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The following is a work of fanfiction: there is no intent of this author to violate, transgress, profit from or infringe upon the Copyright and Intellectual Property (IP) rights of the parent Copyright or IP holders of characters, events or locations belonging to the same which may be contained within this work. To reiterate; this is a Derivative Work meant to be used under Fair Use as described in 17 U.S.C. § 101 and § 107.

All language is either through Google Translate, or the site 'Bits'n'Bob-stones'

Sons of Efrafa

.

"Frithaes Constantin-fa,

"I don't know how to better say this than to say, I never realized. For the last two months, Owsla Buyuk has trained me in preparation for this trip to Efrafa, and then on to Edirne for the Regimental reunion. Your persistence in instructing me early in my life has benefited me well; I have found that the years have not entirely taken from me the memory of the Methrah you taught, nor the ancient line of our people.

"I have indeed walked the ancient streets of our ancestral home of Efrafa; I jumped the fire at a demonstration by a cultural preservation troupe from the state university of Anatolia; I have even stood in the courtyard of the palace of our ancient ancestor, Campion Rautha. It is hard to feel worthy in the face of such history, but I take heart in the support of you, my family, as well as my friends here, even absent Tarsa, whom I find I miss more greatly than I thought I would.

"Buyuk and I depart in the morning for Edirne. I am assured it will be an eye-opening experience. I do not know what to think, knowing that I shall learn more about my grandfather in the coming days than I did while sitting on your knee. I must get to sleep now as we have some 800 kilometres to cover tomorrow. Give my love to everyone in the neighborhood.

"Frithaes, Jacob Emanuel Raibert, Rautha a Uzun rooliti vao."

Chapter five

Dawn broke, framing the ancient fortress mount of Uçhisar, which stood at the heart of Efrafa. Morning prayers and church bells heralded the new day. Buyuk wanted to be on the road before long; they had a one-and-a-half-hour drive to Kaysiri, where they would take a 12-hour train ride to Constantinople. From there the Regimental veterans would meet up prior to making the final trek across the Bosporus and into Edirne for the commemoration and remembrances. Thankfully, Buyuk's Regiment was paying for Jacob's travel and lodging, though he had yet to get the elder Owsla to explain why.

"Get a move on, lad. We've a long day ahead of us." Kaan shouted as he loaded his baggage into the trunk of their rental car.

"Yes, made all the longer by traveling in this god-awful POS. I know I shouldn't complain about what is essentially a gift, but I think I'd feel safer in a Ford Pinto or a Yugo; at least those will top over 100 kph without shaking like a flag pole in a stiff wind." Jacob groused while loading his own bag into the off-white Renault Alliance, while resisting the urge to sing Adam Antler's, 'Piece of Shit Car'.

"Well, the sooner we start, the sooner we can turn the car in." Buyuk grunted as he slammed the driver's side door several times before it finally stayed closed.

During the drive to Kaysiri, Buyuk drilled Jacob on the etiquette of a traditional greeting Kilic Hain, as well as the lineage he would be expected to recite to prove his identity. Jacob had come to detest the stainless-steel Yataghan he had been loaned, but the last few months had shown him the significance of the sword in formal Efrafan culture, so he dared not travel without it. Once in Kaysiri they turned in the rental car and boarded the train for Constantinople.

After riding in silence for an hour Buyuk looked over to Jakob. "You seem pensive boy; what's troubling you?"

"Hm? Oh, not much, this is just the longest I've been out of uniform since joining 15 months ago. I've also not really had a chance to slow down in the past couple of months, and now that we have some time to ourselves I find I miss Tarsa. She has an exuberance about her; I think she would have liked this trek." Jacob sat up a little straighter focusing on Buyuk.

"Remembrance is good, but don't let it consume you."

"Is that why you've been running me ragged the last two months?"

"To some degree, yes; but it's mostly to get you ready. This is the 45th anniversary of the Battle of Edirne-nin Altan (the Red Dawn of Edirne), and you will be representing your grandfather at the event."

Jacob was stunned. "Me? But this is for your Regiment, and I'm just…"

"The grandson of Owsla-fa Constantin Abelard Rautha and a lineal descendant of Campion Rautha, who aided Ephraim Stihrath-rah in defying the Purrsian King Darius, thus leading to his defeat on the Plains of Issus at the hooves of Alexander of Macedon, as well as helping to found the Polis of Efrafa. If anyone not of the Regiment ever deserved to be there, it is you, Owsla Raibert."

