push her to the ground, a man right behind him lifting a shortened Hasta Spear.

Now the American infantrymen had no way of missing.

One young soldier turned the M14 right to the man's face and squeezed the trigger, leaving a gaping hull in the soldier's unprotected skull. A third man lunged at her, the shorter girl just barely able to duck down and stab into the man's chest, blood spurting on her face as she took a shaky breath and lifted her shield to block the fourth man, getting a glimpse at the field of death behind him as she did so.

Bodies and blood littered the grass and dirt around her, more so in the field now riddled with holes left by the American artillery.

The attackers charged ahead anyway.

Stop! This is pointless! Stop attacking!

She shoved the man in front of her, the machine gunner now using the M1 Carbine fired three rounds into the man's chest before reloading.

"Stop charging! This is pointless!" she screamed at the attackers just as a fifth man tried to jump her.

Why?! Why are you all so...?

This time the man was much younger, appearing rather weak as he slipped when she deflected him with her shield, a larger man right behind him grabbing him and pushing him forward right into her blade before a bullet from an American gun returned the favor.

Why are you all so hellbent on dying?!

The crowd behind the attackers they were facing was now struggling to get a foothold as their bodies fell against either sword or gun, those that tried to run were mercilessly chopped down by gunfire and those that braved climbing over the defenses and barbed wire only faced armed knights with blades.

There was no victory here.

…

Tiberius looked at the battlefield from his ledge.

Pullo sighed.

"Well... those are the last of my men... and catapults."

"I think my archers and catapults have been decimated as well..." Tiberius replied, just barely able to see exactly what was happening through the smoke.

Pullo laughed.

"Incredible, isn't it? An enemy that even when you throw a larger army at it, they simply increase its power... It's really like fighting the Flame Dragons of legend."

Tiberius only said "Those are their smallest and least defended sections of the line, so we should expect... ah! There!"

Through the smoke, he could just barely see movement from further east.

The enemy war machines were moving to support the beleaguered positions.

"Excellent... if we can take that area there, and... close the distance... we might just land a decisive blow!"

He swallowed nervously as more screeching metal birds appeared above.

"Reinforcements..."

"A damned nuisance... give the order. Even if they won't be able to do much, it'll distract them enough."

"Certainly, certainly... I'll lead the eastern thrust." the leader of the Brigands said with a sigh, placing his helmet on without tying it. With a louder sigh, he added "Ah, if only we had been able to get some mages from Proctor... in Itálica they one was able to turn our ballistae strikes all the more powerful with flame magic."

"Pullo, I never got to ask you... why did you desert that day?"

"After all of this? I suppose I merely wanted the experience of actual war once more... it's pointless now, though. They've changed what war is."

Tiberius sighed, saying "I must agree... no skill to it anymore."

More eruptions came from below, an entire section of the dead forest catching fire before the screech of the American aircraft was heard. Not too far from it, large eruptions sent dirt and dust into the air as the ground shook. The hellscape below only meant that another section of the army was gone, and they were running out of time.

"Those metal birds are each like a flame dragon with the amount of fire they cause."

"Cowardly machines for cowardly soldiers."

"If only we had-"

"Save that for tonight. We'll have plenty to discuss then, I'm sure."

"Good luck, Pullo. See you then..." came the tired reply.

As yet another explosion shook the mountain, Tiberius allowed a melancholy sigh.

Such was the duty of soldiers in his world.

Steadfast despite the terrible losses.

It seems we're forced into a doomed charge yet again...

10:00 AM

The small Canadian contingency of the UN was now only identifiable by its different weapons as the battle devolved into yet another slug of charging bodies crashing into a wall of gunfire, albeit a wall of bodies that was now slowly dying on that front. Regardless, they had discarded their blue berets to be less visible on the battlefield as they helped defend the American outpost from the mass of attackers that had been unable to break them, granted, they were getting uncomfortably close at times.

One particularly agile man hopped over the defenses and jabbed his blade into an American. The soldier unable to move the rifle in time to take the shot, took a blade to the stomach just as the man next to him fired three rounds into the attacker, then picked up the wounded man and began dragging him to the outpost's infirmary, screaming for help. One of the Rose Knights was mercilessly stabbed by a body that was pretending to be dead, and not only did she have to be taken back, but her heavy armor also made her much more difficult to carry.

The screams were as ever-present as the gunfire, artillery, and bombs.

