Asuka, Empire of Yamatai, Diarchy of Kokuria-Yamatai
June 8, 1933 EC
Warrant Officer Batory Dmovski
707th Special Weapons and Operations Reconnaissance Detachment
The intelligence report burned brightly in the fireplace of the study, the light of the bright orange flames casting a faint glow on Batory's face as he stared blankly at the rapidly disintegrating paper, the Diarchy's three-legged crow seals imprinted on the pages soon smoldering into ash. It was a very odd coincidence for him, considering the contents of the documents. Uncle had brought with him to the capital of the Yamataian half of the Diarchy, specifically to the new ambassador to Gallia Sugihara's new Europan-style house, a copy of KISHIN's first draft of the after-action report for the Black Army's engagement against the Imperial tank Eisener Hand.
The Eisener Hand was a Batomys-class superheavy tank, used as a command vehicle for the Imperial 39th Panzer Division that had attempted a last-ditch breakthrough against the Black Army's 10th Armored Brigade. The 39th had put up a devastating fight as expected of an Imperial Panzer unit, the 10th Armored suffering hefty losses among its armored squadrons but ultimately prevailing in a running battle lasting three days. After losing its entire complement of supply trucks and escort tanks at the hands of Diarchic super-v fire, the Eisener Hand itself met its fiery end by several volleys of Pyeon-gon rockets, one of them evidently sending its plasma stream into the Batomys's primary ammo racks that held capital ship-caliber shells.
Obviously, there were no survivors; given the actions of the infuriated tankers and support staff of the 10th Armored in the following days, it was extremely unlikely there would have been any left by the end of that day had anyone somehow survived the cook-off. Amazingly, enough remained of the Eisener Hand's chassis and the ruined wreckage of its immediate combat unit for Diarchic Army intelligence and KISHIN to rummage through the broken machinery and charred corpses, the Imperial bodies bearing incinerated faces fused to their metal helmets and locked permanently in agonized grimaces as Kokurian Engineers hauled them out and hurriedly shoved them into body bags.
Or so Bongseon had told him with a disturbingly gleeful expression at the field hospital as he pointedly ate a tin of grilled beef in front of him without a shred of irony. Or maybe he well understood and did it, anyways. That manic, one-eyed gremlin was always the most mentally unstable of all the Crows, although his ability to kill people potentially exceeded most of the rest's in the combined Alpha and Beta Wings that were collectively part of the 707th SWORD. He did claim with a straight face that he never participated in what would be called the Haesamwi Massacre by foreign journalists covering the Border War. Even so, Batory in the back of his mind could never be sure of these words – even if he did consider Bongseon the closest thing he had to a friend as the only other member of Beta, and hopefully vice versa.
The data compiled by the Diarchists at the battleground was what was burning in Sugihara's fireplace, a classic example of burn after reading. It was a carbon copy, so it was more than acceptable to destroy the document. And given that the ambassador's house was hosting a fairly sizeable party to celebrate the Yamataian's new posting, it was perhaps best that it was incinerated. Uncle always was a gambler, but he was no fool.
6:00 Superior Range 25 Clean Up
With practiced movement drilled into him since early childhood, Batory immediately made to return his gas mask to his face in anticipation of someone making to enter Sugihara's second-floor room. It could have been Uncle, it could have been Sugihara. Or it could have a bored aristocratic guest making his way out of the party downstairs and searching for something else to occupy his time. But the mask went on all the same. It was a habit.
Taking a seat in the armchair directly facing the door to the small, cozy room, Batory remained still and stared emotionlessly as Ulsan-Bak stepped quietly inside somehow seemingly dead sober and closed the door behind him. The private party to celebrate Sugihara's appointment was still evidently ongoing, the guests seemingly all in various levels of inebriation and the flow of food, drink, and music showing no signs of drying up. Batory would have had to been deaf to not pick up the combined droning of several dozen Kokurian and Yamataian dignitaries forcing its way upstairs whether he wanted it or not.
Ulsan-Bak smirked at Batory with an air of a kindly uncle, which was close to how the Crow had thought of the KISHIN man for all of the years they knew each other. If there was anyone else the warrant officer could trust to keep his secrets and listen to his grievances other than Gyeongjong Ulsan-Bak, Batory certainly didn't know them. Accordingly, Batory slightly loosened up his posture, slightly leaning forward the moment the door closed. He never had to stand, as was the custom in the Diarchy when a senior or a superior presented themselves to their juniors – Ulsan-Bak was not a man to demand such attention, especially from the children that he had to train at Seongnam Base whom he considered as having far more than enough other things to worry about.
"So, Acorn," the Kokurian greeted Batory with the nickname forced upon him during his time at Seongnam Base. It was a Kokurian pun on his name, something Batory soon came to terms with. (1) "You needed to talk to me?"
"… Yes, Uncle," flatly answered the Crow as he made to remove his gear from his face once more. "… About the Valkyria."
With an understanding hmm, Ulsan-Bak moved to sit down on the other armchair in Sugihara's study, but not before quickly checking the armchair to see if there was anything potentially hidden inside. Apparently there was a murder-suicide in Yamatai several months back, involving a stalker sealing himself in an armchair and mailing himself to the home of the woman whom he lusted after. Perhaps as a joke, Ulsan-Bak had made it a point to double-check every large chair he made to sit in for the past month.