"Wait, wait, wait! 'Owsla-fa Rautha'? When? How?!" Jacob was nearly frantic in his excitement.

"When was 45 years ago. How will be told in the Kilic Hain. That is why you must be diligent; your grandfather is worthy of the veneration by ALL Efrafil, but he is not here; you are. You therefore must BE worthy, so we will practice."

For the next 12 hours, they did practice; by the time they reached Constantinople, Jacob could recite the line of his ancestors from Campion to Constantin in every language he could speak. What surprised Kaan the most was not Jacobs ability to recite the lineage, but rather his ability to write it in the ancient Purrsian cuneiform as written on his family's blade. Buyuk did have one question about the whole affair.

"You do realize what your grandfather's name means in this script don't you?"

"Kaan Satana Tuna, the Devil Prince of the Danube River, Vlad Tepisch. I know, just like I know your name means the Prince from the Danube River and the Buyuk River." Jacob said as he wrote out Kaan's name in ancient Purrsian. "Con-ni-Fa taught us using the script that was on the blade. He would not let me swing the sword, but he would allow me to copy the script so long as I spoke each name and word as I wrote it. It used to drive my dad up a wall."

Kaan quirked his head. "You don't speak about your father."

Jacobs countenance soured. "I am endeavoring to keep this conversation civil."

"And?" Kaanprompted.

"I have nothing civil to say about the mammal."

"Very well then, back to work."

It was close to midnight when they finally arrived at the hotel where they would stay before departing with the regiment in the morning. Kaan insisted that he would introduce Jacob to the rest of the regiment then.

When morning came the two hares descended to the lobby. They met a mass of hundreds of hares, as well as a few jackals and foxes. Jacob paused for a moment and then looked over at Kaan. "I thought you said this was a regimental reunion; by my count this is only slightly more than a battalion."

"What you're looking at is only one company, both active and retired; the one that was involved in this battle. Even our coffers couldn't absorb the cost of trying to house 5000 animals. Come, I'll introduce you to Ata Cenk Burukgazi. He is the unit historian and served as 1st Sgt. under your grandfather at the Battle of Edirne-nin Altan." Buyuk gestured to an aged hare sitting hunched over a cup of Turkish coffee. Much like his grandfather, time had worn away at what once was a powerful frame. It had not however diminished the presence that he commanded. He looked up from his morning libation and drew sharp breath as Jacob and Kaan approached.

"You tell me you are bringing a descendent of Owsla-fa Rautha, and instead you come to me with Inle-rah roolitifa." He remarked as he stood and sized Jacob up. Buyuk looked pointedly at Jacob and waited. Jacob took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.

"M'saia Burukgazi-fa, I am Jacob Emanuel Raibert, grandson of Constantin Abelard Rautha, currently serving with the 56th MP Battalion F Troop Det. 7 assigned to LoNFB Incirlik. You may call me Emanuel."

Ata perked his graying ears at this and looked over at Kaan.

"Really now? Has he made suitable proficiency in mastering his lineage, and is he properly vouched for?"

Buyuk stood straight. "He has, I vouch for him."

"We shall see when he exemplifies his grandfather on the field."

At that moment, the doors to the lobby opened admitting a hare in an Anatolian regimental dress kilt and tunic.

"Alright you embleer Hlesil, form up and mount up!"

At this the assembled soldiers filed out of the hotel lobby and formed up to board the military buses waiting to take them to Edirne.

During the 3-hour drive to the old battle site Jacob got to know some of the animals that he was riding with; among them was Ilkin Kadir Demirci, a blacksmith's son who grew up with his mother, Katarin. It turned out that he joined the regiment in order to impress Constantin and his wife.

"Oh yes, I'm not ashamed to say I was in love with your mother; she was quite beautiful in our youth. I had hoped to marry her, but the regiment was called up to help quell the riots resulting from the Spring Revolution in Purrsia; I was away in Antakya when her Marli-fa Banu Dilan and their other children were killed in a bombing at their church. By the time the Shah had put down the rebellion and I could return home, your mother and Rautha-fa had already left for Zootopia." It was plain to see that time had not diminished his feelings or Katarin, nor the pain of her departure.

Jacob considered the jack before him for a moment; Marli-fa and Con-ni-fa had raised him and the hrairoo by themselves. She had never sought to date after the divorce, and while she didn't need a male in her life to make her complete, she had always had an air of melancholy about her. It was one of the many things he blamed his father for. Perhaps this was a chance to heal yet another wound of the past? He'd have to write home to find out.

