Our Blood, His Guts: The Tale of Kreutz
"Old soldiers never die, they just fade away." --Douglas Macarthur
"Ten hut!!"
He slowly walked before the young men, dressed in full military decoration. As the bugler began playing, he snapped his finest salute. A bold and fearless look was on his eyes as he heard the music play, and saluted the junior officers before them. This was it, then. The night before the big battle. He would need to give them a stirring speech, one that gave these brave young boys the courage to go out and destroy the enemy.
As the bugler ended his song, the General released his salute.
"Be seated." The sound of chairs being pulled and sat in echoed across the room, and the General slowly prepared his speech.
"Now, I want you to remember… that nobody ever won a war by dying for their country. They won it… by making the other poor dumb person die for their country. Men, all this stuff you've heard about this country not wanting to fight, wanting to stay out of the war… is a load of horse dung. We, traditionally, love to fight. All real citizens of our country… love the sting of battle.
"When you were kids, you all admired the champion marble-shooter, the fastest runner, the big-league ball players, the toughest boxer… We love a winner, and will not tolerate a loser! We play to win all the time; I wouldn't give a hoot in Hades to a man who lost… and laughed! We have never lost, and will never lose a war! Because the very thought of losing… is hateful to us!
"Now… an army is a team; it lives, eats, sleeps, and fights as a team. This individuality stuff is a bunch of crap. The bigots who wrote that stuff about individuality in the Harmonian Post don't know any more about real battle than they do about fornicating!
"Now we have the finest food, equipment, the best spirit, and the best men in the world! You know… by God, I actually pity those poor fools we're going up against, by God I do! We're not just going to kill them--we're going to cut out their living guts and use them to grease our watermills! We're going to murder those lousy infidels by the bushel!
"Now… some of you boys are wondering… whether or not you'll chicken out under fire; don't worry about it. I can assure you that you will all do your duty. The Scarlet Moon army is the enemy! Wade into them! Spill their blood, stab them in the belly! When you put your hand… into a bunch of goo… that a moment before was your best friend's face……… you'll know what to do.
"Now there's another thing I want you to remember. I don't wanna get any messages saying that we're holding our position. We're not holding anything. Let the enemy do that. We are advancing constantly, and we're not interested in holding anything, except the enemy! We're going to hold onto him by the nose, and we're going to kick them in the butt! We're going to kick the guts out of him all the time, and we'll go through him like crap through a goose!!
"Now… There's one thing that you men will be able to say when you get back home, and you may thank God for it. Thirty years from now, when you are sitting around the fireside, with your grandson on your knee, and he asks you 'What did you do in the great Succession War?', you won't have to say: 'Well… I shoveled manure in Lenankamp'.
"All right, now you sons of devils, you know how I feel. I will be proud to lead you wonderful guys into battle, anytime…… anywhere. That's all."
This is the story of General Kreutz, and the final battle against Barbarossa's forces.
The morning air was calm and clear, never once suggesting that any kind of malice could come of it. The sun was out, just slightly hidden behind a veil of clouds, and the sky was never more blue. Before the slowly advancing army, the great base of Barbarossa the usurper stood, almost as if to spite all foreigners. They even had the audacity to wave flags in the torrents. General Kreutz, however, was neither spited nor fazed, only calm, and cool, and strangely serene.
On that day in history, over one hundred-thousand men would lose their lives.
"Men," addressed Kreutz, "this is it. We've suffered much, but we'll make sure that whatever pain that has been inflicted on us, will be inflicted tenfold on the enemy! This is where we hold them by the nose and kick them in the butt!! Come on!!" The soldiers rallied behind Kreutz led out a wild cheer, and slowly took position as they geared up for the final battle.
All in all, there were ten units surrounding the base, each one boasting ten-thousand strong. This is where it pays off, thought Kreutz. The training and the discipline… No other outfit in the world could pull out of a major battle and move a hundred miles to go into a major attack with no rest, no sleep, no hot food… God…! God, I'm proud of these men!!
The base where Barbarossa was operating, the great castle-like structure, stood high in the middle of the beautiful day, its flags waving and its soldiers at rest. For the past several years now, the Scarlet Moon army and Geil Ruegner's forces had been at bloody odds with each other. Ruegner was superior in virtually every form and fashion, but Barbarossa had the minds to pull out of the war.
Though Kreutz was Ruegner's greatest General, he was largely responsible for taking on Barbarossa's six. He had Kwanda Rossman's impossible defenses to overcome in Panna Yakuta, and then of course there was Milich Oppenheimer's treacherous castle in the Antei region. Through a series of long and bloody battles, he had trudged through red waters in the naval fight with Sonya Shulen, and the fight against Teo McDohl's and Kasim Hazil's forces had nearly wiped the army out. Battling against Georg Prime was possibly the worst experience yet, but somehow Kreutz pulled through.
Now, here he was, facing Barbarossa's base with the entire army behind him. They had faced the worst that the usurper had given them; even the combined genius of Leon and Mathiu Silverberg had not been able to stop them from coming this far. Now, though they were outnumbered, they continued to march onward, towards the base and the mouth of infernal death.
Raising his sword, Kreutz gave the order for his unit to attack, and the last battle between Ruegner and Barbarossa took place.
As the ten units dashed forth to break the castle doors open, a storm of arrows poured in from the skies above. Kreutz cursed and gave the order to scatter. Reports indicated that the soldiers of the Scarlet Moon fortress were sound asleep, and unprepared for such an attack. Apparently, the report had been false.
A few dozen soldiers fell down dead from the arrows; many more were wounded. Kreutz shouted an order to all his archer units to fire at will, but since the castle turrets were so high, not many arrows made it up. Still, Kreutz and his infantry ran onward, ignoring the second wave of arrows as they screamed out in a bloody rage.