Colonel Jean shook his head before ducking into the command center, men on radios loudly relaying coordinates and orders, men on radios being somewhat audible over the gunfire.

"Repeat oh-two-nine-six-five, say again, repeat oh-two-nine-six-five."

"Whatever you've got, send it! Bob is requesting Medevac ASAP."

"Bravo company, what's the situation over-?"

He shut all that out, turning to the American colonel, the man staring at a map.

"How's it outside?" he asked without looking up.

"Awful. Status of the medevac?"

"On its way... reinforcements, too." He muttered, drawing on the map and grimacing.

"They're focusing on the outposts and firebases closest to Alnus... it's suicide."

"They're charging suicidally."

"That's not it, charging like that is par for the course here, but these positions... surely they must know these would be some of the easiest to defend and resupply for us. Tanks can even reposition faster to here."

"Tiberius was my father's choice for a reason... the man has seen awful combat before; he has no qualms in making large sacrifices if it means achieving a grander goal."

Pina had appeared, followed by two bloodied Rose Knights, the smaller one nervously looking around as the men all talking on different radios likely appeared to be incantations for her.

"Something in mind?"

"Yes. I'm going to take a contingency of Rose Knights and head to some of the lesser defended outposts."

The Canadian nodded, as the American colonel likely realized what the girl was getting at.

"Good idea. I'm redirecting some reinforcements, too." the man said, moving to the radio.

As the Patton tanks arrived, one firing its main gun and promptly shaking the command center, the colonel got on the radio.

"Yeah, Snake Eyes? Change of plans."

Approaching Fire and Support Base "Bill"

11:00 AM

Shaun shakily inserted the magazine back into his M16.

"Nervous?" Dominique loudly asked.

Shaun only nodded.

Over the Chopper's radio, the garbled, chaotic mess of the American's radio communications painted an uncomfortable image of a mass slaughter taking place. Maybe not as big as the engagements around Alnus, but certainly bigger than what was seen at Itálica or since.

Dom said, "Just keep your head down... we're going t-"

The UH-1 swung sharply to the side, its door gunner immediately lighting up something to the helicopter's right side, the M60 firing madly into nothing.

"Weasel 1, we have wyverns on our tail! Say again, wyverns on our tail!" the pilot shouted.

What?! Didn't we kill them all?!

Shaun's eyes went wide as he got a glimpse of the not quite as massive dragons, the riders now carrying small spears that they couldn't at all use as the machine-gun fire kept them at bay.

A low roar sounded then and the wyvern was cut in two, an F4 Phantom screeching by at Mach 2.

"Jesus Christ!" he exclaimed as he saw the situation better now.

He could only count about twenty of them, but the area above the mountains had several wyverns flying and moving quickly towards the helicopter formation.

"Everyone, hold on to your hats!" the pilot shouted.

The line of Hueys dove then, one at a time in a somewhat organized formation.

Above them, the Phantoms began engaging the Wyverns with their autocannon fire.

It was awkward.

America's combat doctrine had all but discarded the idea of engaging in air-to-air combat. After the Korean War, American pilots were now trained primarily to deliver nuclear ordnance, and by 1963 only four pilots out of the thirty in a squadron were estimated to have even fired their aerial guns. This error had been somewhat corrected as the Americans began to focus more on the possible war in Vietnam and then the appearance of the Gate, but even then, the inexperience of some pilots was plain to see. Against one or two loose wyverns it didn't really matter, but against twenty of them?

The F-4 was never designed to dog fight, and even though it could be equipped with AIM-7 Sparrows, the large, heavy but fast aircraft had to pull away at Mach 2 to avoid enemy fighters. Instead of brilliant maneuvers, it was more an issue of flying far away at incredible speeds, turning around, and unloading everything the plane had on whatever target you could acquire at that moment. Leagues above what the Imperial Dragon Riders could ever hope to match, but it showed a glaring mistake in the American Military Doctrine.

They were engaging men riding dragons at barely the speed of a World War 1 biplane. How would they fare against planes that could catch up and outmaneuver them?

The pilots and soldiers had little time to think about "what ifs", however.

As another Phantom liquified an unfortunate wyvern with its autocannon, the UH-1s landed near the firebase.

Shaun pushed any worrisome thoughts aside and ran alongside his unit, the firebase's artillery firing their howitzers at targets far beyond their line of sight.

"Go!" a man kept shouting and pointing over some distant hills.

Dom led the way as the soldiers ran towards the defenses.

The colonel had been right.