"… I checked already, Uncle," Batory remarked dryly. "… No one inside."
Ulsan-Bak let out an amused snort as he theatrically dropped himself into the seat. "I assume Ichiro's not so dumb as to buy his furniture from sketchy people, anyways." He leaned back into the soft backrest of the armchair. "I certainly wouldn't. My fiancée would kill me and then some."
Batory raised his eyebrows for a moment and then returned his face to the status quo.
"… Does KISHIN know anything about who the Imperial Valkyria are?"
"No," Ulsan-Bak admitted, shaking his head. "Other than the fact that there are at least two of them and they are fairly young. I can't say how young they are, the photos are too blurry."
"… Our agents were unable to glean any other personal details?"
"Nope," he repeated. "The Valks are technically under the jurisdiction of the Imperial Science Board." Ulsan-Bak gave a harrumph, and continued. "We do have agents in the ISB, but none of them got particularly far in weaseling up their way into the senior management."
"… Still?" Batory asked with a slight air of frustration.
"Yeah," sighed the KISHIN man. "Lower levels are still all actively beating the shit out of each other for internal influence and command over technology and resources. Our boys are having enough trouble keeping their posts at the ISB, let alone advancing up."
Batory silently showed his agreement; in retrospect, he should have expected this. KISHIN, and by extension he, knew that the ISB and the Reichsarmee were at odds with one another regarding manufacturing and funding priorities. The ISB itself was under intense internal pressure to emphasize certain projects over others even with its head allegedly having the ear of the East Europan Emperor himself, not least of all because of the clashing personalities of each section lead and said head's seeming lack of care for his own personnel. No KISHIN operative could reach senior management levels because the entire institution internally was a bureaucratic and sometimes life-threatening nightmare.
"… So we have no clue as to their combat capabilities or their resilience?" Batory inquired. That was the most important matter for him: could the Valkyria be killed if the worst came to pass?
Ulsan-Bak cocked his head slightly at the question. "The Ikmunsa (2) does have some idea of what the Valkyria can do," he replied with a pensive look on his face. "Those girls were throwing around beams of light everywhere at the Siegval Line and our guys could see it all from far enough away."
He scoffed. "Say what you want about the Yggdist kooks, but with the Valkyria showing up, I think it's safe to say that their texts about their beloved goddesses are a somewhat reliable source of what they are capable of. Ikmunsa's probably qualified as a whole to hold services for Yggdists at this point."
"… At least," offered the Crow, "These two sources would be the only data we have until we can steal some more precise information from the ISB."
It was Ulsan-Bak's turn to nod. "Perceptive, Acorn. Yeah, I don't trust religious texts almost two thousand years old to be accurate, but they're better than nothing. We've certainly been taking their artifacts seriously long beforehand."
Batory raised his eyebrows again at this last comment. How many lances and shields do we even have in the museums to run tests on?
"… Do we have any countermeasures, then?"
"We're still making them," admitted the Kokurian. "Trying to reach the Valkyrur's level of Ragnite refinement is… difficult, let's say? Lambda's gotten closer, but still far from the goal. Caelite refining is easier, but we'll still need time."
To Batory's surprise, Ulsan-Bak broke into a quiet chuckle.
"But Lambda thinks we can get some weapons out inside of two years," remarked the older man as he leaned into the back of the armchair with a smile. "Probably, but the odds are good."
"… That quickly," murmured Batory with a glimmer of hope deep inside.
"Lambda's entered the guns into the testing phase," confirmed the KISHIN man. "If the Valkyria wield Ragnite powers, it's a safe bet to assume that Ragnite or Caelite-derived energy can kill them. Vampires and stakes, werewolves and silver, you know."
While he smiled a bit to return Ulsan-Bak's eagerness, Batory still considered this news a mixed bag, a bag filled with gold nuggets and snapping turtles. While countermeasures being made were all fine and well, not being able to use them for another two years was something the warrant officer did not want to hear. If war broke out before then and the Imperials were smart enough to use their Valkyria at the vanguard…
"… Uncle," Batory piped up. "… If I see the Valkyria… Before the weapon is delivered… What do you need me to do?"
Ulsan-Bak's smile turned grim. To Batory, it was clear that his parental figure had been pondering that question for a while now not only with the Viszevar, but with the other active Crows.
"If you can, kill their escorts. But in the end… run."
There was a dead silence hanging over the two as Batory processed these words. Of course, discretion was the better part of valor for KISHIN personnel – espionage and the nigh-suicidal bravery as expected of Diarchic line infantry did not mix well. It didn't matter much to Batory; having to run from anything was anathema to him.
Ulsan-Bak gave a short cough to break the tension. "So," he quipped, "Have you read the report?"
"… Yes, Uncle," answered the Viszevar as he snatched this opportunity to think about literally anything else. "… It was instructive."
"You know the reason I gave you that, right?" The Kokurian raised his eyebrows and looked at Batory expectantly. "Just in case things go pear-shaped over there."
Batory nodded. "… Of course," he replied. "… I appreciate you allowing me to read it, Uncle."