"I don't know what you're talking about, 'was quite beautiful'; I'm going to have to give her your contact information so that she can give you a piece of her mind for that comment." Jacob said with a smirk.Ilkin's eyes lit up with delight while the entire bus laughed in celebration of his good fortune.

When they arrived in Edirne, they formed up and marched to Altan Square where a four-meter tall black Onyx obelisk stood as a monument to the battle. Surrounding it were several placards with facts about the battle, and even one picture of a hare officer in Special Warfare Department (SWD) combat kilt and tunic, holding a steel Yataghan with an M-1 Carbine strapped to his back; he was perched atop the burnt wreckage of a Soviet light tank in Bullgarian livery. The caption for the image read, 'Lt. C. Uzun surveys the battlefield.' A crowd was already there, as well as a news team from the Associated Press (AP) that Jacob had seen on the television in the barracks, though he didn't recognize the brown hare following the reindeer anchor taking notes. From her dress and demeanor, he guessed her to be a Lapino student from one of the international schools in Europa.

The ceremony that followed was bog-standard civic and military fare; speeches honored the sacrifices made and implored the remembrance of the past so future generations could avoid such bloodshed. Survivors laid wreaths commemorating the fallen, more speeches were made, the Anatolian national anthem was played, and an antique Austro-Hungarian 88mm Anti-Air gun fired seven shots. After this the ceremony was largely concluded, though both Buyuk and Burukgazi told Jacob to meet them at the monument at a quarter to five, with his sword; until then, he was free to roam the city.

As he was departing the square, he bumped into a striking vixen.

"Please excuse me, the crowd is a little disorienting." He said while offering a manual paw to help steady her.

"Oh, I completely understand; the noise and smells, it's…" She looked up and startled. "I'm sorry but, are you Jacob Emanuel?"

It was now Jacob's turn to be surprised. "I am so taken, but you have me at a disadvantage, Ms.?"

"Adame, Kiraz Adame; you work with my mother!" She smiled and pointed while waving excitedly at a small gathering to his left. There indeed, was Natalia Adame looking straight at Jacob; her smile was still all teeth and maternal warning.

"So, you're Natalia's daughter; huh, good to know."

Jacob spent the afternoon with the Adame's, including Kiraz's fiancé, Levent. At the appointed hour, Jacob was at the monument along with Sgt. Burukgazi, Capt. Buyuk, and about thirty or so Efrafan hares of about his grandfather's age.

Jacob looked over at the old Sgt. "When is everyone else coming?"

"They're not. This will be U Methrah Bralante (Memory Tale) and is for the veterans of this battle alone."

Capt. Buyuk drew a startled breath.

"Then, what are Buyuk and I doing here?"

Buyuk laid a trembling manual paw on Jacobs' shoulder. "You are here as the representative of your grandfather, and I am here because I vouched for you. I have only ever seen this once, when I was a child; I never dreamed I would have the opportunity to be a part of one."

Jacob saw his own insecurities reflected in the senior Owsla's eyes, so he laid his own paw on Kaan's shoulder in return.

"M'saion Frithrah narn, Owsla Kaan Tuna Buyuk."

The Capt. stood just a little taller.

"M'saion Frithrah narn, Owsla Jacob Emanuel Raibert."

Where the drive to Edirne had been somewhat jovial, the bus ride to the battle site a few kilometers west of the city was silent. They arrived at a farm only a short distance east of the Border Checkpoint between Anatolia, Bullgaria and Macedonian Aegea. They greeted an elderly chamois family at a farmstead.

The aged bovid nodded to Ata, "Dobre se sreshtnakh, Efrafil. Everything is as you asked, and there will be a repast waiting when you are done."

"Narn-ni, Sergei; we will try not to disrupt your lands too much."

"That they are still My lands is because of you. I would never deny you this."

With that, the assembled host began walking into the nearby fields. Eventually, they came to a pyramidal stack of wood, dry straw, and pine cones easily as tall as Jacob.

"Wait here." Atacommanded. "If you truly are a child of Constantin-fa, you will know when and how to approach."

The remaining hares, including Buyuk, arrayed themselves in a semi-circle opposite of Jacob, facing the wood pile. Ata stepped forward.