Another charge was coming from the forest and towards the firebases and their defensive lines.

Shaun's eyes widened as another Phantom screeched overhead and dropped its entire payload of twelve 500-pound bombs onto the charging mass of bodies. The shockwave alone likely killed a hundred men as the empty field offered no protection from the American bombs and artillery.

They charged ahead anyway.

All the Americans could do was flip their safeties off and engage.

From not too far a distance away, Pina stared with a degree of horror as she heard the artillery open up from further behind her to meet another oncoming attack yet again. From her position, she saw how the American artillery exploded in the air and showered the battlefield below with a hail of smaller explosions, men falling and crumbling where they stood. Further in the mountain, she saw a similar effect, only the shells erupted like a volcano, swallowing parts of the mountain in fire and smoke, clearing away what dead trees remained with a grieving wail before a thunderous roar erupted and silenced all. The once lusciously green mountain range became an ugly mix of rotting brown and charred black as the battle continued.

As this happened, men were carried away on stretchers behind her, their eyes staring away as men with a red cross on their helmets injected them with a medicine that Pina now knew helped relieve pain. She saw broken arms, some bent, some torn in ways that revealed bone, others had cracks on their heads, red blood gushing and darkening their green combat uniform.

At least one rose knight was carried away, doctors holding the arrow in the girl's neck in place so that she didn't bleed out.

Medical helicopters landed safely in the fields behind them, all as yet another artillery bombardment crashed into the mountains, wails followed by thunder.

So, this is what happens when both sides go all out...

She wanted, needed to put a stop to the bloodshed, but how?

"Hamilton!"

"Yes?!"

"Keep your head low! We're going to try and help those trenches closest to the frontline!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

The pair saw the explosions of the artillery slamming into the mountain's lower region, huge plumes of smoke enveloping the oncoming attackers.

But not enough.

Down below, the enemy continued to race across the field as fast as possible, rifle and machinegun fire killing a hundred of them for every inch taken. All armor had been cast aside to increase what speed they could gain in the short time they would have to fight. They knew they were dead, so they charged like dead men.

"Bring me one head! None of you are allowed into Oblivion without at least some blood on your blades!" someone shouted before a 90-millimeter tank round liquified him as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

The M48s that had remained were holding several hills behind the trenches, firing where possible, though at this point the battle was turning into a second Alnus.

It didn't matter how many numbers were brought up so long as the ammo held out and the fortifications protected the men. Arrows could force some soldiers to keep their heads low, the medieval projectiles from catapults likely injured, maybe even killed some when they hit, but not nearly as many or as quickly.

Medieval artillery was never designed to do the entire work of an army, it was always meant to assist the army by thinning the numbers on the other side before the armies clashed.

But modern artillery was practically created to keep entire armies from advancing, as soldiers during the wars from the 19th century had discovered.

Pina stopped behind some hills, halting her relatively small group of girls in knight's armor.

She recalled her Rose Knights earlier, standing and simply taking arrow fire, shields lifted in an admirable formation, the Americans firing above them.

It made sense.

Her Rose Knights were wearing bright and clean armor that would get anyone's attention. Even if the archers were focusing on the American fortifications, the far more attractive target would be the exposed Rose Knights. She recalled how a young girl screamed as a boulder crashed into her shield and knocked her to the dirt, breaking the steel shield and likely several bones.

We're wholly outclassed here... but...

Another explosion snapped her out of it.

"Keep your heads low! Come on!"

Over the cracking of rifle fire, she found an American captain, talking on a radio.

"What are you doin' here?!" the young man demanded.

"I intend to assist-"

"We have the situation under control!" the man shouted, saying something else that was drowned out by another airburst exploding overhead.

Pina shouted in her best English yet, "What area needs the most help?!"

The American ducked down as several arrows landed nearby.

Pina didn't flinch, Hamilton moving closer to her and raising a shield, trying to protect her commander and princess.

The American only shouted "The guys from 7th Cavalry, further north, but don't bother heading there now! We're calling in every aircraft and bombing these bastards to kingdom come!"

Pina didn't entirely understand the last part but understood enough to know that the Americans were planning on using their aircraft to further destroy the enemy.

The Colonel shouted at her "Princess, stay down! We're keeping our forces hunkered down, cuz once the planes get here, this whole-"

"Dragons! Incoming dragons!" someone else shouted.

One tanker swiftly moved the Browning in the direction of the dragons, firing a long burst, the rider launching a spear down seemingly without aiming.

