Libertatis Imperium (Gate)

[charclone]

This is a sequel to my story Hunting Freedom. If you have not read it, I recommend that you do. Though, it is hardly an absolute necessity.

Yes. I finally got around to writing this. Not very far in, and don't expect consistent updated, University is eating a lot of time.

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A sequel to Hunting Freedom.

With the Gate open between Earth and Falmart, and NATO now firmly controlling it, both Richard and Tara need to determine 'What next?' as both the past effects the present, and the consequences of their actions lead to them needing to take up roles that they had not considered, or had feared to face.

The Saderan Empire still looms, even with its legions broken. The Warrior Bunnies are a people without a home. Enslaved people look for a way to take revenge. And for the Empire, some within it still believe victory is within their grasp.

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The air in the temple tasted foul. It had started to taste strange a few hours ago, but now the girl felt lightheaded.

Once, before the girl had been born, it had been dedicated to some ancient god. But now the paint was old, it had started peeling from the walls long ago. The priests of her village had always told her to stay away from it, that there was an ancient evil trapped inside. When the mountain it was built into began to spew smoke and fire, people feared that the evil was escaping.

But when the raiders came, the girl could find no other safe place. They had come, wearing strange clothes, in ships the girl had never seen before. Burning and looting anything they found. She had seen her father killed as he and others tried to fight them.

She had been halfway to the temple when the mountain exploded. Fire rained around from the sky, and strange ash drifted down. It terrified the raiders, and they returned to the sea with their spoils. But the girl had nowhere else to go. Her village was burning, and she knew of no other place. It had been the only settlement she had ever been to.

She had heard tales from traders of other settlements, of vast empires to the south, along a long and wide river surrounded by deserts, and of a people with many cities to the east. But she was young. They were just tales to her. She saw the temple. It seemed so familiar, so safe to her, as liquid fire rolled down the slope far to the west, creating massive walls of steam was they met the sea that surrounded the island.

She had stumbled into the temple, closing the old doors behind her.

She wasn't sure how long she had stayed here, curled beneath a statue, in dark and filthy clothes. It felt like days. She had long run out of tears, reduced to dry sobs.

She had tried to open the door, to look outside, but the door too hot, and too heavy, to move.

She coughed and shivered, praying to whatever deity that claimed this temple for safety, as her parents had taught her. She could barely see, the darkness obscuring any details of the temple. The statue old and worn. What little light there was reflected off its bronze sword.

Hunger clawed at her belly, causing her to curl tighter about herself. Her breathing shallow and rapid.

There was a sudden gust of fresh air.

The girl started, blearily looking around.

Slowly, she pushed her aching body from the ground. Stumbling, she tried to follow the breeze, deeper into the temple. Confused, she found it longer that it had originally been, the ground feeling strange beneath her feet.

She wasn't sure when she had lost her sandals.

She forced her body into a run when she saw the light. It was painful to look at, but it was a reassuring pain. A familiar pain.

She gave a gasp as she suddenly found herself on a grassy hill. Birds chirping from nearby trees. She collapsed in relief.

It was hours later, the strange sun low in the sky when strange voices roused her.

Her muscles burning, she pushed herself up, and moved in the direction of the voices. To tired to try and understand them, or even pay attention to where she was going. This was why she walked straight into someone.

A strange hand placed itself on her, and a face with strangely pointed ears looked her in the eyes. She stared blankly, not understanding what she was seeing, and too tired and hurt to care.

The strange person picked her up, and moved swiftly, calling out in a strange tongue. Everything faded.

When she awoke, she was lying on a soft grass mat, her body covered in strange smelling bandages, her tongue parched, and her belly grumbling. She looked around and saw the inside of a simple but solid wooden dwelling. Slowly, the girl got up and walked out of the house, into the dawn air.

More of the strange, pointed eared people walked around, putting food on a table. One of them guided her to the table, where she sat next to someone that looked her age, aside from the pointed ears.

Her belly growled.

The child next to her laughed and gave her a bread roll.

 

[charclone]

Here, have another. Also, feel free to comment.


Richard sighed as he signed the last form.

He leaned back in the cheap folding chair, running his hand through his hair.

A decade of various physical activities, such as sword fighting, blacksmithing, wearing plate armour for most of the day, and general physical fitness had left the twenty-five-year-old in good physical health. Light brown hair topped his head, blue eyes and freckles marking his face.

He glanced around the office, shared with several others.

"Tired?" A voice asked with a ribbing tone. "Unfortunately, the day is only half over."

The uniformed American lieutenant waved Richard away.

"You've finished the paperwork. Go have lunch and then do your rounds." The other man smiled. He was part of the NATO support team that had helped establish the Alnus community, who's duties were primarily administrating the supply needs. "Oh, ask someone to bring me my usual, I'll pay for it."

"Sure." Richard groaned as he stood up. He was no stranger to paperwork; his last job having involved cataloguing medieval artifacts for a museum. But NATO wanted a small forest of paper. Then again, he was requesting assistance to re-establish yet another satellite village to feed the stream of refugees.

Since 'Richard's Rebellion', as the media had decided on calling it, two months ago, Richard had found himself working as an interpreter and liaison for the NATO forces in what is now being referred to as the 'Saderan Theatre'.

Said 'Saderan' Empire had proceeded to engage in a futile series of attacks against the modern forces of NATO. All ended in a slaughter. More than once, he had found himself pressed into service, to help translate the words of a prisoner.

The Saderan Empire had also engaged in an utterly barbaric policy of scorched earth. They were attempting to prevent the NATO forces from being able to supply themselves. A tactic that was normal for desperate medieval forces, as Richard well knew, having studied medieval history in university. Yet, against the modern supply lines of the Canadian and US forces, all it achieved was a steady loss of troops as NATO forces rapidly caught up with the Saderan forces trying to burn villages.

It had slowed progress, as the NATO forces chose to help refugees when they could. Further slowing progress was the allied vassals of the Empire. A major attack from them had caused NATO focus to shift to the south and west, the opposite direction they now knew, from the Saderan capital and heartlands.

All that meant that there was a steady stream of refugees, rescued from bandits, Saderan soldiers, wildlife, even a dragon according to rumours Richard had heard, though none of the refugees he had seen spoke of a dragon.

That in turn meant that his job became both overseeing them, due to the slaves that had escape with him seeing him as a leader and trying to find a solution to the looming threat of insufficient food for them. NATO was at least doings its best to ensure there would be no disease or plague.

Already, the population of Alnus was near two thousand people. Many of them were refugees and escaped slaves, but there were a few former soldiers among them, helping keep order. Feeding them had at first been a daunting task, but fortunately, most of them were former farmers, and many villages were still largely intact, the ones near Alnus, anyway. It had been one of these village's former chief's idea. From these farms, using modern steel tools and farming techniques, though fertilizers, pesticides, and other chemicals were vetoed, the surviving crops were harvested or tended, and short-term crops such as potatoes were sewn. Other, long-term crops were being prepared as well.

While it did not solve the potential problems right away, it did reduce the risks, and allow for long term solutions. Mostly expanding the farmlands, restoring more villages, and requisitioning additional support from the NATO forces.

Richard shook his head, clearing thoughts of farming logistics from his head. He paused briefly to collect his sword from a locker, before walking down the stairs to the ground floor. The Alnus Administration building had been set up to handle the growing bureaucracy. Already, it was looking like the three-story building would need to be expanded, as more and more people came into what was already being called Alnus Town.

He slipped the sword's sheath onto his back as he walked out of the reception area.

The flamberge zweihander that he had used to kill both a Saderan noble and a Saderan general in his escape from captivity had quickly become his 'badge of office'.

He paused as he heard a pair of footsteps following him. He turned.

"You people are doing the bodyguard thing again?" He asked in Saderan. He was aware that his accent and pronunciation was not helping the issue.

The former Saderan auxiliary just gave him a silent, amused look.

"Trying to explain, yet again, that I am not a noble isn't going to help, is it."

"No, sir. You were put in command over the fief, and you are responsible for the villagers getting roofs over their heads. Many of them even got their old roofs again, repaired at no cost." The elf's amused look grew to a side smile. "I may not understand your people's traditions, but here, to these people, you are a noble."

Richard bit back a groan and started walking again. The word that the elf had used, translating roughly to 'sir' carried more than just connotations of respect. The exact word denoted the acknowledgement of someone who was not a simple officer or knight, yet not as high as a general or senator. It was closer to lord, though the use was different, carrying more respect than simply acknowledging someone's lordship over a piece of territory.

The pair walked in silence through the bustling town. US Marines were currently the ones garrisoning the town, and they would give Richard nods and waves as he passed them, which he would return. He passed a squad breaking up some sort of disturbance at the town's public baths, the smoke giving a good indication of what had happened. A bucket line was already dispersing.

Finally, the pair walked into a tavern. It was called a tavern by the locals, but it was closer to a restaurant. Alcohol was served, supplied in limited amounts by NATO, though how that happened Richard had been unable to learn, but the main attraction was the fact that it tried to style itself after restaurants on Earth. It had earned a reputation of novelty, something that the canny owner had seized with both hands. He had apparently owned a tavern on a main highway that Saderan soldiers had burned down, but he had been able to save several kegs of alcohol, which he started selling or trading to refugees when he got to Alnus. This, coupled with his own business savvy and an agreement with the local NATO command structure, led to him being granted a building in the growing town to sell his wares. His business had only been open a month, yet it's novelty and popularity led to it quickly becoming oft frequented by off duty NATO personnel.

Richard wasn't sure how or why the owner had copied Earth restaurants, but he certainly wasn't going to complain. The food was prepared sanitarily thanks to NATO giving lessons on hygiene, it tasted good, and was well within Richard's budget.

A.N. I hate how I struggle with the site's linebreaks.

 

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Tara kept her discomfort hidden.

Among the refugees had been members of her people, hiding in the countryside, either having escaped from slavery, or the fall of the tribes. There had been quite a few liberated by NATO from enemy camps as well.

Because of her position, or rather the perceived position, as Richard's second in command, and the fact that her people saw her as more trustworthy than a human, it meant that any of the Warrior Bunnies that had problems went to her. At first, it was minor things, how to use a flush toilet, what are they expecting from us, etc.

Now, it had become far more political.

"Why wont this nay-toh allow is to raid the Empire?"

"We should be building this town, and those Saderans should be in chains!"

"Nay-toh is opposed to slavery. And I agree with them! Nay-toh is an alliance, would they let us join them?"

"What would we have to bring to the table? How can we trust them to use us? We should leave, establish a new kingdom somewhere else."

"How can they afford to feed so many people without using slaves? Who does the work?"

"Have you seen those metal beasts? That's probably how!"

"Tyuule was no traitor! It's just a bunch of Saderan lies!"

For the past two weeks, every day, various leaders from the tribes would gather, the tribes that had more than two or three people left in NATO territory, and they would argue and debate about what to do.

"Ka-na-dah has offered us land!"

"So has the You-es-ay! Why not go there?"

"We'd be split up. Weak! And they wouldn't let us hunt! They don't let us hunt here!"

"'Hunting' was what provoked the Empire!"

"Coward!"

"Barbarian!"

"Traitor and whore!"

"Enough!" A young elder, by virtue of being a priest-in-training that had escaped the slaughter rather than age, tried to shout above the racket. "I said enough! We are here to decide what to do next, not squabble like a pack of Saderan children. We are Warriors, not cowards!"

The crowed ignored her.

The elder sighed and moved to sit next to Tara, who had long given up trying to force them to act rationally. Too many were interested in violence, revenge, or simple bloodshed, while others wanted to keep running. There was no leadership. Tyuule had left with no heir, and the Empire had been sure to execute every pureblooded Warrior Bunny, and every male.

In theory, they could simply elect a tribal representative government, like they had before Tyuule's great grandmother had united the tribes against the Empire, forming the second of the three primary factions, where each tribe sent a representative to a council. Unfortunately, it would not be agreed to, there was a reason it had taken a Queen to force the tribes to unite.

The three factions, where one tried to become like the Saderans, another tribe to keep to the old ways, and the third taking the advantages of the Empire's ways, merged with the old ways, had exploded into dozens of fractions.

In Tara's eyes, the old ways were dead. Some remanets would carry on, but they would be echoes, while the those that had copied the Saderans were at best concubines, at worst dead at their sister tribe's hands or slaves. Those that had tried to forge a kingdom were left with a broken dream, never to be rekindled. There would be no civilisation of Warrior Bunnies to rival the Saderan Empire. Instead, they were better off supporting NATO in crushing the Empire.

"Feh." The older woman spat as she sat on the bench. "Idiots. What's your take on all this?"

Tara gave the older Warrior Bunny a look.

"The same as it has been since you first asked, Madira."

"Well, why have you given up?" Madira scowled. "You have the authority to take control. You could even take the Throne."

"I'm not pureblooded." Tara growled. "Besides, you know why."

