Hello ladies and gentlemen. This story is meant to be publicity for the launch of a new Ace Combat fan site that I'm a part of. On the side, I do hope to submit this story to Kono-sensei for it to become an official Ace Combat novel one day. The story takes place during the Osean War, which occurred from 1905 to 1910 in Strangereal lore, according to the official lore book Aces at War. The story is meant to follow, not only information from that lore book but also from a head canon that exists between me and a friend of mine. Also, my apologies in advance if this prologue is really short, but I assure you that there will be more, longer chapters later on. Also, as you may notice, parts of this prologue are inspired by the 2016 video game Battlefield 1. So without further ado, let us begin.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Ace Combat games in any way, though, as I said earlier, I do hope to submit this to Kono-sensei to make this an official novel for the Strangereal lore.

Advisory: This story contains sequences of front line combat. Some depictions are graphic in nature and reader discretion is advised.

ACE COMBAT

Knights of the Realm

Written by

Christopher Manson

Prologue

An Ocean of Bullets

Sudentor, South Belka

18 April 1910

Twenty-one year old Lance Corporal Augustin Grimm snapped to self awareness as chaos raged all around him. To his left, an Osean soldier was bayoneted by a South Belka Militiaman; to his right, an Osean Marine was beating a North Belkan soldier to death. He became even more aware of his surroundings as an Osean Army soldier tried to charge at him, bayonet fixed on his Lee-Enfield bolt-action rifle. However, Augustin barely dodged the bayonet-armed rifle, grabbed the Osean soldier by the head and snapped it, killing his assailant instantly. Did Augustin have any remorse toward killing another human being? He wouldn't say "remorse", considering that he was, and still is, fighting a war for the continued survival of a Belka unified through war. "Grimm! We've been surrounded! We need to regroup for a counterattack!" said a twenty-eight year old Lieutenant Richard Beckert. However, before Augustin could say anything in reply, Beckert stopped a bullet in the head; he was dead before he hit the ground.

"Scheisse!" was all Augustin could curse as he quickly picked up Beckert's Gewehr 98 bolt-action rifle. Realizing that he was the only one left in command, he and a number of other Belkan soldiers and Militiamen set up a defensive line at what was left of a house. "Get ready men! Here they come!" Augustin shouted as the next wave of Oseans came rushing at them. Half of these Osean soldiers and Marines only got within two hundred feet of the Belkans' position before they were mowed down by an ocean of bullets. An eighteen year old Private named Tilo Spellmeyer noticed an Osean soldier armed with a flamethrower nearby, and fired multiple accurate shots at the fuel tank. The Osean flamethrower-armed soldier exploded, taking a number of other soldiers and Marines with him in the process. "Great shooting, Private!" Augustin shouted multiple Oseans writhed around on fire. Looking over to his left, he noticed a nineteen year old South Belka Militiaman who was half-Belkan, half-Erusean get his head blown off by a sniper round. "Maintain your positions!" Augustin shouted, as more Belkans were being felled. Eventually, he realized it was suicide to stay in this position any longer. "Fall back!" he commanded as he and the rest of the Belkans began to retreat towards the ruins of what was a church.

As he and the rest of the Belkans fell back, he couldn't help but think about how it had come to this; the fact that he and his fellow countrymen had been reduced to murdering other people for the sake of 'national honor'. He couldn't help but inwardly curse the two Belkan monarchies and his own military higher-ups for putting them in this mess in the first place. Bullets passed mere inches to his left and right, and he could swear that he could reach out and touch a hundred of them. He looked back and saw one of his closest friends, a twenty year old North Belkan Lance Corporal named Eduard Oelberg stop a bullet in his spine. "Eduard?! Dammit! Now he's gone..." Augusin thought to himself as he looked on helplessly. He continued falling back to the church ruins with the rest of his men, thinking of how he could've save his friend.

Bullets grazed pass his head, snapping him back to reality. Augustin and the surviving Belkan troops arrived at the church ruins, with the former taking control of a Maxim machine gun. Seeing flamethrower-armed soldiers in front, Augustin proceeded to cut them down. The Osean War turned the Belkan rank and file from sympathizers to monsters, all for the sake of protecting their honor. As the Oseans continued to be cut down by machine gun fire, Augustin noticed that their enemy was starting to break and flee. "They're retreating... They're retreating!" he stated in disbelief. As the Oseans broke and fled, a group of Belkan A7V Sturmpanzerwagens rolled out. Augustin couldn't help but feel lucky that these machines, which the Oseans referred to as "Tanks", were on their side... mostly. "Alright, men! Drive them out of our city!" Augustin cried out as he and his fellow Belkans moved forward in support of their armoured vehicles. The Osean retreat turned into a rout. "Chase those Oseans back to Oured!" a twenty year old Militiaman shouted just prior to him losing his left leg. As Augustin continued charging, bayonet fixed on the barrel of his Gewehr 98, he failed to notice an Osean soldier lying in wait with a large rock. The Osean struck him on the helmet just as an Osean artillery barrage came rolling in.

When he eventually regained consciousness and got up, Augustin noticed that his assailant was an Osean of African descent; a familiar patch with the picture of a coiled snake on his shoulder. The Osean's name: Sergeant Zachary Snow. As the two aimed their rifles at each other, they tried to pull the trigger; but for some reason, neither of them could bring themselves to do the deed. As a result, the two reluctantly lowered their rifles, smiled and went their separate ways, believing that perhaps there was hope for peace from this slaughter.

Behind every gunsight in this war is a human being. We are those people. We are the jaded and we are the naive. We are the chivalrous, the honourable, and the criminal. We are the bound-for-legend and we are the lost-to-history. We are the knights of the sky, the men who rule the sea, and the rats in the mud.

These are our stories...