Hamilton saw it and moved, the spear piercing her shield and knocking her down, but not wounding her. The young girl breathing heavily.

The dragon wasn't so lucky.

The concentrated fire from the .50 caliber rounds pierced its armored hide, and the creature fell from the sky, landing on a grassy hill.

Its comrades fared no better as the aircraft above, a pair of F-105s, swiftly tore into them with their autocannons.

Pina swallowed at the carnage.

The young captain, not wanting to have anybody just standing still and making a target of themselves, immediately said "7th cavalry! Further up the line! Get your girls to help carry the wounded! Carry the wounded, do you understand?!"

At this, Pina immediately said, "Understood!"

11:17 AM

Shaun reloaded and immediately went back to firing into the oncoming crowd that looked like ants when compared with the bombs and shells killing them.

Whether the attackers were stupid or just that brave and devoted was something he had yet to consider.

He hated it.

It was such a pointless charge.

Perhaps they had a last-ditch plan to take their lines?

It clearly wasn't working.

Suddenly an arrow landed nearby, followed by another, and another.

"Crossbowmen! Over the-" Dom shouted before an arrow hit his neck and knocked him down.

"El-tee!" Shaun shouted as the young officer began to convulse on the ground.

Turning his attention to him, he saw the red-headed princess and two other armor-clad girls run over.

Pina said shakily said "Focus on the battle! We'll take your wounded!"

He nodded, swiftly moving his rifle back to the attacking enemy and firing round after round after round.

He wondered if this was comparable to the Japanese or the Chinese in the previous wars.

It mattered little as his rifle clicked empty and he had to reload again, inserting the 20-round magazine into the rifle, slapping the bolt-catch, and taking aim again.

Focus... focus!

He didn't actually notice the growing number of American aircraft overhead.

…

Tiberius held a little hope as he saw just how close his remaining men were getting to the American line.

The American war machines were not enough, and it seemed for the smallest moment that his men had a chance of breaking their line.

Then he looked above and saw the sky growing with American metal birds.

A lot of them.

His dragon riders were all dead, but even if he had waited until that moment to send them, they would have been wholly outnumbered.

"General?" one of his officers asked.

He didn't speak as he slowly moved his gaze to the battlefield.

He began to notice that the larger artillery had all but stopped.

His eyes widened.

He thought, briefly, about giving an order to halt the attack.

Perhaps it would have saved some lives.

It mattered not, however.

There was no way his messengers could have gotten the word out on time.

The bombs fell with growing intensity then.

To say his legions were swallowed up would be an understatement. It wasn't the earth opening up and devouring his men, it was the ground itself being ripped apart, his men along with it, all across the field between the mountain and the American lines before the destructive force followed along the forest, ripping apart trees, flesh, and bones with greater efficiency than the strongest earthquake, and yet the ground wasn't shaking as intensely as he would have imagined from the amount of force he was seeing.

He wasn't sure long the onslaught continued falling on his men. It was far longer than needed, surely? He thought he heard a few cries after a while but it was impossible to discern over the amount of destruction and the roar of the eruptions continuation as it killed everyone and everything before everything fell silent after a while, where only smoke remained.

And just like that, it was over.

There was no cry of victory, none of the joyful cheers from the defensive lines he would have expected as the Americans that had clearly stopped had more than likely done so with fewer casualties. Only a stillness fell over the battlefield, punctuated by the low roar of the metal birds overhead.

Tiberius only breathed then, seeing some movement in the forest. A few men, having survived that onslaught through some miracle.

His officer, finally composing himself asked "Your orders, general?"

Tiberius only said "Gather the men here. I... I will go and... and negotiate with the enemy... even if the emperor spent the next century trying to break their lines he would fail... we can't ever hope to match that power even with a guerilla campaign... we're done."

12:00 PM

Hamilton observed the crater-filled battlefield and shuddered.

There was nothing left unbroken.

Human bodies were torn to pieces, swords, spears, and crossbows were all gone, shattered, rocks and plants were uprooted or ripped apart.

Nothing had been spared.

The remaining wounded were already moved away, some carried, others walked with some assistance.

The second the fight had become one of sword vs guns, it was clear who would win.

Tiberius's forces had tried and failed to close the distance, and in a ranged fight, the guns held out so long as the ammo held out.

As she observed using the tool the Americans called "binoculars" she heard approaching footsteps.

Pina shook her head, asking "See anything?"