With that, Ulsan-Bak returned his smirk to his face stood back up with a swiftness that betrayed his eagerness to return to the party. "Well, just make sure that thing's burned entirely before we leave." He craned his neck to glance at the fireplace past the Crow. "I'm not supposed to have taken any copy of it out of the office, anyways. Fiancée's definitely going to kill me."
Batory followed suit and rose from his own chair, pulling up his hood and strapping on his mask and helmet once more. There wasn't much else he could get from Ulsan-Bak anymore about the Valkyria – the information was as clear as he could get it. He swiftly made his way to the fireplace and glanced down at the flames. There by this point was nothing left of the documents – everything that could be recovered was absolutely illegible. He silently turned back and strode his way to his Uncle's side.
"Don't worry too much about the Valks, Acorn," Ulsan-Bak reassured him with a pat on the back as he made to yank the door open. "Odds are good that Gallia won't be big enough to warrant a Valkyria. Not impossible, but unlikely. They almost certainly wouldn't send two."
With that, the two left Sugihara's study: Ulsan-Bak to lose himself in the party and finally sample the rice wine, and Batory to mind the other's intake and haul him out later in a fashion that could only be described as slightly mortifying.
/
Ulsan-Bak's words made sense at the time, and Batory in a sense chose to believe in them if only to convince himself that it was not a one-way trip to Gallia. But several years later down to the month, the Crow would remember this quote with ironic amusement.
/
Barious Desert, Principality of Gallia
June 15, 1935 EC
Sergeant Batory Andrzejevski
Squad 1, Gallian Militia 3rd Company
The radio flickered to life and whined with static, filling the villa ruins with its echoes as Batory and Raymond fiddled with the knobs to get the right frequency and as Stark stood behind them with a scrap of paper in hand. They were in an elevated position on top of a small mesa in the Barious Desert that drove a wedge right through the 3rd Company's defensive lines east of the Temple of the Valkyrur that was assigned to the unit as their ultimate prize in this accursed desert. Squad 1 had gotten the short stick among the three platoons assigned to this immediate area, and so had received the task of posting spotters to help coordinate fire among the three platoons toward high-priority targets.
It was early afternoon and the heat betrayed this fact all too well. Raymond at this point had removed his blue combat tunic and his black woolen shirt, down to his white undershirt as he muttered and swore under his breath over the dry heat that permeated the entire area. With the two in the same ruins were the two Snipers of the platoon and two additional Scouts, also in various stages of removing their gear while the opportunity presented itself with the exception of Regard – who was nevertheless still sweating moreso than what a man of the desert probably should have. Even O'Hara with her psychological dependency on having ammunition close by had removed her bandoliers from her chest and stacked them within arm's reach to her left at her firing station.
Stark was already arguably more lightly dressed than anyone in the Militia to the point where she somehow got away with leaving her midriff exposed, so her appearance ultimately did not change much to the Crow's chagrin. Perhaps as a representation of her stubbornness, she refused to even change her hairdo, although this stubbornness evidently could not override her apparent allergies to dust. Stark kept sniffling and sneezing in the background, her face reaching a similar hue as her hair, but she stood her ground as Batory expected her to by this point.
Even with the radio, Raymond's curses, and Stark's wheezing, Batory could still make out the chatter of men and ladies and the clatter of entrenching tools down roughly twenty meters below him. To the north lay Squads 2 and 4, and to the south lay Squads 1 and 3 – both halves of this immediate stretch of the line were digging trenches and filling sandbags for the inevitable Imperial counterattack, with Squads 5 and 6 also doing the same further south. The Empire had curiously chosen to center their defensive lines around the Temple, scattering anti-personnel mines, light tanks, and steel-clad infantrymen all around the sand and deep gashes that dotted the sizzling, absolutely blasted terrain. With the surprise assault through the Imperial lines with the aid of Militia troopers familiar with the desert environment and a brief sandstorm that erupted a few hours prior, the 3rd Company was able to tear a substantial hole in the Imperial lines and force them to beat a general retreat eastward.
Batory knew they were coming back. They always came back. The survivors of the assault that surrendered to the Gallians a few hours prior were absolutely drenched in sweat, showing signs of heat exhaustion due to their absolute unfamiliarity with hot climates. They showed this more than clearly through their inexplicable, continued use of their steel armor and their temperate-climate tunics still buttoned all the way up to the neck. Despite this, it was inevitable that the Imperial forces that had pulled back east were coming back very soon.
If nothing else, Imperial arrogance dictated it. Even if it wasn't a strategically important location and not indicative of actual religious beliefs of the average Europan nowadays, the Temple of the Valkyrur was a major landmark and potentially a great way to damage the reputation of the House of Randgriz – the alleged scions of the Valkyrur.
The Crow was very uncomfortable with this place as well, but it wasn't because of his own, admittedly ill-suited blue uniform. Barious bore what could have been mistaken as scars from a 20th-century war, but these ruins and gouges in the sand went back almost two millennia. Whatever happened here all those untold years ago, he hoped it wasn't still around to cause such damage again. What mortal beings could withstand such power?
What kind of beings could demonstrate such power?
The Yggdists said… No, it couldn't be.
"What did you say that frequency was again?" Raymond hissed as he continued to turn knobs on the radio. He glanced back at Stark. "The captain made it some weird number this time."
