"Clashes of Steel, Hearts of Iron"

Prologue, Part 1

The tower was barely standing. But that did not scare its occupants. Guardian Tower had undergone a few repairs in the last month. But its still felt like it was about to topple over at any second. Yet the occupants of the Tower did not mind. It was the first intelligence briefing for the counter-offensive. It had been nearly one month since the burning of Battleon. The "secret" that they had new Intel on the enemy had "accidentally been leaked" to the general public, which had in fact raised the mood. They were now strategizing, trying to figure out how they would push the 'Galin's armies back. I

They had three things to figure out. First off, their strategy. They needed to know how and when to engage. Second, they needed to now tactics, because if they lost every engagement, it wouldn't matter how well they planned. Third, logistics. Logistics were vital to fighting; they'd be destroyed if they could not maintain an army. And Logistics would be difficult if they planned an invasion. They could only send a limited amount of supplies over the river at one time. And their supply line would be easy to cut off, so it would be vital to defend it.

The Intel briefing was placed in front of Warlic, he was about to pee himself from excitement. They'd finally know what was going on behind enemy lines! Warlic opened up, and read a few pages. He seemed impressed, or shocked. Whichever one he really was did not matter, it mattered that the material was awe-inspiring.

"So, apparently, they have an organized Intelligence department, and a chain of command. It isn't just one whole army reporting to Chris. There are several organizations in the system."

"The Limineti, who are the acting National Guard, are where they put defectors. They keep them separate from the field army, because they want encouraged soldiers to be their front line. They don't want their assault force to be afraid to kill their brothers…"

"Next we have… Earax spearmen, their standard infantry force. These are the men we encountered at Ebretman Hill. These soldiers are versatile, able to take on one of two different roles. They can be deployed offensively, or defensively. They are slow and thorough…. Fuck this, where's all the dirt? I know all this shit already!"

He began to skim. "Ahh… Okay, central command structure for their 'cloak and dagger' stuff is COIN. Stands for Covert Operations and Intelligence Network. They manage a number of units. Commissioned by Chris 7 months ago, rumored to have trained the Arcanii. COIN performs a number of tasks. They operate independently, but they have to run everything they do by General Chris before they launch an Op. He has the right to alter the game plan in anyway he sees fit. Although, the document hints he may have been the one who set up the attack on Battleon to begin with."

Artix was getting impatient of just listening. "Can I please read this?"

Warlic passed him the paper, "Most certainly."

Artix began to read aloud, "Not much Intel can be collected on COIN, numerous field agents went missing while investigating. Rumor has it that, blah blah blah… hit squads?!?... Assassinations?!?... Sniper took out head of COIN investigation on the 17th… Damn, this is some heavy shit right here!"

Warlic spoke back, "Yeah, we don't know much about COIN. I think they prefer it that way, judging by their reaction to our investigation…"

"Yeah," Artix murmured, "No knowledge of enemy plans. Anyone who found out was terminated before Intel could be turned over. They're a secretive bunch."

"Yeah, no shit. Anyway, there's also a reference to something called 'The Old Guard'. Apparently, the organization has a number of older units that existed before Chris arrived under its command. The Agents who investigated it are all MIA."

"Ohh…"

Matt came in "How much of this is relevant? It tells of enemy command structure. What do we know about their movement?"

Warlic spoke, "Hmm… Doesn't say much on enemy garrisons. Only hints the locations of a few large ones."

Galanoth was annoyed, "This is underwhelming. How many agents did we lose to get our hands on this?"

"116."

"It wasn't worth it at all. The report is pretty ambiguous on the stuff we just found out about."

"Well, it sure ain't ambiguous about how many agents died." Artix had his say, "Read here."

Galanoth picked up the scrolls, and read about the assassination of several operatives on the 17th.

2 Weeks Ago

Corporal Hverdas picked up the crossbow. To his left stood Corporal Mikels, his acting spotter. They were an elite. They were "Urban Marksman" for the Comanseti. They were basically sharpshooters; their job was to pick off enemies in scenarios like this. They were instructed to kill targets from a distance, and then to get the hell out of there. Today though, they had the privilege of killing an important target. COIN itself had planned the operation, and had received the utmost blessings from Chris.

They both stood atop a roof in the Valleymen Capital of Summits-Word. Comanseti "Urban Marksmen" unit was largely unproved, taking a handful of men from the artillery corps who had a high level of experience with projectile weapons. Out of 540 men, Hverdas was performing the 6th mission in the unit's existence.

Today, it would be one shot, per kill. Hverdas might have to shoot more than one enemy. His crossbow was a dual-lever action model, with very high power. It could fire a 19-inch bolt up to 300 yards with devastating stopping power and accuracy. It was still accurate up to 400 yards, if there was a good marksman using it.

Hverdas had been chosen because he was good at handling situations where there would be civilians. He had been instructed on his primary target, and knew to kill him first before he attacked anyone else. Hverdas stood atop the roof, waiting for them to pass.

A street level spotter gave a signal by taking off his hat and putting it to his chest. He was the third member of any team. The team operated with one man close to the target, either armored or in plain clothes, who'd give the signal when they were near the target or had a shot. The spotter was responsible for finding and acquiring the target, and giving advice to the shooter. The shooters job was simple. Shoot the bastard, preferably in the neck. Hverdas saw the signal, and loaded a clip into his crossbow magazine.

(Okay, for those of you who just got confused by the last sentence, I want to make some discrepancy. A clip and a magazine are two totally different things. A magazine is a place where rounds are stored in a weapon, to be ready for firing. A magazine can be built inside a weapon, or be an external magazine like the thing you typically call a clip. What a clip REALLY is is a device that aids in the loading of rounds into a magazine, specifically an internal magazine.)