They lapsed into silence, both scowling at each other, as the rest of the group argued and screeched at each other, interspersed with bouts of insults.

Tara impatiently waited for the allotted time for the Warrior Bunny 'council' to use the building. It had been set up initially as a temporary housing but had since transitioned into a sort of meeting hall. A pseudo town council had formed, though it had refrained from declaring itself, fearing how NATO and Richard would react.

Finally, the clock, provided by NATO, reached half past the hour before noon.

Tara stood up, holding a cone shaped device. The megaphone let loose a loud blast of noise, forcing every Warrior Bunny in range not expecting it to flinch in discomfort. The ears were not just for show.

"Right! We are not making any progress. Why don't we call it here, and come back tomorrow, after tempers have cooled." She shouted.

Several Warrior Bunnies shot her dirty looks, though the majority just gave her tired looks and nods.

Tara waited for everyone else to leave first before she left.

The moment she exited the building, a familiar presence appeared.

"Off to see Richard?" Hannah's face appeared cheerful. Her tone however, suggested something more vulgar.

"His culture is quite different from either ours or the Saderans." Tara replied curtly.

Hannah's face shifted to a look of disappointment as she kept pace with Tara, as she walked towards the 'restaurant'.

"Why are you bothering to follow his culture? You aren't from it, and you aren't trying to abandon your own."

Tara shot an unamused expression at the other Warrior Bunny.

"Because I don't come from a culture where we kidnap our mates. I'm not going to force him into anything."

"And since he isn't going to try and push you into anything, you'll both just keep dancing around it, never getting anywhere." Hannah shook her head. "Kinda sad, actually."

"No, that isn't going to happen. And better that than what happened to Shanta."

Hannah winced.

"Okay, yeah, fine. Even my tribe didn't go as far as to… what was the NATO term for it? 'Sexual Assault'? Any idea what happened to her?"

"More than just rape, but yes. She got sent to prison for several years. And taking people as slaves and asking them if they wanted to mate wasn't any better, they didn't exactly have a choice. How many were actually asked, and how many were 'asked'?"

Hannah threw her arms up in surrender.

"Alright, alright. Moving on… how is the council going?"

"Its not. Remember that fight we had that Richard broke up, back when we were escaping?"

"That bad?"

"Worse, they just know NATO won't let them kill each other."

"Ouch. So, want me to round up some warriors, take them by surprise and name you and Richard rulers of the community?"

Tara sighed and shook her head.

"What? It would get you two together in a reasonable timeframe, and deal with those idiots! Two birds, one arrow! Besides, most of the warriors and soldiers here are loyal to you and Richard." Hannah gave Tara a teasing grin. She amended. "Well, the soldiers that aren't NATO, and I think there are a bunch that are loyal to him."

"Don't. Just… don't."

"Fine. I'll stop teasing."

They passed a field, initially set up for the soldiers of the 'Long Patrol', Saderan slaves and soldiers had sided with her and Richard, to practice in. But today, there was a new figure there. An Iron arm replaced his organic left hand, while an eyepatch covered his left eye. The way he leaned on the crutch suggested a leg injury of some kind. He was being watched over by several NATO soldiers. Canadians, if Tara was correct about the camouflage pattern. He, in turn, was watching several of the Long Patrol soldiers drill.

Finally, they reached the squat, two story building that housed the restaurant.

Hannah didn't miss the way Tara's face lit up when she saw Richard.

He was discussing something about NATO's rules on religion to a young girl. Hannah frowned, as the girl's dress reminded her of something. It wasn't until the girl made her polite farewell and grabbed her weapon from the wall that Hannah recognised Emroy's demigod, sending a chill up her spine. Richard was still alive, and he had not been polite to Rory the Reaper.

Richard's face went from a slightly sour expression, which he had worn while speaking to Rory, to nearly splitting into an ear-to-ear grin as he caught sight of Tara. Hannah covered up a laugh by making a retching face and commenting to a NATO soldier on his way out "Blegh, lovebirds."

Hannah let herself grin as the NATO soldier chuckled.

 

[charclone]

Richard watched Tara as she made her way to the table, her smile, to him, lighting up the room. She sat in the chair next to him.

Hannah bit her tongue to keep from laughing at Richard's blush as she sat down across from Tara. It was obvious to her that he liked her, and that Tara liked Richard, but apparently, they couldn't recognise each other's attraction.

"So, what did Rory want?" Tara asked Richard, in English, as she fixed the position of her white hair.

"Just some questions about Earth marriage traditions." Richard shrugged, speaking in Saderan, failing to hide his embarrassment. At least he could recognise the situation. "She was curious as to how NATO would handle locals wanting to get married."

Hannah barked a laugh. She stifled it after only one, but it still caused Tara to give her a glare, and Richard to giver her an extremely embarrassed look.

"So…" Tara said tentatively in English. She wanted to ask about some way to spend time with Richard, but she found herself too embarrassed to do so, partly because of Hannah's teasing earlier. "… how are things coming along on your end?"

Richard snorted.

"Well, we are more dependant on freight than I would like, but it's likely to improve. The rail network being established to supply the troops has helped bring food back quickly. The truce being established with the Elbe Kingdom will probably help a well, but they are having issues with food as well, with their levies being dead." Richard shurgged. "No risk of starvation, but its pricey for NATO and the Red Cross. I'm worried politicians back home will raise a fuss."

He shook his head.

"That being said, I'm open to ideas I can float to the General about supplies."

"Lord Richard?"

They turned to the new voice that had spoken in English.

Lelei La Lalena was one of the handful of people from Falmart that could speak English fluently. Her light blue hair considered an oddity amongst the scientific community, one that, when combined with her affinity with languages, had resulted in her often working as a translator for them. She had compared it to being a student to several archmages at once. Richard had only spoken with her a few times, as the scientific attachment to the NATO Falmart command had constantly been on the move collecting samples.

"Yes, how-" Richard cut himself off, responding in English. "Yes?"

"I have an idea. General Jameson let the residents of Alnus camp collect the scales from the nearby dead wyverns, besides the ones the scientists wanted. We could sell those in Italica, in exchange for food." Lelei explained in a monotone voice, calm and matter of fact. "We are unable transport the number that we have and preserve the food on the way back."

"Meaning you need NATO transportation." Tara noted.

"Correct."

"I knew you were collecting them already, er, 'you' being the other residents as a general term. But have you been planning this for that long?" Richard gave her a look. "Besides, the General won't permit civilians to enter a potential combat zone."

"Italica is independent of the Empire. It does trade a great deal, but it has little military, besides its local forces. A… 'city-state'?" The young mage explained. "It is unlikely to have changed allegiances or become vassalized. It maintains a major trade route, and the Empire has been hesitant to risk disrupting it."

Richard shrugged.

"I'll mention the idea to him when I meet with him in a couple days then."

"Thank you." Lelei gave a formal curtsey, taking Richard's tone as a dismissal, and left.

"So…" Richard said, still in English. "What do you two know of Italica?"

Hannah shrugged.

"Heard lots of Demi-Humans went there to serve its ruler. Also heard he has… certain tastes."

Tara rolled her eyes at Hannah's tone at the end.

"City-state, like Lelei said, but I've also heard that it controls a decent amount of the surrounding countryside. It has a small militia, but the Count that rules it accepts Demi-humans among it, often granting them land." Tara frowned. "There are probably quite a few Warrior Bunnies that left for Italica or escaped slavery there."

"So, more headaches for you?" Richard joked.

Tara blinked and groaned, planting her face on the table.

"So… why are your people called the Warrior Bunnies?" Richard asked. "I understand that it's the Saderan name for your people, and that you are a warrior culture…"

Tara lifted her head, and gave Hannah a warning look, silencing her.

Ignoring the grin plastered to Hannah's face, Tara answered.

"As you said, we call ourselves a warrior people. Yes, the name is Saderan in origin, but between our looks and the fact that our culture holds rabbits… or is the correct word bunnies? Hares? Regardless, they are important to our culture. So, a name meant as an insult, instead became a badge of honour."

Hannah leaned over the table and stage whispered to Richard with a saucy look.

"It wasn't just our looks."

Tara shoved Hannah back into her seat.

"Alright… so, Tara, do you mind if I ask a more… personal question?" Richard's tone was slightly more hesitant.

Hannah grinned again as Richard blushed slightly.

"Uh… sure?" Tara cast a suspicious look at Hannah.

"Why is it most of the Warrior Bunnies I have seen have fur on their arms and legs, but not all?"

Hannah planted her face on the table, hard enough to make it thump.

"Ow."

Tara blinked, in part because of Richard's question, and in part because of Hannah's self-harm.

"I don't know." She looked down at the smooth skin on her legs, covered only by the denim shorts she wore.

"Why do you ask?" Hannah looked up, a bruise forming on her forehead.

"Thirty letters from the scientists to ask that question." Was Richard's answer.

 

[charclone]

"Italica, huh." General Samuel Jameson rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "That would be… here, this urban centre on a long highway?"

"I think so." Richard replied. "With the one further north being Bellnahgo, under the Empire's control. Italica is an independent city-state, according to people, with a culture that is not in line with the Saderan's bigotry."

"Right." Gen. Jameson, US Army and NATO theatre commander thought it over for a moment. "Well, here's the thing. You already have a reputation, spread by the retreating Saderans, and refugees. They seem to think you are some sort of noble."

Richard sighed.

"Yeah, I'm aware."

"Well, I want to take advantage of that, and the politicians don't want it to be a lie. Couple of the people you saved, when you made that rear-guard action at the medieval festival the Saderan's attacked, were from Britain. Since you refused the Order of Canada, and since the politicians think having a 'real' noble acting as one of our go-to translators would play to local sensibilities and preconceptions, while it isn't yet set in stone, you may be awarded an OBE. We'll know before you head out to Italica."

"Order of the British Empire?" Richard blinked. "That… right, would need the permission of the Canadian government to be awarded a 'foreign' award. And that would make me a knight, thus playing into the local culture. What about the rumours of a Canadian peerage?"

"We don't want the locals assuming you will be made the lord of Alnus Hill, it might lead to complications." Samuel shrugged. "Whole area is technically a base, what with the Gate between Earth and Falmart."

"Falmart is actually the name of the Continent, not the world." Richard corrected.

"Huh." The general shrugged. "Well, let me know if you can find out what the name of the planet is. Regardless, the point is, I want you with the group headed to Italica. Both as one of the translators, and to take advantage of the local culture. Noble's leading a trade expedition tend to get treated more seriously than merchants or peasants, according to the medieval cultural advisor."

"Prof. Williams here at the moment?"

"No. You know him?"

"He was my prof. back at uni."

Samuel snorted.

"I'll let him know you said hello. No, he's out with King Duran, headed to the Elbe Kingdom. Now, anyone you'd want to take with you? Should probably have a bodyguard, plus some NATO personnel."

"Major Johnston available?"

"Right, you too are friends. Yeah, he's available. Anyone else?"

"Couple of the 'Long Patrol', I'll have a list by tomorrow night."

"A dozen should be enough, plus some as servants. Not going to request Tara?"

Richard coughed and blushed.

"Well, ah, I, um."

Jameson snorted at Richard's fumbling.

"Alright, her as well. Now, Rory has already requested to go with you, and I want her out of the area. She encourages the Marines too much and they have a bad enough reputation with discipline as is. I know you don't like her, hell, most of the locals are afraid of her, but I've got some reporters headed in for a few days, and I want her out for a little while. She isn't going to put up with their shit, and the last thing we need is footage of her picking up another tank on Fox."

"Plus, the whole demigod thing."

"Oh, don't remind me." Samuel sighed. "I still have no idea how that works."

"Same. Something about being chosen by a god, given stupid levels of regeneration and strength, and after one thousand years of service, they get made into a god. Though, she mentioned that several gods, like Hardy, will strip their demigods of their power before then, preventing them from becoming a god."

The NATO general nodded.

"Yeah, I read your report of that conversation. Thank you, for listening to my requests for information on local culture. Way to many of the civilians we brought over give… less than useful reports."

Richard blinked.

"Seriously?"

"Most are physicists studying the Gate, or biologists studying the local fauna and flora, to be fair, not culture experts, but yeah, not nearly enough of them write what we are asking them too of their conversations with locals. Treating them like dumb savages mostly." Samuel shook his head. "Anyway, get me that list, I want the convoy in Italica by the end of the week. With you having to go by vehicle, since the train doesn't stretch that way yet, that means you leave day after tomorrow."

"Am I allowed to bring my sword and armour?"

"Probably help with the image we are trying to present. Go ahead."

 

[charclone]

"Alright, good news!" Sergeant Puckett announced to his squad. "We are getting redeployed!"

"The front moving again?" Corporal Nathaniel Ross asked, tossing a cigarette. "They finally finished mopping shit up down south?"

"Nope. Got a group headed north to some city, we are part of the backup."

"Ah, fuck." Harry Thomas swore. "You had me looking forwards to something other than MREs sarge. Why you gotta fuck with my hopes?"

