HRRS Lexington, 1353 hours
Cromwell was furious.
His attacks on the Tristanian-Guldenhorf defensive lines had been thrown back with heavy casualties, and his situation was further compounded by the small force of musketeers and iron carriages on the hill just southeast of the Tristanian forces. Five of his best infantry brigades had been routed, and his armies, after marching east for three days with only token resistance, had so far failed to take Tarbes and its important crossroads leading further into the heart of Tristain. Nine infantry and four cavalry regiments had been crushed after nearly an hour of combat against the Tristanian center, with more than half of their senior officers killed, wounded, or missing, while the Reconquista Seventh Fleet had all but ceased to exist.
But the most distressing news of all was the steel dragon that had destroyed more than half of his artillery batteries and one-fifth of his reserve units with pillars of flame. From the reports that his field officers had given to him, the dragon was able to fly much faster and higher than the best fire dragons that Albion could offer.
As the Reconquista's Lord Protector strode out of his cabin aboard his flagship, he spied Wardes and Fouquet take off from the ship's deck aboard the former's wind dragon and straight towards his reserve force. He had given them separate orders a few minutes prior, with Wardes being tasked to take out the steel dragon, while Fouquet had been charged with bolstering what remained of the main attack force. Now, Cromwell could only watch them fly off, desperately thinking of how he could win this battle.
Hill 385, 1433 hours
"Half-load!"
"Half-load complete!"
"Fire!"
Lionel trained his binoculars downhill as mortar rounds detonated on yet another Reconquista assault on their dug-in positions. Seven fire dragons lay dead or wounded after being blown up mid-air by four Starstreak man-portable air defense systems, their SACLOS guidance systems ensuring pinpoint accuracy; a further nine were brought down as Julius strafed them with ease; and a dozen more managed to limp away after being struck by concentrated small-arms fire. Reconquista infantry and cavalry struggled to maintain formation as they ascended the corpse-ridden hillside, making them easy targets for the British infantry as rifle and machine gun fire tore into them even as tank, mortar, and grenade rounds slammed into the enemy's rear.
"Barrel's hot, changing barrels! Cover me!"
"Short bursts! Short bursts! Don't spray and pray!"
"Get that forty mike-mike online! Waste them!"
"Let them have it! Let them have it!"
Lionel let go of his binoculars and shouldered his rifle, firing short bursts at a triangle-class fire mage that had happened to be in the midst of casting a spell. As the mage crumpled to the ground, he quickly shifted his fire and locked onto a fire dragon, immediately bringing down the winged creature with another short burst and wincing as its rider impacted into the ground with a thud. Within minutes, the Reconquista were forced to fall back yet again as they tried – and failed – to get within what they thought was the optimal distance from the British line.
As the fire slowly died down, Arnhem Company's commander took a moment to register the sight in front him before he was startled by the sound of someone retching. He turned to his left and saw Robert Vickers, a 21-year-old kingsman, hunched over, his hands on his knees as he proceeded to throw up what little breakfast he had earlier.
"Vickers, you alright?" Lionel asked as the kingsman remained hunched for a few seconds before he straightened up and wiped off his mouth.
"I'll be fine, Captain, just… this is just a bit too much to take in at the moment," the young kingsman gestured to the mass of dead and wounded before him.
The captain tilted his head to the side. "First battle, I'm assuming?" he inquired
Robert, rendered speechless for the meantime, could only nod.
Lionel turned his gaze back to the grisly sight in front of him, shuddering as he heard the cries of agony from the mortally wounded Reconquista soldiers as they begged for an end to their suffering. He closed his eyes for a few seconds and tried to blot out the image from his mind, with partial success.
"It's the first kill that's always the hardest, kingsman, but you have to remember what you signed up for. This isn't Earth anymore, but that doesn't change the nature of our career. It's either you or them," the captain opened his eyes and gazed upwards at the sky, which was once again bright since the end of solar eclipse.
The solar eclipse that was supposed to take them home.
Robert merely stared at his company commander for a moment before dumbly turning his eyes back to the battlefield.