With another sniffle, the red-faced Stark merely handed to Raymond the scrap of paper that had the frequencies assigned by Varrot for the day. Raymond stared at it, blinked, and gave a shrug.
"Well, apparently I got it right," he muttered in disbelief as he returned the paper to the Seven. The radio still gave off static as if he didn't. "So who's messing it up?"
"That's what Boss told me to send you, so that's what you're gonna get," managed Stark as she turned her head and let out another sneeze. "I dunno, I'm not a techie."
"… Why are you even out here, then," inquired Batory as he gave a quick double-check of the radio with his eyes. He did not turn to face the Squad 7 corporal; he would rather have thought about the desert terrain than have another fight with her.
"To shoot Imps in the name of blessed Gallia, Battery," sneered Stark as she sniffled again. "Or so they tell me. Why else?"
"No, barmaid," blandly retorted Raymond with a condescending expression to match Stark's sarcasm. "Why are you here sneezing yourself to death with us instead of back at the Temple? Go bother your own Squad with whatever singing you call your allergies."
Stark let out a tsk as she casually kicked a rock on the ground. "Those Darscens are getting annoying. You know that? Thought one was bad enough, now we have two more."
"… No, I would not know," replied Batory as he finally looked back at Stark with mild annoyance. Stark hated Imperials as much as he did, but the seemingly unwarranted contempt for her own countrymen continued to grind him down. "… Are you that eager to pick fights with the person who drives your tank, Stark?"
"Not your girlfriend, Battery," scoffed Stark with a wave of her hand. "I mean the other ones that the captain sent our way, the one with the glasses and the other one with that princess cut-"
"Valks damn it, Rosie," sighed the Shocktrooper, "You really are a piece of sh-"
"… Raymond, enough," interjected Batory with a sideways glance at Raymond. The lad fell silent as the Crow returned his stare to Stark. "… Let her finish."
"Anyways, before I got rudely interrupted," snorted Stark with a contemptuous brush of her hair. "Boss's actually starting to push back when it comes to Isara now, and I can at least respect her now for other reasons."
Other reasons, huh? Batory noted. You're making progress, Stark. Good for you.
"As he should," jabbed Raymond again in an increasingly faster manner as his heat-induced frustrations seemingly took control of him. "You just push people around all the time, are you surprised they fight back? You can't even pretend to not be a bitch for longer than fifteen seconds toward anyone with too much blue hair. Man, how fuc-"
"That is enough," curtly interjected once more the Crow as he blankly stared at both, but which both seemingly interpreted to be a glare as both immediately quieted down. Suppressing that Diarchic urge to at the very least slap his subordinate on the head for such indiscipline toward a superior, he looked first at Stark. "… First of all," he pointedly stated, "Isara Gunther and I have nothing going between us other than professional interest… I believe I should keep an eye on her because of the tank."
First Milton, now Stark, swore Batory internally. Wonderful. All because of the Edelweiss.
"… That being said," continued the warrant officer, as he looked at Raymond. "… Stark is an NCO, and she has kept her Squad together by force and by leadership if what I hear is correct." He allowed for a beat before commenting, "… Probably mostly force given her attitude, granted, but give her the respect that insignia warrants."
"Aww, thanks, Battery," coldly smirked Stark, gaining her courage back. "And sticking up for Boss's sister like that, that quickly. You could've fooled me, when's the baby shower?"
"That's more for Karl over in your Squad, Rosie," sighed Raymond in an exaggerated fashion. "Come on, lady, we all know about his fiancée."
"… And Darscens can still shoot Imperials as well as you can, Stark," quietly remarked the Crow as he ignored the pithy insults and continued to stare down Stark in a routine that was now distressingly familiar to him. "… They also have a better reason to fight back given who is on the other side."
"Whatever you say, potato," shrugged Stark in exasperation as she let out another sneeze. "All I'm saying is that I don't have any reason to trust them when we're here of all places." She threw her hands out in a wide gesture. "Look at it all, the Darscens blew this place apart!"
"If the Calamity happened as you said and the Darscens had that technology and bad temper as it said," scoffed Raymond as he began to turn back to the radio, "I don't think any of us would be here. The entire continent would be a damned desert, Rosie, c'mon."
"They just got killed too fast for it," suddenly retorted Regard from his own position as he sat up and turned to his left to face the three. "Look at them now and how terrible they are at even wanting to fight. No wonder the Valkyrur ran those idiots down. If anything, they got done a favor."
"… If the Darscens still have that power, Stark," continued Batory as he resigned himself to the fact that fighting with Stark and thinking about Barious somehow became the same thing, "Then perhaps it is best you stay on their good side… Or do I have to tell you about Haesamwi?"
Rosie sneezed and bore a genuine, perplexed look on her freckled face. "Haesam-what?"
"… Ask Varrot when you get the chance, Stark, since it is a very fascinating insight into when Darscens snap," the Crow finished. "… Now if you are finished, please check with the other Squads to see if their radios actually work… I am tired of-" He smacked the radio with the heel of his hand in a vain attempt to get it to work and to redirect that urge to discipline Raymond elsewhere. "-this whining."
