"Let us speak plainly, the Gate situation has been a complete catastrophe! Both politically and militarily, our losses have been near incalculable. Two armies lay in complete tatters, Lords and Senators unable to rule either through their deaths or maiming, and our land is being occupied by a foreign enemy! How are we supposed to respond?!"
The Senator's question prompted shouting in the hall, as everyone clamored to have their opinions heard on the matter. It was all just noise to Hexen, feeling his spirits somehow drop even further than before as the voices turned into a buzz in his mind.
Though not a senator himself, Hexen had the right as an Imperial High Lord to observe discussions such as this. He had come all the way here to see what the official response would be, he'd wanted to observe with his own eyes the vaunted Senate work out a decisive way to act after all that had been lost. But the longer he watched from the wings, the more his hope drained away.
"Steady yourself, Marquess." Emperor Molt Sol Augustus answered in his gravelly voice. Although older then most in the assembly, the Emperor 's light blonde hair and beard hadn't yet begun to grey, as if the ravages of age itself feared approaching the most powerful man in the nation. "Things are not as untenable as they appear. I admit, it appears that we have lost any military advantage we might have had."
"Understatement…" Myron muttered beside Hexen. The older Knight was not nearly as cautious with his words as his father would have liked, but they had chosen an isolated spot where they could speak freely so long as they kept their voices low.
The former Lord Duron had made sure his sons were warned about dealings with the Emperor, about how the man they saw in public gatherings was simply the skin level of a cunning beast. Hexen's father had at one time been a friend and confidant of Molt, though it had faded away after the days of the Emperor marching off to war with the armies had passed. Still, he had been in a position to know about his more cold and manipulative nature firsthand. If you were loyal to his cause, he could be friendly and even generous. But if you were an obstacle in his path, there would be no mercy as he passed you by.
"But throughout our history, the Saderan Empire has faced many a crisis before. And every time, we have rallied together and come back stronger than ever!" The emperor continued. "In war, one cannot reasonably expect to win every battle. That is all this is, a loss that will pave the way to our eventual victory! I will not cast the blame of defeat on anyone, nor will I allow this senate to collapse into an endless round of debate instead while the enemy remains on our doorstep."
Several Senators gave murmurs and nods of approval, while Hexen just scowled. He may not have been experienced in Senate political matters, but he was not stupid. "Not casting blame" was quite convenient when you were the one at fault for it all.
"But what then is our plan, your majesty?" Another Senator demanded as he stood up. "The enemy has seized control of the gate and inflicted such terrible losses in a shockingly short amount of time! The survivors said they couldn't even get close; it was if these invaders were using sorcery!"
"They were cowards that seek to make excuses!" Another stood, this one wearing armor. Likely for dramatic effect. "We can crush these insects if we have the will to fight! Simply demand that our vassals give us their soldiers to rebuild what we lost!"
"And send THEM to die as well? How would that fix anything?!"
The hall fell again to shouting matches, as each senator seemed to think that they could win the argument by volume alone.
"This is insanity. We're the middle of a catastrophe and the Senate is choosing to fight like children?!" Hexen couldn't tell if he was more angry or sorrowful at all this, clenching his fist as he trembled with impotent anger.
"I'm afraid this is all too often the state of things in the Capitol." Myron said, shaking his head. "Even in peaceful times, it's difficult to get even two senators to agree on anything. Adding the loss of so many levelheaded men in battle, I'm afraid-"
"ENOUGH!" The Emperor exclaimed, standing as everyone fell silent. "We will not stand idly by and wait for matters to get worse. We will stand and fight!"
"No…" Hexen breathed.
"Send messengers as far and wide as their horses will carry them." Molt instructed. "Summon all the allied kingdoms and tell them we need their help in repelling this enemy invasion. Fellow countrymen, we will take back Alnus Hill!"
The Senators got to their feet; the shouting now replaced with thunderous applause as they cheered their Emperor's decree.