"Hyoa, ver sai methai, Owslafa laynt Constantin, olme Efrafil mai bralvao franent." (Once, so they say, before Constantin became Owslafa, he fought for the hope of his people.)

"M'saion Efrafil." The gathered host solemnly intoned.

"We are gathered here to remember Edirne-nin Altan; to remember the fallen, both those we fought beside and those we fought against."

"M'saion Efrafil."

At this, Ata spun about drawing his Yataghan. Taking the scabbard from his belt, he raised both above his head.

"We remember, that memory might shed light on the mysteries of the past and illuminate our way forward."

"M'saion Efrafil."

Ata swung his blade and scabbard down towards the pile, striking them together. The resulting sparks caused the dry tinder to catch flame almost instantly.

"As fire consumes wood, so too does time consume memory. We must therefore feed the fires of memory, lest the past fall into darkness."

"M'saion Efrafil."

The fire was now well caught, with flames shooting more than twice Jacobs' height. The heat was beginning to physically push him back; this was no university cultural preservation team campfire he would have to jump.

"Yet, the one for whom we celebrate tonight, is not here with us. Who then, will fuel this memory, and carry its light into the west, to light the way for our people?"

Jacob knew this was his moment. Drawing his blade, he bellowed out, "M'saia Efrafil!" On the last syllable, he stamped his pedal paw on the ground.

Ata turned to face the flames. "Who is this who calls out in the name of our people?"

"I am Jacob Emanuel Raibert, who is called Owsla. I am descended of the lines of Campion and Thlayli, and I call Constantin Abelard Rautha my grandfather, who is known to you."

"He is indeed known to us, but you are not. As we have passed through fire together, so too must you pass through fire, that we may know you truly." With this, the elderly hare stepped back into the semi-circle.

Jacob was certain he could clear the top of the wood pile, but he'd need all his paws for this. Taking several steps back, he grasped the blade in his teeth, so the curve swept over his left shoulder. Dropping to all fours, rushed forward, and leapt high into the flames. As he passed over the top of the pyre, Jacob thought he smelled diesel fuel and gunpowder, though he hadn't smelled either before the pyre was lit. When he came down on the other side, he tucked and rolled so he came up with his left leg leading. Once he was up, he took his sword from his mouth and saluted the assembly, though for a moment it looked as if there were five times as many standing before him. Was it a trick of the fire light?

Ata spoke from the crowd, "You have passed through fire to meet us, but you must still be tested before we can truly know you. Who here will vouch for Jacob, that he may be exemplified before us?"

Buyuk stepped forward and drew his sword. "M'saia Efrafil."

"Then come before us, as in the Halls of the Dancing Lords!" The group began rhythmically stamping the ground in unison, and the Kilic Hain began. For five minutes, Jacob recited the line of Owsla-fa of his ancestors, starting with his Maternal grandmothers' line and the House of Campion Rautha at the Battle of Issus, through his grandfather's line when Thlayli Uzun helped defend Constantinople from Sultan Murad the Second in the Fifteenth century, all the way to his grandfather's grandfather Abelard Mucahit Uzun, who fought at Tripoli in the Great War. With each name and event, Jacob and Kaan swung their blades through progressively more complex forms, as the ancient Kilic Hain walked them through the sword fighting style of the Efrafan people. At the conclusion, both hares saluted and stepped back. Jacob heard a sharp series of staccato cracks, like gun fire coming from the circle of Efrafil, though they didn't react. Maybe the crackling from the bonfire was reflecting weirdly off the crowd.

Burukgazi stepped forward. "Your skill and your zeal are truly laudable, but you have forgotten one name from your lineage: Owsla-fa Constantin Abelard Uzun, who is now called Rautha."

"I have not forgotten this name, for light of this memory was never imparted to me. I come to you now, humble and destitute, seeking that light from the east, to guide my path forward."

"Then let him receive that light, M'saion Efrafil."

The troop began stomping the rhythm once again.

"On the Plains

of Edirne,

in the Spring

of the Red Bull"

"M'saion Efrafil."

Jacob was immediately caught up in the chant. The song kept on

"With their guns,

And their army,

The Bullgar

Sought our conquest"

"M'saion Efrafil."

Jacob felt tremors in the earth, as if a great host was on the move, but the song kept on

"But one son

of Efrafa

Constantin

Stood before them."

"M'saion Efrafil."

Above the chant, and the rhythm, Jacob thought he could hear shouting and explosions, but the song kept on.