"'Cause you were fucking drooling all over the damn place!" Nathaniel snorted. "We aren't leaving this village unprotected, are we sarge?"

"Another platoon is headed this way; they will arrive by sundown. The convoy will stop overnight at the supply depot." The sergeant ignored the byplay. "More troops are headed this way, so once the group is back behind our lines, we are getting some R&R. That being said, Corporal Ross, keep it in your pants."

"So, Fifi, what are you planning to do once we get back to base?" Harry turned to the quietest member of the squad as the squad dispersed.

Philip Fields, Fifi to his squad despite his protests, shook his head.

"Sleep in a warm bed." Came the laconic response as he watched the village.

The squad had been part of an advance force, meant to prevent the retreating and scattered Saderans from burning villages and fields in a scorched earth tactic, thus making the refugee situation worse.

They had chanced upon the village about a day before a fifty-strong enemy force had tried to slaughter its inhabitants. The Saderans had been put to flight in short order, but the force had been told to hold its ground almost a month ago, and protect the village and surrounding area, as more resources were diverted to the South to deal with the Saderan vassals, and the legions coming from the west. In the end, the northern advance had made only small advances, mostly to protect villages and small towns being attacked by bandits, the Saderans having been too shattered shortly after the advance stopped to continue with scorched earth. Bandits, on the other hand, mostly troops that had deserted or armed bands of mercenaries, were still an issue. They had plagued the area for some time and were the main reason their squad, and platoon, were still here, even after the tanks had been reallocated.

A slight smile appeared on the American Marine's face as he watched several of the village's children play.

"Fuckin seriously man, you got any plans?" Harry pressed.

"No. Why?"

"'Cause, I heard about this new place that opened at the Alnus community, heard it grew bigtime. Got a buddy telling me the food is great."

Philip gave Harry a look.

"… and I want to split the bill with someone. Alimony, you know?"

Harry received an eye roll.

"That's not a no~."

"No. Might write to my kids."

"Eh, fair enough."

Philip raised an eyebrow as he saw a row of people walking towards the village in the distance.

"Contact on the east road, appears to be twelve footmobiles, no identifiable weapons." At Philips call, the various platoon members stopped what they were doing and took positions.

The only translator the platoon had (and trusted, after Nathaniel got put on latrine duty for sleeping with several of the village's women) shouted a challenge to the approaching figures.

They stopped. One shifted the hood as if to peer out. They shouted something back in the local tongue.

Harry heard the platoon sergeant talk briefly with the Lieutenant in hushed tones.

"Tell 'em to approach." The Lt. said.

The translator, a former bandit that had thrown in with Richard way back during 'Richard's Rebellion', conveyed the officer's order.

Harry blinked as they got closer.

"They're dwarves!" Some idiot in the platoon stated the obvious.

"No shit Sherlock!" Someone else shot back, over by the Oshkosh.

As lead dwarf spoke through the translator to the Lt. Philip watched them. He blinked.

"Corpsman. They're covered in burns."

"I see 'em. Fuck, what the hell did they do? Go toe to toe with that dragon the Canucks fucked?"

"Probably. Or someone tried to burn them."

Slowly, the platoon relaxed, as the dwarves proved to be no threat. None were armed, as they had fled an attack over a month ago, from Fire Dragon. It had hit their trade caravan, and they had fled to the mountains. Originally, they had three times their number, after the dragon had attacked. Disease and ill-fortune had done the rest in.



A.N. Hopefully this is a believable representation of US Marines.

Yeah, they should be swearing more, I know, but I can only handle so much profanity before it starts killing brain cells. /jk

 

[charclone]

Richard inspected the armour.

It was black, as dark as he could make it when he had helped forged it. Steel formed most of its composition, with a few joints and delicate pieces made from aluminium. The pauldrons had long been repaired from the wear they had been put through, though Richard still winced at finding the damage from when they had apparently taken a blow meant for his neck. It had taken him longer than he would have liked to repair the flare of the left pauldron.

The segmented fauld and tasses that protected the hip and upper legs had been largely untouched, aside from the wear and tear of movement. Scratches had been repaired, restoring the black surface. Same with the greaves and sabatons.

Richard touched a spot on the helmet.

The pointed faced armet helm had been restored, retaining the slits through which he could breath and see. Visibility was not ideal, but such was the price of medieval protection. Yet, one spot in specific attracted Richard's focus.

He was fortunate, that the design of the helmet left a gap between the armet faceplate and his head. A Saderan mace had mangled the helmet's temple. Richard had escaped a direct blow, but the kinetic energy had still transferred. His skin had healed, but he still was plagued by the fact that most of the fighting in the camp as he and the escaped slaves with him tried to fight through to the gate, under JTF2 cover, was a blur to him. He could barely remember the first frantic charge, the fighting and killing once they were past the walls, and then, just a haze after seeing the mace armed Saderan.

According to others, such as Tara, and a report from a JTF2 operator, he had led a charge into a second camp, routing the enemy forces, and slaying the enemy commander, a mage. Yet, he could remember none of it. Just a red haze.

Richard caught himself rubbing the temple that had been injured by the rent metal.

"Right. All ready to suit up?"

Richard blinked and glanced at Major Edgar Johnston. The Canadian officer grinned as he walked into the small unit being used as Richard's quarters in Alnus.

"Haven't been the one to help you suit up since we made that thing." Edgar looked over the armour on its stand. "Held up pretty good, for something we'd never made before, just for a tournament."

"I thickened it a couple times, based on what others suggested." Richard glanced at his older friend. "And then thickened it a little more after… well. Anyway, I'm already wearing the aketon."

Edgar looked at the padded jacket Richard wore, that stretched down to his thighs.

"And a Star Wars shirt underneath, I bet." He shook his head with a grin.

"Actually, I thought Star Trek would be more appropriate."

Edgar snorted.

The sabatons went on first. Richard stood still as the metal boots were fasted to his lower legs and feet, both front and back halves pulled tight. Then came the thigh armour, secured by small bolts. The gorget went on before the cuirass, sitting around his neck and on his shoulders. Then the arms. Finally, the chestplate, also known as a cuirass, when it has the tasses and fauld attached to it, went on, pinning the gorget into place, and acting as an anchor for the straps from the arms.

Richard waited as the final buckles were secured, before picking up the gauntlets and helm, intending to carry them.

"So, once more." Major Johnston said. "I'm in command, so shit goes south, listen to what I say. I don't want a repeat of you charging into a combat zone. You are a translator, but are presenting the image of a noble, you know what we are looking for, and know math, so I'll leave the market stuff to you, but military and diplomacy run by me first. We are going to stop overnight at a supply base, about halfway to Italica. If something goes wrong, there are helicopters to evac us, and a backup assault force that can beline it to the city if need be."

"The general doesn't think the bandits or Saderans are going to attack a well defended city, so it's just in case. Keep the bodyguards you have close, including Tara." Richard rolled his eyes at the look Edgar gave him. "You've got the radio in your pack, keep that on your person before we leave. Finally, don't antagonise Rory. I know you don't like her; she creeps out most people. I think the Marines like her because she looks to be about their mental age, but still, she is a serious religious figure, we do not want a riot. I think that's it. What did you do to antagonise her the first time?"

"Not sure. She made an accusation about me hiding from something, explained that as the reason she didn't like me, some sort of lie about and too myself, but that was it." Richard shrugged beneath his armour. "Now, on the topic of the 'murder loli', as I've heard the marines call her, can I ride in a separate vehicle from her? And any idea why she wants to come along?"

"Religious duties apparently. Yeah, I was going to get you, Tara, and that elf druid to ride with me in the lead Oshkosh." Edgar motioned to the door. "C'mon. Grab your stuff and sword, the others should start assembling to go in about fifteen."

 

[charclone]

"The Queen is missing!"

Tara ran, long-bladed spear in hand. The Imperials had surrounded the city with a massive army, easily three times the size of the army they had clashed against months ago.

Arrows hissed through the air, people screaming as they were impaled.

The walls burned.

Tara dashed between two buildings, the sound of Saderan soldiers brutalising the occupants assaulting her ears.

She knew this was a nightmare, that she was asleep, but it still bothered her to see it.

An iron and leather collar squeezed her throat.

Tara awoke with a start.

She crawled out of the tent.

The convoy had stopped at the supply base. It had been less that what Tara had expected, being several storage buildings, tents, and earth filled barricades.

The sun was only just peaking over the horizon.

With a sigh, Tara gave up on getting any more sleep. Instead, she headed over to where several people were preparing a meal. The idea of a kitchen being put into a covered wagon, or trailer as NATO called them, seemed odd to Tara, but they clearly worked.

She paused as she heard Richard's voice near the fire.

"… So, magic has no physical connection to the body?"

Lelei responded in her usual emotionless tone.

"Not according to the scholar and healer Regamon. His work suggested that the body was a mechanism that used blood and muscle, instead of wood cogs. He received a great deal of criticism for that comparison. Do your people agree with his theory?"

"There was a physician and scientist called… Andreas Vesalius, I believe, who dissected dead bodies, addressing the controversy surrounding the idea that the heart was connected, or stored, the human soul."

"I see."

Part of Tara was worried. She was not afraid of 'sharing', as it was sometimes called, but she understood that Richard's culture frowned on such relationships. It was a new concern for her, jealousy. The rest of her however gave that one part a look and reminded it that Richard had showed no interest in the much younger mage. He had an interest in history and science, of course he would discuss it with the prodigal mage.

"You aren't as interested in biology as you are in physics, are you?" Richard drawled.

"It has a greater relevance to my magic." Was the girl's curt reply.

Richard snorted.

"Well, as long as you don't try and experiment with E=MC2."

"'An object's energy is equal to its mass times the square of the speed of light in a vacuum'. A physicist studying the Gate discussed it with me, but I am unsure how I could apply it. The theory relies on ideas I have no understand of, in order to apply it to magic."

"Well, I suggest you consider the consequences of that energy. Last thing anyone needs is a nuke going off. I assume that there are other disciplines of magic that focus on biology and healing?"

There was something almost… longing, hopeful even, in Richard's voice.

"I believe that some forms of spirit and druidic magic cover that."

"Just going to stand around?"

Tara leapt at the unexpected voice.

Major Johnston looked at her, looked at how high she had leapt, and then back at her. He made a 'huh' sound.

Tara glared at him.

"Sleep well?"

"No." Tara growled. "Nightmare… of when I was captured."

Edgar nodded sympathetically.

"That happen often?"

"No… just…" Tara shook her head. "Happens occasionally."

"Tara, Edgar!" They both heard Richard shout. "Breakfast is about ready, come and get some."

Several other voices in the camp shouted back.

"Shut up!"

"Trying to fucking sleep!"

"Had late night watch shift, so get fucked!"

Richard smiled and shook his head.

Tara sighed and took a seat next to him.

"So, what is being cooked?" She asked.

"Breakfast burritos." Richard grinned as he took a plate from the kitchen trailer. "Eggs, beans, sausage, cheese. Yum."

 

[charclone]

Pina had initially been ecstatic when her father named her Praetor Peregrinus, telling her before the senate to go through Italica, and make diplomatic contact with the invading army from beyond the Gate.

Her knights, the Order of the Rose, were inexperienced, barring the occasional running down of small groups bandits on their own initiative. They had been founded partly on a childish whim by Pina, though she had kept to it. She had trained alongside the children of nobility, even a handful of senator's children. It had been seen as nothing more than an honour guard, one that could lend both minor prestige to families, and to Pina.

But that had not been the initial intent.

Porphyrogenita Pina Co Lada had formed her Order of Rose Knights because of the ideals she had been raised by. Her mother had been of the nobility, the class of upper citizens who were not prestigious enough to be appointed seats on the senate, yet rich and powerful enough to be above the common citizens. It was the nobility, led by patrician commanders, that had formed the Saderan Empire, leading and protecting the common peoples to victory in war, guiding them to the culture of art and poetry in times of peace.

These stories had moulded young Pina into an individual who held virtue to a high standard.

Thus, it was so that Pina formed her order of knights, to uphold these virtues and high ideals. Ideals seen as childish among the patricians of the senate. Yet, they had permitted many of their children to join her order, under the assumption that the training, provided by retiring legionaries, and the friendships created would benefit them later in life.

The majority of the male members had been sent to the army by their families, when news of the defeat at Alnus came. Fortunately, none had so far been sent into combat, being in legions still being raised.

So it was, that Pina's knights were mostly women, supported by some old veterans past their prime, and that Pina had motivation to ensure that the war ended.

While not a military victory, that would make her knights seen as a legitimate order, it would lend credence to their position. Besides, there was the chance of seeing some combat against deserters and bandits along the way, as was the case in times of war.

Pina regretted harbouring that hope.

Now, she was trapped in Italica, forced to take a side in a succession crisis.

