Chapter 24: Battle for Port Balboa
By SodiumChlouride12, derived from Fire Emblem, owned by Nintendo.
A/N: We humans are social creatures. Find yourself some good friends with similar interests and spend the holiday with them. We're only alive for so long, so don't waste it.
N: A battle brews. The young tactician will have to participate in some "on-the-job training."
A large gathering of people laid before me. With their eyes resembling the glimmer of starlight, they humbly waited for me to recount my story.
I dramatically waved my hand through the air, having come to a full circle before I began my recantation.
After waiting a moment to allow my audience to settle down, I began to describe a story; one that was all but too real to a person such as myself.
I said, "Once upon a time, there was a prince who was set to inherit a land larger than even Etruria himself. He was a man of great character who saw the rules of nobility as restricting. Thus, he married a woman not befitting of his status...but that's a tale for another time..."
I continued, "But his country was in turmoil. With a delicate political situation around him, he sought to visit a province that was rebellious towards the crown. He meant this not as a move of tyranny, but of one of goodwill to the people. But he could not have chosen a worse day. The day he arrived to the provincial capital was on the anniversary of that people's worst defeat. Some saw it as an utter slap to the face, so hidden forces began to plan for the prince's death."
One of the listeners, a private named Joachim, raised his hand.
He asked, "Did they kill him?"
I shooed his remark away dismissively.
I said, "I'm getting to that. The prince went as planned, and was the center of a huge parade taking place near the city square. Everything was going well, the prince and his wife were having fun. But they could not be anymore oblivious to what was about to happen. Suddenly, a mage appeared before their carriage, and he let loose a fire spell directly towards the monarch."
I clapped my hands together...mimicking a gunshot. Some of the more lighthearted folks jumped from the seats.
I said, "A fireball erupted through the city square! Dozens of soldiers and parade goers were injured. The guards tackled the man to the ground, only to find out that he had already taken his own life a moment before. But as for the prince..."
I have an optimistic thumbs up.
I said, "The spell completely missed him by several feet! After the attack, the officials of the town beckoned him to a safe location, but he wouldn't have it. He wanted to show that he cared for these people, and so he decided to visit a hospital where all the injured were taken. And thus he returned to his carriage and took to the streets. Unfortunately, the coach wasn't familiar with the town's layout, and he ended up taking a wrong turn. Trying to steer the vehicle in the right direction, the horses stopped momentarily in front of a sandwich shop. Can you guess who was eating at the sandwich shop?"
Raven rolled his eyes. He had heard enough.
He said, "Enough with your fairy tales tactician. You're obviously going to sa-"
SMACK!
Raven's head fell forward as Lumina's hand impacted it. Her face was red with anger, the crowning jewel of a pissed off manakete.
She said, "Raven! Shut up!"
He immediately turned back towards her. His face was equally as angry. A vein just above his forehead seemed to be at the cusp of bursting. He balled up his fists.
He said, "Why you stupid b-"
Simon lunged himself in between the two. Using his knightly strength, he managed to keep the duo away from each other.
He said, "Now now...no need to get feisty."
In unison, they replied, "Stay out of this Simon!"
Meanwhile, perched on my chair above the audience, my cheeks went red with embarrassment. I was sweating bullets and hoped my friends wouldn't make this situation any worse.
It was like the Illian Knight was in between a rock and a hard place.
He said, "I'm just trying to help guys!"
After a while, the two steam heads calmed down and I was able to continue my story. It was a good thing too, I was starting to get on the good part.
I said, "Erm...yeah. So one of the assassins, upset of his failure of a day, decided to make himself feel better by eating at a local restaurant. As if by fate, just as his tastebuds sensed the tomatoes in his meal, he spotted the prince...immobile...and oblivious to his environment. He dropped his sandwich and charged through the restaurant door. Tome in hand, he let fly an inferno that engulfed the prince and his wife. The assassin fled, and the prince and his wife died to their injuries soon after."
Aquila raised her hand. She was sitting nearby, having substituted her maid outfit for military garb.
She asked, "What of the prince's country? Surely his father would have been enraged of having his son die at the hands of some terrorist."
