Alvis Hall, 1225 hours
"I kinda feel sorry for Professor Colbert, but if we're gonna stay here for who knows how long, we need as much ammo as we can carry," Julius said, taking another bite of pork stew. "At the very least, we can start live-fire exercises in order to keep our marksmanship sharp."
Travis took a sip of wine from his goblet. "I'd never imagine operating in a place that somewhat resembles 17th Century Europe," he replied. The two officers, along with Lionel, had been invited by Louise to have lunch with her, resulting in the usual insults being thrown the mage's way, but the sight of Michael's platoon entering the dining hall in order to keep an eye on the battalion commander quickly shut them up, with the nobles learning to fear the corporal due to his duel two days ago, and the commoner staff all too happy to have him around.
"The question is how we're gonna do it when there are no targets for us to shoot at," Lionel mused.
The other officers paused in thought before Louise came up with an idea. "I think I can talk to the princess about getting some armor that her bodyguards no longer use and have them brought here. I'm sure she wouldn't mind at all."
Julius blinked. "You know the princess?" he asked. "I mean, I'm sure that everyone around here knows her, but are you saying that you know her personally?"
Louise gave the major a smug look. "Princess Henrietta is currently the ruling monarch of Tristain, as well as my childhood friend," she said. "Just leave it all to me."
The three officers glanced at one another. "Dare I ask how old she is?" Lionel asked.
Louise took a spoonful of stew, chewing carefully before swallowing it. "She's seventeen," she replied.
Julius's and Lionel's eyes widened in shock, nearly choking on their food. Travis seemed less surprised, the mage's answer only causing him to raise his eyebrows as he digested that bit of information.
"I have no idea why you two are so surprised about this fact. Back in our world, we had monarchs who took the throne at an early age. Take Charles XII of Sweden, for example. He ascended to the throne when he was 14," Travis quipped.
The other two officers merely stared at him. "Lieutenant, just shut up," Lionel sighed wearily.
Julius downed the last of his wine as another thought entered his mind. "I heard that a count came over yesterday. What was his name again?"
"Hmm?" Louise took a moment to wipe her mouth with a napkin. "You mean Count Mott? He's the royal messenger, he comes by on a regular basis. I have no intention of being associated with him or his arrogance," the mage scowled.
"Yeah, I've had my fair share of arrogant people. Like that bloke I beat two days ago," Michael said as he walked up to the quartet. "I was just in the kitchen a few moments ago, looking for Siesta."
The officers blinked. "Siesta? You mean the afternoon nap?" Lionel asked.
The corporal laughed at his question. "No, captain, I meant the maid who assisted us in resupplying our platoon two days ago." His smile then quickly morphed into a scowl. "The chef told me that the count came over yesterday in order to get her transferred to his manor. From what I heard, whenever a noble asks for a particular girl by name, it usually leads to her being his side chick against her will."
The quartet fell silent at this news. Most of B Company liked Siesta due to her helpful nature, and they would be damned if someone or something gets forcibly taken from them.
The three officers got up and excused themselves from Louise's presence. They strode towards the exit, with Andrew's platoon following close behind. Once they were outside the dining hall, Julius made his decision.
"Capt. Graham, I want your company assembled outside the academy posthaste," the major keyed his comms as he walked swiftly towards the academy's gates.
"Do we have a situation, sir?" Capt. Daniel Graham, commanding officer of B Company, responded.
"I'm aware that your company has established a rapport with a maid named Siesta. She left for a noble's estate earlier this morning against her will. You saw one of those nobles yesterday when he dropped by the academy, I presume?" Julius said.
Daniel cursed. "So I assume we're launching a rescue op?" he quickly put two and two together.
"That's right, captain, and your company will be prosecuting the operation tonight," Julius nodded his head in confirmation.
On the way out of the academy, Julius stopped a student who was about to have a late lunch. "Excuse me, lad, do you have a moment?" the major asked.
The student held his composure as he looked at the three officers in front of him. "Yes, sir, what can I do for you?" he blurted out.
"Do you know Count Mott?" Julius asked.
"Yes, the whole academy knows him," the student nodded. "Quite the lecherous man he is, if what I've heard is correct."
Julius chuckled at this. "Would you happen to know where he lives?"
Another nod. "Yes, but may I ask as to why you want to know?"
The major glanced at his three subordinates. "I'm sorry, but that's classified. We need to know where he lives, we're pressed for time."
The student just sighed. "Alright, these are the directions…"
Tristain Academy of Magic, 1325 hours
"From what we know, Mott's estate is surrounded by a fifteen-foot wall. He's got roughly a hundred guards continuously patrolling the perimeter, and possibly another eighty inside the estate's grounds. We don't know if he has more men waiting near the location, so keep an eye out for any reinforcements that try to come in," Daniel outlined the mission.
A private spoke up. "Sir, should we expect armored support?"
Daniel paced back and forth in front of his company. "C Troop will be bringing us to the target, so yes, they'll provide fire support when necessary. We'll move out at 2000 hours and commence the raid at 2100 hours. I expect this op to take no more than thirty minutes. And remember, we want Mott alive. Questions?"
No one spoke up, so Daniel wrapped up the briefing. "Alright, gear up. Dismissed."
The company headed back into the academy, where Julius was speaking with Louise.
"Major, preparations are almost done," Daniel saluted.
Julius returned the salute as the mage spoke. "Sir Julius, are you sure about this? Count Mott is a triangle-class water mage, he's someone who's not to be trifled with," she said nervously.