"Fools." Hexen hissed out of grounded teeth. "Damned fools, all of them."
His father and brother had led the creme of the Duron army through the gate for the Empire. His uncle had led almost all that was left of their soldiers in the effort to keep the invaders from taking that same gate. And now they were all dead, the finest soldiers and generals he knew had been utterly wiped out in just a couple of battles. What would change this time? What would prevent the same exact thing from happening?
"This isn't the work of fools, my Lord." Myron answered, shaking his head in disgust. "This is exactly what the Emperor wants, I can see it in his eyes."
"Why the hell would they want something like this?"
"Politics, Hexen. Never underestimate the filthy warfare involved with politics." Myron met his eye. "It's not nearly as clean and nowhere close to being as honorable as a battlefield. No tactic is considered too unsightly, no back safe from a blade being slid into it."
Hexen looked back to where the Emperor stood, speaking in quiet tones with the Marques who had been giving the earlier speech. There was a ghost of a smile on Molt's face, a cruel expression that sent a chill down his spine.
"I've seen enough." Hexen said, pushing himself off the railing and making for the exit. "Shouldn't have even come here, there's too much that needs to be done back home."
"Perhaps." Myron agreed, moving into step behind him. "But this was also a good lesson in how the government truly functions. It's a hard truth, but it's one that you must learn in your new position."
Hexen sighed, wishing he had a good counter to that. He'd never wanted to take the mantle of High Lord, long ago having accepted the future of assisting his older brother as the true heir to the family, and had never once imagined that he'd be put in this kind of position. He wasn't ready, not even close. But the world didn't care if he was ready, and the people who looked to the Durons for leadership now turned their gaze to him.
"I don't think I'll be one to come to the Capital all that often." He said out loud. "For my health alone, dealing with the Senate seems like it would take years off my life."
"A wiser statement then you know." Myron grunted. "Did you hear at all from Edwin before we left?"
"No. Not since the news of Alnus arrived, I don't think he wants to talk with anyone right now."
"He's grieving over the loss of his father, just like you are. He'll be around again soon; we must simply give him time."
"I doubt we'll be sharing many happy moments, Myron." Hexen shook his head. "We weren't exactly close before all of this happened. Now… I don't know."
"Times of hardship have a way of bringing people together." The old knight reminded him. "You two are the last surviving males of the Duron bloodline, and you will need to work together in order to pull through this."
"You're right as usual." Hexen conceded. "I'll send a messenger for him as soon as we return to the estate."
"Good. I have a bad feeling our ordeal has only just begun, best not to fall apart from within as enemies press in on us from outside."
~oOo~
"Here they come, strolling up like they own the fucking place."
"Probably thinking they do."
Through his scope in their forward observation post, Joker could see the approaching enemy army. It actually looked like more then one, as he could make out several different columns with different colors on their respective banners, each approaching the hill from a slightly different angle. JSDF scouts had noticed them approaching several days earlier, encamping several kilometers away as more and more troops were assembled. Some talk had been given as to whether or not they should strike first, but the Japanese staunchly insisted that they do nothing else than defend themselves, as this could just be an elaborately assembled delegation that was coming to meet them. A peace delegation gleaming with swords and spears, right.
He supposed no one really believed that, but if that was the way the JSDF wanted to play things, well they were the ones in charge here. And they had already proven that they weren't afraid of pulling the trigger if it came to that, so the Americans had just shrugged in agreement to their plan.
"Man, we've kicked their asses twice now." Beside him, Reaper was as still as a statue in his spotter position, even when he was speaking quietly. "You think they'd get the hint to leave us alone."
"Why don't you go down there and educate them then? I'm sure they'd appreciate a more gentle lesson by this point." Joker said, slowly reaching for his radio. "Showtime, this is Stalker Two."
"Stalker Two, Showtime. Send it."
