Tristain Academy of Magic, 1045 hours
Cpl. Michael Holstein, of Blenheim Company, 2nd Battalion, strolled through one of the courtyards that happened to be occupied by students who were spending time with their familiars. He ignored the stares being directed his way, and from what little French, Flemish, and Dutch he knew, he could make out the words being directed at him.
Commoner. Mercenary. Brigand. Those words, obviously meant as insults, went simply unheeded; though behind him, Lance Corporal Thomas Taggart and five privates either grumbled, sighed, glared back at the nobles, or did all three actions at once. They had been ordered by their platoon leader, 2nd Lt. Andrew Thorne, to procure supplies for the rest of Blenheim Company, as they were running low on foodstuffs.
Their battalion commander, along with Capt. Bristol and 1st Lt. Knight, were currently taking their time talking to the student that had summoned them to this world. He didn't catch her name, although from what he had heard, it seemed that she needed to take anger management classes based on her behavior alone. 'That, or it must be that time of the month again,' Michael thought darkly.
"This is totally bullshit, I'm telling you," Kingsman Nathan Campbell, a Liverpudlian, groused, breaking Michael from his train of thought. "Even here on this fucked-up world, we still get assigned on working parties."
"What, you're telling me you'd rather be caught jerking off again like that one time in the barracks back home?" another kingsman, Malcolm Gordon, snickered.
"Says the wanker who could apparently never get enough porn mags back in A-stan, so bite me," Nathan shot back.
"You think this place has anywhere we could get laid?" a third kingsman, Zachary Finlay, cut in.
"Would the lot of you please shut your cockholsters before I make you run laps in full gear around this place?" Michael sighed exasperatedly. "The sooner we get this done, the sooner you morons can get back to whatever fuckery you usually do in your spare time."
"Aye, sir, shutting up now," Nathan said.
Upon reaching the kitchen, Michael glanced around until he saw someone who could be the head chef. He walked up to the man, who was busy stirring a large pot of stew. "Excuse me, sir," Michael began.
The man turned around, surprised to see the men who apparently had been summoned by Louise the day before.
"Yes, what can I do for you gentlemen?" he asked.
"We were wondering if you might have some bread, enough for thirty people. We're running low on food, so hopefully you don't mind."
The man chuckled. "Just give me a minute. Siesta, could you please get some bread from one of the shelves there? Enough to feed thirty men."
"Right away, chef Marteau," a maid responded. She rushed to the shelf behind the chef. Carefully pulling out each loaf, she placed them in two baskets before handing them to Michael.
"Here you go, sir," the maid beamed at him.
"Thank you, lass," Michael smiled back. "And thank you as well, chef Marteau."
Marteau gave out a hearty laugh. "Anytime, lads. You're free to come here and eat anytime you like. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got some noble brats to feed."
Michael chuckled, handing the baskets to Nathan and Zachary. He then bade the chef and the maid goodbye as they exited back to the hallway and out on the courtyard. On their way back, he noticed a brunette girl approach them.
"Excuse me, would you be so kind as to tell me where Guiche is?" the girl asked.
"Guiche?" Michael blinked. "I'm afraid I don't know anyone by that name. Could you describe him?"
The girl paused. "Hmm, he's blonde, has blue eyes, and wears his uniform differently from the others."
Michael looked around, trying to find the boy, before Thomas beat him to it.
"Is that him over there?" he pointed to the boy who fit the brunette's description. To the girl's surprise, she saw him with another girl, this time a blonde. She rushed up to him, catching him and his companion off guard. An argument soon broke out between the three of them.
Michael and his section watched on, before turning to leave. Before they got halfway through, however, Guiche stormed up to them blocked their path.
"You!" he jabbed his finger at them. "I cannot believe that you have the gall to make two girls cry! What do you have to say for yourself, peasant?!"
Instead of answering him, he merely sidestepped around the boy, with his section following suit. Guiche strode ahead of them and blocked their path once again. "Answer me, commoner! Unless you're too stupid to even have an answer."
"Move it, fuckboy," Michael growled. "Not our fault that you got caught cheating with another girl."
Guiche spluttered in disbelief. A noble being disrespected by commoners? He would not stand for this! "You insolent fool, you will pay for your foolishness. I challenge you to a duel."
Michael and his men merely glared at him. "We don't have time for this bullshit, let's go."
Just before he was able to take another step, he was interrupted by another voice.