Worse, she had split her forces in an attempt to arrive at Italica faster. The other two sections had a pair of messengers sent to them, before the enemy could blockade the roads, but it was up to the gods if they arrived in time with the warning.

Ultimately, Pina could only pray for a miracle, and hope that Vefeater would be able to group the rest of the Order and break the siege.

Until then, Pina would need to hold out. One hundred knights, a third veterans barely still young enough to fight, the rest unbloodied, alongside a poorly trained and underequipped militia. The rest of the militia was either dead at the hands of the enemy, dead with the late Count Formal of Italica, or outside the city under the late Count's eldest daughters.

The idiots had, due to being unable to inherit the title directly under Imperial and Italican law, chosen to instead conquer the city in the name of the Empire, blatantly ignoring ancient treaties, and Pina's own presence. They had amassed a large army of mercenaries, troops from their husband's households, and co-opted militia. Pina was also certain, despite the lack of proof, that they had also enlisted the aid of the remnants of the destroyed legions, sent to crush the invaders from the Gate.

There was a bright spot.

The idiots hated each other and were not cooperating. Their assaults were disorganised, uncoordinated, and sloppy. In addition, there was fighting between the two sister's troops.

The late Count's maids may or may not have had something to do with that. Pina was quite glad that they had remained loyal to the only descendant of the Count who was acting in a sane and rational manner. Unfortunately, the eleven-year-old was hardly capable of ending things. While she could order the maids to kill her sisters, and Pina suspected that they would gladly follow such an order, the assassins trained and disguised as maids were demi-human, a fact that would make them stick out like a fire in the night, as the sisters made no use of them in their forces. There was also the issue of the sisters' households. They may have political backing further up the Empire's nobility than just their own ambitions and machinations.

"Your highness?" The young Countess Formal looked at Pina.

"Yes, Countess?" Pina plastered on a slight smile, to hide her worry. The eleven-year-old's face darkened.

"You seem… I mean, forgive my impertinence, your highness," she said, carefully enunciating the words in a formal tone. "But you seem… disturbed."

"I am only thinking, your Excellency." Pina responded in the same tones. An idea occurred to her. "Your father accepted demi-humans into his lands as labourers and serfs, did he not?"

The question was voiced and worded to the young Countess Myui Formal, but directed to the head maid, the countess' majordomo. Yet, it was the countess that answered.

"That is correct, though most are yeomen or free tenants." The countess frowned. "But why do you ask?"

"I believe, your Excellency," The head maid began. "That her highness is thinking of the beliefs that demi-humans are warrior cultures. My apologies, your highness, but these are false. While it is true that we have some among the militia, many of those are scattered across the fiefs. The remainder are here in the city, but the rest of the demi-humans have lived here for generations, and have little skill with weapons. They are much like humans, such as ourselves."

Pina nodded.

"Is there any chance of rallying those militia to join with my knights when they attempt to break the siege?"

"We sent messengers to several nearby villages, your highness." The head maid answered. "Your highness, it is late, and the enemy appears to be resting for the night. May I suggest you rest, and conserve your strength? We shall awake you should something arise worthy of your attention."

"That… yes." Pina said, with a glance at her page, Hamilton. She was nodding asleep even as Pina watched. "Should you need to wake me in an emergency, use water."

Pina quoted an old play as a joke. The head maid smiled.

"Of course, your highness."

Coaxing Hamilton out of her seat, the two of them found their quarters.

Once Pina was sure that Hamilton wouldn't simply fall asleep on the floor, she rested in her own bed. She was asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

She was awake the next, early dawn light trickling in through the curtains, and water dripping down her face.

Perhaps she should watch her choice of words around the head maid.

 

[charclone]

"So, Elmorna," Major Johnston asked from the front of the vehicle. "Why did you and Kenwen choose to stay? Isn't your family near here?"

"No, we lived much further north, on the other side of the Dumas mountains, near the Row River, as the Saderans call it." The elf druidess shifted in her seat, partly out of embarrassment, as she answered in accented English. "There were some… issues with our love. Certain families did not agree with our union, our own didn't care… but they were allied to others, who opposed any political shakeups. We elves plan things in advance. We like things to go… smoothly."

"Part of being long lived?" The driver, a Canadian soldier that looked markedly different from Richard to Tara's eyes, asked.

"Yes."

Richard watched out the window as the two asked, watching trees and fields passed by, disinterested in the conversation.

"Hey, we got a roadblock up ahead." The driver announced. "Couple of soldiers in armour, but they are scrambling to clear it."

"Richard, your thoughts?" Johnston asked. "Tara, Elmorna, know anything about the local nobility?"

"I think that is house Formal banners." Tara said. "But I'm not sure."

"They don't look interested in stopping us, maybe local troops set up to keep bandits under control?" Richard leaned around to look at the soldiers. "Should we ask them?"

Edgar chewed his lip as the driver slowed the vehicle, radioing the rest of the convoy to follow suit.

"How confident are you that they are House Formal?"

"Fairly. It matches the description of their crest I heard." Tara frowned and rubbed the tip of one of her ears. "I can't think of any reason a bandit would try and fake being a house soldier, only to let carriages through."

"Fine. Doesn't look like they want us to stop anyway." The Major shrugged. "We head through."

The Formal soldiers watched nervously as the convoy went through. They knew that it would spell trouble for the two sisters, but that had no loyalty to them. They had been on patrol and forced to take sides while outside the city.

A runner would inform the noble ex-Formal sisters… tomorrow. It was quite walk on foot, after all, and the last person to disturb either of the sisters late in the day, according to a rumour, was whipped. None of the soldiers cared if it was true. Some had defected for money, others due to circumstance. Such rumours were common, and all feared the sisters, and the fanatical mercenaries they had hired.




"…shit. Smoke." The driver swore. "Bandit attack?"

"Looks like its coming from outside the city, on the east side." Johnston noted. "Let's find out what is going on. I don't want to be sitting outside the city when night falls."

He turned to look into the back of the vehicle.

"Richard, helmet on." A quick radio message had several soldiers out of one of the following vehicles. "Let's knock on the front door…"

Richard's armour clicked as he stepped out of the vehicle, Tara sticking near him. Beneath his helmet, he frowned, seeing Rory walk out of the vehicle she had been riding in, alongside a handful of Alnus community members.

"Your god tell you there was fighting here?" Richard joking asker her.

"Emroy did not, though he did tell me to come with you." The short demigod looked in the direction of the smoke and grinned a feral grin. Lelei edged away from her.

Richard snorted and shook his head. He was still on the fence if something like a god existed here, but something was letting Rory wield a pole-axe over twice her height with a blade that weight as much as she did, as it if was made of paper mache.

"Hello the wall!" He cried out. Silence reigned for several moments before a response came over.

"Hello, strangers!" A guard yelled back. "Are you under the employ of any of Formal's daughters?"

"We are not! We are here for trade!"

"From where do you hail?"

"Alnus!"

The sound of arguments were easily audible from the top of the wall.

"Please wait strangers, while Lady Pina is informed."

"Guess we wait?" Richard looked at Major Johnston, who nodded.

After only a few minutes, the gate was opened.

A guard, in the same colours as the soldiers they had seen earlier that day, greeted them and welcomed them in.

"Lady Pina and Countess Formal will greet you at the manor." Other guards watched them, dressed in what Richard quickly realised was ill fitting gear. Many weapons were wood axes, rather than battle axes, or pitchforks.

"They aren't professional soldiers." One of the Canadian soldiers with them commented. "Ask them what happened."

The guard winced when Richard translated the question.

"You are better of asking Lady Pina." He didn't meet Richard's gaze, and it wasn't due to the helmet.

As they walked through the city streets, they noted signs of fear among the population. Shops were shuttered, everyone had a cautious look in their eyes.

Tara leaned over to Richard and spoke in English.

"Pina was the name of an Imperial Princess. Italica is supposed to be independent, but…" She trailed off. "…but the Empire doesn't always keep to its treaties."

"Well, I guess we will find out." Richard replied.




"Presenting her Imperial Highness, Porphyrogenita Pina Co Lada, Praetor Peregrinus, Grandmaster Equites Ordo Rosa, Master Equites Cohort Rosa Rubra, Countess…"

Richard swore quietly under his breath as the Saderan Princesses' titles were listed off.

 

[charclone]

As young Hamilton read Pina's titles from memory, the princess herself studied these strange newcomers. The apparent leaders were a noble dressed in a plate, darker in colour than any she had seen before, and a soldier of some sort, dressed in clothing made up of squares in shades of green and black.

The noble was attended to by a strangely familiar Warrior Bunny clad in their traditional Royal Guard armour, wielding one of their long-bladed spears. In addition, there were another nine, including five elves, four with bows, there was another Warrior Bunny, with only a sword, and a pair of humans with swords and shields, dressed in what looked like modified legionary gear.

The soldier, an officer of some sort to Pina's eyes, based on the look on his face, had some thirty troops at his command, all dressed in what was apparently their people's uniform, the same green and black squares.

Most of the soldiers were back with their horseless carriages and carts, as well as some peasants.

The two other individuals of note however were alarming, in the presence of these otherworlders. A mage, with a staff from the Lindon school, and a young-looking girl with a halberd far too large for a mortal to carry. With the rumours that the Archmage Cato El Altestan had taken a student and residence in the area, it left little doubt in Pina's mind who the mage's teacher was.

The dress of the young-looking girl, combined with the halberd, made it abundantly clear that she was Rory, demigod of the War god Emroy. A good or ill portent, Pina wasn't sure.

In hindsight, Pina should have expected something like this, it was common for demigods and powerful mages to gravitate towards Alnus. Regardless of why they travelled with such company, these strangers were now trapped in a besieged city with her, her knights, and the townsfolk.

She noted that the mage was translating for the officer. Pina wondered if he even knew how powerful, or important, a student of the most powerful warmage to have ever lived was. Having allied herself with the otherworlders, the Empire was likely no longer a haven for her. No one wanted someone like Cato against them, part of the reason there were so few mages capable of more than what a siege engine could accomplish.

Pina internally winced, realising her mind was wandering. She internally winced again, when she realised Hamilton had started using childhood titles, likely in an attempt to impress the strangers with a long list of titles. She gave Hamilton a warning look.

The ghost of an amused smirk flickered across Tara's face, unseen by anyone.

"Perhaps, Page Hamilton, for the sake of brevity, and considering the circumstances, we leave out such… minor and unimportant titles." Pina failed to keep ice out of her tone. Hamilton coughed gently.

"Ah, of course, your highness, forgive me."

The officer whispered something in his own tongue to the noble, who nodded.

Pina wished he wasn't wearing the helmet; it would be much easier to read his face. As it was, the bulk of his armour made body language difficult to read.

"Speaking of the situation, your highness, the town appears to be in a state of alert. Given its urgency, perhaps it would be best if we skipped the formalities?" The noble spoke. The accent was strangely eastern yet retained the tones of upper class.

Pina's eyes flickered to the white-haired Warrior Bunny, as several pieces fell into place. She wasn't simply dressed as one of the Royal Guard, she was a surviving member of it. She had likely taught the noble how to speak Saderan, resulting in the Eastern accent. And if that was the case, then this black plate-clad noble was likely the black knight she had heard rumours of, that personally broke the camps around Alnus, opening the way for his forces, with nothing but slaves and deserters he had brought to his cause.

Pina forced herself to remain calm.

Yes, given the situation, the formalities were unnecessary. She had erred there. But just how dangerous was this political foe?

"If you would take no offence, then I agree." Pina said in measured tones. "As for the situation, we are besieged. My father sent me here in the hopes to open lines of diplomacy with your people, however, my arrival threw a tense situation into chaos. The previous count was slain, and his succession has been thrown into question. The current, legal, claimant is young. Her elder sisters, no longer under their father's house, have rallied armies and turned part of the remaining militia against us. They are camped outside the city and have made several breaching attempts."

While Pina didn't know the words used, she recognised the tone, as one of the soldiers with the Officer swore, upon hearing her translated words.

There was a brief discussion amongst the otherworlders, in their strange tongue. The Officer, after a moment, turned to face her.

"I'll see how fast reinforcements can arrive." The Officer spoke through the mage. "I'm Major Edgar Johnston."

"I am Lelei La Lalena." The mage introduced herself.

"Richard." The noble was brief, almost to the point of rudeness.

"I am Tara, of the Forest-on-the-Hill Clan." The Warrior Bunny introduced herself.

Pina revaluated her again, noting she was considered important enough to introduce herself, rather than as a subordinate.

"Well," Pina began. "Your reinforcements will be appreciated. This is Grey, an experienced soldier and one of my teachers, and this is my page, Hamilton. The rest of my officers are out drilling the militia or overseeing the defences."

Countess Myui Formal blinked, realising she was expected to introduce herself.

"Ah, I- I am Countess Formal… Countess Myui Formal." She stuttered. "A pleasure to meet you, and thank you, for being willing to defend the city."