"We have a mass of troops heading for the hill, breaking off into several columns of approach. The one nearest our position is at least a division strong, probably more."
"Have they reached the first marker?"
"Negative, not yet."
"Understood. Keep an eye on them and update us if they reach that point, out."
"Why the hell are we still fighting with kid gloves, anyway?" Reaper asked. "We saw how these guys acted in Tokyo; you think they'd give us any niceties if we were close enough to poke?"
"You're asking the wrong grunt, my guy." Joker said, keeping his focus on the army as it continued its march. These guys were definitely not the same ones they had fought on the hill during their arrival. Subtle things like the way their armor looked and the emblems that adorned their shields, small details to be sure but making note of those kinds of differences was part of his job. Were they from a different nation then the ones they had fought before? Or just some different noble clan? Assuming this world even had that sort of thing. "Best guess is that we're playing it more carefully because we don't know our asses from our foreheads in this kind of place. We ain't got no air support, no satellites, no GPS, just the things we can setup ourselves. We don't even have a clue what kind of people live here or how they'll react to us."
"I think we got a pretty clear indication on how they're 'reacting' to us." Reaper snorted. "And we don't really need all that other stuff when we can just send in a few tanks to rip them a new one in a couple of hours."
"Even you know it isn't that easy. Even if it was, letting them splatter themselves against our defenses is probably the better tactical move, or at least that's what Mitchell was saying earlier."
"To bad they don't put us in charge then. I know those Germans would have been eager enough to go for it, or at least the Lieutenant would have been."
"We don't talk about her, that's a place even I wouldn't go. And that's saying something."
They were close enough now that Joker could see more subtle elements to the approaching army. Rather then form their calvary on the flanks, they had them at the very front of the column, as if they were anticipating charging immediately into battle without any warning. Behind them was the regular infantry, spearmen ahead of archers in a regular formation, with catapults and other siege weapons bringing up the rear. On both sides of all these were smattering of non-humans, with green skinned orcs and snouted swine men, among others. He found himself wondering if they were even really part of the army, or just brought along as mercenaries or some other kind of auxiliary.
"Still don't get why they would send Germans of all people to come back us up." Reaper continued to grumble. "It ain't like we don't got plenty of tanks ourselves. Make the army do something for a damn change, or hell we got our own tanks too, should have sent them through the gate with us."
"Probably for some photo op or other bullshit that makes this look nice for the public." Joker said. "Besides, if we'd brought some Corps tanks with us, they probably would have scared off any potential peace treaty."
"True that." Reaper snickered. "Or at least choked everyone to death with their fucking chain smoking. But they did save our asses that one time in Helmand, you remember that?"
"How could I forget? They came like bats out of hell and blew every Taliban on the roadside to hell. What was that gunner's name again? Kain?"
"Kincaid."
"Kincaid, right." Joker smiled a bit at the memory. "That was a gusty son of a bitch. Wonder what he's doing these days."
"He was talking about getting out of the Corps, probably a millionaire selling T-Shirts or something by now."
They had almost reached the first marker, which was a sign written in both Japanese and the Native language to keep out or else. None of them seemed pay it much mind however, the few who bothered to even look at it seemed to scoff.
"See, that's the problem with the younger guys. They all complain day and night about everything the Marine Corps does and get out before they can get the chance to see the other side."
"We HAVE seen the other side, and still complain all the damn time."
"Not the point. If you want to get out of Terminal Lance, you gotta play the Corps' game and reenlist past your first contract. Prove you're going to be valuable to them in the future instead of just jumping ship at the first opportunity."
"Assuming they aren't sick of it all already." Reaper pointed out. "Besides, it can't be all that special to be considered 'valuable'. They made you a Sergeant, so they must be giving the damn rank away."
"You know, I think you've got a point. I DID play the Corps' game, and my 'prize' was getting stuck on this hill with your dumb ass."
"Happy to be your sunshine, bro."
