Disclaimer: FoZ/ZnT belongs to the departed Noboru Yamaguchi and whoever inherited the I.P. Any real life organisation/person is merely being used in a fictional non-profit way.
Author's note: Kudos to Trainalf for co-authoring and TundraFox for writing Trudeau's speeches. Longest chapter yet too… with 20k words!
Hope you guys enjoy reading this as much we did writing it.
Don't start a fight you can't finish
"Multiple contacts incoming!" Joint Base Clément-sur-Mer had kept vigilant watch for close to a day, and the enemy was finally making their move.
The first indication had been updates every half hour repeating the same thing: that troops were embarking. Cannons, horses, and all manners of supplies. For hours even after the coronation, troops were still embarking. The ones that had stopped halfway towards them stayed there for nearly an entire day. If there were dragons on there, they must've been pretty restless.
Finally, after thousands of troops had to have embarked, the ships started to leave their ports. There was no hesitation- they immediately reported an enemy invasion. The response was immediate: "Defend your position, reinforcements are coming."
The invasion fleet was massive, not only by medieval standards, but even some Earth standards. Just over 90 ships total, by the radar's count, arranged in three large groups and three smaller detachments. That largest one looked it would be bypassing them in the south on a direct route to the capital. The smallest of the large groups was going around their north. And the last large group was heading straight for them, eventually meeting up with the three ships that had journeyed half way earlier and continuing together.
It still took the ships hours to reach them, five in fact. In that time, a company of Canadian mechanized infantry arrived at the base from the portal. The IFVs and their auto cannons would be a welcome defense. More infantry and air assets would be coming soon.
Because of their warning, Tristainian forces were mobilizing and rallying at the capital, the most likely point for invasion, although there were smaller deployments elsewhere. They had marked on the radar a small friendly battle group of Tristainian airships about 100 miles to their south on transport duties.
Speaking of airships, there was one right above Joint Base Clément-sur-Mer. There was another crew training here, nearly at the end of the course, and their frigate had been docked here. As soon as what was happening became evident, they boarded their ship and returned to the skies.
Men took shifts in staying on alert and power napping to regain their energy. One thing was for sure- battles were a lot slower here then on Earth.
"Contacts 20 miles out." It was nearly time. And then something peculiar happened- the bulk of the fleet stopped, and a single ship continued forward. The base commander was sure it would be a scout. Then as the base's CCTV got a view of it, they noticed a white flag prominently waving at the front of it. It was a small ship, a frigate of different design from either Tristain or pirates.
"I think we'd be too optimistic if we assumed that entire fleet was going to surrender." Harper deadpanned.
"It's a flag of truce then. They'll want to try dialogue before fighting."
"We're not going to surrender. But we'll let them talk. We can buy some time for reinforcements to arrive." Hamilton decided. He gave the stand down order and ordered the Intrepid to help it dock.
Now to see what bullshit they'd be offered.
The Albion envoy was escorted through the base by two Canadian soldiers. The simply dressed man was blindfolded as while he was being led. No one needed him to see how the base worked. The man could hear the sounds of boots and strange rumbling but it wasn't enough in his mind. He heard a door open and felt a change in the air. It was pleasantly warmer than the cool Tristainian spring air. After moments of walking on a solid floor, the envoy felt the blindfold being removed from his eyes.
In front of him was a small white table and two men dressed in the outworlders' uniforms sitting behind them. Two very distinct uniforms. They stared back at him hard and unflinching. The envoy cleared his throat before introducing himself.
"Greetings, I am Lord Charles Winston of Lancaster. I have been sent with a message from Oliver Cromwell, Lord-Protector of the Holy Republic of Albion."
"Greetings Lord Lancaster," one of them said, "I'm Colonel Benjamin Hamilton of the United States Army."
"I am Colonel James Roberts of the Canadian Armed Forces. We are quite pleased and surprised to meet you Lord Lancaster."
There was nothing in their tone that betrayed surprise.
"I hope our men weren't too rough with you," Hamilton asked with fake concern, "They are quite disciplined but sometimes we slip up."
Lord Lancaster politely shook his head.
"I was quite pleased with my treatment," he answered civilly.
"Splendid," Colonel Roberts asked, "Would you like some refreshments?"
Lancaster was weary of this. Who knew if these outworlders wouldn't poison him? It was something unheard in Halkegenia, such a thing being dishonourable but who knew how the other world worked?
"I hope you don't think we'd poison you Lord Lancaster," Roberts suddenly said, "We are civilized and such a thing would be unacceptable."
"Very well, I would like some water."
"One of my men will return with some soon," Hamilton said, "But onto business now."
"Yes," Lancaster replied as he produced a roll of paper and began reading from it.
I, Oliver Cromwell, Lord-Protector of the Holy Republic of Albion, demand:
-That the leaders of this outpost surrender it to the Blessed Fleets and Armies of the Republic.
-That them and their men castaway their blasphemous beliefs and join us in worship of the Holy Founder according to Lord-Protector Cromwell's teachings.
-That they and their men surrender their weapons and airships intact to the Holy Republic as well as providing instructions on their usage and construction.
-That them and their men join our ranks in battle against the false teaching of the Romalian Church and in our crusade against the blasphemous Elves that inhabit the Holy Lands that were lost to us.
In exchange, any who join us shall be granted immunity from any reprisals from Reconquista and be allowed the same privileges as any men serving in its Blessed Navy and Armies.
"Interesting terms," Roberts replied once the envoy had finished reading the message.
"By 'same privilege', what do you mean exactly milord?" Hamilton asked curiously, leaning in closer.
"You will be allowed to bask in the spoils of war," Lancaster replied, "A share of the riches we will get from the Tristainian coffers and lands. Gold, crops, brides, and whatever else you may desire."
"I… see. Can you guarantee the proper treatment of my men?" Hamilton pressed, "I do not wish to see my men getting punished by your leaders."
"The Republic rewards those that serve them well," Lancaster answered as a soldier poured a glass of water in front of him, fully expecting these men to capitulate.
"Sorry but no," Roberts answered dryly, "I don't believe you have anything we can possibly want."
"If anything," Hamilton added firmly, "We should be the ones asking your surrender."
Lancaster spluttered before he could drink his glass of water and looked at them in shock.
"Surely, you jest! We outnumber you!"
"We are very serious," Roberts shot back, "We will not surrender this base to M. Cromwell."
There was clear disdain in his voice as he said the Albion leader's name.
"You can tell all those troops you have that they are free to attack this base if they want, but they will die doing it." The envoy turned a shade of angry red.
"You are foolish to stand in the path of Brimir's chosen!" the envoy snarled, "Our faith will guide us to victory over you and your misguided ways!"
"I'd like to test that," Roberts replied, "Now please get out of here."
The envoy allowed himself to be blindfolded again and led out. After a few moments, Devers entered the room, a serious look on his face.
"You got all that Devers?" Hamilton asked.
"Yeah and I didn't like what I heard from that bastard. Same demands they're likely to give the Queen."
"Son of a bitch."
The three men agreed as they exited the room and returned to the nerve center of the base.
"Get the Blackhawks airborne. I want them to engage any airships that approach us." That was their air superiority strategy. The land-based C-RAMs and the machine guns mounted on the Canadian helicopters could tear into a ship, sure, but the Hellfires would be able to destroy them miles away. And after the last attack they'd been allotted over two dozen of the missiles. The question was: could the helicopters keep rearming fast enough to make a dent in the fleet out there. There was only one way to know for sure.
The ship carrying the envoy left and within 15 minutes was back with the larger fleet, which had notably spaced out since coming to a stop. And just a few minutes after that the battle truly began as the mass began to approach them. At a few miles out, the first shots were fired.
"Multiple small contacts incoming- dragons."
"The Intrepid's captain wants to know if his ship can engage immediately colonel," a radio operator reported. Colonel Hamilton made his way to the radio and grabbed the handpiece.
"Intrepid, this is command!," he said. They were very familiar with modern military communication. "You have permission to engage once we've destroyed their ships."
"Thank you command."
"Be careful out there Captain! I don't want your boys falling out of the skies when you've just finished training."
"No problems command, we'll take care of ourselves," the voice boasted.
"Happy hunting Intrepid!"
"You too."
Klaxons rang in the base while announcers warned of imminent air attack. The Canadian and American soldiers turned their eyes to the skies from their fighting positions and trenches. They saw dozens of dragons being ridden by knights, bearing down on them.
Three dozen exactly; 12 from each ship. On each wind dragon's back was a triangle or square class mage- the very best dragon riders in all of Albion. Wind dragons were fast, but they couldn't breathe fire. That meant all the fighting had to be done by their riders. Each rider was a skilled mage to compensate.
All of them made a direct break for the two Blackhawks that had pulled back slightly so they weren't in the base's anti-air zone; couldn't risk friendly fire. They'd been told of the outworlders' fearsome airships and the wrought they could bring to a larger airship. A few made for the Tristainian airship too, although they did not intend to stay long.
As they dove towards their targets, they could hear loud horns followed by a loud, continuous roar that resembled musket fire filled their ears. Some pulled out of their dives but others flew into a streak of light that tore them to shreds, sending mount and rider tumbling in pieces from the skies. Others watched as streaks of smoke from the ground suddenly charged after them before exploding when they got close. A quarter of their number wiped out in under a minute. Was this the outworlders' power?
Several flew by the Intrepid, some blasting off spells at the ship's deck.
"Ready… aim… fire!" .
A volley of gunfire from the Tristainian naval infantry flew through the air as the passing riders followed by a few spells. They didn't expect them to do much to the hard scaly dragons, but there was always the hope they'd hit a rider or soft dragon flesh and wing. And their hope was well founded- at least one dragon rider slipped from his mount, and one dragon suddenly roared in pain before jerking and flying erratically.
There was one other notable Albion casualty- a heavy chain hurled by a crew member spun through the air before colliding with an Albion mage's head. The heavy iron wrapped around it instantly and he was knocked from his mount. Other snags and nets were thrown, but without success.
But there was casualties on the ship too- a fire spell hit a cannon and its crew, killing and grievously burning the gunners as well as starting a small fire. Luckily, their fellow crew members were quick to save the wounded and put out the fire before it got out of hand.
By virtue of speed and numbers, some did manage to get close enough to the outworlder airships to cast magic. These were powerful? They hadn't tried to attack them in the slightest. They cast off wind and fire spells, hoping to either burn or push the foreign airships away. To their amazement, the airships nimbly dodged the spells. As one wind dragon passed the side of the airship, more streaks of light emerged from the side and hid the dragon's flank. The beast cried in pain and fell to the earth. It's rider managed to cast a levitation spell to keep himself from crashing into the ground. As he landed on the ground, he breathed a small sigh of relief.
It was his last breath as an unseen force suddenly struck his chest repeatedly. His felt a brief feeling of pain, and then nothing. He was dead before his body finished falling. The infantry unit that had downed him from over 100 meters away sent out a message warning that the riders could safely float down.
The last dragon riders finally broke off their attack, their spirits crushed by the terrifying might of the outworlders. Barely ten of them limped back to their launching ships.
Even though the dragons had failed, the ships were still heading for land to start disgorging troops. Most of them were two or three miles away from the perimeter- what they thought was safe range.
Unfortunately, it was still within the 5 mile range the Hellfire missile boasted. The aerial threats dealt with, the Blackhawks returned to their unusual anti-air role. They took aim at the largest of the slow moving ships coming in to the north and south already low to the ground. 4 missiles per helicopter, 8 total. 8 Albion airships crashed to the ground in flames before they could even drop off their troops. Nearly a third of the invasion force.
Unfortunately for the Earth forces and fortunately for the Reconquista troops, the helicopters had to land and rearm. The CH-146s took off as the Blackhawks landed to keep up some form of air support. The lighter helicopters flew circles above the base's fortifications, weapons ready to help repel any assault. The airships continued their descent, although a few made as if to land in the east instead.
In the back of the base, one of the airships flew over a portion of the concrete runway, its Captain tempted by it as a landing zone. For its intrusion, vehicle mounted .50 cals raked the ship's' bottom, punching through the wooden bottom, causing chunks of wood to fall off. Screams of injured and panicked men came from the hold as others ran out topside.