I replied, "Well you'd be right Aquila. The king had troops on standby to retaliate against the province, but the provincial leaders called out to a cultural ally for help. That cultural ally accepted, and due to a complicated web of alliances established before this assassination, the world was engulfed in war. Millions of people died...millions more suffered. Some countries were wiped off the face of the earth. Perhaps if the assassin had any idea of the Pandora's box he opened to the world, maybe he would have finished his sandwich. But I digress, the moral of the story is that all it can take is the actions of one man to change the course of history."
The maid frowned when I finished the story. Something about her mannerisms was...off. I didn't exactly give a happy ending to my story...so perhaps this was to be expected.
We were at Carvel's house. It was a grand manor perched on a hill. A tall, iron spiked fence surrounded the property. The gates were even taller, with the Nobel's family crest emphasized around the black bars. The inside was easily as lavish, with paintings of his family's ancestor adorning the walls. Long winding staircases divided its stories, with the lieutenant colonel seemingly being the only person aware of where all of them went. We were gathered at the noble's war room, a quaint dwelling with books, maps, and even a chimney. Messengers were regularly coming in and out, giving us constant info of the regular happenings in town.
Carvel walked through the door. His arms were full with a large assortment of letters, statistics, and other paperwork. A gust of wind flowed through the open window, sending his goods through the air.
He said, "Guys! Help me! We have to act quickly if we're going to untie this noose!"
Groaning, everybody stood up and returned to their work. The military man spoke the truth. Our faction managed to secure a moderately sized perimeter; about 10 square miles in diameter. On top of that, Carvel had managed to secure an armory in the beginning hours of war...granting us some weaponry we so desperately needed. Food was currently being supplied by the local granary, but it was finite and we knew it. We were landlocked, and we were on a time limit. Whoever had control of the port would ultimately win off of attrition alone.
It felt like an anchor to any future plans the democracists had in mind. Although the winner of this civil war would have to control the palace (currently held by disjointed monarchists) along with a few more important buildings, all future offenses will have to be diverted to the port. It's a simple problem of logistics, but as a famous French tactician once said, an army marches on its stomach.
Carvel showed me to the main battle map on the central table. It was a detailed thing, with complex illustrations of the geography, the faction boundary lines, and little props representing hypothetical forces the enemy had. Upon closer inspection, I grew to understand our situation a bit more.
In addition to our perimeter (in the northeast), we also had some isolated pockets of sympathizers the library and some residential areas. In the northwest, the socialist faction had control of the major manufacturing centers. Out by farmland in the southwest, the anarchists found friends in some disgruntled farmers. The monarchists had control of the palace along with the military command center in the middle of town. Most of the south had been taken by independent forces, some of which numbered no more than 100 men. The port and the entire coast was being occupied by the fascists.
I bit my lip. I had never been particularly experienced when it came to Grande Battleplan type warfare. At most, any "experience" came from the 1000 hours I have clocked in on modded Heart of Iron IV. Hours and hours of my life spent behind a computer screen, leading virtual soldiers to their despair and demise. Although the setting and technology are different, maybe some general concepts would still work here.
I looked over at the clay soldiers standing on our territory. We had about five regiments under our command, with each sporting about 5000 souls. They were spread evenly around the perimeter of our territory, ready to dispel any attack. There were some weird props that I didn't recognize on the other territories.
I asked Carvel, "Hey, what do those mean?"
Carvel laid down the paperwork he was signing and looked over at the map.
He replied, "Well...that castle over there represents a fortress...that hat represents known mages...that bow means archers...the rest is self-explained. There's a fort blocking our path to the port...and unfortunately due to the monarchists below is we can't go around it. Any transgressions on that piece of territory will have to be fought through that structure...which I highly recommend against. As you can see, the fascists have control of about 15,000 soldiers."
Simon's head swung over to us.
He exclaimed, "15,000?!"
Carvel nodded silently. He ruffled his hair as if to hide his anxiety.
I looked back towards the map. Due to the fascists' military support, they were able to mobilize the majority of their troops in the beginning hours. Given time, they'd be able to muster 20,000. Meanwhile, we'd only be able to command 10,000 troops with our population pool. They had a better position, better troops, and more of them as well. There was no way around it, this war just had the word "defeat" spelled all around it. Heck...they could even take us out right now if they wanted to.
But why didn't they? The right tactical move would be to knock us out immediately and then circle around the monarchist faction like a boa constrictor. With everybody fighting for themselves, the divide and conquer strategy would greatly benefit here. It just didn't make sense. Allowing us and the other factions time to mobilize more troops would only lead to unnecessary suffering for both sides.