The army pushed past the first marker, the non-humans breaking down the sign and stomping all over it as they marched past.
"Now that's just rude." Joker commented.
"Yeah, now we have to send some Private out there to fix it for us. Thanks, asshats."
"Showtime, Stalker Two." Joker said, getting back on the net. "Enemy force has walked right past the first marker and are clearly not here to sing Kumbaya. Request permission to call a strike on them."
"Standby Stalker." The controller said, pausing for a few heartbeats. "Request approved, artillery strikes on enemies within the perimeter are now authorized. Go to town, out."
"Tango." Joker changed frequencies. "Battle Axe, Stalker Two. Fire mission, over."
"Stalker Two, Battle Axe." The voice of the American Liaison to the Japanese gun battery responded. "Fire mission, out."
"Grid to suppress: Mike-Juliet-two-seven-five-two-four-niner. Grid to mark: Mike-Juliet-two-five-eight-seven-niner-two. Over."
"Grid to suppress: Mike-Juliet-two-seven-five-two-four-niner. Grid to mark: Mike-Juliet-two-five-eight-seven-niner-two. Out." His words were repeated.
"Mass column of infantry, with attached horse-mounted calvary. Request splash, over."
"Message to Observer: Bravo, three rounds, four guns in effect. Target number: Charlie-Oscar-two-zero-five. Splash in ten seconds, out." The sound of distant guns being fired reached Joker's ears. "Shot, over."
"Shot, out." He responded.
They waited, watching the army closely as a whistling from the air above began to grow louder.
"Splash, over."
The entire hillside erupted into a string of explosions, as massive orange fireballs engulfed what had just been a force of thousands of men and sent them into a bloody oblivion. Across the hill, other explosions were going off as similar strikes were called in on the vanguard of other vanguard columns.
"Splash, out." Joker shifted his few from side to side, getting a full picture of the damage. It had been turned into a large sting of craters, with the bodies of men and horses scattered about haphazardly. The few survivors who still had both their legs were either in complete shock or were running away as fast as their legs could carry them. "Battle Axe, good effect on target. Mass number of enemy KIA and survivors are retreating. End of mission, out."
"Hot damn." Reaper whistled softly. "That's some carnage. Can you imagine how it'd be like in their shoes?"
"Hopefully their get the hint this time." Joker said. "And leave us the fuck alone."
~oOo~
"Gunner! Infantry coming over the crater at out eleven!"
"Target acquired! Seven hundred meters!"
"Fire!"
Erika found herself being jerked backwards as the main gun fired again, leaving nothing in the shell's wake but a bloody mess. She started scanning for new targets, but everything in her scope was already dead or sprinting for the hills. And they were under orders to not fire if they were retreating.
"All Callsigns, the enemy force is withdrawing once more. Hold fire unless directed otherwise."
"Titan Actual, Wilco." She answered, setting down the transceiver and stretching out as best she could in the cramped conditions. As much as Erika adored her tank, she had been sitting inside all day long.
They had all hoped that the enemy force would call it a day after their initial thrashing by artillery so they could stand down. But for some reason that completely boggled her imagination, they had come to the hill yet again, charging forward this time through the initial barrages until they were engaged by the tanks and other medium range weaponry. But even then the enemy had kept coming until they had suffered far more casualties then their first attempt, only now falling back after not having gotten even close to the first defensive line.
For the defenders, it had been less a battle against a skilled enemy then a test of their patience and endurance. Again and again, the enemy would pop their head up, and Erika would have her crew simply blow it off. No tactics, no strategy, just sitting in place and shooting. It was as impersonal as warfare could get, and definitely not how she had envisioned her first glorious foray into combat. She supposed that she should have been counting her blessings on how neither they nor the number two Leopard has suffered any losses, but the kind of butchery they handed out didn't give room for much celebration.
"Alright, the enemy seems far enough away now." She told the crew. "Pop your hatches if you want, just be ready to close them back up again in a hurry if need be."