"Captain!" a panicked crewmember reported aboard the damaged ship, "The last volley almost hit the windstones!"
The captain's eyes widened as he heard the report.
"Dammit! Get this ship away from here!" he ordered, "Turn us around! We'll fly away from the outpost and meet up with the rest of the squadron."
As the ship flew back towards the sea, a CH-146 approached at a higher altitude. Automatic gunfire poured down onto the deck. Men scrambled into position, trying to bear their muskets on the newcomer. The door mounted minigun however tore through the deck crew and sowed panic amongst them. The helicopter broke off as the airship got enough of a distance away, but it had left it nearly crippled as many of its men and officers lay dead or injured on her ruined deck. Her masts were also broken or close to breaking while small fires had erupted.
The Blackhawks were done rearming after only 3 minutes. They'd only needed as long as it took for the aircraft crew to come back out from taking cover from raining dragon giblets. The deadly black helicopters rose back into the sky once more.
But the Albion airships were already unloading. They hurried to ground when they realized they could still be hit- and one panicking crew actually crashed trying to set theirs down. Its wooden hull cracking and breaking against the earth as it came in too fast for landing.
Footmen were fleeing from the ships as soon as they were close enough it was practical, scurrying down netting or hurrying down ladders and ropes and running as far away from the ships as they could. But at least a few men were too quick- a few broke their legs, some their necks.
The ships carrying cavalry were having a harder time. They had to lead the large beasts down the long ramp one by one, and the trained animals were nonetheless nervous just from how panicked the people around them were. And the crew had a good reason- they'd be on the ground the longest.
None of the artillery had been hit yet; the ships carrying them had the forethought to be positioned behind other ships, and the Blackhawks had fired at what was in the front. But they'd have just as hard a time too. Unloading heavy cannon was a difficult business,
The Blackhawks picked their next targets and fired again. Eight more ships perished, some carrying men and others horses. The warhead on a Hellfire missile wasn't actually that large- only around 20 pounds. But it was enough to set off the powder stores inside the airship. Footmen continued to flee, and riderless horses ran free in whatever direction they could as another ship's powder store detonated behind them. Shrapnel rained down from above. Black smoke billowed into the sky, obscuring both sides.
That was 16 ships now, over half of the fleet. Of the 4,000 troops that had been on those ships, under 700 had made it off at all, and not all of them combat capable. Some that weren't killed or injured had gotten off without their weapons. Some were rendered deaf by being too close to an explosion.
They still held the numerical advantage over their enemy, or so they thought. Men wheeled their heavy cannon as fast as they could with many footmen helping their artillerymen with the arduous task. If they could pummel the base, they could disable whatever resupplied those infernal airships. Others were trying to calm the panicked horses as best they could.
Once more, the Blackhawks had to land to rearm themselves with more Hellfires. Inside the base, the Colonels were watching how things had unfolded already. They'd gotten troops to ground. It couldn't be helped; there was no way they could have caught all the ships in the air. They didn't see any major threat in the assembled force. They could decimate any footmen or cavalry that approached.
Meanwhile, radio operators were relaying the situation back to Earth.
Through their binoculars, the Americans and Canadians could see fluttering banners as their enemy, dressed in light brown-yellow clothes and light armour began to form up. Pikemen began to march, their pikes raised proudly towards the sky while musketeers shouldered their muskets. Drums, horns and flutes played to relay the orders of the battlemages that served as officers for their army. It was, despite the chaotic landings, a magnificent sight. Hooves stomped the group as horsemen pushed their mounts forward. In the back, a general was surveying the deployment before him while his aides dispatched messages to the various captains. His men were moving to encircle the enemy's fortress.
The cannons could fire over their heads, so they were moving in a way that would allow them to be in front of the cannons and defend them from enemy attack. The Albion cannon were being dragged as fast as they could. They had to get closer to the base before they were in range.
The Blackhawks took to the skies yet again armed and ready. And this time, they spotted the massive cannons. There was a slight delay as they asked for prioritization; which was the bigger threat: the ships, or the cannons?
The ships got lucky and none fell with the next Hellfire salvo. Instead, every single one of the eight massive siege guns Albion had brought were destroyed.
The Albion commanders saw this, and were left stunned.
"How is this possible?!" the lord in charge of the siege cried out, "This is a calamity!" The wind dragons and the cannons- both of the major assets of this attack- were decimated with the support ships badly mauled as well.
"We must press on the attack milord," one of his captains declared, "If we can close fast enough, our mages and men will overwhelm their musketeers with cold steel and magic."
Raising his telescope, he could see small, dug-in earth works that were sparsely manned. He'd been briefed on the pirate that had attacked this place- there was more to their defenses then that. But those had been pirates- rabble. Not a well trained and faithful host blessed by the Founder.
"Yes, yes splendid," he muttered to himself before turning to his subordinates, "We shall begin our attack then! I want a advance with full cadence. Send word to the other groups so our advance is simultaneous!"
"What of the fleet, Lord Ravenshill? Admiral Abottsforth wishes to retreat. His ships and the Dragon knights have taken severe damage," the navy messenger reported, "He fears that he is of no help."
"The outworlders' airships cannot be contended with. Let them join the rest of the fleet. If possible, request more reinforcements and supplies from our Lord-Protector if he can spare them. We can overcome them. Brimir will shield his faithful."
"Yes milord!" With that, the navy messenger departed with a quick trot of his pegasus.
Meanwhile, the rest of the army was closing the gap with greater speed, having been ordered to hasten their pace. It was almost 15 minutes after they had begun to march, during which the airships had departed but not without the cursed outworlder airships destroying more of them, that the Reconquista troops began to hear whistling. Explosions began to erupt in their ranks, tearing mercilessly through armour and flesh. Mages began to chant various spells to shield their men from the bombardment. Wind Mages threw up wind barriers to buy time while Earth Mages raised the ground to provide a moving earth shield.
It didn't stop every mortar shell… but it was better than nothing as they slowly encircled the base. It was an exhausting effort for the mages as it demanded a lot of power to maintain these shields as they flickered on and off.
Suddenly, musket fire rang out from the trenches surrounding the base. Men screamed in agony and shock as the first ranks got cut down… at a much faster rate than anything they had witnessed during the battles against the Tudor Loyalists. But they marched on under the fire. More men fell. Officers, musicians, standard bearers and mages began to fall as well. No one knew if it was an order or just cowardness, but a single man broke, and suddenly the entire line did too.
"Retreat! We cannot stay here!"
The sound of weapons clattering signalled that this was anything but an orderly retreat but a rout.
"Nooo! Don't leave us here!"
This happened to all three advances. The cavalrymen tried to dash forward… only to break as their mounts panicked from the concentrated fire. Some were thrown off their horses while others were pinned underneath their dead stallions. The screams of the dying and wounded resonated over the battlefield to the horror of the general in charge of leading the siege.
"By the Founder!" Ravenshill whispered hoarsely. These heretics were unlike any army he'd ever seen. He silently cursed them as he watched his men routing. Glancing to his messengers, he issued them an order.
"Reform the lines at a distance of five miles from this cursed base! Summon all of the captains! We need to discuss our next assault!"
"Yes Lord Ravenshill!"
"I'm surprised they managed to cross a mortar barrage," Roberts remarked dryly with Hamilton nodding, "I was expecting them to break earlier."
Both men were watching the CCTV screens while reports were coming in from the helicopters. The enemy was in full retreat. The question was whether or not they'd reform, or keep running. While they waited for whichever reality to materialize, the helicopters were landed, rearmed, and refueled, and more ammo was distributed to the defenders.
"Sir, the Intrepid reports that the enemy ground forces are currently reforming," a radio operator reported later, "The Albion ships have retreated out of the area as well. Bearing east." No doubt to join one of the other two prongs of the offensive.
"Right," Hamilton acknowledged, "Don't think we'll ever see those ships again." If he had a wager a guess, they decimated at least half of this army is just an hour. They were still out there, but they weren't a threat to this base and there wasn't anything else out here for them to threaten. They could send the helicopters out again, but munitions was limited; they'd gone through quite a few of their Hellfires and they had no idea if more enemy ships were coming.
"So far, things are looking favorable," Devers commented as he looked at the screen.
"That's most of their attacking force that got crippled," Harper added, "I'd estimate that at least 50% of their fighting men got neutralized."
"The rest are probably terrorized right now," Hamilton said, "Which buys us more time."
"Gentlemen, what is the current situation with the Tristainian airspace?" Devers asked, "The embassies need to know if it would be possible for them to evac safely."
All attention was thrown to the radar display. Already, a force of Albion ships were getting close to the portal, and another was still heading for the Capital.
"Currently, I'd advise against it," Hamilton spoke up, "Their heading and speed would make any evac far too tight timewise. There's a good chance they'd get caught up in the influx of troops coming in."
"They're not going to like that."
Both colonels nodded before turning their attention to the CCTV screens. The fields around the base were filled with the fallen Albion forces while the rest of the attack was waiting a few miles away. But there was no point in leaving their entrenchments for a pursuit or a pre-emptive attack just yet.
Instead, they'd bide their time for now. Reinforcements would come and break through part of the line. After that, they could get a search and destroy mission going.
Trudeau and Trump listened, in their respective military headquarters, to the latest report that had come from Halkeginia.
"Well M. Trudeau, the gloves are coming off!" Trump declared angrily as he looked at the screen where his Canadian counterpart's face was on, "Albion has gone too far!"
Both men and their cabinets were in an emergency videoconference. In both National Defense Headquarters and the Pentagon, staff personnel were running around, relaying the latest news from Halkegenia.
"Indeed they have," Trudeau responded, his tone serious and lacking its usual friendliness, "Parliament will meet in an hour. We will vote for special temporary measures as this attack on Tristain is a threat to Canada. I don't believe we'll get any opposition."
"Especially with the indication one of those fleets is heading directly for the portal." Sajjan reported, holding the latest report in his hands.
"Montreal is already under alert," Goodale reported, "The municipal and provincial police are already working to clear out the streets."
"I know. M. Legault has called us already to report exactly that and that he hopes that we act quickly enough to avoid too much disruption in Quebec."
"I don't think any of us have anything to worry about with both of our people guarding it on the other side." Trump pointed out.
"Better safe than sorry."
"Indeed, our boys are going to get there soon." Trump was right- the first infantry companies were supposed to be arriving in Quebec later that day.
"A Brigade from the 1st Cavalry Division are mobilizing by rail," Mattis added, "They should arrive in a few days."
"Wonderful, we've already got units heading out to relieve Clément-sur-Mer," Sajjan reported, "Mainly mechanized assets, but we've also made the decision to deploy artillery batteries at the portal. We're mobilizing the Reserve and are considering the mobilization of the Supplementary Reserve in Eastern Canada. Regular Force units in Quebec are already heading to reinforce our forces already present"
"I see."
"What about Queen Henrietta's forces?" Trump asked Mattis. They were still allies. And they needed to know for no better reason than to avoid friendly fire.
"Currently, her Majesty is doing her best to rally her forces," the Secretary of Defense reported, "Given that most of her armies are largely on foot and scattered, it'll take a while. The stronger armies have already begun to complete their mobilization and are converging on the capital as we speak. They can't defend the whole country, so they're focusing on defending strategic targets."
"The Navy is doing its best to help by transporting her forces to the capital," Sajjan added, "But they are badly outnumbered. This invasion is made up of over 90 ships." Medieval or no, those were still alarming numbers.
"We can be fairly certain that the Tristainian government is at no risk to collapse just yet?"
"The Queen is standing strong." Secretary Pompeo answered, "If anything, she's proven herself to be a rallying figure for her people. But there isn't any doubt that that attack is heading directly for her."
"Even if they consolidate their forces, they'll be outnumbered." Saijin pointed out. "There's a real risk that the attack could decapitate their government, and its definitely going to arrive within the next 24 hours. Our forces over there have given the opinion there won't be enough time to evacuate our embassies." He added gravely.
"Are we in a position to help with the defense?" Trudeau asked. The answer from the national defense leaders on both sides were head shakes no.