But then it hit me. It all made sense now.
Those two men...Ephidel and Jaffar. Do they have ties to the fascists? How about influence? Assuming both of those statements were true, then it would be in the Fang's (and by extension Nergal's) best interest to create as many deaths as possible. They'd allow us to kill each other while they'd collect the quintessence afterward, all while not lifting a finger.
Those bastards! They were the one that set up the bomb, weren't they?! They knew that killing the Emperor would ignite a civil war! That's all that man sees in this city...a factory to generate the substance he so desperately desires! Nergal intends to use this city to build an army!
My face went red with anger, and my vision as well. Unable to control myself, I swept away the battle map from the table...shocking everyone.
Simon grabbed my arm.
He said, "Mark! What has gotten into you?!"
With the very essence of wrath flowing through my veins, I ripped him off my limb.
I exclaimed, "Get off me!"
Longing to sate the fire that had so quickly engulfed me, I turned towards the only thing that could possibly relieve it. The wall.
Clenching my fist, I swung it directly towards the brick structure. My arm went through it like butter, sending out a cloud of dust. As if the dust was the coolant I so desperately desired, my head began to clear as I realized what I had done. My hand had created a clean hole through the wall, with the front half of my arm currently rubbing against insulation.
Pulling it away, I turned my gaze towards the terrified members of the command. It was a remarkable display of force, one that left a mark on my dominant hand.
A small stream of blood puddles on the floor. With adrenaline allowing me to ignore it, I glared at the others intimidatingly.
I said with a cold voice, "Everybody that isn't a major or above leave the room..."
The area stood still. There was a tense feeling in the air, and I felt like a devil among men.
Aquila stood in front of me like a pillar of defiance. Her eyes had a fire that matched mine.
She exclaimed, "You're not in charge! Carvel is!"
I shifted my glare towards her, and all confidence that she had evaporated in an instant. Her face turned white as if she had seen a ghost.
I shot back, "Get me some tea you glorified cleaning lady..."
A few minutes later...
My nerves calmed as herbal green tea slid down my throat. The smooth nectar felt like aloe gel rubbing against my brain, allowing my mind to clear. I could feel my sentience drift away from my heart and towards my rationality again.
A: I see...so this will return you to your senses no matter what.
M: It's one of my few guilty pleasures. Caffeine gives me a headache...so green tea is perfect for me.
The room was empty save my friends and a few senior-level officers. There was about 10 in total. Our quartet, Carvel, the majors Aquila, Barsec, and Milo, standing lieutenant colonel Mars, and colonel Vartex. I was surprised to see Aquila in here...but it would appear she was much more than a simple maid. I knew an apology was in order in the near future.
Mars said, "So what you're suggesting is that we form an alliance with the socialist and monarchist factions if I am correct?"
I nodded my head and took another sip.
I replied, "Yes. By doing so we will have enough forces to form a three-pronged attack on the enemy's territory. Port Balboa is only providing supply from the center of their territory. If we can cut their supply lines, we should be able to encircle them. Given enough time, any army no matter how small will fall."
Carvel asked Vartex, "Colonel. Would the tactician be right in that assessment?"
The military man brought together the pieces that made up the three factions. Five for the democracists, nine for the monarchists, and four for the socialists. Eighteen thousand men in total, with a possibility of twelve thousand more down the line. He nodded.
He said, "Assuming that we can keep them on the field without losing supply then yes. However, the combined force would only be able to be suitably fed and equipped for two months. After that, we may run into some issues."
Barsec the major, said, "Well if we play our cards right we may not need two months. If our encirclements come without a hitch then they may only last a few days."
Simon stood up from his seat. It was time to address the elephant in the room.
Simon said, "But what would it take to secure this force? Surely the other factions are going to want concessions?"
The command center went into a hushed silence. The military men and women pondered what they would have to give up in order to survive. Was it even possible to work with people like these?
I said, "At first glance, it may appear that our ideals are far apart. But I took the liberty of reading their manifestos, and I think there is room for compromise."
Milo erupted from his seat. His face was red and resembled a cherry. I looked at him like an older brother would towards their annoying little sister.
He exclaimed, "Heretic! How dare you read their filth?! It betrays the very essence of our ideals!"