"Our pleasure, Countess." The noble, Richard, said, with an inclination of his head at the eleven year old countess.

"My own Rose knights, the orders of the Yellow and Blue Roses, are on route. I expect them to arrive soon. If we can coordinate our allies, we may be able to crush both of the camps, and prevent either of the daughters from escaping." Pina said. "Ah, how many troops do you expect, and how will you contact them? The sisters have set up blockades on the roads."

"Ah, so that is what we ran into." The 'Major' said, still through Lelei's translations. "Well, there is an armoured regiment, roughly analogous to knights, I suppose, and some airborne units. I should have a good count in an hour or so. As for how…"

The major smiled mysteriously.

"They have strange magic boxes voices can travel through." The mage stated in a flat tone. "But I do not know what an 'armoured regiment' is."

"I see." Pina muttered. Did they have troops so close? Surely the voice-boxes couldn't travel very far, and cavalry would need to be rather close, if they wanted to still fight the same day they arrived.

"So, uh, forgive me if this is rude but… is such artwork common?"

All present looked at the black clad Richard.

Countess Myui put her face in her hands, embarrassed.

"N-no. Father had the whole palace done in this style, after he became Count."

"I take it the, ah, nude…demi-humans aren't a common feature of architecture." Richard noted. "Well, I'll go check on the convoy, and leave the strategy to you, Major."

Major Johnston snorted, knowing that Richard was blushing under his helmet. The sight of the nude and rather detailed statues, all around the palace's exterior had been what had prompted him to put it on in the first place.

"Heh, I'm a bit to old to be struggling through strategy. Mind if I join you, Sir Richard?" Grey said.

Pina silently thanked the old veteran. He had seen her issue, and was likely going to see what information he could get from the noble.

"Not at all, Grey, was it?"

"Aye, sir. So, I noticed that strange blade you carry. What is it called?"

"Flamberge Zweihander, or two-handed flamesword, due to the wavy blade."

Pina watched the two depart, followed by the other strangers. The ones dressed in green apparently chose to stay with their officer. A division of some sort, that she could exploit? Or was it simply a matter of duties?

"So, what is the situation?" The Major said, gesturing to a map that a pair of maids were in the process of laying on a table.

"The two camps are here and here, best we can tell…" Pina began to explain, hoping that their help would not hurt the Empire.

 

[charclone]

Rory left the meeting, bored.

It was clear to her that it would come down to NATO reaching the city first. Pina didn't even know where her knights were, or if they were coming. The Canadian Major more focused on keeping the denizens of Italica safe, than any sort of political gain, besides what that would give. They had been discussing placement of the NATO troops currently in the city, in case of attack.

The sound of metal on metal caught her ear.

She could tell it was sparring, based on the voices calling out pointers, but it at least seamed more interesting than wandering around the city aimlessly.

Richard, with a blunted two-handed sword, parried Tara's blows, herself using a long knife.

The Saderan soldier, Grey if Rory remembered his name correctly, complimented Richard on his use of the hilt and pommel to keep the Warrior Bunny from getting inside his reach.

The spar was taking place inside one of the militia's mustering fields.

Above, a platform meant to allow the Count to inspect his troops, or make a speech from, was being cleaned by one of the Formal maids.

To Rory's aged eye, it was clear that the maid, a Warrior Bunny herself, was using it as an excuse to watch, and glare at, Tara.

"How curious." Rory muttered, bemused.

With a crash, Tara stopped going easy on Richard, and flipped him over her shoulder, using the hilt of his sword as a lever. The young man laid on the dusty ground, laughing.

With a grunt of boredom, the demigod walked elsewhere. Richard was no fun to tease, his skin was too thick, and what few areas she could poke him in, well, Rory was not one to make fun of someone's love, even if both parties were being idiots about it.

She was tempted to give Richard and Tara a nudge. Their feelings were obvious, yet concerns about each other's cultures held them back, even if they weren't going to admit it.

"Down the street, that alley. Blood is about to be spilled… and there is someone interesting you should meet." Rory blinked in surprise, even as she followed the directions. It was extremely rare for Emroy to make such a blatant request of her. He mostly left her to her own decisions, as long as his general will was done.

The blood that would have been spilled was apparently of ill repute. The two would be muggers froze as she entered their alley. Their victim, an old and twisted form, shrouded by an old and stained cloak, a gnarled walking staff lay nearby.

"My. Aren't you bold." Rory snorted. "Mugging someone, so close to the Formal palace?"

She wrinkled her nose as one soiled themselves. Sometimes the greater abilities of being a demigod were a curse.

They took off running.

She almost set off in pursuit. It would have made a fine temporary distraction.

The twisted form carefully pulling themselves up stopped her.

"Ah, so, old Emroy sent his servant to my rescue, eh?" The old sounding creature remarked, before breaking into a body shacking cough. "Fitting given the situation, I suppose, though I serve Palapon. How often that their domains overlap."

The priest of Palapon, god of revenge, broke into another fit of coughs.

Rory offered him his staff.

"So, what is a priest of the god of revenge doing in a normally peaceful place like Italica?"

"What else? Seeking vengeance." The priest broke into another series of coughs midway through his joke. "Ah, my apologies. In truth, I am here for my own hobby. Seeking the past. An old elfs research. I stumbled across rumours of it being around here, but I have found nothing but dust and long abandoned elven settlements, buried by time."

The wizened fool sat and leaned against the alley wall.

"Palapon supports this. Apparently, the elf sought a greater revenge than him, you, or even I, but what happened is obscured, even from his vision." Another coughing fit slowed their speech. "As for what I am doing in Italica, well, there were many people outside the city, many people hurt, or murdered. Those mercenaries are brutes. Raping and pillaging the countryside. What else would I do, oh would be goddess of love, but bless people's vengeance?"

"Are you sure that cough won't cause others to seek revenge on you, should it spread?" Rory bit back. "You seem to be rather well informed."

"The cough is," The priest paused again, as a coughing fit made their form bouncing away from the wall. "Not contagious. I curse of my ill fortuned birth. As for my information, well… Palapon is a gossip. The gods are powerful, but they were all once mortal. Even Emroy and Hardy, though the whore's origins are as cloudy, and ancient, as that elf I am looking into."

"Oh? And what was Emroy?"

"What other people love war as much as he does? A Warrior Bunny. A man, rather than a woman, not that means anything." The priest paused to drink something foul smelling from a flask at his hip. "Tell me, the vengeance that Emroy gave you, it was satisfactory?"

"It is long in the past. I barely remember it."

"Heh, but he gave you a choice. The elf, well, apparently her lover had been forced to become a demigod. She sought some form of vengeance against the gods."

"You… have a love for history then?" Rory thought an idea over. "Would you be interested in meeting a… scholar from another world, who focuses on history?"

"Love? Bah. Its an obsession. My obsession, and revenge. Palapon promised me that I would live to see my revenge through, by seeking that elf's story. That is all I live for." The priest spat to the side. "Still… these otherworlders, I have heard many things about them. Might they have tools to help my quest?"

Rory shrugged.

"Maybe. Maybe they won't want to help you, they are fighting the Empire after all."

"Hah. Then a small vengeance come true either way." The priest coughed again. He adjusted his robe. "Well, I suppose if I want their help, I need to have something for them, and I can't approach looking like this. If you are willing to make the introduction at a later date, then I suppose I shall take you up on your offer. Heh, seems I will owe you twice over, oh demigod of love."

The old priest got up and limped away with his staff.

Rory shook her head.

"Old fool. What does Palapon care for an ancient elf?"




A.N. So... this is probably the only Rory centric chapter I will write. I... really don't like her. Not in the sense I hate her character, but rather, considering what the Gate author does with her... I am rather uncomfortable writing her.

 

[charclone]

"Impressive armour, you have. Sword work is better than I was expecting." Grey held up his hands defensively. "Just seems your people don't use swords. So, what are your people's weapons called?"

Richard lifted his visor and gulped down water from the canteen Tara had handed him before answering.

"Not sure what the best word would be for translation. It's a combination of our words for fire and arm, arm in the weapon sense. In English its 'firearm'." He explained. "Unfortunately, I am a scholar of history, not language."

The portly knight laughed.

"'Figh-er arm'." He sounded out the foreign word. "A ranged weapon I would guess? I prefer blades, but since you are the only one to wear armour, I suppose its not considered useful against such weapons."

"The armour I made myself, with some help." Richard shrugged. "But no. Most firearms can punch through plate armour, unless its thick enough. Once it's that thick though, even the lightest armour would still exhaust anyone trying to move in it."

Grey nodded.

"Well, I can see that. I certainly wouldn't want to fight in jousting armour on the front lines." He laughed. "Hmm? Quartermaster Norma, is there a problem?"

The young male knight spoke to the elder one in hushed tones.

"Is it… safe to talk about your people's weapons?" Tara asked Richard in English. "I didn't knock anything loose in any of our bouts, did I?"

"Just a joint in the armour." Richard joked in the same tongue. "But no, it should be safe. What I know is common knowledge among civilians. I haven't, nor do I intend to, mention the fact that it relies on a burnable powder, or on the expanding gasses to fire. Nor would I mention that if the metal is of poor quality, well, kaboom."

Tara gave him a look.

"Ah, my apologies sir Richard. An issue has arisen that requires my attention. One of the knights has gotten into a fight with some militia." Grey apologised. "I'll return momentarily."

Richard watched the man leave, then blinked in surprise as Tara leaned against him.

He looked at her, noting that both of them were blushing.

'I… does she actually like me? Was… sparing with her a mistake?' Richard's mind roiled. Then locked up.

"Richard." Tara asked, in a tone of voice Richard had only heard once before, when she has asked him what the tampons she and others had been given were for. "… how do couples in your culture court?"

Gears in Richard's head ground against each other as he tried to respond.

"I… honestly am not entirely sure how to answer. I…" He swallowed. "I wasn't exactly… socially active, outside of the various sports I was in. Hell, I can't even ask my parents. I… I know a little about dating, but comparing Canada's culture to Rome… we are more open about some parts of relationships than others, but I am not… experienced in any of it."

"So… we both need to figure out how to go from here?"

Richard opened his mouth to answer. He was interrupted by the sound of cheering and whistling.

Richard gave a glare at the mix of Militia, Imperial Knights and his 'bodyguards'.

He received a mix of grins and smiles in response.

"Hey Richard!" A voice called in English. "Not to interrupt anything, but the Major wants to talk to you."

"On our way." Richard replied to the corporal.




Edgar gave the two a knowing grin, before hiding it beneath a mask of professionalism.

"So, good news and bad. We are not getting some airborne until morning. In addition, while reinforcements are close, the general wants us to sweep all hostiles up. Italica will be the Anvil, the hammer will be a mix of armour and infantry. Airborne units will be deployed by helicopter to build an encirclement. We don't want the remnants of the armies turning bandit, like with the legions we smashed." He explained. "Good news is we only need to sit tight for the night, while units are positioned. If they attack, we should be able to hold them back, and we will have air support."

"So, basically, NATO is relying on the walls holding." Richard observed. "Well… I assume Princess Pina was informed?"

"It was discussed with her. I think she is looking forwards to seeing our capabilities. Should help convince her not to press for war." Major Johnston shrugged.

"What about if the walls are breached? They have a mage, from what I have heard." Tara interjected. "Several of the militia were complaining about magic shielding against arrow fire."

"Pina thinks there are two and I agree based on her argument. One supporting their siege engines, the other the infantry, split between the sisters' forces." Edgar explained. "As for if they do try to breach the walls…"

Richard blinked as Edgar handed him a pistol and holster.

"Don't so much as draw it unless its an emergency. I know you can at least fire that safely." The officer said. "Considering the… local culture, I won't order you to stay away from the fighting. But stick close to the people who are supposed to be your bodyguards. Don't do anything stupid."

Richard nodded wordlessly, staring at the pistol. He swallowed and attached it to his belt.

The rest of the meeting was a blur, Edgar explaining what his people would be doing, and where, and what they would be doing in case of an attack.

Richard started when he realised Edgar had left the room, as had most of the soldiers.

"You alright?"

He glanced at Tara.

"Kinda. I… I've read about and studied sieges; I know how brutal they can be. This one won't be anywhere near as bad as it could be, not with NATO support, but…" He sighed.

"Your remembering parts of the camp." Tara carefully removed his helmet and gauntlets, guiding him to an upholstered seat. She sat next to him and leaned herself onto his shoulder. Her head against his. She could hear his elevated heartbeat. "My mind keeps flashing back to… to the last siege of my people's kingdom. The battle I was captured in."

"I killed before the camp. That… bothers me, yes. But… the part about the camp that bothers me is that I don't remember much." Richard sighed. He took Tara's hand in his. "Talking to the psych back at Alnus helped but… but part of me is scared of making a mistake. Mistaking friend for foe, making a bad slash and hurting an ally."

Tara snorted.

"Sorry, its just… I was going to comment about how my people would psych our unbloodied warriors up for a fight."