Daniel merely scoffed at this. "Did you see how Cpl. Holstein took down that blonde fop with ease two days ago? This'll be a cakewalk."
Louise turned to the captain. "Cakewalk? What's that?" she asked.
Daniel took out his canteen and took a sip of water. "It means that we'll have no trouble in dealing with Mott. We're professionals, so everything should go smoothly."
The captain then turned to Julius and saluted. "Major, with your permission I'll make my preparations now."
The major saluted back, a grim expression on his face. "Permission granted, captain. Dismissed."
Daniel walked towards his company, which was busy loading rounds into magazines and securing as many grenades as possible.
Tristanian Countryside, 2 klicks from target, 2021 hours
Eighty infantrymen disembarked from eight Challenger IIs, having reached their staging point. They immediately formed up into sections of eight, marching at a brisk pace until they were five hundred meters from the estate.
Daniel took out his binoculars and scanned the target area, taking note of the guards' patrol patterns. He quickly counted the number of guards outside the walls. 'Ninety guards armed with Renaissance-era weapons. Nothing we can't handle,' the captain mused. After a few minutes of observing the area, he stowed his binoculars and checked his watch, which has been adjusted to correspond to the time zone in Tristain.
2053 hours. With a hand signal, which was passed down to the whole company, he fixed his bayonet, with the rest of the company doing the same. Another signal had the company jog for a hundred meters before dropping into a prone position. The company released the safeties of their firearms and waited for the signal.
Daniel glanced at his watch again, counting down the seconds as they ticked by.
Nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one.
Daniel keyed his comms. "Lion, lion, lion."
With a furious thunder, eight L30A1 rifled guns roared in defiance as the Challenger IIs hurled their 120mm high-explosive squash head ordnance into the front walls, killing eighteen guards, injuring forty-four, and throwing the rest into panic. The company then rose on its feet and charged towards the estate, eliminating the survivors as they advanced.
Count Mott's Estate, 2041 hours
Siesta sighed dejectedly as she washed herself in the bath. It had been fourteen hours since she was taken from the academy against her will, but in light of the current situation, she knew that there was nothing she could do as she was pressed into serving Count Mott in more ways than just housekeeping, and she shuddered in disgust as she pictured the count using her body to satisfy his urges. She desperately prayed to Brimir for some sort of deliverance.
A servant then called out to her. "Ms. Siesta, the count requests your presence at his bedchambers as soon as possible. Please hurry up."
The maid wiped away the tears that were pooling around her eyes. "Yes, I'll be there," she responded. She took a few more minutes to lament on her current situation before finishing her bath and getting dressed in her uniform. "Someone, anyone, please help me," she whispered to herself before heading for Mott's room.
She was halfway to the count's quarters when eight explosions knocked her off her feet, with the other servants shouting in alarm and the guards rushing outside to see what had caused the ruckus. She shakily got up on her feet and was about to start heading back the way she came when she heard a burst of gunfire.
Siesta was about to run for the first floor when suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder and a wand poke her neck. "My Siesta, either you do as I say or you will no longer see the sun rise," Mott whispered in her ear.
Estate Perimeter, 2110 hours
"Sgt. Singleton, Sgt. Sims, have your men secure the ground floor. Sgt. Murdoch, Cpl. Holstein, start searching for the package. Move, move!" Daniel barked to his men.
As sergeants James Singleton and Brian Sims ordered their sections to search the ground floor for any more hostiles, Michael scanned the floor above him as he and his section slowly made their way upstairs, with Sgt. Gerald Murdoch's section close behind. They methodically searched each room, kicking down doors and eliminating any guard trying to rush them.
Michael's and Gerald's sections stacked up on another door, with Malcolm kicking it down and the two sections moving into what could only be the count's room. They immediately halted when they saw a man clothed in red holding Siesta at wandpoint.
"Michael! Please, help me!" Siesta pleaded.
The count took a step backwards, dragging the maid with him. "One more step and she dies."
"You're outnumbered and outmatched, Mott, I suggest you give up," Michael shot back.
The count gave them a venomous glare. "Why would I surrender to a rabble of peasants like you?" he snapped.
Michael slowly adjusted his aim until his rifle was pointed at the count's hand that was holding the wand. "Let her go now or I'll shoot!" the corporal yelled.
"You wouldn't dare! You wouldn't dare shoot a noble in his own home! You wouldn't AAAAAAHHHHHH!"
Michael pulled the trigger, the 5.56x45mm NATO round tearing into the count's hand. Siesta stumbled towards the Lancastrians, and Gerald's section moved in to restrain the count, who screamed as his arms were bound behind him.
Siesta threw herself into Michael's chest, sobbing in relief now that she was in safe hands. The corporal did his best to comfort her before guiding her back downstairs, with a struggling Mott in tow, who had his mouth bound with duct tape.
Daniel, upon seeing both objectives completed, keyed his comms. "Dagger 2 to Dagger Actual, package secure and HVT in custody, how copy?"
Julius responded immediately. "Dagger Actual to Dagger 2, solid copy. Excellent job out there. Bring them home, the drinks are on us, over."
Daniel checked his watch. 2126 hours. "Dagger 2 copies all, Dagger 2 out."
He keyed another channel. "That's it, men, we're out of here."
B Company fell back from the estate towards their staging point. By the time they were 400 meters away, the Challengers brought Operation Falchion to a conclusion by unleashing another salvo of HESH rounds, destroying what remained of the manor.