I replied, "Keyword on the word ideals Milo. You honestly can't expect to rule over a country of different minded individuals without compromise. That's the whole problem with Carazan, no one is willing to speak to one another. Ideals are nothing more than fantasies that we fool ourselves into following. If we discard the absolute values of our ideals, then we can come together and make something that can actually work."
Milo said, "But what abou-"
For a split second my ferocity penetrated through the peaceful membrane my green tea had created.
I shot back, "Use your head, Milo! Only a quarter of the town supports our movement. You can't just force your political system on an unreceptive population! Reality doesn't work like that!"
Milo took a step back, and then returned into his chair. I took another sip of my beverage before I could tarnish my reputation any further.
Carvel said, "You speak as if you've lived in a democracy before tactician."
I shifted my gaze towards Lumina, how raised her eyebrow. Oh...only if they knew...
I replied, "I'm simply acting in accordance with the information given to me. We must secure this alliance for our survival. Now back to their manifestos..."
I laid out a long series of papers out on the desk. Using a makeshift highlight to help make notes, I pointed out some important details in their ideals.
I said, "As you can see...the socialists simply want to secure more workers rights, but explicitly leave out their method of government. I assume it's because they themselves are unsure...some may want to install a dictator while others don't really care who's in charge just as long as their labor rights are respected. We can invite them to argue their cases under a democratic system...and pass their wanted laws at the ballot box."
Carvel placed his finger on his chin.
He said, "Interesting."
I discarded the socialists' manuscript for the monarchists'. It was in much more elaborate handwriting, and it was probably written by a noble.
I said, "Says here they favor the rule of a monarch along with his nobility. What it doesn't state is to what extent. What y'all can do is establish a House of Lords and a House of Commoners. At first, the two houses will be equal in legislative power, with the commoners outranking the Lords' house. Due to the declining population of nobility in this country...I can assume that the Lords' house will lose most of its practical power within the next century. The nobility will still exist...and democracy gets the power it needs to be relevant."
Mars asked, "But how do we ensure that the monarchists don't take back power? They'll be upset that we're taking away some of their birthrights...and what of the Emperor?"
I said, "That's where Carvel comes in. He mentioned earlier that he's a candidate for the crown..."
Carvel slammed his hand on the table.
He said, "I renounced that right a long time ago! How could I betray my friends and rule over them? That'd make me no better than Elred!"
I raised my hands defensively, "You won't be ruling them per se. In order to get the monarchists to bite, we'll be transferring all of the powers of the king over to a newly elected position called a president. The president would have their power bestowed upon them by the monarch's blessing, with the understanding that the monarch can take back the power at any moment. But the thing is...since you'll be the emperor..."
"You never would. You'll teach your kids to never take power as well. Eventually, so much time will pass that it'll become precedent and the emperor will be nothing more than a symbolic position."
Carvel leaned back on his chair. A bead of sweat traveled down his forehead. I could tell he was internally debating within his mind.
Not wanting to rush the noble in an important decision I stood from my seat to leave. Well...that was half right. I was likely the most disliked person in the room...but even bitter medicine had to be given. Besides, I was behind a few hours in sleep.
I said, "I'll leave you people to think about your decision. I'll be going to my room to take a nap. If y'all are going to form this meeting then I'd do it quickly, preferably I'd like to launch an attack this afternoon."
Mars said, "This afternoon? That only gives us several hours."
I walked to the door. Its metallic handle felt like acid against my left hand, probably due to the fact it was made of lead. I yawned.
"Time is our most precious commodity lieutenant colonel. Every passing day we lose while they gain strength. Tonight will likely be the strongest we will ever be without sufficient supply. Send a pigeon right now if you have to. I want it done."
I closed the door behind me. Everyone looked at one another bewildered in response to the tactician's abrasive nature.
Meanwhile, out of sight, I finally dropped my facade. Smiling as I madly gripped my hair, I couldn't believe what I had just pulled off.
A: Wow. Look at you. Do that again and you might make a fine king.
M: Another one of those and I think I'll melt under the heat...
Carvel sat confidently on a large table. He was alone save for the two other men sitting across from him.
One of the men was an aristocrat named Nicholas. He represented everything he hated in nobility. He was posh, arrogant, and uncaring. His clean military uniform was ironed by the best tailor in town, and it showed no blemishes (likely to his lack of experience). His hair was slicked back with lime juice, and the green in it made it resemble grass. For all his faults, he also had a reputation as a negotiator. Carvel had known this man since his first days at the academy, and they were well aquatinted.