"All our forces are centered either at the base or the portal. The capital is too far for us to reach in a reasonable time," Sajjan stated, "At best, our forces would arrive piecemeal and would not be able to organize quickly enough to be efficient in defending the capital. The base we built was for monitoring and border protection, not directing forces across the entire country."
That was something unacceptable in everyone's mind.
"So what can we do?" Trump asked.
"Set up a real command in the region." Mattis proposed simply, "That way, we would be able to properly face whatever Albion throws at us now and in the future."
"There won't be a future." Trump stated flatly. "How fast can we get that done?"
"It should be a simple matter of relocating the command elements of the forces being deployed into one place and a general to oversee the command."
"Sajjin, we need someone with experience that can arrive quickly. Where can we put this command center? The Capital?" Trudeau asked.
"Too risky for the time being," Sajjan replied, "Again, that fleet is going to be there within the day. We don't have air superiority for the moment. For the scale of what we're doing, I'm not sure we can base it in this world without overloading the interworld communication systems. As for experience, General Vance can find us someone in the next few hours."
"Well, we need to find a place fast." The clock was ticking. The Earth forces could wipe the floor with Cromwell's Army, no doubt, but they needed command and control, and that wasn't something you could set up on a dime.
"Is the area around the Academy secured?"
"Intelligence puts one of those fleets as heading right for it. At the moment, no." Mattis said.
"Do we have an estimate when will that fleet arrive?" Sajjan asked.
"A few hours at best," an aide reported.
"I think I can see where we can take this," Mattis noted, "Destroy that fleet, secure the area and use it as a command station. There's only one attack incoming."
'Exactly," Sajjan answered.
"Then let's get ready for that move. Make sure both our peoples are together and ready." Trump slipped into a cocky attitude momentarily as he cracked his knuckles. "We're going to get our people out of there, and we're not going to let these bastards get even a single victory."
"How can this be?!" Cromwell snarled. Bowing before him was a messenger who had just arrived from the outworlders' outpost near the coast. The man had hurried on a wind dragon- one of the same that had been organized for the attack itself.
"We do not understand Lord-Protector," the man stammered, noticing the dark circles under his leader's eyes, "Their weapons, they destroyed many of our ships as they landed and decimated many of our dragon rider squadrons. And they used some magic to destroy our siege guns." The Albion ruler rubbed his temples, a tired expression."
"But we still have a few thousand men surrounding their base, milord!" The messenger insisted, "Many of the ships have been able to return!" That last one was a lie- less than ten had come back, most of them unarmed cargo vessels.
"As long as they are kept busy!" Cromwell spat out. The main drive of this invasion was nearly at the Tristainian Capital. He'd had to break off part of his fleet to chase the Tristainian Navy, but he still had plenty of ships and thousands of men with him. If the outworlder airships came here…
"Have we seen anymore of the outworlders' forces?"
"No milord! We've seen none of them in or around the Capital. They likely have a large amount of soldiers at the portal." The portal. That blasted thing. Cromwell had given his forces the explicit order to destroy the thing. The future of Halkeginia lay with him, not with another world.
"We will leave that to Viscount Wardes then."
Meanwhile, in Tristainia, Queen Henrietta was in the Palace's war room. A map of the kingdom was laid on a table in front of her. Little flags were placed at different points, marking where the noble armies were mustering as well as strategic locations such as the Academy and its portal.
The door swung open, revealing General du Poitier and Admiral de Châteauneuf. Both bowed before their queen.
"Your Majesty, the Vallieres have arrived with their army with the Navy's help," du Poitier reported, "I have asked them to man the walls for the time being. Lord Vallière has agreed to do so given that he does not wish to leave his forces exposed to naval bombardment from Albion's ships. Lady Vallière has already rallied the Manticore Knights as well. "
"The Navy is currently resting but is preparing to transport more reinforcements to the capital," de Châteauneuf reported in his usual monotone droning. "We cannot face Cromwell's navy head on as they outnumber us three to one."
Henrietta nodded as she heard both reports.
"What of the other armies?"
"Lords Grammond and Grandpré have said that they will be ready to depart for the capital later today. The others will be ready tomorrow." Those were the three largest armies in the Kingdom.
"That means we would have 20 000 men to defend the Capital," Henrietta said, "Against Cromwell's main army and fleet." They would be leaving their borders undefended, but that was a necessary risk right now.
"Do we have word from the Canadians and Americans?" du Poitiers asked, a hint of worry in his voice.
"They are currently mobilizing their armies to aid us," Henrietta answered.
"I see." du Poitiers nodded, "When will they arrive?"
"They have already begun to arrive at the Academy and have begun to move to reinforce the training base."
"How will they move to assist us?"
"I am awaiting news about that," Henrietta stated. She then heard the sound of a phone ringing. The queen put it on speaker.
"You'll be glad to know that our combined forces have beaten back the first Reconquista assaults aimed at the training base and have destroyed over a dozen ships along with the forces on board. The Intrepid has performed superbly as well." Ambassador Ambroise reported enthusiastically, "We just got the news."
Henrietta and du Poitier were both elastic at the news.
"There's still some forces around the base, but they've been mostly decimated and are likely to be defeated within a few days. I don't think we have to worry about losing control of the coast."
"Welcome news indeed," Du Poitier replied, "Thank you Ambassador."
"Send word to the army," the Queen ordered, "This will strengthen their resolve."
"We are also in the process of organizing a relief force that will head to Tristainia," Ambroise added, "As we speak, our military leaders are preparing to meet to plan our armed forces' response. Is it true that the enemy is heading for the Capital?"
"Our scout ships reported that Albion's forces have split into three smaller forces. I presume that the first force was tasked with seizing Clément-sur-Mer," de Châteauneuf stated, "Judging by their last known course, the two remaining fleets are most likely heading to the Academy and the Capital."
"Our military planners believe it as well." Ambroise confirmed. "You have the guarantee of both governments that we'll help in the defense of Tristainia."
"Thank you ambassador."
"Unfortunately, it will take us time to get set up. A day at least. But rest assured, your Highness, we will hold our promise to defend you and your people. I will give you an update once things begin moving."
The phone rang in Ambassador Fitzgerald's office at the American Embassy in Tristain. He almost missed the call as he and his staff were busy packing everything sensitive in the embassy. The security detail was on full alert outside. Who knew if any Reconquista sympathizers would be emboldened enough to strike again, given the current situation.
"Fitzgerald." he said hurriedly as he brought the phone to his ears.
"This is Richard," the voice replied, "Your people got the word as well?"
"Yes, the countryside is too unsafe for any evacuation," the American said as he sat on a corner of his desk, "We're going to stay here and keep acting as relay between our governments."
"We got word from Ottawa and we're staying put as well," Ambroise said, "They can't guarantee a safe evacuation for the moment. They asked us to keep in touch with her Majesty and do our best to reassure her that we won't abandon her."
Fitzgerald nodded. Helicopters were fast but flying out of the capital without knowing if the skies or lands were safe was not a good idea.
"Very well," he replied confidently, "Personally, I have faith that our forces would be able to make it to the capital before things get too hairy."
"I share your confidence. This should be over in a week at the most," Ambroise said.
"Right. I believe the same thing but we're staying on alert in case if any Reconquista sympathizers that survived the Coronation attack decide to get confident. Stay safe over there."
"Same to you."
The Canadian Parliament had met and cast the vote. The attack on Tristain, as per the Emergencies Act, was judged by the Members of Parliament to be a direct threat to Canadian sovereignty. That enabled the Cabinet to take special measures to ensure national security. The vote had been reported in the news just minutes after it was cast, but Trudeau still appeared in a broadcast to tell the populace directly. He had already prepared a speech. Standing in one of Parliament's pressrooms, the Prime Minister was surrounded by throngs of reporters. Canadian media networks had stopped their usual broadcasts to focus on this moment. Every channel had been requisitioned and was broadcasting his address.
"I will not lie to my fellow Canadians: Canada, our proud country, is in danger. Earlier today, we have received news that Oliver Cromwell's forces have crossed the border into Tristain with the intent of conquering our friends' homeland. As such, he is threatening our nation as well."
News anchors were silent as he spoke while camera flashes went off.
"M. Scheer and M. Singh have agreed to cooperate with me in the face of this threat despite our differences. The safety of our nation is a priority for the government and we have chosen a course of action. Quebec and Ontario will be placed under a state of emergency to allow our troops to mobilize quickly to this threat. As such, extraordinary powers shall be given to the government, the police forces and the armed forces as to ensure the necessary means to respond to M. Cromwell's aggression."
Shocked gasps could be heard in the living rooms of Quebecers and Ontarians as they digested the news. Many knew what this meant. Many patriotic Quebecers were angered at first. This was the second time that their province was under martial law, by another Trudeau no less! It was a bitter truth that this time, the threat to their lives was far bigger than it was in October 1970.
"As of now, the Emergencies Act will enable them to act accordingly. This will give them free reign to do what is necessary to end this threat despite the challenge it presents to our society. They will be allowed to arrest, search and detain any person acting in a way that hampers our response to Albion's attacks. They will also be allowed enforce curfews, no-fly zones and another necessary measures at any time in order to ensure a swift and efficient movement of our forces as well as our allies'."
"This decision was not taken lightly by Parliament. I did not wish for such a decision but it was a necessary one given the facts that we are facing right now. If our and Tristainian society are to continue to exist, it must be able to destroy dangerous fanatics seeking the destruction of the very base of our freedom and liberty. For that reason, the members of Parliament have seen reviewed the facts set before them, including requests by the Governments of Quebec and Ontario for urgent action to ensure their safety. After such a review, Parliament has proclaimed the Emergencies Act this afternoon at 3PM in order to permit the full weight of the Canadian Government to act quickly and decisively against a tyrannical leader that seeks to use violence as a means of achieving political ends."
"I ask that every Canadian cooperate in these dangerous times. Our enemy may wield swords and muskets but their intentions are evil and should be considered as serious. These are people who have committed atrocities in the past and will likely do so in the future should they have the chance. We cannot allow them to do so. Already, many innocents have died to Oliver Cromwell's folly. Should they invade Tristain, the suffering and death toll will be immense. We can not stand idly while such comes to pass on our doorstep."
"That is why the brave men and women of our Canadian Armed Forces are intervening. To protect an innocent people from destruction. We will not back down from this aggression. Instead, we will rise to the occasion and stop this folly."
Trudeau's face hardened.
"In his folly and arrogance, M. Cromwell has sent an envoy to our forces in Tristain today to bribe them into joining him. As a Canadian, I am proud to know that our troops have proven themselves worthy of praise as they soundly refused to accept his terms. His offers were disgusting and show his intent for Tristain once his conquest was done. Plunder, rape and murder was what he offered them in exchange of their cooperation. That is where the line between civilization and barbarity is drawn."
"Once our troops have refused his offers, his envoy threatened them and their lives. I am confident that the measures we have taken to ensure their safety will be more than enough. He thinks we will fold easily. He thinks that we will not act, that we will stand idly then he is sorely mistaken. If he thinks that we fear him, I have but one thing to say to M. Cromwell: Just watch me."
People everywhere in Canada reacted. Some were applauding the swift response. Others were openly mocking Trudeau's choice of final words for his speech either by claiming that he was riding off his father's coattails or that the Trudeau family just had to mess with Quebec again. Older Montrealers shuddered as they remembered how the last time such measures were implemented in their city. Certain fringe groups already wanted to protest the decision. Bar fights had erupted in bars near universities as drunk and stoned students from different political allegiances decided to resolve their differences with their fists. No one knew who threw the first punches though.
And just like so many times before, while the people argued and debated, the troops were already on the move.
In the United States, the American President has war powers for two months- he can order the military to action, but after two months he needs to get Congress to agree to funding to continue it. Trump wasn't worried about that in the slightest: he knew and fully intended for this to be over in a week tops.
"Good afternoon America." Unusually, he started his speech with a more restrained tone. "As I'm sure you've heard by now, war has broken out in the other world. Albion has invaded Tristain and they have attacked the troops of our proud military. They seek to subjugate Tristain and destroy its rightful government, installing a dangerous fanatical theocracy in its place- right on our doorstep."
