An explosion rocked the surrounding buildings as G8N1 bombers flew overhead, still dropping their deadly loads. Political Officer Hotzendorf, now a self-appointed General, stared at the scene that unfolded in front of him in utter disbelief. Though this particular bombing was taking place outside of the city walls, it still unnerved him that the enemy could strike at will in such a way.

"General, sire!" an Imperial officer called. "It is too dangerous out here! Please come inside at once!"

Hotzendorf ignored the officer and continued to stare at the destruction, his expression slowly turning into that of anger.

"This is a challenge," he declared. "This is a challenge they sent to me personally. Why else would they only attack the outskirts of the city?" He started to laugh hysterically.

"Prepare my men, officer," Hotzendorf ordered. "We shall teach those pesky rebels we mean business."


Of course, the bombers were simply running out of fuel and were simply looking for a place to purge the extra weight in order to go home, but Hotzendorf did not know that.


One week later,

Casserine Valley, Northern Mouth

Gallada

"Those flags…" Moltke muttered. "That must be Hotzendorf's army. Damn Imperial Dog…" He lowered his binoculars.

"Prepare the artillery…"

A soldier ran up to Moltke.

"Herr Feldmarschall, look! The enemy sends a messenger!"

Indeed, a soldier with a white flag was riding towards the Rebels. The Messenger stopped and began to deliver his message.

"Soldiers!" he called. "The fate of this battle has already been decided! You are outnumbered! Surrender now, and we shall guarantee your…"

Before the messenger could finish, Moltke snapped his fingers.

"Feuer!" an artillery officer ordered. The howitzers roared to life and began to spit shell after shell into the enemy. The shells exploded right in the middle of the enemy lines, sending men, equipment, and horses into the air.

A whistle blew into the air. With a deafening war cry, only outdone by the roar of artillery, the Rebel infantry charged forward, bayonets fixed.

Hotzendorf, however, smiled at this development.

"Send them in," he ordered. A soldier nodded and began to flash a signal to a nearby hill.

Suddenly, a troop of Imperial cavalry burst out of the trees and barreled down towards the Rebel infantry.

Some of the infantry panicked and fired several rushed shots at the enemy.

"Prepare to receive cavalry!" an officer yelled.

Though a bit disorganized, the Rebel infantry rushed together and formed multiple infantry squares, just in time for the enemy cavalry to barge into their formations.

The horses, scared by the many sharp objects being pointed at them, steered away from the bayonet-wielding infantry.

Atop his hilltop position, Hotzendorf clearly expressed signs of discontent. The cavalry was inflicting casualties, yes, but more of the cavalry were being killed as opposed to the enemy infantry. This was going nowhere.

"How much of our artillery is usable?" he asked.

"Majority of them have been destroyed, sire. There are a number of reserve pieces still available, but we may end up killing our own cavalry as well."

"Do it anyway," Hotzendorf ordered.

The remaining Imperial artillery roared to life, stone cannonballs tearing through both Rebel and Imperial forces.

Suddenly, the artillery exploded as Rebel artillery pounded their positions.

"Order the men to charge!" Hotzendorf ordered. "Do it!"

"But sire, they will be…"

"Do it now!"


"Enemy infantry! Maschinengewehr units! Feuer!"

A line of Maxim guns clattered to life, spraying the Imperial infantry with bullets. The enemy continued to advance, however.

Bullets kicked up dust all over the enemy, tearing apart the infantry. One of them tried to fall back, but the menacing line of muskets behind him made him go forward again. Wave upon wave attempted to charge the machine guns, but each wave was torn apart.

Suddenly, Hotzendorf's rear guard began taking fire. A war cry resonated and hundreds of soldiers clad in bright red uniforms charged forward at the Imperial rear.

"How does your very first loss feel, Hotzendorf!?" Doppeladler exclaimed, his double-eagle banner fluttering behind him.

Hotzendorf sighed at his former apprentice's appearance.

"You still have a lot to learn," he said, and snapped his fingers. As if on cue, a massive flight of wyverns swooped down from the heavens, repeating crossbows in hand. They mercilessly strafed the NMA infantry, the bright red uniforms contrasting greatly with the grassy background.

"Tsk," Doppeladler clicked his tongue. "I knew red uniforms were not a good idea…"

Hotzendorf, content with what he saw happen to the redcoats, returned his attention to what he thought was an infantry melee in front of him.