The third was a former textile worker named Eugene. He had a large cigar hanging from his mouth, with a large (but weirdly tidy) beard. His glasses suggested that he was near-sighted, and his muscles his strength. He was a very charismatic in personality and represented one of the few senior socialist officers that had any battle experience. Carvel never had the opportunity to meet him, but he had heard nothing but good things about his character.
Eugene dug into his pocket offered two equally large cigars to his two peers. The gesture caught Carvel off guard.
Eugene said, "If we're to become friends...then let's act like one then."
Carvel recognized this as a mannerism used by the hearty northern Carazanites. Offering a cigar to someone meant that they were open to forming a friendship, and rejecting it represented the greatest insult. Carvel had never smoked before, but better his lungs die than all of his troops.
Accepting it, he lit the cancer stick and took a whiff. His mind numbed as he realized what it was...but he said nothing of its legality. He didn't even want to imagine what back alley Eugene had to go to procure this.
Eugene laughed as he observed Nicholas indulge as well. Despite the nasty reputation of the substance he was using, he still somehow made it seem graceful.
His mind was occupied with how he was going to explain this to Maria. She hadn't seen him like this since he was in university, and his red eyes would surely give his current state away. After all, there was a battle he still had to fight.
He stood and asked for his leave.
Eugene said, "Ah...going so soon? Stay here for a moment. Calm before the storm you know?"
Nicholas said, "That's probably the most intellectual thing I've heard you say today Eugene. I'm starting to see you as a decent ally."
The usual uptight noble had transformed into someone much more laidback. This development caused everyone to laugh.
With tears in his eyes, Carvel replied, "I'm sorry! I have to prepare my troops. Can't really do that here."
His two peers nodded in agreement. They seemed to preoccupied in their happiness to muster much resistance.
Eugene said, "Ah! I see! We shall indulge in merriment once we crown you your Highness! The true celebration will come after our complete victory!"
Nicholas added, "We will crown you here at the palace after we take Balboa. That I can assure."
Carvel replied, "Thank you. I know I can rely on your support. Just as you can rely on mine..."
Satisfied with their meeting, Carvel exited the building. An escort was waiting outside, and they began making their way back towards the manor. It would take some time to travel from the palace. The sun hung a quarter from the edge of the sky, suggesting it was late in the day.
The decisive battle was over the horizon. It was time to come as one and brush off this fascist yoke. The fate of this nation was in their hands.
The ocean wind flowed through my long hair. My scruffy pockets of facial hair moved with it, with the ends curling like a rolled up piece of parchment. The setting sun rapidly began to dim our makeshift battle headquarters, and the flaps struggled to stay still against the forces of nature.
Our tent was safely secured to the ground, but I felt anything by safe. To the distance, I could hear the brutal sounds of war. Soldiers were screaming at the height of their lungs, and constant explosions of dozens of mages filled the air.
The explosions felt like a barrage of firecrackers in a festival. They seeped into one's mind like cancer, disrupting any rational thought and attempt at conversation. The very ground shook with each individual blast, with specks of dirt dancing on our maps as it did so. Outside our tent, droves of wounded laid motionless or agonizing in pain around us. Impromptu nurses and doctors, many of which were nowhere near qualified to treat anything serious; were overwhelmed. Clerics would heal troops to the best of their ability, but so many had gotten injured in the meat grinder ahead that about half of our number have already passed out due to mana deprivation.
A caravan of carts was busy trying to maintain supply to our troops at the front line. On the right side...the carts were filled with water, food, and munitions. On the left, many were filled with injured and dead soldiers. One cart, in particular, was filled with so many dead corpses that the brutal stench it brought caused some of our nurses to pass out, and they had to be coerced with honeyed words to be brought back to work. Our runners also clogged the roads, some of which had already run several miles delivering messages. Despite their efforts, it could take up to half an hour for developments in the front to arrive to me, and I found myself having to read my own forces movements along with the enemies.