"This is unacceptable!" And suddenly the usual Trump was back, "We will not let this terrorist leader have his way! The United States will not accept such a thing! We will not abandon Tristain to a crazy fanatic! Our armed forces are already on their way to defend our allies. We will not be intimidated by a murderer and a thug! We will destroy Albion and make them regret attacking us!"
"This fool thought he could bribe our troops! By telling them that they could steal, rape and burn anything they wanted if they joined with him. I am proud to be American when I heard that our men in uniform flatly refused this horrible offer. I am extremely proud to know that we are fighting this kind of animal!"
He paused and braced himself on the podium for a dramatic effect.
"Our troops have fought more dangerous enemies in the past. Oliver Cromwell is nothing but vermin that needs to be removed. Something our men and women in uniform can handle easily I expect them to destroy Albion's forces easily. We will not hesitate in doing what is necessary to win."
"America's friends will also be fighting alongside us against Albion. I am very happy that they will pulling their weight for once! Our teamwork will lead us to victory. against Reconquista. The good guys are coming for you M. Cromwell and we will not hesitate to destroy you and your country!"
In many diplomatic offices, loud groans could be heard when Trump mentioned America's allies.
"And to those who think that we will forget our commitments here on Earth, who think we can be taken advantage of during this time, let me warm you: we will not! The United States will not turn its back on any of our friends or commitments in either world. We stay stay strong and dedicated here and there always!"
All around the country, cheers rang out from Trump supporters and military personnel. Even the President's staunchist opponents didn't resent the decision too openly. This was probably the most just conflict the US had gotten involved in this century. Victory was assured.
And afterall, the Internet did joke that they were facing wannabee Redcoats!
Three days ago the portal had been surrounded by carts, impromptu market stalls, and hundreds of merchants. The only security presence had been a few bland buildings and concrete barriers surrounded by armored vehicles.
Now there was barbed wire, trenches and foxholes for dozens of meters out. LAV-IIIs and Humvees with TOW launchers, grenade launchers, and other weapons were parked everywhere. Any reinforcements that had been bound for the base had been told to hold by the portal once the incoming attack was identified. Defending their supply lines was more important. It was not a regretted choice, especially after the news of the failed assault of Clement-sur-Mer had reached both military commands. A few units had been directed to the academy to help guard it even though all of the student body had evacuated or were now standing on its walls ready to fight.
Several had found their way over to the portal and talked themselves into service with the leader of the Tristain border guard. They were all kids. Only a few years younger then a lot of the Earth troops, but still kids.
Huynh sighed as he looked at some of them as he made his way to the trench.
"I think they're getting desperate," Brisebois remarked as he walked alongside his lieutenant. Their platoon was being redeployed today.
"Yeah, some of these kids would probably never pass the physical test."
Brisebois chuckled darkly.
"Like that fat blond kid we saw leave?"
The lieutenant nodded as they kept walking towards their next station. Around them, Canadian and American soldiers were caught up in a flurry of activity. They moved supplies, dug defenses, sighted in artillery pieces that had just arrived. Kill zones were established as well with machine guns being zeroed in. Anti-aircraft missiles and C-RAM's were set up as well. The combat engineers and the troops had outdone themselves. The earthworks spread widely in the area.
By now, Huynh's platoon was where it was supposed to be: the Academy. Other troops followed in as well. The plan was simple. Having Earth troops at the Academy and the Portal outpost would catch the Reconquista forces in a deadly enfilade as they advanced. Both locations would serve as anchors for the defensive line.
Many of the commoner staff was gathered as the Earth troops entered and walked by them. They remembered just how badly these men had reacted when the Cathedral attack had happened. Their anger was terrifying to say the least but understandable.
Siesta gasped softly as she saw Brisebois. She had seen him before in his strange armour but the way he and his fellow soldiers held themselves right now was intimidating and reassuring at the same time. Their faces were hard and serious as they walked with their backs straight. They spread out across the Academy alongside the Tristainian troops.
"Hey Siesta!" Brisebois yelled as he waved and grinned, causing the maid to blush, "How are you doing?"
The corporal walked over while the rest of his platoon and lieutenant took a quick break.
"I'm doing fine André." she answered slightly surprised at his friendliness, "You?"
"Pretty good. Hey euh listen… about last time…"
"Yes?"
"Sorry about freaking you out." he apologized awkwardly, "We kinda got angry back there."
Siesta was slightly speechless. She didn't expect an apology.
"But it wasn't necessary," the maid stammered back.
"Bah it's the least I could do," the corporal replied with a warm grin, "Where's you family by the way?"
"They've stayed here since the countryside is too unsafe."
"Good idea," Brisebois said, "I'll come see you when this is all over hein?"
He winked as he finished his sentence.
"Please be careful," Siesta said nervously, "You have so many stories to tell me."
"Don't worry," Brisebois confidently replied, "I'll be fine."
With that, he headed to meet up with the rest of his platoon who was finishing their break.
"Time to review our orders ladies and gentlemen," Lt. Huynh said as his unit snapped their attention to him, "We are to man the walls of the Academy. Specifically, the western walls. The Tristainian army troops will also be fighting alongside us and we will mages to support our defense. Is this clear so far?"
Nods answered all he needed to know.
"Given the location of the Academy, we will able to catch any enemy force in a crossfire. The higher ups want us to take cover and hold our fire until they reach 300m from the walls. We already have the upper hand in firepower so this will allow us to maximise the effect of surprise."
He looked up at the walls which was already being manned by some of the Tristainian troops and mages.
"I want the best shooters in each section to specifically target enemy officers and mages. They have significantly more capabilities and are a force multiplier that must be removed. They will stand out in contrast to the rank and file according to intelligence we've received. I want everyone on the walls now. Take a good look at the area from there and stay sharp for anything coming in."
It had been an hour since the troops from both worlds took position on the Academy's walls and in its courtyards. Some things, no matter the place or time, ever changed. Rounds were being done constantly while the troops tried to strike up conversation and break the ice between the newly meeting allies. Rations were being shared with the Earth troops doing their best not to show off too much. There was the occasional cultural clash over various topics such as the presence of women in battle amongst the rank and file or the snobbishness of certain noble officers towards their Earth counterparts. Fighting men bragged about how they would they triumph this day to the staff.
Klaxons and radios went off: The enemy had finally arrived. Every noncombatant had taken cover. Anyone who was fighting was dug in and ready. The first enemy to attack were fire dragons and their riders, two prongs heading for both the academy and the portal. Heat guided missiles launched from afar, shooting down several before they could get close. The rest weren't deterred.
Tracers filled the sky as heavy machine guns and other AA weapons let loose into the air, thousands of bullets flying across the sky in all directions. Dragons were fast and nimble, but they were still large targets and their riders had brought them in low to attack. Their riders dodged and weaved as best as they could. Their leader cursed the otherworlders' muskets. No Halkegenia army could boast such accurate musketry nor summon up such a volume of lead.
50 caliber rounds pierced soft underbelly, membrane wings, or even scales and several dragons and their riders were sent tumbling into the dirt. Spells began to cast towards the line as men dove out of the way of lethal bursts of fire, some very narrowly. As one dove for a trench, the infantry inside raised their sights and fired. Even concentrated 5.56 was enough and the dragon hit the ground with a dull meaty thud and bounced across the ground and even over the trench before coming to a stop, its rider crushed to death at some point in the journey. They kept pouring fire towards their enemy even as the dragons crashed on the hard ground just in case if the rider was still alive.
At the Academy, a trio dived at the wall when the Canadian platoon was. They saw it coming and redirected their fire.
"Tabarnak!" Huynh shouted frantically as he raised his rifle and pulled its trigger, "Bring those fucking lizards down!"
Next to him, a Tristainian officer was shouting orders to his musketeers.
"Ready… aim… fire!"
The muskets thundered off in a single volley, breaking up the dragon rider flight and hitting one of the mages. Acrid smoke filled the air as a small cloud of gunpowder smoke hung out around for a few seconds before the mage officer casted a spell to blow away the fog.
"Thank you milord!"
The Canadian riflemen redirected their fire, hitting one's rider and sending the unfortunate mage on a one way ticket to the ground. The other attempted a spell but his mount had been injured and careened out of the sky before landing in the Academy's courtyard. His fireball went off, barely missing a squad that was on the ground. The mage was thrown off his mount. Somehow, the rider survived the crash, pushing his mount's corpse off of him. Much to horror, a dozen enemy musketeers had their muskets pointed at him. His wand was gone, probably having fallen out his hands. There was no way his sword could do anything against them.
"Freeze!" Trombley shouted to the man as he and some others surrounded the dragon rider, "Hands in the air motherfucker! Secure that prisoner!"
A roar caught their attention followed by some gunshots. The dragon spasmed for a moment and went still. The crash hadn't killed it, apparently.
"Fucking lizard tried to burn us alive!" a sergeant shouted, his rifle smoking. Near him, the dragon's head had been riddled with holes.
"Good job there Baxter!"
The man gave a quick thumbs as he and his men tied up their captive and led him to a cellar. THe gunfire was going strong but slowly died down.
Shortly after, on the walls, the troops breathed a sigh of relief as they saw the dragon riders break off their attacks. Huynh tracked the dragons flying away with his binoculars.
"Brisebois."
His radio operator handed him the radio as both crouched behind the battlements to report the situation to his superiors. He peered over quickly to see how many riders had been knocked out of the skies.
"I can count a dozen enemy air assets knocked out of action. Alpha platoon reports no casualties." he reported over the radio before turning to his unit, "Go fill up on ammo!"
On one the decks of one of the Albionian frigates, Viscount Wardes was looking over a map with his captains. They could hear the sound of the battle in the distance.
"Viscount," one of them reported, "We should arrive at the landing zone soon. If all goes according to plan, the Fire Dragon riders should have disrupted the enemy's defenses."
"Excellent." Wardes replied with a smile, "You are dismissed gentlemen. Ready your men for victory!" he boasted proudly as his officers left him. The former Griffon knight sat back into his chair, sighing contently at the taste of imminent victory.
He had volunteered to lead the Reconquista spearhead that would seize the Academy and the Portal. It was all for a single prize as he produced a small locket from his pocket. Opening it, the grey haired gazed at the portrait inside. It was one of his fiancée that had been stolen by a blasphemous boy from Earth: Louise-Françoise Le Blanc de la Vallière.
"Soon my beloved, you shall be mine and all shall be fine in this world."
All he had to do was to crush this pathetic army and seize the Academy where his love was waiting for him. After a little 'convincing' of the magical kind, the small mage would make for a splendid bride and mother for his heir. Wardes could already picture the fallen body of Hiraga Saito lying defeated along the corpses of the soldiers from Earth.
'A fitting end for such unbelievers', he mused.
"Milord," the captain of the ship interrupted his musings, "We are beginning our landings."
"Understood," Wardes replied as he stood up, "Ready my mount."
Unbeknownst to the Reconquista commanders, their approach had been spotted by well concealed scouts hidden in the nearby woods. Grid coordinates were relayed back to the portal's command post. Very soon, camo netting was pulled off howitzers. A battery of six 105mm guns from a reserve unit had been rushed through and were dug in near the portal, well behind the layers of infantry and vehicles. They were faithful pieces that had proven themselves many times on Earth. Now it was their time to shine once more coordinates came in as the barrels were raised and artillerymen went through their loading procedures. A series of clicks echoed as the breeches were locked.
Wardes observed from atop his griffon the first men disembarking from his frigates and transports. A voice and wing flaps caught his attention.
"Viscount Wardes!"
It was one of the dragon riders. His sweat-covered face looked pale as terror was etched across his face.
"We must call off the attack! They have-"
"Preposterous!" Wardes interrupted, "Why would we-"
A loud whistling sound followed by six loud explosions drowned out the rest of Wardes' sentence. The shots had straddled one of his ships. Shockwaves caused unlit lanterns, bottles and wooden beams to crack and break. Men stumbled, some from ladders and netting before falling several feet to the ground.
"By the Founder!" Wardes exclaimed angrily before turning to the dragon rider, "Why are you here?!"