Suddenly, larger and more dangerous objects fell from the castle, and Kreutz's unit scattered to avoid the boulders. Signaling for his own team of catapults to open fire, Kreutz too several of his strongest soldiers and began battering down the door. As they smashed against the wooden gate, more and more arrows were passed between forces. Archers and soldiers died by the bushel, true to Kreutz's word, and even more perished under the smashing weight of falling boulders.
It was a terrible scene, to be in the very hands of Death itself, but Kreutz persevered onward. The gates were finally knocked down, and the soldiers ran screaming into the base, determined to take Barbarossa's head with them. Before they could go a yard, however, they were cut down by three powerful fighters. Kreutz cursed as he walked into the castle, and his great sword came out for all the world to see as he stood face-to-face with Kwanda, Sonya, and Milich.
"You!" he spat. "Iron Wall" Rossman smiled and bounced his hatchet on his hand.
"Yes, us," he leered. "Upon my name as 'Iron Wall' Rossman, you will not take another step!"
"And on my honor as a Shulen, your blood will paint the earth red!" swore Sonya.
"I must say, that uniform you are wearing will look even better on me," sang Milich. Kreutz growled and took one single step backwards. He was an incredible swordsman, but not even he could face these three worthy opponents at once. Instead, he barked an order to four of his finest troops, and demanded that they attack Milich and Kwanda. The lovely and lethal Sonya would be his alone.
"Are you a coward?" demanded Shulen as she raised her glaive. "Sending in your soldiers to do your own work! For shame!"
"They are as worthy to fight you as I am, General Shulen!" snarled Kreutz. He dashed his mighty sword against her glaive, and it was just barely countered. Sonya smiled wickedly, and bashed the blunt end of the weapon into Kreutz's stomach. He didn't even flinch.
"This fine armor was made by the dwarves themselves," grunted Kreutz as he pushed Sonya back. "Not even Barbarossa's sword could pierce it!"
"We will see!" snarled Sonya. Out of the corner of his eye, Kreutz could see Kwanda chopping his soldiers to pieces, and Milich dancing around their attacks like a crazed ballerina. More and more soldiers streamed into the castle, but very few managed to get past the two Generals.
As Kreutz and Sonya fought bitterly, a loud cry came from outside. Growling, Kreutz gave Sonya a fierce punch in her pretty face and turned around just to see the arriving forces of Kasim Hazil, Georg Prime, and Teo McDohl arrive. He swallowed fiercely, knowing that there was no way his army could face all three of these fine Generals at the same time.
Kreutz had not expected such a pincer trap to even be called. Muttering something about "Leon, you wretch!", Kreutz ran outside and left Sonya to plow through a wave of soldiers. His sword still bare, he glared icily as Kasim, Teo, and Georg all stared down at him. Only McDohl smiled.
"General Adolf Kreutz, it's been a long time," said the black-haired man. Kreutz snarled, but kept his tongue. "Do you remember the thrashing that Kasim and I gave you at Moravia? Or how about the beating you received from Prime in the region of Garan? Huh?"
"I seem to recall fighting back rather fiercely, General," muttered Kreutz. "And you seem to forget the time where I bested you in Lorimar and Kalekka."
"Minor skirmishes," smiled Teo emptily. He drew his sword, and Kasim and Georg mirrored his movements precisely. "Well, have at it! I wonder if you can support your words with actions, Kreutz!"
"Barbarossa will die!!!!" swore the gray-haired General. He stormed forward, and met Teo's saber in a climactic clash. Georg Prime shrugged, and lazily dismounted from his ride as he joined the battle. Kasim, on the other hand, ordered their individual troops forward, and with a roar like the ocean and a stampede like the sea, their troops flooded Kreutz's men and the ferocious final battle escalated.
Five hours passed.
Exhausted beyond definition, Kreutz could only kneel and hold his blade as he panted his breath. His precious sword had actually been broken by Teo's saber, and although the former had been winning thus far, he had not pulled a victory out of the fight. As Kreutz kneeled and grasped the hilt of his dead blade, he could hear the fighting die down behind him.
This is the end, he thought to himself. The end… Emperor Ruegner was killed, my army annihilated, and now, even in this final battle, I am humiliated beyond definition. There is…… no justice in this, none at all…
"Kill me," barked Kreutz. Teo stood over him and sighed sadly.
"Under any other circumstances, I would have," he said. "But your war is lost. Your emperor is dead, your men are slaughtered, and you have nothing left. This war is over, Kreutz, and whether you want to admit it or not, you lost." Teo pointed his blade at Kreutz's neck, and ordered the man to stand. Kreutz sighed, and did as he was told.
"Now get out of this land," ordered Teo emotionlessly, "and never come back again."
Seven years passed. Kreutz made himself a refugee, and scattered to the ends of the earth. He wandered for a very long time, until he came across the Dragon Knights. Knowing their neutrality, Kreutz decided to reside there for the time being, and watched and waited as the Empire he tried to prevent began to crumble. Ironic, he thought to himself. After everything I did, this Empire is dying away--not from external forces, but from the inside. What a tragedy. If only there was something I could do now…
So, he thought as the years passed, what do I do now?
For over a thousand years, Highland conquerors returning from the wars enjoyed the honor of a Triumph, a tumultuous parade. In the procession, came trumpeters and musicians and strange animals from the conquered territories, together with carts, laden with treasure and captured armaments. The conqueror rode in a triumphal chariot, the dazed prisoners walking in chains before him. Sometimes, his children, robed in white, stood with him, or rode the trace horses. A slave stood behind the conqueror, holding a golden crown, and whispering in his ear a warning, that all glory… is fleeting.
The End