"… you get them drunk?" Richard guessed.

"Yeah, on a sacred potion, but a lot of alcohol goes into it. We know, drunk warriors don't fight well."

Tara snickered. After a moment Richard joined her. Soon the laughter was audible in the hallway outside of the room.




A.N. Nope, not dead. Æonian Flame is on a schedule, and was updated, but this I do whenever I had the time... and school ate my time. Still have exams, but I wrote a chapter to destress, so have one from my backlog.

 

[charclone]

"So, we can expect reinforcements tomorrow, your highness?"

Pina stared at the map of the countryside on the wall as she answered Grey.

"According to 'Major' Johnston, yes. They… claim that they can communicate with their people, back at Alnus, I even spoke with the man claiming to be their general, through one of their devices." She shook her head. "If they are telling the truth, then it is no wonder they have been destroying our legions, and why none of the invading army made it back. Imagine what one of our legions could do, with that ability."

She turned to face him.

"Any word on our own reinforcements?"

"No, your highness. I was however able to learn some interesting things about Sir Richard."

Pina sighed and forced herself to relax. She was too wound up, between the siege, and all the unknowns. It was her first official duty as a representative of the Senate and Emperor. She could not screw it up. Not when these people seemed poised to crush the Empire.

"Alright." She said, as she sat in a chair. "What have you learned?"

"Well, we sparred a bit, he's not bad, but his bladework is basic. He seems to have fought more duels than real fights." Grey internally winced, realising the accidental comparison and insult he had just given Pina. It wouldn't cost him, he knew, but it was still rude. He coughed. "Ah, seems to have trained with a blade for a long time though. He also apparently… forged his own armour. The quality was… impressive. I didn't risk asking, but I suspect it has been reinforced with either alchemy or enchantments. I couldn't even scratch the coating."

Pina chewed her lip.

"A matter of skill? Or is he also a mage?"

"Skill, I think. He mentioned there was assistance, probably a mage for the reinforcement. He knew enough to help criticize the militia as they sparred, correcting their stances. While he did that, I asked his guards some questions. Apparently, most of them were slaves or prisoners of our army, camped on the other side of the Gate. He freed them, and led them to smash the camps, as we heard. He is also, according to some, the leader of what they call the 'Long Patrol', though I wasn't able to get an estimate of its size, located around Alnus. There was conflicting information about him being the lord of Alnus, I believe its something being debated by their senate, or ruler."

Pina winced.

"That will not go over well with the Senate." She thought it over before continuing. "But if its still being debated, we might be able to use that during negotiations."

"Indeed… there is one more thing, that is rather troubling."

Pina frowned. Grey seemed pensive. Normally, he had a lax expression, unless it was truly serious.

"How bad?"

"He and that Warrior Bunny spared. She won… but as they spared, Rory appeared to watch them, and disappeared for some time after he lost… I'm… not one to be superstitious, but…"

"But such omens have been seen before." Pina put her head in her hands. "If, if, it's an omen from Emroy, what do you think it might mean?"

"It reminds me of the start of the Arctic War, from the stories."

A demigod had appeared, to watch a bout between two brothers. One, the more adventurous of the two, lost to the more scholarly one. The demigod chose to disappear, only reappearing near the end, when the Empire had regained the favour of the gods. The adventurous brother would go on to die in the Arctic War.

In the tales, the bout was an omen, that the Empire, if it started its adventurous war, it would meet its end. But if it chose a path of intellect, it would survive.

"So, how does that relate to Sir Richard?"

"He lost to a barbarian. Do we not consider his people barbarians, for all that he is similar to us?"

Pina snorted and relaxed.

"Grey, I think you are reading into it a bit too much. Besides, it could be taken the other way, we of this world can prevail."

Grey shifted for a moment before burst out laughing.

"You are correct your highness, I suppose I am just… on edge. Something seems off." He shook his head. "Its probably just the strangeness of these newcomers."

They sat, discussing the foreigners plans, and what else Grey had learned about them, as the day stretched on.

Slowly, the sun began to set beneath the mountains, casting long shadows over the land.

Pina frowned, as she chewed a pastry Hamilton had brought in with several reports from the militia.

"Grey… does that Warrior Bunny he spared with seem… familiar?"

Her long time friend, advisor, and teacher paused as he was about to drink from a mug.

"Now that you mention it… yes. She had white hair like… Prince Zorzal's pet." Grey struggled find the right words to describe the former Queen. "She also used one of her people's Royal Guard weapons, a long-bladed spear. Eyes are different from the former Queen's though, and I thought your brother had killed all of her relatives."

"He said he did. Boasted of it to the Senate." Pina found the pastry had lost its allure. "Even presented our father with several heads. I'm surprised Tyuule hasn't found out about his… failure to keep to the bargain he made."

"One of my former legion mates served with his guard… I'm not one to spread rumours of course but…"

"But its no secret my brother is strangely well informed, for a hedonistic idiot." Pina said bluntly. "What did your friend notice?"

"…Demi-humans in the shadows. Not… normal ones, but ones of multiple species. Like a chimera, or a mongrel hound." Grey admitted after a moment. "And he claims he saw a Dar, a shapeshifter."

Pina snorted.

"A Dar? My brother is an idiot, but he wouldn't be stupid enough to use them against the only Demi-human race that can… sense them…" Pina paused. "The Warrior Bunny Tribes that raided our borders, before the punitive assault my brother led… didn't they normally just take a few men, maybe kill warriors?"

"…it has been noted that the last raid was strangely ill-timed, considering your brother was looking for sport, with a legion at his command while he was in the area." Grey winced as he put the pieces together. "That's probably where he got the money for the extra legions and mercenaries."

"That raid killed whole villages, massacred everyone." Pina put her head in her hands once again. "My brother was used as a tool by the Dar… and my father probably knew, but didn't care."

"Or your brother hired the Dar to start a war for him." Hamilton spoke up. She winced. "Ah, though, the question of where he would have gotten the money to hire them remains… I'm sorry, your highness, for speaking out of turn."

"Its fine, Hamilton. Besides, you are right. He could have hired them, if others who wanted a war supported him, and lent him the money. The Patricians who are involved in slavery certainly profited, as did the nobility." Pina sighed. "Maybe it was his attempt to gain favour, to be elected heir."

She shook her head.

"Enough. We are wasting time on a tangent. The otherworlders, and the siege."

"Of course, your highness…" Grey paused. "Hmm…"

"Is something amiss, sir Grey?" Hamilton spoke.

"I'm not sure… but that odd feeling I was having, just increased." He frowned. "I don't think its nerves or age. No rain tonight, or these past few days… that's what it is. I bet the sisters, or one of them at least, is going to try using fire, tonight, if I was one of her advisors."

"Hamilton, inform Sir Richard, and Sir Grey, rally the knights." Pina ordered.

 

[charclone]

Tara stirred.

Someone was pushing her shoulder. She tried to bury herself in the warmth she was leaning on.

"Tara, wake up. The Saderan Princess wants to talk to Richard."

'Then why are you disturbing me?' She thought, before putting the pieces together.

After their bout of laughter, she had helped Richard take part of his armour off so he could rest. He was still wearing the under armour… and she had fallen asleep sitting next to him.

She groaned at the loss of heat as she got up.

The under armour was warm when Richard wore it.

"Lord Richard?" The Warrior Bunny that had volunteered to join his guard was from a tribe that Tara didn't recognise. Her accent placed her to the south-west, likely one of the tribes that were being absorbed by Sadera. Tara realised she didn't even know her name, as she watched her try to wake Richard. "Lord Richard, Lady Pina requests your presence."

Apparently, he was a much deeper sleeper than he was.

The girl gave her a pleading look.

"Richard! Wake up!"

Richard flailed as Tara stepped out of arms reach.

"I don't think a seat is a good place to sleep." Tara smiled at him.

"Ah," The Warrior Bunny seemed uncomfortable. "Lord Richard, Lady Pina requests your presence. There is an issue."

She flinched at the expression Richard wore at being called 'lord'. She was using the Saderan word for it, the one that meant master or head of a noble house, rather than the one that implied simple nobility.

"Alright," Richard grumbled as he rubbed his eyes. "Can you two help me put my armour on?"

Tara gave a glare at the swiftness the girl moved with to help. She noted the way she bent over to pick up a discarded metal boot. What did Richard call it, a sabaton? She was trying to show off her ass.

Tara bit back a snort when she noticed Richard was paying her no mind, focused on collecting the scattered armour.

With the way it had been scattered, they might have given the maids and other servants the wrong impression of what happened.

Based on the way he was blushing; Richard was aware of the impression they had left.

"Want me to come with you?" Tara asked him, as they fitted his chest plate to him.

Richard frowned.

"No… not this time." He swallowed and blushed. "Ah, hey, David, was it?"

Their driver from earlier stuck his head in the room.

"Hey, her royal cocktailiness send for you as well as the Major?" He asked. "Major sent me to find you."

"Cocktail?" Tara glanced at Richard, who shrugged.

"Okay, I get your girlfriend not knowing what that word means, but you? You never got out drinking?" David gave Richard look. "I thought you were good friends with the Major."

"I am, I just don't drink alcohol." Richard protested. "So, what are you referring too?"

"Pinacolada. The drink?" The Canadian corporal shook his head as they walked off.

"What was that about?" The Warrior Bunny asked, staring. "I don't speak the otherworlder's language."

"I… think the Saderan Princess name sounds like a drink the corporal prefers." Tara replied. "I saw what you were doing, by the way."

The girl had the decency to flinched at Tara glare.

"Sorry. I… I used to serve an officer, some senator's son. Got into the habit of doing things like that to keep him in a happy mood." She gave a dark grin and patted the strange broad and curved sword at her side. "He never noticed when I grabbed his sword."

"So… I don't believe we have been introduced. Edgar invited me along, and chose most of the others as well, but I don't recognise you." Tara said.

"Rasha." She introduced herself. "Of Napoca."

Tara blinked.

"The Saderan city on the old border?"

"Yup. From one of the tribes that was absorbed. They enslaved all they could catch when the bastard of a prince marched through to fund his army and stole our livelihoods. My father was a cobbler, while my mother was a huntress, sold most of her kills to the local nobility. It was a good time." Her tone became sombre. "I miss them. But at least I was taught how to fight. Plus, I have been thinking of starting up my own cobblers."

Tara blinked.

The idea of a Warrior Bunny not being a fighter from birth, and the way she mentioned her father before her mother, left her unsure how to react. She wasn't going to even touch the comment about making shoes.

"Uh. Anyway, don't do those things in front of Richard. He is mine."

Rasha frowned at her.

"But… isn't it common for nobles to have more than one concubine?"

Tara felt her face heat up.

"I'm not his…" She stopped. "I am not his concubine. We… are still working out our relationship, and besides, he isn't a noble. That is only the Patricians in Sadera, anyway. They have a law about it."

"Huh, the nobles in Napoca usually had several." She frowned. "Wait, he isn't a noble?"

Tara opened her mouth, then closed it with a click.

"No, he isn't. He is going to be awarded a… Order of the… something empire. I forget the name. Anyway, its only a knighthood. He refused something else called the Order of Canada, something about it being an award, but not a knighthood, or was it that it was not a government award?" Tara shook her head. "I… don't remember his reasoning either. He didn't talk to me about it. Anyway, no, he isn't a noble."

"Oh. Then... why was he put in charge of Alnus?"

"He isn't, he's just one of the people helping organise it, because he can speak Saderan, and there is the whole 'army of escaped slaves' that chose to stick around that trust him. Oh, and he is apparently friends with Major Johnston."

"Ah. I see."

 

[charclone]

Major Johnston sighed.

The princess was trying, but she clearly had no idea how to run proper communication channels. If one of his subordinates hadn't gotten him as well, when they were asked to call for Richard, then he would have had to rely on second hand reports, or at least, Richard would have had to send another runner to fetch him.

He rubbed his nose as he walked through the palace.

'Or is it a political thing?' He wondered. 'Did us presenting Richard as some sort of noble come back to bite us in the ass? I'll have to ask Richard.'

"Sir, may I ask you something?" Captain Riley, his second-in-command for this mission, interrupted his thoughts.

"Go ahead."

The freshly promoted captain fell into step with him.

"Why are we helping them? Isn't the Empire our enemy? They killed a bunch of people."

Edgar resisted the temptation to roll his eyes.

"Captain, we are not an imperial power, out to conquer and expand our territory. We need to establish some form of diplomatic communications, else this war would only be ended with things future generations would come to regret." He explained in a measured tone. It was far from the first time the question had been asked. "In addition, while the apparent connections to the empire are unfortunate, they are not dangerous. In fact, I am betting they will turn out to be advantageous."

"But… why are we still here?" She said. "A couple drone strikes, or an airborne unit… they are savages. They don't have a chance in hell of stopping us with their swords."