"Our attack has been repelled. Many have been grievously injured or slain by the enemy musketeers."
"Wha-"
More of that infernal whistling. This time, however, the shells connected with a ship. The 11kg shells pierced through the wooden deck before detonating in the hold, setting off a catastrophic chain reaction. A large fireball erupted where the ship once was, incinerating men and sending burning debris everywhere. Cries of pain could be heard as mages threw up more shields to protect themselves from whatever had just hit them.
"Get the army off of those ships as quickly as you can! We cannot afford losing men before the battle!" Wardes ordered, his voice amplified by a spell, "We'll form up on the march!"
At the same time, he ordered his griffon to gain some altitude to observe his army and fleet. He had already lost one ship to the enemy's decidedly superior artillery. A volley of... fire lances roared from the enemy's lines towards his ships. Some exploded harmlessly on magical earth shields while others found their mark, destroying more ships and killing more men. The Albionian commanders caught on and Wind Mages began casting windshield spells on the sides of their ships facing the enemy base. More of that infernal whistling filled the air as another salvo impacted a landed transport, one shell detonating prematurely but the others continuing through. The shields had done nothing.
Phones rang in both the Pentagon and NDHQ moments after the attack on the portal began. Cheers rang out when news that the enemy airships were being destroyed one by one came out. They were going for 2-0 now.
Huynh grimaced as he lowered his binoculars. The good news was that the enemy's ships were disengaging, many having been reduced to burning matchwood by artillery or TOWs with their contingents of men still trapped inside. That was the good news. There was still the bad news.
"Bastards still want to fight, fuck!"
In front of him, he could see explosions churning the ground as the howitzers and mortars blew great holes in the Reconquista lines. Despite this, the fanatical enemy kept pushing, their drums and fiddles playing music to lead them forth as their banners fluttered in the wind. Huynh even swore that he heard singing. Swords, pikes, muskets and horsemen, it was a real antique show. But it wasn't a fucking show- they fully intended to use those on his men. Said men were huddled behind the walls' battlements, waiting to surprise their enemy with deadly fire on their flank. The mortarmen, riflemen and machine gunners were itching with anticipation as they waited for the enemy to close.
The enemy army broke off in smaller fragments, a smaller force marching towards the Academy, no doubt expecting light resistance. Around them, Tristainian troops and mages were getting ready too, just as itching as the Canadians and Americans.
Coordinates were being transmitted through the radio as mortar teams adjusted to fire followed by the deadly buzzing sound of machine guns. The cracking of rifles soon mixed with them.
The first line of the Albion detachment simply disappeared. Men fell without being able to register what happened. Great walls of dirt rose from the ground to shield them from the enemy fire. It was the first effective thing they'd done- it was enough to stop the rifle fire. But it wasn't enough to stop the mortars. Arcing above, they simply flew over the dirt walls. A series of projectiles thundered against the earth walls though and tore them asunder.
The Canadian Carl Gustav sections reloaded as they waited for other targets. Muskets began to thunder off, the mage blowing the smoke towards the enemy. Suddenly, the wind began to howl ominously.
"Fuck!"Brisebois shouted as he saw a darkening tunnel appear, "Le tabarnak! A fucking mage's summoning a fucking tornado!"
"Are you fucking kidding me?!"
Huynh was scanning frantically across the ranks for anyone whose look screamed 'mage'. He finally noticed one that was chanting and pointing his wand at his position. Another mage on the battlements began to chant a counterspell.
"Fire on my tracers!" He ordered into his radio, "Montferrant! I want Carlo fire on it!"
"Understood!"
The familiar cannon-like sound resonated before the shell obliterated the mage. It was overkill but this was an emergency. The wind ceased to howl while a smoking crater was the only proof that a Albion wind mage had once existed. Metal clanging from the Albion lines could only mean one thing: Golems.
The summoned constructs rushed the walls, bullets and musket balls impacting on them. The sturdy golems took quite a few hits before going down. It was borrowed time for their thinning troops to advance. Spell fire began being exchanged between the Academy defenders and the Albion forces. Fire balls and water jets flew through the air while men ducked and weaved to avoid them. Magical shields popped up to deflect the magical projectiles. However, the Albion mages were falling one by one, being singled out by the Earth soldiers who didn't hesitate to eliminate them. The cries of the wounded and dying, followed by the heavy fire undid the assault on the Academy as a trickle of fleeing men turned into a routing torrent.
As for the portal, the Albion army endured a similar fate. Only here, the defenders didn't possess magic… but had much heavier firepower. The Canadians and Americans here had the luxury of having more room which translated into more dug-in positions… and light armoured support. Everytime a push got too close or a mage too daring, an LAV-III would respond with its 25mm cannon. Cavalry found itself being stopped by machine guns and barbed wire. The field was stained red as the massed ranks, despite their efforts to scatter, were cut down mercilessly. Albion's cannons were never fired, shattering under enemy counterfire while still being dragged to battle.
Wardes cursed as he and his dragon riders weaved through the skies, dodging the enemy's lethal fire. One by one they fell.
"Milord! We must call a retreat!" one of his riders shouted as he weaved his way through the skies beside him, "We cannot-"
"That is out of the question!" Wardes snapped, "We must stop-"
The Viscount heard a cry of pain. He felt a sticky wet liquid on his leg at. At the same time, the dragon rider went down, shredded by the enemy's weapons. Glancing, he saw the red tint of blood. His mount was hit and was struggling to level itself in the skies. Despite its best efforts, the griffin fell out of the skies. The loyal beast did its best to protect its rider. In its dying breath, the griffin did its best to shield Wardes from the enemy as it collapsed, the viscount falling off and knocked out by the impact.
Around him, the Albion troops paid no attention to him as they ran for their lives, all semblance of military discipline, fanaticism and courage gone in the face of overwhelming might and firepower.
The call went out that the enemy was retreating. But that wasn't good enough for the defenders. They had to keep their corridor to the coast completely open and no one wanted the chance of stragglers terrorizing the countryside. It was a few minutes before action could be arranged, but the Albion troops' legs could only carry them so far so fast. Several LAV-IIIs loaded with men left the line in pursuit.
Some Albion troops turned around and saw the carriages coming and just ran harder before 25mm fire killed them. Others decided just to drop where they were expecting death. Some slit their own throats to avoid what they figured would be a worse fate. A few truly brave (or stupid) ones stood their ground again. A few raised their hands, pleading for mercy.
Whatever they did, the battle was over and the retreating forces decimated. Less than 400 Albion troops escaped into the countryside and forests. Several hundred were picked up having either surrendered or been grievously injured. Thousands lay dead, and over a dozen airships lay smoldering on the ground. The stench of death hung around the portal and the Academy.
But the battle for won. That was all that mattered right now.
As Siesta and the Academy's commoner staff emerged from one of the cellars, they were greeted by a sight they could not expect. From inside their underground shelter, they could only hear what was happening, not see. The sound of thunderous guns resonated regularly inside the cellar. Explosions shook the ground while the constant sound of musket fire rang out. Now, back on the surface, they were shocked to see the Earth troops casually going about their business while their own soldiers were wide-eyed. Some of the Earth soldiers were smoking and laughing as they moved out of the Academy, weapons in hand. In the distance, Siesta heard the sound of the outworlders' armoured vehicles in the distance.
"Have we won the battle?" Chef Marteau asked a passing group of American soldier.
"Yup," the man was grinning, almost ferally. "Canucks are chasing the last of the bastards down now."
"Canucks?"
"The Canadians. We're going out to clear the battlefield. Make sure no Albion troops can stir up trouble for anyone else."
"I see! I shall prepare a feast for this army when you return!" Marteau exclaimed.
"Thanks Chef but I don't think we'll be able to eat that feast for a while."
"I shall await for your return then."
The American smiled before leaving. At the same time, a group of Canadian soldiers entered the Academy's gate, carrying stretchers. Siesta and other maids gasped as they looked at those being carried in. At first, it was a pair of Earth soldiers who had been badly burnt by dragon fire. The soldiers groaned as their comrades carried them with haste and care. Strange pouches were connected to the men and were held by a soldier. After that, it was nothing but moaning Albion soldiers, their dull yellow clothes stained with red blood or blackened by ash and soot. Some were horrendously wounded, missing arms or legs or disfigured.
"Carry them to the infirmary!" a soldier yelled while being guided by a pale looking Colbert. The Reconquista troops kept flowing in, outnumbering any of the Earth troops in terms of injured, much to the shock of the Tristainians. Siesta's curiosity got the better of her as she ran through the throngs of soldiers towards the gate.
"Wait! What are you doing!?" another maid cried out but Siesta ignored her. As she got closer to the Academy's gate, she stopped in her tracks before falling to her knees, her eyes wide and vomiting.
The once pristine fields before the Academy were scarred by large craters while smoke hung lowly on the battlefield. The broken bodies of dragons and men littered the ground. In the distance, plumes of smoke rose from shattered ships.
And in the middle of that hellish nightmare, the American and Canadians soldiers were working to clean up the carnage. As if nothing happened.
"Sir, we have found some more live ones!" a medic reported to Huynh and Brisebois. Both had pulled their shemaghs up to mask the smell. It didn't help with the sound however. Around them, their platoon was busy looking for survivors to help.
"Good, are you able to get them on stretchers?" the lieutenant asked. The medic shook his head.
"No sir, we're doing our best but there's so many wounded that we don't have enough to get'em out."
Huynh nodded and massaged his temples.
"Well, do your best then and keep an eye out for any ViP's"
It was at that moment that he noticed what seemed to be a griffin. It stood out amongst the other mounts in its size and its magnificent (now blood and mud soaked) appearance. They'd been told they existed, but they hadn't seen any before. But they were definitely a mount for nobles or high ranking soldiers.
"Brisebois, you noticed that griffin there?"
"Yeah, didn't they all ride on dragons?"
Huynh nodded before making a sign for one of his sections to approach the fallen beast. The Van Doos did so, their rifles pointing at its head.
"There's someone behind it!" A sergeant called out. Behind the massive winged beast, someone was lying on the ground. "Might be alive- doesn't look like he broke his neck." Some of the riders who had fallen were really messed up to say the least.
"Check his vitals, but be-"
The figure suddenly moved and waved his swordwand while yelling. The sound of almost a dozen assault rifles and two machine guns put an end to the rider who fell back on the ground, his blood pooling around him.
"Mon ostie de tabarnak!" growled Huynh as his men walked up to the torn up corpse. One signalled that he was dead. After a few steps, Huynh took a good look and noticed how well dressed the man had been. The silver hair and beard were stained with blood while his light blue and grey clothes were reminiscent of 'The Three Musketeers". Near him laid a finely made swordlike weapon that was shattered. Whoever he was, he was important, judging by his dress, unique mount and elegant weapon.
"Dead," a medic reported as he took the man's pulse.
"Right."
Huynh cursed that a potential enemy ViP couldn't be taken prisoner.
Inside the Academy's infirmary, Trombley was fighting another battle. One of words.
"Listen! These men need medical attention," he said as firmly as he could to the Tristainian officer, a nobleman, "They are no longer a threat to your Kingdom!"
The sound of injured men groaning was hard to ignore.
"Why should we allow them to be treated here?" the noble shot back, "They have invaded our lands!"
"Because healthy prisoners help a long way in peace talks!"
As the heated exchange went on, some of the Albion prisoners who were still conscious were wondering why these strange men were fighting that hard for them of all people. Finally, an elderly voice cut in.
"We shall allow the Albion troops to be healed," Osmond declared as he looked at the officer, "The Academy is, per the Royal Charter that governs it, an independent institution in which the headmaster's word is final if the Monarch is not present."
The Tristainian officer backed down, knowing that such a law was inviolable.
"Thank you headmaster!" Trombley said relieved before to his men who were carrying many wounded.
As the injured came in, it became quickly obvious that the infirmary, normally used to treat the occasional magical student injury, was far too small for an army of wounded and dying men. The deserted feasting hall was quickly repurposed as a medical annex.
Some of the Water magic students who had remained behind were helping out with the school's Water Mage healer. Even then, it was barely enough to stem the tide. Other mages were brewing potions as quickly as they could to try and help.