(For instance, in World War 2, many armies used a device known as a strip clip. A strip clip is a piece of metal shaped to hold five rounds on it, which would be inserted into a rifle when it needs to be reloaded. This saved a lot of time in a firefight; otherwise each round would have to be individually loaded. And yes, an external box magazine doesn't constitute a clip because that's where rounds are stored for firing. So… let's recap. A clip is a device built to aid with the insertion of rounds into the magazine. The magazine itself is where rounds are held to be ready for firing, regardless on its position on the weapon. I want to clear this up, cause it really PISSES ME OFF when you all call a magazine a "clip" and vice versa. Thank you for sparing what little attention you have, because I know your mom forgot to pick up your Ritalin from CVS today. Okay, I'm through lecturing, back to the damn story…)

So, anyway, Hverdas placed a clip into the underside of the crossbow, loading 6 rounds into the magazine. Hverdas pulled back the upper-level, bringing back the bowstring into a firing position. He then pulled back the lower string, placing a bolt into firing position. With the crossbow loaded, Hverdas shouldered the weapon, and stared down the mounted optic sight. It was a crude device, a shaped piece of glass that only magnified a target 4x. But, it was effective considering all the other technologies available.

Hverdas looked down the optic sight. His finger shaking with excitement, he began to feel along the trigger guard. He rubbed his finger up and down on it, he felt his pulse. It was fast; his breathing was quick and shallow. He had killed numerous monsters, but he had never killed a human being. He wanted his first kill so badly. He didn't care where he hit, as long as it killed. But the night before, he prayed hard for a neck shot. Hverdas had hoped he could hit there. But any kill would suffice.

Mikels stared through a pair of field glasses. He was trembling as well; it would be his advice that would guide the day. And in this environment, a mistake meant the target would escape, and an innocent person would be killed. Mikels finally indicated that he had spotted the target. He guided Hverdas to him.

Hverdas took aim. His gaze down the sight was filled with intensity. He finally caught up to the man, and placed his crosshairs on the mans neck.

Mikels began to make calculations for wind, range, and elevation using his field glasses. He called out his values to Hverdas. Hverdas adjusted his sights to match these numbers. He had his optics correct. Now, wherever he placed his crosshairs, a bolt could hit that exact spot. He could shoot a gold piece out of the air if his timing was right.

Hverdas lined up for the shot. Only this first shot mattered. This one had to hit. It would need to be a hit. The mission depended solely on a hit. Hverdas saw his target walk. Sweat ran down his forehead as he concentrated. He kept the crosshairs following him, keeping on him at all times.

Hverdas quickly brought himself to a crouching stance, to stabilize his aim. He spoke to his spotter, "I'm entering firing stance, call me."

His spotter nodded, and crouched as well. Hverdas held his breath, and began to lead off his target. He already knew the man's movement patterns, he saw how he walked. He led him off exactly. He placed his finger on the trigger. He kept the trigger partially depressed; the pressure exhibited from a hair could set off the weapon. Hverdas had mentally blocked out all other noises in the streets, but a shout from Mikels would make him fire. He was fidgety.

Mikels followed the man's footsteps. As the man approached a small area where there were no people, Mikels screamed the magic word. "Fire!"

Hverdas pulled the trigger completely. The bowstring flew forward in a split second. It brought the bolt with it. As the bolt took flight in a lightening fast pattern, it began to spin in the air. The spinning stabilized the bolt; it provided stability and kept the round accurate. It zoomed, traveling almost as fast as sound. But from the viewpoint of an onlooker, it looked faster than light. The bolt flew straight and true, penetrating flesh. It was a direct hit to the neck of the target.

The man began to stumble. Blood gushed from the wound, and he fell to his knees. He gasped for air that would never come. He was in suffering, and was dying. Hverdas felt no remorse. They had felt no remorse for his sister as they tore open her body and took away her innocence right before his eyes. They tore open his mother as well. They killed his mother, and his sister committed suicide soon after. Hverdas felt a joy that many men never felt in their lives. The joy of bittersweet justice.

Hverdas pulled back both levers on his crossbow, he still had other targets. Three men stood in shock over their friend, and a frightened crowd looked at the dying man. One of the man's friends ran toward him and dropped to his knees next to him, trying to help his dying compatriot. Hverdas showed him no compassion. He quickly let off another round, without Mikels's instructions. He took the second man's life with a shot the chest, and rearmed his weapon.

The other two men began to run. With Mikels's help, Hverdas readied his aim, and fired off a bolt at one of the fleeing men. It struck the man in the back. Hverdas went prone as he rearmed his weapon yet again. He had much better control of his aim. He got a bead on the second target, and fired. The bolt struck the man in the back of the head, and he fell to the ground. The crowd was in shock, with people fleeing every which way.

The ground spotter gave a signal. There was a fifth target, standing near an alleyway, looking shocked over the deaths of his friends. Mikels's guided Hverdas to the man. Hverdas took aim. The man began to run. The fifth target was completely exposed. The crowd was fleeing from the alley, and soon he'd be dead. Hverdas was about to pull the trigger, but then he realized. He'd have to readjust his sights, because the wind had picked up. Hverdas decided to call it a day. The target would get away before they could adjust the sights.

Hverdas gave a signal to his ground spotter, and the man began to walk away. Hverdas picked up his crossbow, unloaded the magazine, and stored the crossbow in his weapon satchel. When he finished, he turned to see Mikels's finishing packing up his equipment. They both walked down stairs, and met their scout in the street. They were too excited after the days events to talk. They decided to go back to their regimental HQ, to report the kills and the aftermath of the day…