This was not the type of warfare I was used to. Before, all I had to do was send Florina to spy on the movements of our enemies along with bringing along any messages to me. Unfortunately, pegasi did not inhabit this part of the world, and Florina was still in Lycia. Everything was so slow and cumbersome, with our reserves having to wade through clogged roads to reinforce our troops. Mages rained down magical hellfire on our troops, creating craters that filled with blood and water as time passed. House to house fighting was frequent, and sometimes the structures would collapse with the combatants still in them. There was a bridge over a river nearby, it was the location of a major excursion between our forces. I received reports that the bridge was painted a crimson red, and the surface was so slick that our troops slipped onto the wood as they attempted to recover the fallen. What a brutal price we had to pay for a victory, but one we made nevertheless.
The amount of adversity these people were willing to stomach was breathtaking. The mental and physical scars they were enduring will take generations to forget. The immense damage to the surrounding environment wasn't something to downplay either. Intense fires filled the sky with smoke and had the wind not been blowing east, this may have posed a significant problem. I can say without any uncertainty that the force I led against Lundgren would've likely caved under this despair.
But it was all necessary. The fascists fought with a fanatical vigor that was borderline religious. They smashed into our forces like they preferred death over giving away a single inch. Our forces had begun pushing them towards the coast, but not without painting the streets red. We had taken about a 1000 casualties, while the fascists had suffered a similar amount.
Right now the battle was at a stalemate. We had taken some of the fascists' territory, going so far as to completely cut off the south from the north. However, no encirclements have been achieved as of yet. For the past hour, our forces have been dancing in a bout with death, with little change in territory. The encirclements I had so treasured in my battle plan had been stopped just before we could reach the sea.
The situation was frustrating. Holes would appear in the enemy's defenses, but by the time I ordered a unit to move in it had already closed up. If we were going to get a breakthrough in this situation, I needed to cut the time it took to relay messages. That only meant one thing.
I had to get closer. Closer than I already was right now.
I began folding up some maps when I garnered Carvel's attention.
He asked, "Mind if I ask what your planning on doing?"
I replied, "I need to get closer to the front. We aren't going nowhere if I have to wait half an hour to give out orders."
He grabbed my arm before I could walk out of the tent.
He said, "Do that and I can't guarantee your safety. We hadn't completely cleared out the area ahead of the safe zone. A sniper may find you...or worse."
I dismissed his concern and shook off his grip.
I replied, "It's fine. I'll go with Lumina, I know she'll spot any spying eyes. The fact of the matter is me being here is needlessly throwing away lives."
He added, "Throwing away lives? Here I was thinking you didn't care much for our movement."
I stopped in my tracks. I closed my eyes and thought about my first casualty, the knight Wallace. His voice when he spoke to me on his deathbed still resonated to me even now. It was a grim reminder that my actions determined the survivability of our troops. Regardless of my motives in a conflict, I will always act on my motivation to save lives.
I replied, "As long as we're working together, your troops' lives are my concern. Now if you don't mind I'll be going."
I left the tent without any further words. Lumina was on standby outside observing the carnage all around us. Although face suggested an uncaring attitude, her wild glances towards the crowd said otherwise.
I asked, "Lumina, how are the others?"
Whatever bubble she was in popped immediately. Shifting her bow on her left hand, the metallic weapon shone under the sunlight.
She replied, "Still in the rearguard securing our supply lines. It will take them some time to return."
I nodded in acknowledgment. I had sent them back there manage the flow of our supply wagons. As long as those wagons continue to arm and feed our troops, this battle will go by much easier. There was no need to create an unnecessary Stalingrad.
I said, "Lumina, I'm going to have to ask a favor of you. I'll be going closer to the front. The communication lag is too much to bear...and it's giving us a tactical disadvantage."
Lumina agreed and we began to walk away from the safe zone. As we did so, we passed by our many wounded at the hospital. The sheer amount of them astounded me, and I realized that the scale of a battle like this was unlike anything I had ever commanded before.
My eyes widened.
I stopped and my pupils were fixated on a small boy. His right hand was blown off from a direct hit due to a basic fire spell. Despite the relative weakness of the spell, it had grievous effects on his tiny body. Looking over his body, I didn't spot the blue democracist sash, gold monarchist armband, or yellow socialist headband. His scream was piercing through the air like a ballistic missile, and a nurse was quickly trying to stop the ever-growing pool of blood below him. Part of his brown hair was burnt off, and his skin was riddled with serious burns. The sight reminded me of pictures I saw in a textbook during WW2, and it brought with it a significantly disturbing aura.