"No... I don't see... anyone."

Hamilton noted the pained expression on her commander.

Around them, there was little to no movement. The unhurt Americans were sitting around, some resting, others keeping an eye out, waiting for a counterattack by the enemy.

"Why didn't they just bomb them sooner?" Hamilton asked, a part of her angry they'd all had to go through that battle.

Pina said "They were waiting for them to expose themselves... if they bombed them when so many were still in hiding or underground, they may have hidden away or come up with a different means of attack. They wanted to provoke them into an open battle to destroy them swiftly."

"There must have been a better-"

"I tried negotiating with Tiberius... he could have... he should have... he didn't. And now, Zorzal will..."

"Princess, with so many dead here, and Zorzal gathering an even larger army-"

"I know... the result will be the same, but we'll be left wholly defenseless."

Pina eyed a particularly broken sword. It looked as if a bullet had cut it in two.

That would be a fair symbol for this conflict...

"Zorzal will also be allowed to surrender... once he's cornered. It's up to him and his men if they wish to live or die." the American Colonel said in the local tongue.

Pina turned and asked, "How are the wounded?"

The Colonel pursed his lips.

"Few were too far gone to save... some aren't out of the woods just yet... I mean, they're alive but we don't know if they'll live yet. Most of them are going to make it, though."

He spoke in a detached tone, a very tired expression as he did so.

Pina eyed the man's ashen face, the dust and now dried sweat marks as the battle had effectively come to an abrupt end after the heavy bombardment.

Everyone around her looked equally worn out.

Despite that, the older man managed a weak smile, saying "Exhausting, I know... you were brave to stay in the front lines when you didn't need to."

"Leaders should lead." She said simply.

The American Colonel said nothing.

Then, from across the field, he thought he saw movement.

Hamilton immediately shouted "I see something! Five men, it's... it's the general! He's carrying the imperial flag!"

The colonel immediately turned to the radioman to relay the information, Pina saying "On me, Hamilton... keep your sword sheathed..."

"Yes, Ma'am."

The colonel heard her, turning and saying "Don't take a step out there... make him walk over to us."

"It is tradition both sides meet in the middle of the battlefield... he will not come to us, we must go to him."

"Could be a trap."

She only eyed him, the sound of American helicopters in the background being the only response necessary.

The colonel pursed his lips again, slinging the M16 on his back.

"Alright, everyone, hold your fire... but keep your eyes open... Jefferson, on me..." he told the radioman next to him, the clean-shaven American nodding, clutching his rifle tightly.

Pina took a step forward and marched towards the general, the older man ignoring the carnage around him with ease, something Pina still found difficult to do.

As they reached each other, Tiberius appeared to be about to salute, but stopped, seeing her up close.

"I recognized your red hair from a distance... you were fighting, princess?" he said, analyzing her disheveled state.

Pina didn't reply, noting that unlike almost everyone behind her, the general and his generals were all fairly clean.

Tiberius's other generals remained stoically silent.

The general cleared his throat and said "I would like to... surrender. I only ask that my men be spared-"

"Now?! After all that death?!" Pina demanded.

The man simply said "I understand if you'd want to kill us all... however you all look so worn out. I did my duty, princess. If you wish to strike me down, I will not stop you."

"I told you that you didn't need to do this! That we wanted peace! We could have avoided all of this!" she cried out.

The man nodded.

"How many? How many did you send to die?"

"I had with me two legions as well as the remnants of the deserter army that sided with us... all in all... I think I had well over twelve thousand, bolstered by the Brigands that made almost twenty thousand. I believe most of them are dead now."

Pina stared ahead, unsure of what number she could have anticipated. The corpses around them were already half-buried or so charred they would easily be confused with burnt wood.

Quietly she said "I'll leave your fate and your men's fate to them... Hamilton, take his flag... this war is over."

The Colonel turned to the soldier apparently named Jefferson and said "Send the word, and tell them to bring in some MPs... we're probably going to have a lot of prisoners to care for."

Tiberius made eye contact with the American, noticed his subordinate, and smiled, asking "Ebony-skinned humans are normal in your world?"

No one replied, not in the mood to make light of the situation.

Smoke continued to rise into the sky as the sun began to dip.

Imperial Capital

7:30 PM

"Understood, I will relay that information now..." Dennis said, placing the radio away and turning to Tyuule.

"Tiberius has surrendered and his army were all effectively destroyed... the emperor should be receiving a message more or less asking him to march out of the capital to survey the victory."