Stark stared at him for a few seconds, attempting to get a bearing on his intentions. Eventually, with another sneeze and a sniffle, she let out a growled "Fine," and made her way down to the ground level of Barious. Regard simply shrugged and muttered "Darkhair lovers…" as he returned his attention downrange, and Batory returned his own to the radio that still whined.
"So uh," whispered Raymond after a brief silence. "So you are telling us the truth that there's nothing between you and Isara, right?"
"… Yes," patiently replied Batory. "… Why do people assume that there is?"
"Hey, don't ask me," continued Raymond, still in a whisper. "I think Milton started it, but don't quote me on that." The Shocktrooper lowered his tone even more and leaned ever so slightly close to the Crow. "Not gonna lie, she is pretty cute, though."
Batory wordlessly stared at Raymond. This affair was never going to go away, it seemed.
The Gallian let out a quiet, amused snort and a knowing grin. "Take that stick out of your ass, man. Anyways, is it just me, or does Rosie hate Darscens for other reasons?"
"… What do you mean," quietly asked the warrant officer. "For 'other reasons?'"
"I've met more than a few people at home in the south who hated Darscens," clarified Raymond. "It's Gassenarl country, right? But none of 'em had to constantly scream about how they hated Darscens. Something must have hurt her hard at some point for her to pipe up all the damned time."
Batory allowed himself to shrug slightly. "… Perhaps," he conceded. "… Hate comes from many sources."
Fitting, considering where I am from.
"And I know you caught her saying she's started to respect Isara for other reasons," continued the Gallian. "I think Rosie's breaking down, she's just deep in denial at this point."
"… It would be very nice for unit cohesion," murmured Batory, "If she could leave the stage of denial already."
So I beseech without a shred of self-awareness.
"… And speaking of hate," whispered Raymond in an even lower tone, seemingly to probe the Viszevar. There was a hint of nervousness in his whisper, something that Batory recognized immediately. "What's Hae-whatever that was?"
"… Darscen 10th Armored Brigade and another Kokurian unit massacred a thousand prisoners of war two years ago near the city of Haesamwi," curtly answered the warrant officer. Bongseon's face with his one eye and typical smug, cold grin flashed in his mind again at the thought. "… Apparently none of them had any regrets, and a few even openly enjoyed watching the Imperials sob and scream while shooting them."
Raymond didn't say a word, staring blankly in shock at the Crow in processing these words. "… Th-that can't be normal for Darscens over there, right? Even if a ton of them were terrorists like you told me before?"
Batory thought for a moment, processing this question for the first time in a long time. Even he didn't know even though he was well aware that the 10th were Dahauists, and he worked with the Black Army during that war. "… I cannot say," he admitted. "But they hate Imperials even more than the rest of us in the Diarchy… This ability and willingness to wake up and choose violence is why I give Darscens the respect they deserve, Raymond."
"… And what about you," pressed the Gallian, again with the familiar unease present. "What did you think about it consid- considering Kloden?"
Batory gave Raymond a quick sideways glance. "… I despise the Imperial, Raymond," he replied with a quiet sigh. He paused for a moment before concluding, "And you should, too… But not enough to shoot those who cannot fight back."
He forced a small smile onto his face. "… Don't worry, I will try to not scare you as much as back then, Raymond."
Raymond let out a quiet sigh as he too struck the radio with the palm of his hand several times. "Yeah, I get it now," he wearily smiled. "Just remind me to never piss Darscens off, then."
"… Of course."
/
Roughly three hours later as the sky began to turn purple, Landzaat stumbled a handful of steps into the ruins appearing as if he saw a ghost.
"Hey, Batory," he called out shakily. "Need a word with you outside." With these words, Landzaat slipped back out of the door again and behind the wall.
"… Raymond," Batory ordered the Shocktrooper, who in turn looked back at the Viszevar quizzically, "The radio, please." Without waiting to see if Raymond confirmed his orders, he retrieved his Gallian-3 rifle and quietly made his way out of the ruins as well, knowing that Landzaat was now positioned at the northwest corner of the larger ruins of the old villa that had surely seen happier days before Barious vaporized.
What secretly concerned him, however, was Landzaat's expression. The man had stared down a Vaterland medium tank in his miserable own little light tank, and had even kept his cool in the face of the still-unidentified model of heavy tank at Kloden. For all of the months that Batory was acquainted with this Gallian, the latter had shown no real evidence that he was truly afraid of much. For 2nd Lieutenant Faldio Landzaat to betray a certain sense of terror so brazenly now did not sit well for the warrant officer.
As expected, he found Landzaat leaning on the corner of the walls, looking blankly at him. "… Sir," started Batory as he entered Landzaat's range of hearing. "Did you meet the dead?"
The lieutenant gave a small snort. "Yeah, I guess you can call it that," nodded Landzaat as he spoke in a low tone, that tremor refusing to leave his voice. He gave a sideways glance at the warrant officer. "Might've just been chosen for that privilege. You know Valt and I were with the Sevens for the past few hours, right?"
"… Yes, sir, I do."
"And you know," continued Landzaat wearily, "that Gunther's Squad is positioned at the Temple as a reserve force, right?"
"… Yes," answered Batory again, immediately not liking where this conversation was heading. "… Is this about the Temple itself?"
Landzaat quietly nodded. "You already know that I've studied history at U. Randgriz, I hope."