"If it makes you feel any better, most of us had the same reaction back in Afghanistan. I don't like it, kingsman. Never have. But you have no choice but to focus on your job, you can worry about the aftermath when all of the fighting's done," Lionel continued.
The young kingsman just sighed and nodded as he adjusted his rifle's sling. "U-understood, Captain."
Lionel's mic then suddenly crackled as Julius spoke into an open channel. "Dagger Actual to all call signs, I have visual on another group of dragons, another dozen, heading straight for me. I'm already Winchester on ammo, gonna land east of the hill. I need a platoon from Dettingen Company to rendezvous at my LZ, prepare to destroy the Thunderbolt once I link up with the rest. Copy?"
A chorus of affirmatives met the major's orders as they got into position, and Dettingen Company's 2nd Platoon immediately made their way downhill as fast as possible. Soon enough, they saw the Thunderbolt swooping low over them as it was pursued by the Reconquista's dragon riders. The Reconquista, upon seeing that they were being focused on, could do nothing as the British battlegroup opened up with everything they had, the 5.56x45 and 7.62x51 mm rounds drowning out the screams of anguish as man and beast fell from the sky.
One dragon, however, managed to get past the wall of lead that met its compatriots, and managed to pull up for altitude. Using that altitude, the dragon swooped down on Julius just as 2nd Platoon was less than a hundred meters away from where the Thunderbolt had landed, its canopy already open when it had started its descent. The dragon rider, upon seeing this, landed and dismounted four meters from the grounded Thunderbolt and pulled out his sword. He pointed the weapon towards the major and started casting a spell-
CRACK! CRACK!
-only to cry out and flinch as his arm was shot, forcing him to drop his sword and clutch his injured arm with his free hand.
Julius quickly climbed out of the cockpit of the Thunderbolt, his rifle aimed at the mage and with Derfflinger strapped to his back. He slowly made his way to the wounded mage as he stood his ground, briefly glancing up as he saw 2nd Platoon stop thirty meters away, aiming their rifles at the mage and his mount. He smirked as he saw a sapper rush past him with a pack of C4.
The dragon chose this moment to ascend and hover over the British troops, and upon seeing this, 2nd Platoon acted quickly, making short work of the beast and forcing it to crash down to the ground. The rider tried to use this distraction to lunge for his sword, but Julius was quicker, forcing the man back by firing a short burst into the ground in front of him, causing him to stumble back and land on his back.
"Identify yourself," Julius growled as he aimed his rifle at the wounded man.
"Jean-Jacques Francis de Wardes, I'm also known as Wardes the Lightning," the now-identified mage responded, getting back on his feet.
Julius scrutinized the man quickly and carefully. Tall, with long, silver hair and beard, early to mid-thirties, well-built, and clad in a uniform that resembled that of a cavalryman straight out of the Thirty Years' War.
"Are you the one responsible for the murder of Prince Wales?" he asked, stepping closer to the injured Wardes.
"Why do you want to know… Gandálfr?" Wardes chuckled.
The major froze upon hearing the former commander of the Griffin Knights call him by his runic name.
"How… how do you know about that?" he snarled.
Wardes laughed. "I seriously expected better from you, Gandálfr… or is it Julius? Look at you, scurrying about and trying to impress some upstart monarch. You're only delaying the inevitable; sooner or later Tristain will have no other option but to bow down and acknowledge Oliver Cromwell, the Lord Protector of the Reconquista, as their true leader."
Julius snorted as four men from 2nd Platoon stepped forward and trained their rifles on the Tristanian turncoat. "That's a bold statement coming from someone whose troops are still struggling to take high ground occupied by a numerically inferior force. And last time I checked, the Tristanians are still standing."
The sapper returned and whispered into the major's ear. "Charge set, Major, just say when."
The officer simply nodded and keyed his mic. "Dagger Actual to all call signs, I have successfully linked up with 2nd Platoon, moving to the hill now. Meet you in a few minutes, Dagger out."
He turned to his men. "Someone bring him over to the Tristanians, I have a feeling that they'll want to have a word with him," he motioned to Wardes.