"Yes ma'am."
Erika opened the top, gratefully feeling a gentle breeze against her face as she stuck her head out. They had been dug into the hillside near some of the American LAVs, with the Japanese tanks visible a little further away. They had been ordered to drive right into a small dugout that was fronted with sandbags for protection, making the tank little more then an armored pillbox with a heavy gun. Erika had objected to this with Colonel Jackson, saying that planting tanks in that kind of position where they could not maneuver was plainly stupid. Her complaints had been shot down, and she had been ordered to just get on with it. It had become a familiar song and dance to her by this point. If the Americans were acting as the junior partner to the Japanese in the Special Region, then they were the Junior partners of the Americans. She wanted to be angry about that, but there was little chance of any larger forces from Germany being sent over, so she would just have to deal with it.
At least they were making sure to keep the tanks in good condition. As Erika looked over her beloved beast, she had to admit it looked good considering it had been smattered with mud and gore not too long ago. It was still painted in the Flecktarn camouflage pattern of the Bundeswehr, after it was decided the coloration would work as well as the plain green of the JSDF and American vehicles. The crew had taken to calling her "The Saint Asylum" after Erika had first took command and her initial joke of naming her "The Paris Express" had been shot down after the higher ups didn't find it all that funny. So far, the Saint had proven her meddle, not having a single hard breakdown since they had arrived. Though part of that was likely thanks to all the maintenance Erika made sure was constantly done to preempt any issues.
"It would see we won the day once again, Oberleutnant." From the other tank, a man with short auburn hair was smoking a cigarette as he looked at her. "Though I was starting to get worried. They passed the one-thousand-meter mark this time."
Hauptfeldwebel Hans Vogel was the oldest member of the unit, appropriate considering his position as platoon NCO. Though he was not yet fifty, he was the only one of them all to have combat experience before coming through the gate, having been part of the NATO task force sent to Macedonia in the early 2000s. Erika found him to be reliable enough, but found that he tended to listen to the advice of the junior enlisted more than her.
"Why do you think I had your tank put a little bit ahead of mine?" She smirked. "Wanted to make sure you'd get the brunt of it before we did."
That brought a laugh out of the man, leaning out the side of his own tank "Bismarck's Mistress". Other crew members started poking their heads out into the fresh air wherever they could, trying to see what was so funny. Erika had been lucky to choose her own crew, able to keep everyone she had with her back home save for the gunner who wasn't fully fluent in English. They were not young and inexperienced, but neither were they old crewmen set in their ways. They were perfect for her to mold into a perfect tank crew, and so far, they had met her expectations. Even if they had not yet faced a true challenge.
"How much longer do you think they'll keep us out here?" Her driver asked, yawning loudly.
"As long as they need us, Elser." Erika admonished him, though she herself was feeling rather drained. She wanted to just run the Saint through a quick check and call it a day, but she doubted the Americans would be willing to give that kind of relief anytime soon. "I don't think the enemy will try another head on attack like that again, with luck they'll order us to return in a couple hours or so."
Both crews groaned.
~oOo~
"What do you mean you've never seen Game of Thrones?!" Reaper demanded, sounding like someone had just insulted his mother.
"Just that? Never seen it before." Joker replied. "I mean, I always see stuff about it online, but I never caught an episode."
It was dark at this point; the sun having set several hours ago while the pair had continued to sit at their observation post. They had been told to stay put for just a while longer, just to make sure it was all clear. The news hadn't been all that welcome, but the Sniper Team were no strangers to staying in one place for a nice long while, they could deal with it.
"Man, that shit should have been required watching before we came here." The spotter grumbled. "It's basically what's going on here."
"How in the hell would you know that? You haven't seen jack shit of what's happening here except for what we've been shooting at."
"But you don't know that it's NOT what's going on. How is it that someone like you hasn't seen a single moment of it?"