"… You mentioned it off-hand once or twice, sir," confirmed Batory. "… You mentioned you specialized in archaeology."
Landzaat nodded yet again and looked the Crow directly in the eyes. "Yeah, so believe what I'm about to tell you. And don't tell the rest about this, Batory, it won't help morale." He pushed himself off of the walls. "The Imperial force commander is here. Prince Maximilian."
Batory blinked. "… So?" This wasn't anything necessarily terrible – Imperials were many things, but they were just as easily killed as any other human. KISHIN had already known for months that Maximilian Gaius von Reginrave, Prince of the Empire albeit a bastard child of the dynasty, was the overall head of the invasion. Even if this particular von Reginrave was noted for an unusual talent in personnel management and strategy, Batory did not consider it an existential threat; after all, that was roughly the same amount of acclaim the Empire put onto the last prince to attack the Haesamwi area.
He was about to receive a deeply unpleasant shock.
"… He is just human, sir," countered the Crow, "and they die like any other."
Landzaat shook his head and gave a sigh, rubbing his eyes with his gloved hands.
"Sure, he may be human, Batory," he conceded. He removed his hands from his face and looked at the Crow again.
"But the Valkyria he had with him sure isn't. I don't know what she'll do, but dig in harder."
Batory stared at the lieutenant with his perpetually stoic face. But behind it, he fought hard to control himself. He could only manage one word.
"… Oh."
/
The Barious Desert echoed with the thunderous reports of small arms, artillery, and high explosives as the Gallian Militia's 3rd Company held the line against the brunt of what seemed to be two entire companies of Imperial armor and infantry. Squad 2 was assigned to screen the northern flank, but it was still in disarray after a massive vehicle with capital ship-grade artillery had crushed its way through the Gallian lines and obliterated Squad 2's forward operating base.
Batory was able to confirm, at the very least, that KISHIN's fears were realized. The Empire was committed to deploying at least one Batomys-class superheavy tank just for Gallia. Batory was continuing to fulfill his ulterior mission of intelligence gathering. To make at least this point even better for him was that Squad 2 had acted on his advice and had taken out every escort vehicle that the Batomys had taken with it on its grinding advance southwest. Whatever the Batomys planned to fight next, it would have to make do with just itself and any foot mobile lucky enough to run the Gallian gauntlet with Squad 4 still intact and pouring flanking fire onto its battlegroup.
However, this was not a consolation prize able to make up for the fact that the 3rd Company was collectively already at the breaking point. The men had spent several hours prepping their defenses – their FOBs were set up; primary, secondary, and tertiary defensive lines were designated among the ruined buildings in the area; and the long crevasses that dug into the Barious sands west-east were all mined courtesy of Squad 1's Pvt. Cheslock and all of the Engineers to prevent Imperial troops from exploiting them.
It wasn't enough.
"… Squad 3, this is Squad 1, another platoon of Imperial Königs headed in our direction, right between us, over."
The radio soon crackled back with a response.
"Confirmed, Squad 1, we see 'em, four light tanks. Lancers switching fire, over."
From the east wall where Batory was squatting and manning the radio, all the observation point was doing was giving him an amazing panorama of certain defeat. Squad 1 had already suffered several dead and wounded, all of the KIA being from the newest personnel inducted only a scant two weeks ago. Landzaat was doing all he can to disrupt the Imperial advance with his own light tank, and Valt and Raymond were at ground level with the others doing everything within their power to maintain the battle lines. Squad 3 was faring worse, the Imperials evidently singling it out as the breakthrough point.
But it was simply not enough. Batory knew that. Squads 1 and 3 were already starting to pull back to their secondary lines, and it had only been roughly an hour since first contact.
"Hey, sarge," Regard called out as he threw back the bolt on his GSR-3 sniper rifle. It was his last round in his magazine, and he immediately fished out a new charger of 5 rounds from his bandolier.
Batory tore his eyes from the radio and quickly turned his head to his right to face Regard. "… Yes?"
"I think I've killed enough of these fucking Imps for us to start falling back," Regard spoke half in jest, finishing up his reloading cycle. "They'll start targeting our position soon, I'm surprised we're still alive."
Batory reviewed this statement for a brief moment. Cezary Regard was known to be a talented marksman but also a dirty coward, hating every single moment that he spent at the front. While Batory had learned to tune Regard out most of the time, the Crow understood that Regard had a very valid point to make now. By this point, every Imperial to the east along with their mothers back in Schwartzgrad most certainly knew there were marksmen on the mesa.
And Batory knew from his time in Manju that the Imperial Reichsarmee did not understand the concept of "overkill" – there was only "open fire" and "reload." Why did they take so long to shell this position?
"… Noted," Batory conceded. "… Regard, fall back to the rear of the mesa and start covering the Squad however you can."
Regard nodded, and with a "Yes sir, thank you, sir" flew out of his hiding spot within the ruins of the villa as if the Heavens were personally out for his head.
Typical, Regard. Typical.
"Not concerned about Cezary, lad?" O'Hara spoke up to his immediate left, not once looking up from her scope during the entire exchange as she continued to line up her shots and fire. "He was always a bit of a runner."
"… No," Batory replied as he refocused on the radio once more. He wanted very much to kill the Imperial, but he was up here to call out targets. The killing, he understood, would have to wait. "… Regard knows his way around the desert, and he shoots better when no one's around… I need him to cover our withdrawal."