"Healer de Lafarge, I don't think I can keep this up," Montmorency said tiredly as she finished tending a wounded soldier, this one having been pierced by a bullet through the stomach. The girl was struggling to keep her last meal from going back up. Sweat trickled down her paling face as she caught her breath. Many of the other mages were showing signs of exhaustion. The kind-faced academy healer was standing over a stretcher with a bloodsoaked soldier, her wand shining as she chanted a spell.
"Go take a quick break," the healer ordered after finishing her spell, "Half of you go now."
The sound of boots began to echo closer.
"Are they bringing more wounded?!" another water mage exclaimed, half tired, half weeping.
Instead, it was uniformed soldiers. Their faces were stern and serious but showed no exhaustion, as if they had not fought a battle that day.
"Healer de Lafarge?" a feminine voice asked. It was their leader.
"Yes?" the healer responded, "I am Healer de Lafarge."
"Wonderful, I'm Lieutenant Abigail Harrison, 10th Mountain Division," the officer introduced herself, "My men and I are a medical platoon and we've been sent to assist with the injured. Another unit should arrive soon."
Many of the mages' eyes lit up as they heard the word 'medical'. De Lafarge and the others rested for a moment. The soldiers began to move around the room towards the wounded with the massive packs they wore on their backs. As they undid their packs, the students could recognize familiar things such as bandages and compresses. Some began to install simple beds. Other things were completely foreign for them as the soldiers began to treat the wounded.
Montmorency led out a breath. Her mind was barely keeping up with the past day's event. She had barely been able to assimilate the fact that it had barely been over a day that the coronation had been attacked and that Tristain was being invaded. She remembered Guiche leaving in a hurry. The blond teen was emptied eyed when Montmorency had last seen him. Her heart went out to him. Guiche, for all his flaws, had cared deeply for his mother. She did love the boy even if he was an incorrigible womanizer. She had briefly wondered if he had left for his family's estate or the capital.
More soldiers then arrived, Canadians this time. Healer de Lafarge stood up, her rest over and made her way to Lieutenant Harrison. The American was organizing the triage and medical efforts.
"Lieutenant Harrison?"
"Yes?"
"I am able to help you again," the healer said, "I have regained enough strength. Might I assist those who are grievously injured."
The lieutenant nodded.
"Very well, what of your students?" she asked, "Are they fit to help?"
Lafarge shook her head.
"No, many are too magically drained to help," the healer explained, "Those who can won't be able to do so for long either. Others are working as hard as they can to make potions."
The Lieutenant looked over the group. The students appeared tired but still looked lucid enough.
"I think we may be able to have use your students."
Montmorency was surprised when some of the outworlders gathered them in a nearby classroom.
She soon understood why as they began to give the students a crash course on basic bandaging. It was the best way they could help without burning themselves out.
But with the sheer amount of agony audible in the other room, no one was the least bit excited.
While the battle at the Academy died out, one of its students and her familiar were in a secretive room at the Royal Palace. The slowly dying rays of the afternoon sunlight filtered into the room.
"Any idea why her Majesty wants us here?" Saito asked lazily as he lounged in one of the chairs. Hayate had left earlier for the hospital wing to tend the wounded from the Cathedral attack and to help ready everything for the upcoming battle with his friends and colleagues.
"Probably because she wants to see her friends after everything that's happened lately," Louise answered, "I don't think her Majesty has had the time to rest in these past days."
"I see what you mean," Saito replied, "I think we got lucky though."
"Lucky?"
"I mean, we've been able to at least to rest since the attack."
Louise looked downcast.
"What is it Louise?" Saito asked worriedly, "Are you ok?"
The pinkette had tears in her eyes.
"It's because we're useless," she answered softly, "I can't do any magic to save my life except explosions."
She closed her eyes before feeling a pair of warm arms wrap around her.
"Explosions are useful in war Louise," Saito said warmly into her ear, "Remember what those soldiers said?"
She managed to crack a small smile.
"Thank you Saito," she said before her lips met his. The pair failed to notice the door opening until a light chuckle caught their attention.
"I see you two are always hopelessly in love with each other," Henrietta giggled she entered the room while Agnes and another Musketeer stood guard. Both Louise and Saito untangled themselves from each other, blushing before bowing respectfully.
"Your Majesty!"
"Please, make yourself at ease Louise-Françoise," the monarch commanded as she sat down, "I am merely here to rest with some friends."
"I am honored your Majest- I mean Henrietta," Louise replied happily. At that moment, a butler entered with glasses of wine.
"With all that is happening lately, I have been unable to rest and enjoy the company of friends," Henrietta said wearily before taking a warmer tone, "I've had the chance to discuss with Hayate when I visited the infirmary but I wished to see you both. As such, how are your studies going my dear Louise-Françoise?"
Louise hesitated to answer. Saito looked at her nervously as well. He remembered what she said about Void Magic and the Romalian Church. He chose to keep silent, not wanting to betray his girlfriend.
"We are friends, are we not? You need not be ashamed about your… difficulties for I will always support you," Henrietta gently said.
"It's not really that," Louise replied in a small voice, "It's more complicated."
She hesitated before continuing.
"Can you keep this a secret?" she asked, barely above a whisper, "Even if it meant your life could be in danger?"
"But of course Louise-Françoise!"
"Even it means that the Church could get involved?"
Henrietta paled slightly.
"What do you mean? Please, I will do what I can to help you."
Louise looked at Saito who nodded.
"I might be a Void Mage," Louise admitted, "and Saito might be the legendary familiar, Gandalfr."
The queen could barely believe the words that had come out from her oldest friend's mouth. Void Mages were legends lost to time. Something that only appeared in the tales about the days of the Founder himself. The same went for the Gandalfr who was as legendary as the lost element of Void. Yet… Henrietta could not believe her friend was playing with her for a fool or being mistaken. Louise's voice simply sounded truthful and hid no deceit.
"You have my word that the Church shall never hear of this," Henrietta swore, "On my honor as Queen."
"Thank you your Majesty!"
Louise's confession left one question in Henrietta's mind.
"How did you find out about this?"
"It's a long story, your Majesty," Saito answered, "Do you think we'd have the time?"
"But of course. The defense of the city is being organised by General du Poitier as we speak. He has insisted that I rest and promised that I can do so with no worries." There was only so much the Queen could do, and after that was done all she had done was pacing in the Royal Palace's war room until the general finally got the young monarch to go rest.
"Very well then."
The pair began to explain that they found about Louise and Saito's powers in the aftermath of the Tarbes expedition with M. Colbert. Because of that, the CIA and CSIS had placed them under watch to 'protect' them but both knew it truly meant. Not only them but also the Headmaster and Professor Colbert.
A scandalized look appeared on Henrietta's face. And they had not thought to mention this to her? Ever since they came here there had been no gaps in communication between each other. They'd kept her entirely up to date with everything they found both in her Kingdom and Albion- corruption, crime, and other terrible things. But they hadn't mentioned this? Something so monumental?
Even more, by the sound of it, they'd taken two of her citizens without informing her- something they'd expressly promised against as a condition of the arrangement. Louise, her lifelong friend. Saito, someone who'd been invaluable to her.
"How dare they?!" she exclaimed, "This is unacceptable! After all that you did for our nations!"
"Well, they did it," Saito simply said.
This revelation shocked Henrietta. Why had her allies acted in such a way?
"I will speak to Ambassadors Ambroise and Fitzgerald immediately. This… this travesty cannot go on!" The young queen said, her tone unwavering with tranquil anger, "You have my word that I will help you!"
"Thank you your Majesty!" Louise exclaimed happily.
Henrietta stood up and made for the door.
"Agnes, please summon the ambassadors," she ordered, "It is an urgent matter."
Nearly half an hour later, both Ambassadors Ambroise and Fitzgerald were standing in Henrietta's throne room. The young queen's face was hard. After the usual greetings, Ambroise was the first to speak.
"What is happening your Majesty?"
Fitzgerald bowed his head.
"I'm afraid that we might have to cut short this meeting," he apologized, "Our leaders don't want us moving around uselessly and endangering our lives. They'd rather have us stay at the embassies."
"Very well then. I shall not hold you any longer then needed," she said, venom lacing her words, and the Ambassadors were notably surprised. "Can you explain why have you treated M. Hiraga Saito and Lady Louise-Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière the way you did? Why have your CIA and CSIS kept the knowledge of Lady Vallière's powers to yourself? I demand explanations."
Both ambassadors looked at each other in confusion. They had no idea what she was talking about, or why she felt the need to bring it up with the country being invaded.
"I'm afraid we don't understand what you are talking about your Majesty," Ambroise replied diplomatically, "I have never been informed of such a thing."
"I've never been told anything about this situation as well," Fitzgerald added.
"The CIA and CSIS are part of your nations," Henrietta insisted, "Henceforth, they must have told you something."
Both men shook their heads.
"They operate independently of us," Ambroise replied, "They only tell us what they believe we need to know." Henrietta was momentarily stumped by those statements. After seeing their efficiency for so long, it was a sudden shock to learn that they didn't always communicate their findings.
"Is there anyway for you to know what is happening with your agents?"
Both shook their heads.
"I presume that they are too busy with the current invasion." Ambroise said. "Is this a matter of grave importance?"
Henrietta mulled that. Her Kingdom was being invaded, but if Louise was a Void Mage… it could mean many more things.
"Yes, it has the potential to be, especially to our war effort. I believe that I have told both of you about our Holy Founder Brimir and his powers. Those powers are from the lost Void element."
Both men nodded.
"He left heirlooms to each one of the ruling families of the Four Blessed Realms," she continued, "These heirlooms are artifacts of immense powers or so the legends say. Only a Void Mage descended from the Founder himself can use them."
"How does this fit in with Lady Vallière?" Fitzgerald asked, "Since following that logic, only a member of your house could use it?"
Henrietta shook her head.
"The House of Vallière is a cadet branch of the Royal House. In theory, should anything happen to me, Lord Vallière has the strongest claim to the throne."
Both men looked at each other, mentally noting everything they could. So apparently their agents had threatened a line of succession...not good.
"And if she is a Void Mage, as your people were as rude not to tell me, I could've given it to her to help her control her powers before this invasion. Having a Void Mage in my kingdom might have prevented the invasion all together! The legends state that Brimir's command of Void magic could destroy entire armies and change the course of entire wars."
That...was bad. Or maybe it was good. The ambassadors had no idea. They just knew that spooks did what they did for reasons and interests often unknown to them.
"The Church could have gotten involved had they heard of Lady Vallière's abilities," Henrietta continued, "It is no hidden secret that the Romalian Inquisition pursues Void Mages to bring them into serving Romalia and to control them. If they come to believe I hid a Void Mage from it, it would bring our courts in conflict."
That was a whole lot of information in a short time and a lot of potential trouble. A full blown diplomatic incident, even. The Ambassadors had to choose their next words carefully. At the moment, with an invasion upon the horizon, deflection seemed the best bet. "I assure you we will try and find out how this miscommunication came to be." Fitzgerald promised. His Canadian counterpart steered the conversation away.
"If what you say is true," Ambroise said, "Then that would mean that you would have this powerful relic?"
"Exactly."
"What is exactly is this relic, your Majesty? Is it too late?" Fitzgerald asked. They knew they'd have to report this all up the chain; not only would it be a diplomatic incident, but it was new information they would need to know.
"It would be the Founder's Prayer Book, and I do not believe so.."
Both men looked at each other in silence, their eyes betraying their surprise and slight disappointment. A Bible-like book was a powerful relic in this world?
"If this is such a matter of concern to you, we will be sure to bring it up with our leadership and intelligence agencies when practical. But as I'm sure you've noticed, the situation right now is precarious to say the least. But I'm sure our men had their reasons for doing what they did."
"Very well, I hope that we may be able to understand exactly what has happened," Henrietta answered, "Agnes, please bring in M. Hiraga and Lady Vallière."
A few moments later, the duo appeared flanked by Agnes.
"M. Hiraga, Lady Vallière, I must apologize for this whole situation with CSIS," Ambroise said politely, "You have my word that I'll do what is in my power to assist you."