This boy wasn't a combatant. He was a civilian. Someone who was caught at the wrong place at the wrong time. He had no reason to be on a battlefield, but the battlefield found him regardless.
I wasn't the only one that felt this way. I could feel Lumina's anxiety rise with mine.
She quivered, "Is...this what war really is?"
After a moment to ponder her question, I knew what I had to say.
I replied, "This isn't just war. This is total war. Everybody is affected, from the lowest civilian to the swordsman in the back alley. I hadn't expected to see something like this here...but it appears even in a city tucked away in this corner of the world; war never changes."
It took us a while to muster the strength to leave the boy there. In the future, I would wonder what happened to him. Did he survive his injuries? Did he ever reunite with his family...if they hadn't died already? Is this young boy damned to a lifetime of poverty due to his disability? These were questions I would never find answered, and honesty...it was probably in my sanity's best interest that I didn't.
We left the safe zone in earnest. Keeping our heads low, we dashed across the debris-littered streets. We took cover by smoldering buildings, some of which had since collapsed. The air reeked of burning flesh and brick, and the craters in the ground made walking near impossible. Arrows lined the building walls like a pincushion, some of which had open bodies pinned. A few of the bodies still moved with life, and they called out to us as if we could possibly heal their fatal wounds. One went as far to plead for a quick end, a request I reluctantly fulfilled...
I don't want to think about what I did then. Lumina volunteered to do it, but I didn't want to damn her to a lifetime of brutal nightmares. Nightmares I was all too familiar with. I had the manakete look away as I stabbed the man through the skull...delivering my coup de grace.
Our travels got closer to the sounds of war. The explosions grew louder, and soldiers began to appear in the surrounding buildings. Recently injured men and woman were lining the sides of the road, many of which were waiting for medics or just a person to dispel some last words. Some were already on stretchers en route to the safe zone. The streets were littered with broken swords, armor, and other pieces of trash and debris.
At this point, we had reached the rearguard of our lines. I spotted someone in the that looked an officer and waved him down. He had a large, tidy beard and bloodshot eyes. His appearance reminded me of a South American dictator, and I hope he didn't act like one. We approached each other as brothers in arms...
BOOM!
The ground below me shook with a brutal vigor. The earth appeared to lift from the ground as tons and tons of dirt flew into the sky. A huge inferno filled the air, seemingly igniting the atmosphere around us. My body was thrown like a rag doll onto a nearby building, and I could feel something break within me. I tried to open my eyes to take a look of what hit me, but the sheer heat made that impossible. Billows of smoke entered my lungs, and I laid there choking for fresh air.
The sounds of battle were muffled against my eardrums. My sense of sound had greatly weakened, with everything barely passing through the high-pitched ringing. I could barely make out the sounds of men fighting for their lives.
With my last remaining strength, I aimlessly crawled on the ground. I was looking for Lumina, who was right next to me when the explosion hit us.
Through the rubble, I found a warm hand. One laden with the countless calluses associated with archery. The rest of my senses began to feel numb, with the only one still working in clarity was touch.
I held it. After a brief moment of hesitation, I felt its grip reciprocate with mine.
It was the last sensation I had before everything went black...
Ephidel looked at his fine piece of work. One perfectly timed magical attack had completely scrambled the enemy's entire front, with the rearguard facing the brunt. The fascists had recently sent in troops to begin their counterattack, with the survivors struggling against the mass of humanity. Although a single attack like this probably won't turn the tides in the war, it will at the very least prolong it.
Had Ephidel been capable of grinning he would have. More quintessence for his master. His body was already shaking with the enormous amount of quintessence he was storing. Maybe even a bit too much of it.
He was standing on top of a building, with the smoke concealing his silhouette. Behind him, the figure of Jaffar came into view.
The assassin said, "Your body is shaking with that magical energy. Perhaps it's time we sent back some to our master."
He was right. He was already past his harvesting limit, and staying idle for another few hours would cause him to explode. Nergal would be able to extract the life energy from him and put it into good use. After a few days rest, the sorcerer would be good as new.
Ephidel agreed and began chanting from a grimoire given to him by Nergal. In it contained magic powerful enough to teleport two beings a faraway distance...
The duo vanished in a flash. The force of their teleportation caused a whiff of smoke to further pollute the air.
Nergal would be a happy man today. But this would come at a devastating cost. The sorrow and misery of the people of Carazan.