Two men moved forward and roughly yanked the mage to his feet, unheeding of his cries of pain. "Move it, you wanker," one of them droned in a bored voice. Eighteen more men soon joined in, and they began their march north to the Tristanian lines.
"Let's go," Julius motioned for his men to follow him back to the hill. He set out on a jog, followed by the remainder of the platoon. Halfway towards the hill, he slowed to a walk.
"Blow it up," he ordered. One of the men immediately pulled out a detonator, turned it on, and pressed the button.
None of the men bothered to spare a glance as an ear-shattering explosion engulfed the aircraft, flames consuming the Thunderbolt as a pillar of black smoke soon crawled up to the sky.
Tristanian Left Flank, 1502 hours
Louise spurred her horse on as she made her way to Hill 385 as fast as possible and observe firsthand how Julius and his men fought. Even with all of their more advanced weaponry, there were only so many Reconquista soldiers they could beat back before they were eventually forced to give way to the sheer numbers that she knew would swarm the hill. Although she was more than welcome to the thought of fighting by Henrietta's side, her worry for her familiar – and partner – soon took over, and with the permission of her princess she had set off at once to find Julius.
As she continued onward, she caught sight of twenty soldiers, no doubt Julius's men, escorting a wounded and bleeding Wardes at gunpoint. She approached the men and stopped her horse.
"Where are you taking that lowly traitor?" she inquired.
"Straight to the princess, Miss Vallière," one of the men responded. "Orders from the major, we heard that this guy's been sleeping with the enemy, if you catch my drift." He nudged Wardes on his ribs.
Louise merely nodded. "And Sir Julius?"
"He regrouped with the others on the hill after destroying the Thunderbolt, not that it still has any use now that it's out of ammo – oi! You can't go there, it's too dangerous!" the lead soldier exclaimed after her as the mage suddenly took off at a gallop towards Julius.
Louise rode on, spurring her horse to move faster as she saw the burning wreck of the steel dragon, or the Thunderbolt, as Julius and his men called it. She spared only a brief glance before continuing on until she reached the foot of the hill. Glancing up, she saw more than two dozen men wearing clothing similar to what his familiar wore.
And among those men was Julius.
Louise made her way uphill as she called out to the major. "Sir Julius!"
The major turned in surprise, his expression soon turning into consternation as he saw the pink-haired mage on horseback riding towards him.
"Louise, what the hell are you doing here?! Do you have any idea how dangerous it is for you to be at a battlefield, of all places?!" he snapped.
The young girl slowed to a stop. "I know, but… I have a duty to Princess Henrietta! I can't just sit around and do nothing while the Reconquista attempt to subjugate my own country!" she argued.
Julius sighed exasperatedly. "Look, while I appreciate your concern and your devotion to the princess, you have to keep in mind that we're soldiers, first and foremost. We're doing everything we can to make the Reconquista pay dearly for every inch of ground that they advance on."
He shook his head as he continued. "Louise, war isn't what you think it would be. It's not as romantic or glamorous as most people make it out to be. I've seen my fair share of combat, and let me tell you, it's not pretty then, and it certainly isn't pretty now."
He turned and resumed his march uphill, with the rest of Dettingen Company's 2nd Platoon close behind. Louise just sighed and went after them as she mulled over what Julius had just told her.
Upon reaching the summit of the hill, she dismounted her horse and went straight to Julius, who was observing the battlefield ahead of him with the aid of his binoculars.
The mage cleared her throat, catching the major's attention as he lowered his binoculars and turned to the young mage. "How bad is it down there?"
Wordlessly, Julius handed her the binoculars and gestured downhill. Louise turned her gaze west, raising the binoculars to her eyes and scanning the battlefield below her. Almost immediately, her eyes widened in horror as she saw the carnage wrought by the British battlegroup.
"By Brimir, what terrifying force had I summoned?" she mumbled weakly.
Her knees gave way, and she collapsed to the ground in a heap, dropping the binoculars as she fainted. Julius was upon her in an instant.
"Louise, are you okay? Louise! Son of a… medic! I need a medic!"