"Cpl. Holstein, what's the meaning of this?!"
He turned around to see his platoon leader, along with Travis, Lionel, Julius, and Louise stalking towards them.
"Sir!" Michael quickly snapped a salute, which Andrew and the others returned. "With all due respect, this fuckboy here accused me of making two girls cry when it's clear that this little shitnugget is the one who cheated in the first place. And the kicker? He challenged me to a duel. A duel! With a kid! Like, are you fucking kidding me?!"
A tense silence hung in the air. At this point they had already drawn a large crowd, some of whom were laughing at Guiche's expense.
Julius merely sighed. "Just don't kill him, alright?"
Guiche laughed, as did the students that were gathered around them.
"I'll make no promises, but consider it a consolation that his death will be quick and painless," the blonde fop confidently said.
This time, it was the Lancastrians' turn to laugh.
"I'm not talking to you, squirt," Julius said once the laughter died down. "I was simply telling my section commander to go easy on you."
At this, Guiche flushed with rage. He glared venomously at Michael. "I'll make an example of you. Meet me at Vestry Fields in an hour."
Louise started to panic. "Julius, you must call this off, there's no way he can win against a noble!"
This only caused Julius to laugh mirthlessly. "Louise, we've faced way more dangerous enemies in our world. Holstein here even got wounded twice in one firefight and he still managed to limp back to base with only minor injuries. Trust me, he knows how to take care of himself."
This did little to ease Louise's fears, however, as she led them to Vestry Fields.
Vestry Fields, 1210 hours
To say that Michael was pissed was an understatement. He moved with determination towards Vestry Fields, with the crowd parting before him. He turned off the safety of his weapon, an L110A3, as he stared at Guiche with all the rage he could muster, letting his LMG hang from its sling across his chest.
"I'm surprised that you have the courage to show yourself at all, commoner," Guiche sneered.
Michael's response was to spit at the ground beside him in contempt.
Despite his nervousness, Guiche continued his taunts. "I'll assure you, though, this will be over before you know it."
Michael grabbed his light machine gun by its pistol grip and pulled back its charging handle. "Are you sure you want to do this, you spoiled two-timing asshat?"
Guiche pulled out a rose from his shirt. "I would never pass up an opportunity to put peasants like you in their place."
He then waved his rose. "My runic name is Guiche the Bronze, hence the bronze Valkyries that shall be your doom!"
A single petal fell from his rose, which transformed into a bronze golem. Michael only looked on, unimpressed.
Before Guiche could give out any order, Michael sprayed the golem down with a ten-round burst, instantly shattering it.
The crowd gasped in surprise as they watched the whole thing happen within a second. How was this possible? What kind of magic allowed this commoner's weapon to instantly destroy a bronze golem?
"You still want to do it?!" Michael roared in fury.
Guiche trembled. He saw the fury in his opponent's eyes as he spoke. It unnerved him, and he wanted to regurgitate his breakfast after witnessing such power.
However, he couldn't turn back now; his reputation as a noble was at stake. Trembling, he quickly waved his rose again, this time summoning seven more golems.
Michael let out a much longer burst, destroying each and every golem Guiche has summoned until only nine rounds remained on his ammo belt. A lucky round managed to hit Guiche on his right shoulder, causing him to cry out in pain and to fall on his behind.
Michael removed the belt and loaded a fresh one draped across his shoulder like a bandolier and then switched the safety back on. He drew his L137A1, pulled back the slide, and advanced towards Guiche until he was only five feet away. He aimed his pistol at the blond's head.
"Had enough?" Michael hissed, drawing a murmur from the spectators.
"Y-yes, yes! I yield!" Guiche bawled, clutching his right shoulder, which was now bleeding heavily. Michael then aimed between Guiche's legs and fired the pistol, the 9x19 Parabellum round impacting into the dirt.
"That was for two-timing, something you should keep in mind next time you do it again."
By then, Guiche had soiled himself and was reduced to a sniffling mess. Michael paid no heed and shifted his aim and fired a second shot, sending the round ten inches from his right leg. "That was for being the arrogant fuckwit that you are, thinking that you have all the power above all else just because of your social status."
He relocated his aim yet again, letting off a final shot that landed five inches from his left hip. "And that was for underestimating your opponent in a duel."
Still seething with rage, Michael holstered his pistol and turned away. "What a fucking waste of time," he spat as he stalked off.
The entire affair had only taken two minutes.