"I suggest you study history captain." Johnston stopped. "Are you familiar with Vietnam, or the battle of Isandlwana? If we are careful, no, they cannot hurt us, but such vigilance is impossible to maintain perpetually. Furthermore, fleeing would undermine our diplomatic standing, both here, and with the locals with us. I am not going to stand idly by, and let the town get butchered, especially not when protecting them will help out cause. Helping a foreign diplomat that is imperilled, after all, is not just standard practice and good sense, but the golden grail of diplomacy. Captain, I recognise you are new to your rank, and I thank you for expressing your concerns privately so as not to harm morale or relations, but I strongly suggest you reread the cultural briefs."

The captain saluted, bearing a stony face, and left.

Edgar slumped and shook his head.

"If it isn't a damn corporal trying to get into the pants of anything with two legs, or a lieutenant with a map, compass, and no sergeant in sight, its green officers not understanding politics." He shook his head. "At least she earned her promotion, and purchased commissions are dead. Her combat experience is going to be necessary tonight, if her highness' fears of a night attack are true."




Tara had found it uncomfortable being with Rasha. The girl 'rubbed her the wrong way', as Richard had once said. She looked like a Warrior Bunny, yet she was so different in both accent and temperament. She was so… submissive.

So, Tara took a walk, wandering the halls of the House Formal palace until the meeting was over.

She was slightly hurt that Richard hadn't wanted her presence, but then, she had seen the way he kept blushing whenever he looked at her. It was rather cute.

She caught Richard's voice down a hall.

"…right. So, the Nerevarine, Nerevar reborn, then went on to fight Dagoth Ur." Richard explained. Tara recognised the words, something to do with one of the myths Richard knew, she wondered. "Now, the Hero of Kvatch was also a prisoner, in the Imperial City. When the cult of Mehrunes Dagon, the cult of the Mythic Dawn assassinated the Emperor, it was through a hidden escape passage that went through the prisoner's cell that the Blades tried to sneak the Emperor. It didn't work, but it did set in motion the legend of the Hero of Kvatch, who would bring the… well, it gets complicated, again, but basically there was this necklace they had too take to the Emperor's only surviving son."

"It was a magic artifact as well?" A young, unfamiliar voice asked. "Did it show who was a proper heir?"

"Yup. The Amulet of Kings. Long story short, it ended with Martin, shortly after being made Emperor, sacrificing himself to summon an avatar of Akatosh, who banished Mehrunes Dagon back to Oblivion." Richard continued to explain. He paused. "Oh, Tara."

He smiled, and blushed, with his helmet in his hand. Next to him, a young girl stood.

Tara blinked as she recognised the young Countess Formal.

"Your Grace." She nodded her head in acknowledgement. "Richard… so, what were you two discussing?"

"Ah, fiction. The Elder Scrolls, specifically the Blades, an order of bodyguards and spies, as well as the 'Prisoner', an archetype that shows up pretty commonly in those games." Richard blinked. "Wait, how did we go from discussing defences and history to the Elder Scrolls?"

Myui Formal blinked in confusion.

"I… am not sure, Sir Richard." She winced. "Ah, my apologies. You are Tara, yes? Good evening to you."

"And you, your Grace." Tara replied to the young girl.

Myui glanced at Richard, then her servants, who appeared to double as bodyguards, based on the way they were positioning themselves. She slumped.

"Thank you, Sir Richard, for helping." She muttered, loud enough to hear. "I… Princess Pina tries to help, but the Saderan Empire has been trying to absorb us for generations, and my father…"

She sniffled.

"He was also a noble in the Empire, so he was forced to take his troops… he went through the Gate." She wrung her hands. "Her Highness didn't want me to mention it, but… I can't lie… and I miss him. A lot."

Richard winced and knelt to be at eye level with the young Countess.

"Thank you, for telling me." He rubbed her arm. "I… I also lost my father when I was young. But a lot of the soldiers that went through the Gate were captured. I can ask if your father is among them, so at least you have some hope."

Tara sympathised with her. She sat on a nearby bench, next to a window.

"I never got to know my father, due to our… my people's culture. My mother… she had a lot of responsibilities, so I never got to spend much time with her. The Empire took my sisters, and I don't know if any of them survived." She blinked in surprise at the wetness in her eyes and on her cheek. "I mean no offence, but the Empire got what it deserved. I hope your father is safe."

Myui nodded, tears in her eyes.

"I… he was always busy… I…" She cleared her throat. "My apologies, I… this is… um… undignified. I… I hope your sisters are safe as well. I don't… I'm not angry… I don't blame you. Emperor Molt is why my father is gone. I… I blame him, and I am glad the Empire got beaten by your forces, Sir Richard."

Richard's protests about him having no command over NATO forces died when she hugged him, to Tara's amusement.

"Ah, goodnight, Sir Richard, Lady Tara." Countess Myui curtsied, before leaving, slightly embarrassed, but with a great weight off her shoulders.

Tara laughed quietly as the countess' servants followed her.

"My, aren't you popular with women." She teased. "Should I try to arrange for you to get the Princess alone, and see what secrets you can get from her?"

Richard glared at her.

"She's like, ten, and she was hurting because of her father's disappearance. Besides, I… have no idea how to handle relationships. Also, Pina, while being younger than me, grew up in the viper pit of Imperial politics; I'd rather avoid dealing with someone who survived that, thank you very much."

"Alright, I'll stop." Tara held up her hands. "So, you've never had any sort of relationship?"

"Not the romantic sort." Richard admitted, sitting beside her on the bench. "After my father died… I just kinda retreated inwards for a while. Eventually, I found HEMA, uh, Historical European Martial Arts, and the SCA… Society for Creative Anachronism, and spent a ton of time reading, playing with mock swords, etc. Never… never really pushed myself to look, and no one expressed that sort of interest in me, that I was aware of anyway."

"Well, then they were blind fools." Tara grinned as Richard blushed at her comment.

Richard shifted in his armour in embarrassment.

Footsteps came rushing down the hall.

"Sir Richard!" One of Pina's knights called. "Her Highness requests your presence. The enemy is attacking!"

 

[charclone]

Even if she still had a home to go to, the portal, or 'Gate' as the elves called it, had disappeared. Her parents were dead. Her village gone. For all she knew, Hellas could have been drowned by Poseidon. So, she stayed with the elves.

It took her many months to learn the language, but she did so.

They were kind, unageing, and skilled. They were an ancient people, with strange gods, and stranger traditions. Yet, they welcomed her. The young one, that looked to be about her own age when she arrived, was in fact older than her, yet remained looking younger as they grew up.

They lived a simple life. There was a city, but there were no kings like she knew of. No soldiers coming to collect taxes, just the occasional traders and priests.

Yet, there were dangers.

Strange creatures that flew, others that crawled and slithered, like out of the stories the priests used to tell.

The elves fought them, with bow and spear.

She refused to be vulnerable again.

She started copying them, as the warriors and hunters trained.

At one point, as she passed her sixteenth year of life, she asked why one warrior took a stance that they did. The warrior struggled to explain it. It caused a great deal of discussion, for they each had their own stance. There was no teacher, instead, they learned, relying on the magic of their healers, and their own longevity, yet when she asked, and they saw her learning at a faster rate than any of them had, some refused to answer any of her questions. Yet, there were others all too willing to answer questions, to experiment and compare.

By the time of her twenty-second year, she had learned to fight with bow, spear, sword, shield and the strange knifes that the elves enemies favoured.

She was no master, she knew. She could wield them, but in a fight, she fought dirty to win.

The elves approved. Victory was life and survival. Fighting was not a place for mercy. It was a dirty thing, something only done when necessary, but when it was, it was taken all the way.

Her first fight had been a minor skirmish, at twenty years of age.

The long-eared warriors of the elves' rivals raided the hunting party she was with. A handful had been injured, but no one was killed, and the foe remained at distance, mocking them with their war cries.

The first fight she drew blood in was when she was twenty-five. It was almost her last. It should have been her last.

She awoke with a start, hearing the war cries and chants.

She had heard rumours that other villages had been attacked, people dragged off into the night to be sacrificed to the long-earned warrior's goddess, a god of the hunt.

She found those rumours terrifyingly true that night.

They spent hours dancing around fires surrounding the village, mocking and threatening the elves in equal measure, just out of bowshot.

Then, as a terrifying mass, they charged. Gold on their bodies glittered, and the fire cast intimidating shadows as they charged.

The girl, now a woman, grabbed her bow and spear, joining the desperate defence.

Her friend, too young in the elves' eyes to fight, hid, watching her friend.

The battle was short.

The long-earned preferred short, sudden bursts of violence, before using their powerful legs to vanish into the night.

The elves were ill-suited to this sort of warfare, preferring slow, careful battles.

Arrows fired, depleting rapidly.

The charging berserkers didn't care for those that fell, leaping over them as they closed. A few returned fire with their shorter, less powerful bows.

The woman screamed as she braced with others against the charge.

It hit like a thunderbolt.

Her spear shattered, as one warrior died on it.

Another lunged around the falling spear and body, a wicked looking knife poised to stab.

The woman's own knife was torn from its sheath, traded from a merchant for this very purpose.

Against one who was familiar with it, and had trained with it since childhood, the woman may well have been unarmed.

The warrior's blade punctured her shoulder, as hers was battered out of her hand.

She felt her back hit the ground as the blade was raised to strike her throat.

The world slowed to a crawl.

She saw more warriors streaming past and over the shattered defenders. Some stayed to finish off the wounded, others dragged them away into the night.

Her friend was undefended.

"My, aren't you a curiosity." A voice said. "A stranger to this world, who caused a change in elven culture, even if it was only in one village. Yet… I think my people are too soft. They have gone unchallenged, and your story… is boring, were you to die here. Give my people a challenge, and I shall grant you a boon. A great boon."

The woman couldn't answer, but she didn't need to.

"Then rise, demigod of the Huntress. Show my people why they need their blades sharp."

The woman felt the wound in her shoulder heal.

She caught the blade as it fell towards her throat.

The warrior's wrist was… easy to snap. She found it suddenly very easy to push the warrior off herself.

Struck by a sudden thought, she turned around and rushed to the hut she shared.

The warrior in front of it was only just forcing the door open when she struck.

The strange-eared warrior woman dropped, her head swinging in an unnatural fashion from her neck, her spear dropping from nerveless fingers.

Her friend gazed up at her from the crack in the door.

The woman picked up the fallen spear, ready to defend the warriors, to protect what little family she had gained.

She found the battle in a lull.

Many warriors from both sides stared at her, some edging away.

One stepped forward. This long-eared warrior was richly decorated, her spear tipped by a massive dragon tooth, clasped by gold and steel, and richly decorated.

They stared at each other a moment before the warrior let loose a bloodcurdling scream and charged.

The woman, for a moment, compared her strength to ancient Heracles, before she used her spear as a staff.

The wood came down on the warrior's hands, grasping the spear, making her drop it in pain and surprise.

She sidestepped, breaking off her charge, and danced away. Her knife came out, as she yelled to the glory of the Huntress.

The voice she had heard laughed at the prayers.

"I was once their queen, but they chose to follow a weakling… before I attained godhood and set them right."

The warrior charged again.

But this time the woman was ready.

Her spear stabbed, with a strength and swiftness no mortal could have achieved.

The richly decorated warrior died, as she was disembowelled.

The warriors watching moaned.

Many uttered prayers, and the long eared-foe began to retreat.

 

[charclone]

Princess Pina had a basic idea of how to arrange her defence.

Her knights would act as a reserve, cycling out the militia as they tired. It was a plan that had worked so far, letting her blood her knights, keep the walls and gates under her control, and keep the enemy from being able to crush any point that they attacked. Neither side had the numbers to attack more than two points and force a breakthrough.

It was a simple tactic, reliable.

It was also predictable.

The mercenaries, unlike the two noble ladies, had no compunction against working with each other. Let the nobles figure out who won, and if it came to blows, well, that meant more coin. They were in it for the money, after all.

Many were ex-legionaries, or had retired from military service across Falmart, joining together for their love of coin, and not truly knowing how not to be a soldier.

That meant that their commander in one camp, when he replaced the former officer who had failed to take the city, was able to recognise the defender's inexperience. He reached out to the other camp's mercenaries. It took little effort to convince them to time their attack.

Alone, neither side could amass a large enough body to press multiple parts of the wall. Together, they could crush Italica's reduced militia with numbers alone.

They didn't count on the NATO forces.

Pina originally wanted to station the Canadian Armed Forces at the worst hit gate, but had shifted her opinion of them in the early planning. The radios could permit vastly superior coordination.

Major Johnston agreed to station four fireteams at four key points, but the remainder of his troops, numbering another four fireteams, would act as an additional reserve.

The Battle of Italica was not a Waterloo, or a Kursk.

It was not a clash of armies, with the result hanging in the balance, or the battle where a myth ended.

It was a Castle Itter. A Shiroyama.