"Bro, I'm not paying extra every month for HBO just so I can catch a single show." Joker countered. "I have better things to do with my time and money."
"Who said anything about paying to see it? Yarr Harr mother fucker."
"I think that was a confession I just heard; you are illegally streaming premium content. I should turn you in to NCIS for that." Joker retorted. "Didn't you ever watch those old commercials? 'You wouldn't download a car'."
"Maybe you wouldn't, but I fuckin would." Reaper answered. "So what exactly do you watch? Hockey? Wait don't tell me. 'Alaska: The Last Frontier'. That's right down you're hermit ass lifestyle."
"Shut up for a second." Joker said, frowning as he looked around with his Night Vision Goggles. "I got movement, at our three."
"Searching." The earlier conversation dropped in favor of business; Reaper scanned the same area. "Yeah, I seem em, another column just like before."
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Joker groaned. "Do these guys have brain damage or something?"
"There's no moon out tonight, and they must be going along pretty quietly if we didn't hear 'em. Probably trying to use the darkness to catch us off guard."
"Sneaky little bastards." Joker reached again to the radio. "Showtime, Stalker Two. Our friends are back again, this time approaching the hill from the northwest. But they're being pretty shy and don't want anyone to know they're here. Recommend sending up some illumination shells to try and scare them off."
"Showtime copies all, standby."
He took off the NVG's, going back to his rifle scope in preparation for what was coming. The sky around the hill suddenly lit up with three small suns, illuminating the advancing enemy almost as if it was daytime. The bewildered soldiers looked up shock and horror, as if some deity had ordained to strike them down where they stood. Joker hoped that the little demonstration would give them the good sense to turn back before another painful lesson had to be administered. But a man on horseman raced forward ahead of the stalled column, shouting as he rode hard towards the hill.
"Son of a bitch." He growled, trying to track the target, but the rider was going too fast at too great a distance for him to pull off a fancy trick shot.
The rest of the army seemed to have found their courage, following after the insane man as they pushed forward in his wake. The tanks stationed on the hill opened fire, smashing large groups of infantry in the illuminated night. The column pressed on anyway, and Joker had to swing his barrel back and forth to get a full picture of what was happening. Even with the weight of fire being pressed down upon them, the enemy had pushed much further than they had before and seemed emboldened to keep going. He aimed back to see where the crazed rider had gone off to, and stopped short. There, an advanced element of the column had managed to work their way through the barbed war surrounding the hillside and had formed a shield wall to continue their advance. Reaper was already ahead of him.
"Showtime, the enemy has breached the perimeter on the north side!" He reported.
"Copy, we see them and zeroing in mortars to that position."
Joker put one of the soldiers in his crosshairs and pulled the trigger. The man's helmet did nothing to stop the round from turning his head into a red mist. He turned to another, then another, as the rest of the defenders joined the battle. Japanese Fifty Cal and American Bushmasters all crashed into the vanguard units, cutting them down like stalk of wheat before the scythe. There, standing alone among the dead, was the horseman who had led the charge. Joker paused mid-reload, watching the man as he stood amongst the tracers flying all around him, a single round grazing against his styled red armor. The bearded man started forward, as if in a trance from all that was happening, as he reached down and picked up a bow dropped by one of the dead soldiers.
He was too far away for even the best made compound bows to hit any of the defenders, yet the man loosed a single arrow towards the hill, shouting in impotent rage as the projectile fell well short of anyone shooting down at him. Then the man began to laugh, and Joker somehow felt like he could hear the mad cackling even from this great distance as the rider threw his head back in insane glee. Then the mortars exploded all around the breach, and the man was enveloped by fire and shrapnel.
Joker tore his vision away from the scope, looking back over what remained of the battlefield. This fight would be over soon, and if this were how their enemies intended to do battle with them over and over again, the war wouldn't be long either. But only blood and corpses would remain once it was all said and done.