"Keep firing!" an officer yelled, emptying his TT-33 into the enemy ranks. The riflemen cycled their guns as if their lives depended on it (as it happened, they did) and the machine gunners fired to the point smoke rose from the barrels.

"Grenade dischargers! Fire for effect! Fire!"

A line of Type 89 grenade launchers popped their deadly loads into the enemy infantry, sending some of them into the air.

The enemy paused, hesitating for a moment.

"Fix bayonets!"

The sound of bayonets being fixed echoed over the line.

"Charge!"

With a deafening war cry, the Rebel infantry charged forward. The imperial infantry attempted to stand their ground, but as they witnessed their comrades being impaled by the sharp bayonets, they began to flee.

But that was not all.

A shell whistled towards the Imperial rear positions, destroying more than a dozen individual artillery pieces. Bullets tore through the squadrons of wyverns harassing the New Model Army. The clattering of tracks echoed throughout the battlefield.

"Panzers!" an infantryman exclaimed.

Sherman Jumbos and various other armored vehicles of the 7th Panzer Division rolled forward through the enemy lines, kicking up dust as they went.

Leo drew his sword as he jumped off the tank he was riding.

"Panzergrenadiers!" he exclaimed. "Charge!"


"Milord," an Imperial Officer said. "We have been surrounded. The cavalry have fled and our wyverns are being shot out of the sky. What shall we do?"

Hotzendorf gritted his teeth.

An artillery shell exploded close by.

Hotzendorf flinched a little before regaining his posture. A gurgling sound echoed next to him.

The officer Hotzendorf had previously been talking to gripped his neck. Blood flowed between the man's fingers. An arm was missing.

Hotzendorf could only watch as the man collapsed.

"Signal our men," said he. "It is over."


The men through their weapons onto a pile. They hung their heads in defeat as they marched past the victorious rebel forces. Moltke himself saluted these men, as they had fought hard in spite of all the odds.

"Feldmarschall Moltke," a soldier said. "General Hotzendorf wishes to see you."

Moltke nodded.

"Let him in."

"Javel herr Feldmarschall."

The soldier left the tent before allowing another man to enter. He wore standard issue Imperial armor. The man's gladius was missing, possibly thrown into the pile of captured weapons.

"Hotzendorf."

"Moltke."

Hotzendorf chuckled.

"I guess you would like to laugh at me?" said he. Moltke shook his head.

"You were doing your job," Moltke replied. "I don't need to laugh at you."

Hotzendorf sighed.

"I see," said he. "So? What will you do with me?"

"You can join us," Moltke replied. "Or you can go home and take care of your family."

Hotzendorf scoffed.

"I will head home, then." said he. "But I will convince the remaining forces to stand down first."

Moltke raised his eyebrows.

"Congratulations, Moltke," Hotzendorf said. "You have won the war."


Fourth day of the Ninth Month, 0687

Pallada

"Early this morning, leaders of the three provinces met at the temporary capital of Pallada, expressing their desires for the future of this nation," the radio announced. "They have just signed a pact, bringing the three provinces together. A new era is upon us. Hurray for freedom! Hurray for the new Federation of Dreisland! Sieg Freiheit!"

With a flick, Leo turned off the radio, his grip tightening on his sword as he did so.

"Dreisland, huh?" Marco asked him. Leo nodded.

"The war isn't over, though," he countered. "There are still areas loyal to the Empire and there are also a few small separatist states in Slavasi. Thankfully we personally don't have to worry about that, though."

Simo nibbled at the corner of a baguette.

"We still have stuff to do, right?" she said. "I heard rumors about some dragon waking up because of all the shooting."

Leo nodded.

"We're the ones tasked with investigating it,"said he. "I highly doubt our armaments are capable of defeating a dragon, though."

"That depends on the type of dragon, though." Simo countered, her expression slightly grim. "They're all alive. That means we can kill them."

Marco looked on in confusion at Simo's sudden serious attitude. Perhaps dragons had something to do with her past. Marco did not know.

"Regardless," Marco said. "At least we get a break for now."

He raised a glass of water.

"Sieg freiheit."

Leo and Simo raised theirs as well.

"Sieg freiheit."


Author's notes: Hey y'all Karl here. The more semi-modern aspect of the first part is over. Yay :)

Things will get a little more fantasy for a bit, because dragons.

Anyway, I have also started a video series regarding my take on this universe. Here is link:

www . youtube channel/UCV4RkHjVFNei59qkVwTpiYg

Anyway, hope you enjoy your day. See you next chapter.

-Karl