RUN RUN RUN
The inner voice came back on, but something was wrong. It had never yelled at him like this before. It had never sounded so terrified before.
"Oh, for Valks' sakes!" One of the Scouts let out a terrified yell to Batory's left further away than O'Hara. She lowered his weapon and began to take steps backward as she jabbed her free hand east. "What the FUCK is that!?" O'Hara and the other greenhorn Scout both began to start yelling and backing up as well, and even the radio began to light up even more with confused, static-filled screaming.
Whatever that Scout saw, it did more to crush Gallian morale than the entire previous hour of conventional attacks.
Batory began to feel a terrible, terrible feeling deep inside him even before he himself saw what had caused all the fight to go out of the entire mesa force. It was not even fear as he understood it when fighting Imperials, nor was it even fear from his days deep inside Seongnam Base. It was much more visceral, much more raw.
RUN RUN RUN, the inner voice screeched at him again.
It was then that he finally glanced over the radio… directly toward the last living being on the continent he wanted to see. All of a sudden, even the radio's squawking sounded quiet compared to the sound of his own augmented heart beginning to beat as if it was trying to rip itself out of his also-augmented ribcage.
It was a curiously tall, albino woman standing roughly 200 meters from the Militia's original first line of defenses, dressed in a very customized variant of the Reichsarmee's general officer uniform. She had seemingly no interest in taking cover, standing tall and proud in the beaten zone with a pure, white lance in her right hand and an equally forbidding shield in her left. Most strikingly, she was wreathed in a brilliant blue flame, the type that could only be generated by purified Europan Ragnite.
Batory, his blood quickly hitting what he felt to be subzero temperatures, shoved his binoculars back into their case in an embarrassingly fast motion, the last things he saw through the lenses the blue flames surrounding this woman beginning to glow brighter, and the lance and shield seemingly expanding in size as this Imperial then swing the lance in front of her body and pointed it directly in his direction.
10:00 ENEMY 8 RANGE 50 CLEAR OUT NOW
VALKYRIA, the voice screeched once more, still in a panicked tone. RUN RUN RUN
Batory broke his stoicism for the first time in a very long time. He didn't even feel ashamed, against all expectations he had set for himself for the past decade and a half. After all, not even the Director would have blamed him for losing even a tiny bit of cool against a literal goddess.
Bullets were already starting to smash into the northern and eastern walls of the villa ruins, the resulting holes pouring light at upward angles and catching the Scouts in further panic. "Sarge, we got like a dozen Shocks climbing up the path!" The other Scout positioned at the far left, a raw recruit and a red-haired man not even twenty years of age, yelled hysterically as he shoved a grenade through a wall directly built on the edge of the mesa and down the mesa face before scurrying back. "Cheslock's tripwires ain't working! We gotta get out of here!"
"Ssibal," spat the Crow in Kokurian, which surely needed no translation as he too sprang up from behind the radio. It was clear what was happening: the Valkyria was going to fire on his position and have another team climb the mesa to confirm the kills. "Get the Hell away from the wall NOW!"
As he turned and continued to yell for an immediate evacuation of the ruins, Batory grabbed O'Hara by her right arm, forcefully turning her around and shoving her in front of him to get her to start running. He knew that the two Scouts, even if they were very new additions to the Squad, were physically conditioned to move and react quickly. But Snipers tended to be trained more in staying still; O'Hara was also the closest ally and so she got the VIP treatment. As Batory shoved O'Hara forward, the two Scouts scrambled as fast as their mortal bodies could let them.
"Wait, lad," she yelped as she felt the force of the Viszevar roughly pushing her west. "My ammo!"
Batory heard a deafening thud from further down the mesa to his left, the familiar report of the Gallian light tank's 75 mm gun. He wasn't sure what exactly Landzaat or even Squad 3's platoon commander was shooting at, or what ammunition type went downrange, but Batory had no desire to stay to find out. All he wanted to do was drag O'Hara and the others out of the ruins before they joined the building and its long-lost owners in death.
Her helmet flying off her head as she ran in sheer terror, the closer greenhorn Scout shrieked, "Valks damn it, Catherine, forg-"
It was then that Batory heard over the din of his fellow Squad mates' panic and the general clamor of battle a disturbingly loud gong and a distinct whistling sound, almost as if something fast and heavy was swatted away. Time slowed to a crawl around him as the whistling sound grew louder and louder, and at a terrifyingly fast rate at that.
Oh, fuck, thought Batory as he realized what it was.
It was a tank round. Not just any tank round, but a Gallian 75 mm round based on the sound.
The Valkyria had deflected the tank shell. It was now flying his way. It was too fast for even his inner voice to warn him of much, other than GET DOWN.
"Down!"
The villa walls exploded as a 75 mm APHE round crashed through the wall to Batory's right and behind him where it met the roof, blowing up and blasting large chunks of masonry all around the interior of the ruins. The shrapnel and the stones missed O'Hara by an uncomfortably margin; being in front of Batory and thus having a very well fortified body between herself and the explosion, she escaped with negligible injuries.
Unfortunately, the same could not be said for Batory and the two Scouts.