"Oh, thank you Ambassador," Saito replied, surprised at the turn of events.
"I'm afraid I didn't how all of this happened so I can't say anything else," Fitzgerald added, "Please accept my apologies. I will do everything I can as well to clear up this misunderstanding."
Henrietta smiled as another musketeer entered the room, holding a small, ornate wooden chest.
"Louise-Françoise, I have a present for you."
Louise's eyebrow rose.
"What do you mean?" the pinkette asked in surprise.
"If it is true that you are a Void Mage," the queen said as the musketeer opened the box in front of Louise, "Than this relic of our Holy Founder shall be of great aid to you."
The mage picked up the content of the chest: a simple leather book. She held it reverently as she scrutinized the cover and rear of the book. She almost feared damaging the relic simply with her touch. Nothing was written on its cover and it looked only like a journal or diary.
"This is the Founder's Prayer Book. It is said that only a Void Mage can make use of its content. If you are truly one, it will be of great use to you."
"What does this book contain? If I'm not too indiscreet?" Fitzgerald asked, intrigued.
"It is said that this book contains all of our Founder's knowledge on Void Magic," Henrietta explained, "My tutors taught me that the Founder Brimir used magic to create this book and preserve all of his knowledge."
"Amazing," Ambroise said softly, "I am very pleased to be present to see such a thing."
"How powerful is this 'Void Magic'?" Fitzgerald asked quickly.
"It is said that Founder Brimir did deeds that our mages cannot possibly dream of," Henrietta explained, "Like I've mentioned earlier, he could turn entire battles and wars with one spell."
"You truly believe I'm a Void Mage your Majesty?" Louise asked, not daring to hope.
"Yes." Henrietta said, a warm smile on her face.
Saito grinned as Louise opened the book. Everyone was doing their best to concealed their excitement at such an event.
The silence in the room was almost deafening. Saito's jaw dropped while Louise's pink eyes went empty. Even the ambassadors were shocked at they saw.
The book was empty, its pages void of any writing.
"According to the legends, only a Void Mage could unlock the secrets hidden in its pages," Henrietta explained, "Brimir used his magic to seal its contents from prying eyes so only his worthy descendants with his Gift for Void Magic can access the knowledge hidden inside the Founder's Prayer Book."
"Ah, thank you your Majesty," Louise politely answered while her familiar looked annoyed. 'Why can't things be simple?' Saito mentally grumbled, 'Can't we get a break for once urgh?'
Ambroise looked at Fitzgerald, their eyes showing the same expression of exasperation. It was more magical complications.
"Very well then," Fitzgerald finally said, "Is there anything else to discuss your Majesty?"
Henrietta pondered for a moment, a finger on her lipŝ.
"Have you gotten any more information from your leaders?" the Queen finally asked. She wanted to know if anything had changed.
Ambroise nodded.
"Yes, both have made public appearances to state their support to Tristain and her leaders," the Canadian ambassador stated, "Canada has enacted emergency measures to ensure that our forces reach Tristain as quickly as possible."
"America's armed forces are mobilizing and more reinforcements should arrive over the next few days," Fitzgerald added, "M. Trump is quite… enthusiastic about defeating Albion to say the least. I believe that you have heard the reports from today's battles?"
Henrietta nodded confidently.
"That your armies have blunted the Reconquista attacks on their positions." Henrietta nodded. "Tristain is especially grateful to you for saving the Academy."
Ambroise nodded while Saito couldn't help but let out a cry of joy much to Louise's embarrassment.
"Score: 2 points for the good guys! 0 for the bad guys!"
"Saito! Not now!" Louise sighed in exasperation. Her boyfriend was incorrigible at times.
"A place where the future of a nation is educated should always be preserved from evil," he said, "It was the least we could do."
"Any word from the other Kingdoms?" Ambroise asked, "Have they reacted to this assault at all?" Wars could spiral into larger conflicts easily, something they were just now considering after the troops had been sent out.
"I have sent envoys to Germania and Gallia to not intervene on behalf of Albion," Henrietta admitted, "I would hope they would support us out of self-interest, but we can't be sure. Gallia refused to let them enter their realm to discuss with King Joseph and it hasn't been long enough for Germania to respond."
"Well, you have our assurances we will not take kindly to either nation attempting to take advantage of your borders during this difficult time." Fitzgerald assured, "They will understand that any such action will warrant an intervention on our part." Those were very dangerous words, but they were true. North America was not willing to lose any ground they'd built up in the last year.
Just then, the doors opened. General Du Poitier entered flanked by his guards. A grave expression graced his stern face.
"Your Majesty," he bowed, "Albion's fleet is at Tristainia's gates..."
Aboard the Lexington, Cromwell was trying to rest in his cabin. The past few days had been tiring to say the least, and now it was compounded by the stress of this invasion. The siege on the coastal base had soured and was barely hanging on. He had not yet received news from the attack on the Portal either. So he prayed fervently to Brimir for guidance, respite and victory.
There had been small victories though. His smaller expeditions had seized supplies as they swept through the Tristainian countryside. The land's granary and warehouses were surprisingly bountiful, being well stocked with food. The Tristainian peasantry was stubborn however and still clung to the belief that Queen Henrietta would triumph over Cromwell's blessed armies. Certain towns had been made into examples…
However, Cromwell needed to seize the greatest jewel of Tristain: her capital. His main fleet had not run into trouble so far. The Tristainian Navy had refused to fight any prolonged battles with him. A knock interrupted his musings.
"Enter!"
A weary messenger entered the cabin before bowing.
"Lord-Protector! I bring news from the assault on the Academy and the Portal!"
"Report." Cromwell said tersely.
"The enemy has repelled our attacks," the messenger said nervously, "The army has been decimated and Viscount Wardes has been slain by the enemy."
There was a moment of silence as Albion's leader processed this information.
"WHAT?! How is this possible?!" he ranted, "Viscount Wardes was an experienced battlemage and leader of men. His forces were well trained and equipped! Not only that but we outnumbered them! There is no way that they could muster a large force to repel us on such short notice!"
"Well… the enemy's weapons were far more powerful," the messenger explained, "The survivors told us that they overpowered any defensive magic. That they swept us from the battlefield with great ease."
"Have they moved from the portal or their fortress on the coast?" Cromwell asked, slightly less agitated.
"No Lord-Protector, they have not moved far from their positions."
It reassured Cromwell. If his forces could get the capital, he could hold Henrietta hostage and force them into negotiating. It could break their will to fight as well. He still had hope he could force them from this world in one way or another and destroy the portal. It was him that would hold the fate of Halkeginia in his hand. Not some upstart queen or some heretical civilization from another a world!
He stood up from his seat and silently exited his cabin. In front of him was his prize: Tristainia.
"Ready the envoy."
Inside Tristainia's great walls, the sound of soldiers marching filled the streets. It mixed with the harsh cries of sergeants and officers barking orders. The inhabitants had been called up to help. Supplies were being carried, gates reinforced, streets fortified. Everyone dreaded the coming siege. The enemy still outnumbered them. The navy's ships had docked, their crewmen having finished the vital task of ferrying as many reinforcements as they could to defend their capital. Now these sailors were resting, something every soldier could defend as their comrades had worked hard to get them to the capital.
On one of the battlements, a pair of friends was looking out into the distance, seeing the ominous sight of the enemy's invasion force. Tabitha was reading a book to Sylphid while Kirche looked out in the distance.
"Well, it looks like I really can't go home now can I?" the redhead commented offhandedly, "Looks like I'm going to be stuck fighting here with you Tabitha."
"Thank you." her friend replied as she flipped another page of her book. A series of footsteps caught their attention. It was Guiche, accompanied by a group of Tristainian soldiers bearing his family's emblem. The teenager's appearance was a far cry from his school uniform. He was wearing a helmet and ornate plate armour over the purple and white Tristainian army uniform. A sword hung at his belt. He looked exhausted from the weight of the armour but his face was harder than anyone had ever seen it.
"Guiche? Are you alright in that armour?" Kirche asked, "It looks a little heavy for you."
"Yes," he answered, out of breath, "It takes a little getting used to but I'll be fine."
"Not fine," Tabitha muttered nonchalantly, "Angry."
Guiche glared briefly at the blue haired mage before sitting down on the wall and catching his breath.
"Where's Malicorne?" he asked wearily, "Have any of you seen him? He said he'd meet me here!"
Both girls shook their heads.
"I hope he's not stuffing his face somewhere!" Guiche snarled in exasperation, "Fighting on a full stomach is gonna slow him down."
"Maybe he's with his father's army?" Kirche suggested calmly, "Like you are right now."
The blond shook his head.
"He promised me he'd fight by my side to stop these monsters and avenge my mother! I hope he didn't run away!"
"I don't think he'd run away," the Germanian said, "He is a bit foolish to say the least but his heart's in the right place."
She hid the fact that she doubted that any mount would be able to quickly carry the rather well-fed boy for a long period time.
"He's loyal to his family," Tabitha added, "So he won't run."
"If you say so."
Guiche stood back up and began to bark orders to his men to move into positions on the battlements.
"Where's Montmorency?" Kirche asked suddenly, "Is she in the capital?"
"No I've told my beloved Montmorency to stay at the Academy," Guiche replied dramatically, "I promised hero that I shall return a hero. The outworlders' armies are mighty enough to defend it from Reconquista."
"Safe." Tabitha approved.
"A delicate flower like her should be spared from the horrors of war. Only brave young men should face the enemy."
If only he knew.
The students heard heavy panting. It was Malicorne who was trying to climb up the stairs to the walls. Behind him, soldiers followed him, unimpressed.
"Sorry I'm late," he said, panting, "It was a long walk to get here and I couldn't get on a cart or horse."
"Ah you are finally here Malicorne," Guiche said tersely, "We were waiting for you. The enemy won't."
The other boy winced slightly at his friend's tone. It was a lot harsher than usual. Everyone there noticed it as well.
"Did you hear the good news?" the blond Wind mage asked, trying to cheer up his friend, "Our allies are defeating the enemy's forces in battle!"
"Those are good news indeed, but the enemy is still at our capital's doorstep and we still need to destroy him!"
"Are you well Guiche?" Malicorne nervously asked, "You don't look fine."
"Of course I'm fine!" he snapped, "I just want to fight these bastards for what they did!"
Kirche swore she saw the blond boy angrily blink back tears. Tabitha kept her comment to herself as they looked out towards the massing Albion airships. A single one was flying their way.
Guiche wasn't the only one whose resolve had grown stronger. In the streets of Tristainia, Henrietta's people stood as one. They rallied to their young queen who had always been kind to them, who had found loyal allies to aid them, who had brought so much prosperity to their once meager lands, who had stood strong when the enemy had struck in their hour of joy and celebration.
Hundreds were leaving their houses and places of work, armed with hammers, pitchforks, whatever they could find to arm themselves. A strange new feeling had grasped the capital. Shopkeepers handed out their stocks of swords and daggers to whoever came first, taking whatever their buyer could give. Blacksmiths and armorers opened their forges to sharpen every blade they could and fix every suit of armour they could. Alchemists and herbalists emptied their stocks of potions, medicine and sent it to the various hospitals in the capital. Seamstresses sewed small banners and flags for their soldiers to carry with them. Complete strangers worked together to help as they could. Cart drivers carried soldiers and supplies around while commoner families helped fortify the city's streets despite the fading sunlight. The churches opened their doors as priests led the people in prayers. Some were even giving ceremonies to soldiers on the battlements.
At the Charming Fairies Inn, Scarron and his fairies had put away their costumes to wear simpler garb. All of them were pitching at the kitchen, making as many meals as they could. The door rang as it opened. It was probably another supply cart.
"Please wait a few moments!" Scarron said in his usually effeminate voice, "The next batch is about to come out of the oven!"
"Excuse me Master Scarron?" a feminine voice asked, causing the crossdresser to peer out of the kitchen. He saw a group of people, some well dressed, others not as much, "We wish to help you in the kitchen."
Scarron did a double take as he looked who had talked to him. The person talking to him appeared to be a well off young woman.