The girl nodded slowly, saying "He was already making plans to meet up with the Rose Knights in a few days... he may move it up, I suppose, but that was already his plan. Do your leaders plan on bombing him once he meets them or...?"

"From what I've been told he will effectively have nowhere to go if he chooses not to surrender. Our guys are now moving away from the mountains and we have the area from here to Alnus... well... pretty secure. We just don't have outposts too close to here. If Zorzal tries to retreat to the capital, he'll get outflanked by our vehicles and if he tries to attack he'll just be bombed out in the open... say what you will, the Empire has more or less flattened the lands around its capital. Good for their ground engagements and battle doctrine, but also good for our aircraft to bomb them from up above..."

"I see..." she admitted.

"As for you..." Dennis began.

"I'll be sure to lead him on. His generals may become a touch concerned, of course, but none dares to defy him. It's only a matter of making him think he's got everything under control." she spoke in a quiet tone.

"Good, but... we need to get you away from him before he heads out of the capital."

"Not really. You plan on intercepting him by the Dumas Mountain Range?"

"That's the plan."

"It's almost a day's march... I can sneak away with ease. Tell that to your superiors."

Dennis studied the confident look she was giving him before turning back to the radio and speaking.

After a moment, he turned back to her and said "Alright... we'll send some special forces to tag along and escort you out."

"Alright."

He noticed something flash across her eye, but didn't comment.

After some more confirmations, Dennis placed the radio by the bed and turned to her.

"You know, I can take you away right now. Wouldn't be too hard to call a helicopter."

She was silent.

"It would be something less to worry about is all."

Tyuule said, "You shouldn't worry about me."

"Kind of hard not to. You got attacked today, and that... animal-"

"Maybe you should tell me what you actually want to tell me." She said suddenly.

Dennis swallowed at her calmness.

"Well... I..."

Before he could finish, she got up and turned to face him directly "You can't because of the mission, right?"

"I..."

She got up close, saying "I didn't mean to lean on you today... I shouldn't have to lean on anyone and you shouldn't have to hold me in any regard."

"And if I do?"

Tyuule blinked, but then said "Even if... the mission must come first. Nothing must get in the way of that, do we agree?"

"Not if..."

Dennis watched her crimson eyes go wide.

"Why must you make this so difficult?" she muttered.

"Make what-?"

"I need to focus on ending that man! How am I supposed to do that if you keep... distracting me?" she asked nervously.

Dennis said "I just don't... I don't want you to get hurt is all."

An empty smile on her face appeared then.

"It's a bit late for that... I... I'll leave you be for tonight." She added quickly in English.

"Wait." he took her hand.

She quickly pulled away, asking "What?"

Swallowing his fears, he said, "Promise me... after the mission... we'll talk."

Tyuule eyed him for a moment before slowly saying "I'll try... get some sleep, Orville."

She walked out the door slowly before closing it ever so gently.

Dennis immediately turned to the radio and switched frequencies, his mind racing as things were coming to a head much faster than he expected.

"Alex? Hastings? Anyone?"

"Rhodes. What's going on?" came the response.

Dennis said "Captain... I'd like to meet up with you tomorrow... there's something I have to discuss with you."

"Funny you mention that. There's something I have to discuss with you as well. Come by in the afternoon."

May 3rd, 1964

"Alright, you take care of each other now, alright?" Misery asked the little girl the American had named "Charlotte".

The little girl slowly nodded.

Her bright smile having long since faded.

A young girl tightly held her, saying "Come on, say goodbye to Miss Misery. We're going to be fine."

The little girl only said "Bye-bye."

Misery smiled weakly, saying "Ah, clearly they left an impact."

Then, turning to the younger girl, she asked "Are you sure you can take her, Tyuwal?"

The siren only smiled, saying "Prairie has a house not too far from where the Americans have an outpost. It'll be safe there, and if need be we can take her to Alnus... we'll take good care of her."

Misery sighed, saying "That's good... that's very good."

Tyuwal said, "Our home isn't as large as the buildings here, but I think you can join us if-"

"No... no, I think not. I'll stay here a while longer. Things can't be that far from the end after all. Just..."

She passed a hand through the little girl's hair.

She didn't really react.

"Just take care of yourself, alright? There is enough tragedy here... try to build a better life for yourself, alright?"

The siren only nodded.

"See you around, Misery." She said, taking the little girl away in her hands.