The bricks and shrapnel hit the two Scouts in the back. The back of the helmetless Scout's head caved in as a brick crashed into it with the force of a war hammer, killing her instantly. Her words to O'Hara died in her throat, further lost in the mess of long, brown hair and whatever remained of her skull and brain. The other, red-haired Scout was hit squarely in the back and the neck by another batch of masonry and shrapnel, enough to utterly break him and send him down to the ground with a sickening gurgle. A Crow was capable of many deeds, but healing a snapped neck and shattered spinal column was not one of them.
Batory himself, to his great surprise, suddenly felt an immense pain in his back and heard an uncomfortably terrifying shattering of wood and steel as he stumbled forward but not before twisting his body on his way down to avoid taking O'Hara down with him. The energy field that protected him passively absorbed the shrapnel and acted alongside his rifle to dissipate enough of the impact force of the explosion and the large stone that hit him squarely in his back to not instantly turn him into a paraplegic, but it was enough to make him let out an uncharacteristically loud snarl of pain as the impact of the masonry handily overcame his pain tolerance. He slammed onto the ground and felt his binoculars shatter from the sheer impact; a sharp jab in his back betrayed the fact that his Gallian-3 was also completely ruined.
5:00 ENEMY 5 RANGE 25 DELAY
He felt O'Hara also briefly stumbling to the ground with the force of the explosion, but her also immediately regaining control of the situation as expected of a veteran. "Batty!" She looked behind her to see Batory sprawled on the ground. She immediately and desperately made to haul the Crow up, those bandoliers she left behind completely purged from her mind.
"Get up, damn ye," she coughed amidst the dust. "I'm not leaving ye behind!"
Batory bolted back upright and rapidly moved to unsling his shattered rifle off of his shoulder, the pain of the splintered wood and metal jabbing into his back ribs never being enough to slow him down. He coughed from the dust and the diminishing yet lingering pain, and gave her a push to the west to have her start moving again.
6:00 ENEMY 5 RANGE 15
We're not going to make it.
He unhooked a B-Type grenade from his belt and made to unscrew the cap with lightning speed, continuing to run west to put as much distance between him and the Imperials as possible.
"We won't make it just running," shouted the Crow to Catherine as he tugged the ripcord and saw the grenade head glow bright blue. He looked to his side at O'Hara with a faint, resigned smile. "Keep running but prepare to fire."
O'Hara, her eyes growing wide at the sight of a live grenade, immediately uttered an uneasy "Aye," and maintained her retreat. Quickly glancing back to the east at the point where he knew the path up the eastern mesa face terminated, Batory could easily see five infantry remaining out of the eight Imperials that were originally detected. All of them moved as if they were burdened with armor and automatic weapons as the dying ginger Scout had warned him.
Urijeguk manse, you little shits.
Batory immediately pivoted on his feet to swing his body to the east, hurling the grenade toward the path as the first Imperial Shocktroopers began to crest the edge of the mesa face. "Catherine," he ordered as he immediately pulled out his Archer, "Hold position!"
O'Hara immediately slid into a crouch and turned to pivot her body toward the east with a precision that betrayed her experience and skill in battle, instantly aiming her GSR-3 at the first two Imperial Shocktroopers to show themselves in the open and pulling the trigger. Without even a chance for him to raise his gun, one of the steel-clad Shocktroopers reeled back with a ragged hole in his breastplate, tumbling off the mesa and plunging onto the rocky sand of Barious twenty meters below as hard as his ZM MP crashed onto the sand of the mesa top before he went over.
The grenade hurtled through the air and disappeared over the edge of the mesa. However, the air was soon filled with profuse swearing in Prutenic and shrieks of Granate! as the the three Imperials still below the edge of the mesa top began to move even faster in Batory's view.
However, the Crow heard and saw something else amidst the expected cries of panic in the Empire's Prutenic command language as he immediately put down the second Shocktrooper with his pistol. It was a woman shrieking in Viszevaric, the individual in question scrambling up to the top of the mesa with pure fear etched into her face, bearing a staff officer's uniform and a ZM Kar B(S) marksman rifle.
"Granat!" This Imperial yelped in terror, out of reflex as her head began to rise over the edge of the mesa.
Batory had never personally seen a woman with such a face before. Not everyone in Europa went around with blond hair and purple eyes. Whether her expression was more borne of the grenade right behind her or the fact that she was now facing down Batory and O'Hara pointing guns right at her, Batory didn't know.
But she was swearing in Batory's ancestral language. For the first time in his life, Batory couldn't bring himself to instantly pull the trigger against a target in Imperial uniform. It was one of his own in his crosshairs, Imperial uniform or not, and she certainly was in no condition to beat either him or O'Hara to the punch.
"Granat!" The female Viszevar screamed again as she flailed her way up. "Spierdalaj! (3)"
The B-Type went off.
/
(1) In Kokurian, the word acorn is translated to dotori.
(2) The Jeguk Ikmunsa (Imperial Press) was formerly the main secret intelligence agency for the Kingdom of Kokuria prior to the state's merger with Yamatai, and named so due to its official front as a royal newspaper and broadcast service. Now secretly comprises KISHIN's Kappa Wing and prioritizes cultural propaganda and research.
(3) Viszevaric for Get the fuck out!