It was a politically significant battle, but its conclusion was already forgone. It was the last major battle fought involving NATO forces, officially, and the Saderan Empire.

The mixed mercenaries, house troops, suborned Saderan soldiers, and traitor Italican militia attacked the city, thoughts of plunder, victory, and triumph, unaware of the brutal reality.

Inside, they would find just how badly they were outmatched.

Outside, they did not have an inkling of the massive hammer, coming from land and air, to crush them.




Tara glanced at the watch Richard had given her, unable to wear it with his armour.

'Has it really only been two hours?' She pondered. 'It feels like its nearly sunrise, not just after midnight.'

"Your highness, the south gate has collapsed. Its holding for now, partly due to the burning remains, but the militia there is requesting reinforcements." A messenger said to the Saderan Princess.

It had started with an attack on that gate, a covered wagon being used to transport oil to it and was then set alight. The reports quickly streamed in afterwards. Assaults on the west and east gates, then the north. The northern wall was under attack, as several people tried to scale it with rickety ladders.

Tara was not ashamed to admit she took some pleasure in Pina's distress at the news. Though she did not wish the girl any actual harm.

"I've already sent the rest of the Red Roses to the east gate… Major, can I ask you to send your forces?" Pina stumbled over the English word.

"I'll take a squad to the north wall position that's under attack as well." He agreed.

Pina chewed her lip as her reserves were bled away incredibly fast.

Tara noted that Edgar had been looking rather uncomfortable. He had been speaking a great deal with the mage, Lelie, about protocol, apparently trying to figure out a way to make suggestions, without insulting her, while still using the mage as a translator. It would seem he had given up.

Richard's place around the map of the city made it difficult for the Major to ask him to translate.

"Edgar should be quick." Richard said encouragingly in Saderan, head once again helmeted. "Fortunately, we just need to hold out a little longer."

"While that is true sir Richard, I do not believe we can hold the gates long enough." Sir Grey said, frowning. "Princess, I believe the command post may need to provide assistance. It would benefit moral, and… Sir Richard's people are not, I think, going to like having to clear the city of foes, even with our assistance."

"You make a good point sir Grey. Sir Richard, Lady Tara, Sir Norma, Lady Hamilton, ready your weapons." Pina set her jaw. "Hamilton, please fetch my sword, and rally the rest of whatever we have left."

Richard was silent for a moment.

"Do you have a helmet, your highness?"

Tara bit her tongue to keep from laughing at the expression on Pina's face. She snorted upon catching the look of resignation mixed with embarrassment on Sir Grey's face.

"My face, unobscured… ah…" She stuttered for a moment before clearing her throat. "That is… it improves morale."

Grey sighed.

"I've tried to teach her the lesson… but I can only go so far." He admitted.

"Well…" Richard glanced at her. "I hope you at least have a shield, unless you fight two-handed. My compliments to your bravery."

Tara revelled in the Saderan Princess' embarrassment as she put her own helmet on, sourced from the spoils taken after the revolt at Alnus.

 

[charclone]

Pina adjusted the borrowed helmet on her head, that somehow fit, as the group marched, if it could be called that, towards the gate.

Richard, Tara, Richard's entourage, and two of the Major's soldiers joined Pina and her commanders.

It was small things that Pina noted, such as how Richard seemed as shaken as her, despite his armour, or how Tara seemed relaxed in the same way Gray was.

They had moved from gate to gate, Pina making a show of supporting and encouraging the militia, but so far, directly engaging in combat was unnecessary. So, they conserved their strength.

Pina made a mental note to inform her father just how effective the otherworlder's weapons were. Armour was little protection, she had seen an ogre brought down with a burst of fire from one of the larger weapons they carried, the projectiles it used tearing its head open.

The Empire would need to either develop its own, or a counter, if it wanted to survive. This 'NATO' was without a doubt the next great power of the world, and the Empire must adapt to match it, quickly, or risk being destroyed.

The eastern gate came into view as they rounded a corner.

It was burning.

One of the soldiers started talking into his 'radio' in his tongue, his voice rapid, filled with a mix of anger and surprise.

"Who is in charge here!?" She shouted.

"Princess!" A militiaman saluted. "We sent a runner; thank the gods you arrived in time. Something got past the walls, went after the foreigners' devices, damaging them."

From the wall top came the crack of the otherworlder's weapons firing.

"The last assault reached the wall tops, but it was repelled." The militiaman, one of the few officers still loyal, explained. "Then they rammed a burning wagon into the gate as we tried to reorganise."

"The thing, its dead?" Pina demanded. "Do you know what it was?"

"Some form of living shadow, the men think, your highness."

Tara tuned out the chatter as Pina interrogated the officer, and Gray organised the troops with them to reinforce the gate. It was going to fall any moment now, apparently. Instead, she focused on a strange sound.

She flinched as the gate shattered.

Something made it fall prematurely, striking it.

"Enemy mage! They blasted the gate apart!"

The unknown sound shifted.

In an instant, Tara remembered it. She whirled to meet it, brining her spear down in a slash.

A short blade countered it.

The Dar, a vaguely human looking shapeshifter covered in patches of short fur with a pair of small ears on their head, danced away, warily watching her.

"Skinstealer." Tara spat. She paused, tracking the Dar's original path. It led to Richard and the two soldiers with working radios.

The shapeshifter laughed.

"Hey, I gotta eat. If its any consolidation, I'm not one of those psychos, I'm just a paid infiltrator." The look on their face dropped from amusement to fear as they felt a blade against their back. "That being said… would you be interested in my services? I generally prefer not to go against Warrior Bunnies, bit bad for my health, yeah?"

"Should I skin him, or let him live?" Rasha asked from behind the shapeshifter.

"He deliberately fouled his attack." Gray noted to Pina, as one of the soldiers bound the Dar with strange white bonds. "Probably saw what the firearms could do."

"Bandaged thigh." Pina nodded toward the Dar. "I bet he found out exactly what a firearm can do."

"Fire's dying down!" A militiaman shouted.

"They're coming! Ready yourselves!" Another shouted.

"Norma, lead some of the knights to the top of the wall!" Gray shouted commands, barking at the Rose Knights as they fell into positions.

Pina glanced over the crowd of militia, faces showing fear.

In the stories she had read and seen acted out in plays, now would be when the Imperial General, or hero of the story would make an inspiring speech that would rally the scared soldiers into winning the day. But nothing came to Pina's mind, full as it was of her own doubts and fears.

Snatches of phrases, or bits of other speeches came to her mind, but nothing whole.

"Warriors of Italica!" Richard's voice called out, accented slightly, and clearly unused to telling at such volume. Yet, it did what Pina was struggling to do, catching their attention, and distracting them from their fears. "The enemy comes before you!"

Silently, Pina cursed the 'Knight'. How was that going to inspire anyone.

"But behind you is your homes! Your sisters, brothers, children, parents! They will not be looking to her highness' knights to protect them, or myself. They will be looking to you! Will you fail them?" An echoing, angry cry of 'No!' was the response. It was only a handful responding, but she saw the looks on the others. They were either angry or their faces were blank, very few looked afraid. "You are few, and the enemy is many, but I know you will hold! The foe fights for coin! You fight for your city! Coin will be gone the next day, and they are surrounded by untrustworthy mercenaries! Your city will last through the generations, and you are surrounded by kinsmen, fighting even now for your sakes! Will you leave them ashamed!?"

The 'No!' was louder this time. More and more faces were angry.

"Then fight and hold the cowards coming at us back!" Pina shouted, refusing to let Richard be the one to have the final word. "For Italica!"

Cries of "Italica! Italica! Italica!" echoed.

The firearms on the wall began to fire more rapidly. Someone cursed.

The elves with Richard took places on a rooftop, positioned behind and above the barricade assembled around the inside of the gate to hold the enemy back.

The militia, whipping themselves into a frenzy now, beat their weapons against the ground or their shields.

A magical blow hammered the burning remnants of the gate, scattering the burned and broken pieces.

A heartbeat later, the first of the enemy was through.

 

[charclone]

They found a bloodthirsty militia waiting for them.

Spears and axes struck, as they smashed into the barricade. The first bunch fell, some to arrows fired by the elves of the Long Patrol, others to bullets from the Canadian soldiers. The dirt ground quickly became bloodied.

Slowly, the numbers past the gate increased.

As moments stretched into seconds, and seconds into minutes, they began to press against the barricade. Wherever it seemed to start to buckle, Pina's knights charged in, climbing the rear of the barricade to slash and stab at the enemy as they tried to climb its front.

Minutes stretched into an hour.

The foe pulled back, leaving their fallen where they lay, many crying or groaning in pain, with far too many silent.

The militia used the reprieve as best they could, drinking from waterskins, pulling their dead and wounded off the barricade, and generally resting as best they could.

After too short a time, the cry came again that they were attacking.

The enemy mage once against lending their strength, as a magical blow hurled a pair of militia archers off the wall.

As the two NATO soldiers on the wall fired in the general vicinity of the mage, leaving the archers to deal with their enemy counterparts, the sister's played one of their last cards.

Dressed in black and red, the 'Sons of Emroy' were a well know mercenary band. They went wherever there was heavy fighting, and were made up of former soldiers, looking for a death in combat. They were fanatics, and bloodthirsty as well.

They cheered as a grenade hurled from the wall killed several of them, rushing past and over the dead and wounded through the gate, bolstering the moral of the rest of the sister's forces with the sight.

They struck the barricade as a powerful mass, several leaping with the momentum of the charge to carry them, armour and all, most of the way up it.

The militia and the Rose Knights tried to rally, and drive them back, but just as they readied themselves, a powerful just of wind blew the blood-soaked dirt up and around the mercenaries, into the eyes of the defenders.

Richard wasn't sure what possessed him.

He had only fought one battle, one real battle, not the play of festivals or tournaments, out of desperation, and he had nearly been killed. Yet, the sight of the knights and militia, desperately trying to hold back and failing struck something in him.

He screamed and readied his black blade.

"Eulalia!"

It was the battle cry of the fictional Long Patrol, for which the escaped slaves that had fought alongside him and been named. It was a cry supposedly derived from the ancient Norse, or Celtic, word for victory.

It served its imagined role well.

Tara nearly jumped when Richard yelled. She did jump, in step with him, as he charged. His 'bodyguard' kept step with them both.

They were few. The foe many, and the militia reeling.

It didn't turn the tide. But it did make it pause.

Richard felt his blade punch through the chainmail around someone's throat, as he reached the top of the barricade. The body fell backwards clutching their throat, vanishing among the throng.

Tara gave her own war cry, her bladed-spear singing through the air, with better precision that Richard's own bladework.

It was simple, bloody work. Slashes at any extended limbs trying to climb, and stabs at any bodies in reach, all to keep them from climbing the barricade.

Richard felt something strange in the air, for a brief second, before the enemy mage struck again, having repositioned themselves.

A chunk of the central barricade shattered, the militia on top reeling and bleeding from the splinters in their bodies.

For a heartbeat, those that could spare the thought might have worried the battle would shift, the mercenaries breaking through.

Then 7.62 NATO rounds tore through the gap in the lines, as Major Johnston and his troops, fresh from breaking the foe on the north wall, came running.

The soldier with the machine gun swept his fire towards the centre of the enemy, firing in controlled bursts from where he lay atop the building..

It was efficient, it was brutal, and it was swift, as the Canadian soldiers fired bursts from their own weapons.

The mercenaries broke and fled.

The sisters' suborned militia and personal forces shattered.

It was a mimicry of the situation outside the walls.




"Yeah, that's it! Drop them on the fucking ground! On the motherfucking ground!" Harry shouted. "Fifi! Left!"

Philip's rifle barked, as one soldier, too stupid to surrender like his fellows, tried to charge. He dropped as 5.56 NATO gave him a new airway.

"Fucking show-off! Quit aiming for their goddamn head! Sarge'll have yours for fucking breakfast!"

"Ross! Tent! I'll get front, you rear!"

"Roger!"

The camp's guards had been lax, few, and primitively equipped. It had been child's play to get in close and take them piecemeal.




"Richard." Tara panted, noting she was more out of shape than she had thought she was. "Edgar said something… what's an airstrike?"

Richard, breathing just as heavily, paused.

"Aircraft. Cover your ears."

Tara glanced up as she heard a strange roar.

She swore and did her best to cover all four ears with one arm, while the other held her spear.




"Hoo! Chairforce is lighting the fucking Romans up like a Christmas tree!" Ross laughed, as he and Philip dragged some overdressed noble to where they were collecting the prisoners, pausing to glance at the explosions from the USAF's strike against the massed forces outside Italica. "Guess we won't have much to clean up."

A moment later, the helicopters roared overhead, a song playing from their speakers.

"Airborne in late to the party, and they think they're the motherfucking Winged Hussars." Ross shook his head.

"Least that means they are the one's cleaning shit up over there." Philip sighed, as he lifted the noblewoman, who fainted at the sight of the helicopters, illuminated by the camp's lights.