"You can come in!" his niece, Jessica, yelled, "A few more pair of hands can be helpful! We can also use more people to help load the next cart!"
"Thank you for letting us help. The other inns turned us away because they were full." the young mage said as they entered the inn.
But this scene was not only happening at their inn. The people were standing together for their nation. They knew the danger about to befall them, but they stood to face it. It was their beloved home… and they wanted it to stand. They were no longer just Queen Henrietta's subjects… they were the people of Tristain that were proud of their nation.
At the same time, in one of the Palace's wings, Louise sat in a chair. Her face was etched in concentration as she tried to make sense of the Founder's Prayer Book. The pinkette was on the verge of throwing the book away were it not a sacred relic.
Saito, on the other hand, was pacing around, deep in thought. His mind was running through every movie, anime, manga and book he could think of. Maybe one of them had an answer.
"Could you stop that?!" Louise suddenly screeched, her face red and eyes blurry with frustration.
"Sorry Louise," Saito apologized at he sat down, "You got any luck with that book?"
"No!" she snapped, "This is useless! This book is empty!"
The mage slumped in her chair in frustration.
"Calm down Louise, it'll be fine."
"No it's not! I can't do anything useful to help the Queen!"
"I'm pretty sure you could just blow up the bad guys." Saito pointed out with a grin, "I remember a lot of movies where the heroes saves the day by exploding the bad guy."
Even Louise's frown couldn't help but turn into a small smile.
"Do you think I can do it?"
Saito shrugged.
"You did knock out that assassin at the Coronation."
"Of course I did!" Louise beamed, "It was either that or an innocent man died!"
Her boyfriend grinned wider.
"Looks like someone's happier!"
"Idiot." Louise giggled, "I don't regret summoning you all of a sudden."
The pair kissed each other tenderly before letting go. The pair looked out the window and saw the sails of the Albion fleet. The inevitable was getting closer.
"Hey, why is that ship coming here?"
"It's under a flag of truce, your Majesty!" Truce? Henrietta remembered the tales the Americans and Canadians had passed on to her about the attack on the coastal base. They were in the Palace's war room.
"Let them in then. We'll hear them out."
"Understood," Du Poitier replied before he ordered his men to let the ship in and its passengers.
"Let us head to the Throne Room where we can properly greet him. I believe that Ambassadors Ambroise and Fitzgerald would like to be here. Please summon them."
Moments later, in the late hours and waning light of the first day, Henrietta was sitting upon her throne. The door swung open, revealing a blindfolded party under heavy guard by Agnes and the Musketeers. It was the Albion envoy and his retinue. As they arrived in front of the throne, their blindfold were removed. He carried a scroll with him.
"Greeting Queen Henrietta. I am Lord Lancaster, envoy to Lord-Protector Cromwell."
"It is a pleasure for us to welcome you here," Henrietta said, venom dripping with every word, "What business do you have in my kingdom on this day?"
The envoy bowed his head respectfully as he read from his scroll.
I, Oliver Cromwell, Lord-Protector of the Holy Republic of Albion, demand:
-That Queen Henrietta I surrender her kingdom to Reconquista in exchange for the protection of her people.
-That Tristain abandon the false teachings of the Church of Romalia and embrace the true teachings of the Holy Founder as taught by the Lord-Protector.
-That Queen Henrietta I marry the Lord-Protector Oliver Cromwell and pledge loyalty to him.
-That the heretical nations from Earth withdraw from Halkeginia.
-That the Kingdom of Tristain surrender all of the Founder's sacred relics it has to the care of the Lord-Protector.
-That the people and lands of Tristain be put into service in Lord-Protector Cromwell crusades.
"Should you refuse these terms, Albion and Lord-Protector Cromwell will use every resource they have to wage a total war of conquest upon Tristain and its allies."
There was a brief silence once Lancaster had finished talking. Henrietta cleared her throat, her face hard.
"I must refuse these terms, Lord Lancaster. They are utterly unacceptable."
Lancaster's eyes narrowed as he glared at Henrietta.
"How are these generous terms unacceptable your Majesty? Our navy controls the skies and are at the doorstep of your capital! Our armies march through Tristain's countryside while yours cowers behind walls! Your allies's bastions in Halkegenia are besieged! Their armies are nowhere to been seen! Their leaders have fled beyond the portal!"
"Agnes, please allow the ambassadors to enter the throne room."
The doors swung open once more, revealing two men, one dark skinned and one fair skinned along with their guards.
"It is a pleasure to meet you Lord Lancaster," Ambroise said politely, "I am Ambassador Richard Ambroise of Canada. I will let my counterpart introduce himself."
"Lord Lancaster, I am Ambassador Thomas Fitzgerald of the United States of America. We overheard some pretty interesting things while you were talking with her Majesty."
The Albion envoy was caught by surprise by their appearance and almost casual demeanour.
"I believe that you were to declare total war upon us if her Majesty didn't submit to M. Cromwell, am I not mistaken," the American continued.
"Those were his words," Henrietta confirmed, "Unless if I misheard to due the past days' tiring events."
Lancaster's face seemed to regain color.
"Yes, those are the terms my leaders have sent," he said confidently, "The Republic's land and people are ready to do the ultimate effort necessary to spread the true teachings of the Founder and reconquer our Holy Lands. No war will be too much for our faith."
Ambroise sighed while Fitzgerald continued.
"Total war? The last time any nation declared such a thing on our nations and allies, they were completely destroyed."
"Indeed, Canada and the United States have won those wars and paraded in their capitals," Ambroise added with a small smile, "No one has done such a brazen declaration in nearly a century."
"Brimir shall guide the Holy Republic to victory," Lancaster shot back, "We have his Blessing. Besides, I have no words to say to you! Where are your leaders? Why have they left you here?!"
Fitzgerald shook his head.
"Lord Lancaster, our leaders have return to Earth to oversee our efforts to defend Tristain as well as other… more pressing matters," Fitzgerald replied diplomatically, "Their presence was not needed here."
"It is quite a shame that you chose to attack Tristain though," Ambroise added, "It is quite irritating for us to temporarily stop our mutually beneficial business with Queen Henrietta."
Henrietta nodded in agreement.
"Yes, to think that our growing efforts to work together in peace has to be stalled because of foreign aggression. It is quite annoying." The envoy looked slightly annoyed.
"May I remind all parties present that our army and navy sits outside your walls, and the only thing keeping them there is the Lord-Protector's good will?"
"Ah yes," Fitzgerald said flatly, "That little army. Our reinforcements should be more than able to relieve Tristainia within a week."
"If your armies can even last that long," Ambroise quipped nonchalantly, "Our leaders are committed to helping Tristain."
"We are quite open to discussions," Henrietta suggested confidently as both ambassadors nodded, "If you choose to withdraw your armies and fleets from Tristain. It would be quite possible for us to avoid needless bloodshed."
"You are quite foolish Queen Henrietta. Perhaps the Lord-Protector will break your naiveness." Lancaster replied, turning to the Tristainian monarch, "I do not believe that your so-called allies will be willing to sacrifice their people's blood for a small and insignificant realm."
Both ambassadors kept their composure as Fitzgerald produced his laptop.
"Our leaders have addressed our people earlier today about this little issue that is your invasion," the Canadian said, "It just happens that we have to show you their speeches."
"You will see just how determined our leaders are," Fitzgerald said as he opened his computer and quickly opened a pair of files; news reports of Trudeau and Trump's speeches. The envoy couldn't help but wonder what this small screen would show him. Images appeared until it settled on a moving image with sound of a blond, tanned old man standing behind a podium with a magnificent crest in a blue room with two flags on each side. Lancaster watched it and fear set in his heart. The man was the leader of the United States of America, President Donald Trump… and he was terrifyingly angry. Once he was done, a different image appeared, this time of a much younger man. Standing behind a different podium, Prime Minister Justin Trudeau of Canada was inside a stone building with red and white flags behind him. His tone was much calmer and more composed… yet it was serious and determined. Anger seeped through his words despite all of this. His defiant little boast showed his confidence in victory.
Sweat formed on Lancaster's brow as he struggled to control his expression after he heard their speeches. Both men, while radically in their approach to public talking, said the same thing: Canada and the United States were determined to defend Tristain. They had even summoned their allies to help! The envoy cursed internally.
"Lord Lancaster, does that address your doubts about my allies' willingness to fight?" Henrietta asked simply.
"You are making a grave mistake your Majesty!" the envoy retorted, "We have chosen to give you mercy! Yet you refuse it-"
"I believe that we no longer have anything to say to each other." she interrupted, an angry look on her face, "Please leave Lord Lancaster and tell your usurper lord that we refuse to submit to his terms. We shall fight to defend our kingdom."
"Very well." The man's words were laced with cold fury.
Lancaster and his guards were blindfolded once more before being led out of the palace.
"Queen Henrietta will not bow Lord-Protector," Lancaster reported after he bowed before Cromwell. Both men were on the Lexington and stood on her main deck. A snarl appeared on Cromwell as he processed the information.
"What a fool," he muttered darkly to himself, cursing her stubbornness. He was ready to fight for Tristain… when his forces were largely intact. The setbacks at both the base and the Academy shook his confidence.
"Are you not ready for this battle Lord-Protector?" a voice cut in, almost taunting him.
"Sheffield," he said before hesitating for a moment, "I am ready to lead the Republic to victory."
With that, Cromwell turned to his commanders.
"You may begin the siege."
Orders were signalled by flags and drums as Cromwell watched his army form up into an encirclement around Tristainia. The thundering sound of ship and siege cannons began to resonate as they began bombarding the capital's great walls and buildings.
Cannonballs rained down on the walls as Tristainian soldiers took cover behind their battlements. The city's inhabitants clung to each other, praying that they and their loved ones would survive this battle. Hands tightened around weapons, their wide-eyed owners knowing what was to come this night.
Tristainian cannons began to fire back at their enemy. The smaller weapons were outmatched by their counterparts' accuracy. Still, putting fire towards the Albion troops was reassuring.
From their position, Guiche, Malicorne, Kirche and Tabitha braced themselves for what was to come as they saw cannonballs land all around them. Some bounced off a shield that the blue haired mage had casted. Others crashed into the walls, blowing deep gashes into the masonry or landed into nearby buildings. The sound of breaking carpentry mixed with the acrid scent of smoke from small fires that had ignited.
Guiche grit his teeth, cursing the fact that he had to wait before fighting to avenge his mother.
Meanwhile, Louise could only watch the scene unfurling from one of the palace's windows. Smoke rose from various parts of the capital as she heard the sounds of battle.
"You ready to go Derf?" Saito asked his sword. The teen had borrowed a spare set of light armour.
"Always am partner!" the sword answered boastfully.
"Let's go Louise!"
Even if she was a poor mage… explosions were useful in war. That was how the Zero would contribute to defend her homeland and her people.
Henrietta looked out the window of her war room. She could see the flashes from the Albion ships' cannons and hear the thundering sound of their land based guns. The ships hovered ominously around the city walls as they laid into the great structure. She could make out the masses of soldiers marching towards the city walls. Her own ships were positioned above the city, ready to engage any that crossed the boundary. The ambassadors had left for the embassies to weather the storm of fire and iron that was unleashed upon Tristainia.
"Our forces are all in place your Majesty," Du Poitier reported soberly, "Cromwell has sent some of his ships back, likely to get reinforcements. There's only enough left that our Navy just might have a chance. At the very least, they can prevent Albion from immediately bombarding our ground forces."
Henrietta nodded. Before they'd departed, the Ambassadors had gave some some ill news- time. It would still take time before their forces reached the Capital to help. But they swore that if Henrietta could hold Albion back till then, victory was assured.
That would be a hard battle. They were outnumbered, their troops less experienced, and there was nowhere else to retreat. If they couldn't hold for a day, then their flag would cease to fly over the castle forever. But she had faith. Faith in her troops. Faith in her allies. Faith that the Founder would recognize Cromwell's wickedness for what it was and guide his true descendents to victory. She knew it. She could feel it in her very being: it would be hard, but they would prevail.
"So it begins." She declared softly.
Author's note: Hope you enjoyed it. It's gonna be a night to remember in Tristainia…