"With a host

of Hrare-lion

he gave them

such a battle!"

"M'saion Efrafil."

For Jacob, the song fell away.

Lt. Constantin Abelard Uzun poured over maps and intelligence reports in the cellar of the Koc family farm, which sat midway between the city of Edirne and the Bullgarian border. It was, perhaps, not the most strategically ideal place for his makeshift headquarters, but the old chamois farmstead with its hewn stone foundation was as defensible a locale as he was going to find in this area. He was going to need that; if intel was right, the Bullgar Premier intended to use the chaos the Prague Spring reforms were causing regionally to advance across the Krali-Marco Defensive Line (KMDL) and seize the Bosporus. To do that, they would first need to take Edirne. This was why the SWD had sent his company to scout this area, while the army mobilized the Third Corps in Constantinople.

The cellar doors swung open, letting in a cold damp blast of air. This was the last remnant of the Mediterranean storm that had turned the surrounding fields into a quagmire, as well as grounding the air-fleet that would normally have spotted any troop movements on the border. The disturbance admitted one of his Hayessil, Cpl. Teke.

"What do you have, Cpl.?" Uzun asked after glancing up.

"Sir!" The young hare snapped off a salute. "They definitely crossed the KMDL; looks like the 12th Armored Regiment. I saw a line of about 16 vehicles; four BA-3 armored cars, six T-20 artillery tractors with light field guns or heavy mortars and crews, and six ZIS-42M's with infantry moving down the D-100/E-80 highway, but no real armor yet."

Constantin leaned thoughtfully. "The 12th Regiments' 3rd Battalion (12/3rd) is a reconnaissance battalion; the 12/1st and the 12/4th have both been confirmed on the Czech border, so that leaves the 12/2nd mechanized infantry and 12/3rd reconnaissance and no organic artillery. Were you spotted?"

Teke gave a derisive snort in response.

Constantin grinned humorlessly. "Huh, good to know. I'll radio in your findings; get some rest. Sgt. Burukgazi tell Lt. Makar to prep the demolition packages on the D-100/E-80 overpasses, then pull back to the farm. When the Bull's are between the two bridges, blow them both. I want Lt. Arap's platoon southeast of the highway split to pin them in the killbox so Lt. Solak's weapons platoon mortarmams can rain hell on whoever doesn't drown in the flood waters. Tell Yilmez to move the Marksmammals to the tree-line west of the D-100 to snipe any officers who peek out of their trucks. M'saion Efrafil."

"M'saion Efrafil, Lt." With a stomp of his foot, Ata moved off to convey the Lt.'s orders to the unit; it would not be a glorious battle, but it would be efficient.

The battle was not glorious, but it was quite efficient. The mechanized Company commander had not stopped his convoy to ensure the bridges were safe. He had also not spaced his vehicles, opting for speed over defense, and so the bulk of the force was trapped between the two bridges when they blew. Carl Gustaf Rifles brought down the two BA-3 vehicles which had not been caught in the blast, while sustained Browning Automatic Rifle (BAR) fire and 60mm mortar bombardment swiftly dispatched all forces between the bridges; the engagement lasted less than three minutes. Of the forces deployed under Lt. Uzun, only Cpl. Yilmez was unsatisfied with the outcome, grumbling about being the only weapons specialist without a kill that day.

"Relax, Cpl." Constantin said. "There's plenty yet to do. The 12/3rd still has three companies yet to deploy, and the 12/2nd still behind that."

"When can we expect re-enforcement, Lt.?" asked Sgt. Telki, the companies only fox.

"Not until tomorrow and the day after."

"Tomorrow AND the day after?" inquired Lt. Solak.

"We will get a naval fire direction team sometime tomorrow afternoon; the Cruiser Yavuz will be steaming out of Constantinople tomorrow evening and be in position for shore bombardment by the next morning, around the same time that the bulk of 3rd Corps gets to Edirne. So, brothers; do you think we can show our erstwhile guests a taste of proper Efrafan hospitality for the next two days?"

"M'saion Inle-rah!"

The only events over the evening were a supply run to Edirne, and a second probe by the 12/3rd, this time only involving four BA-3 trucks; this time, Cpl. Yilmez did make a kill when the vehicle platoon leader, a Red Deer Lt. with an absurd number of decorations for a reserve officer in a unit that had never seen combat, came out of the truck's turret hatch to get a better look at the after effect of that day's earlier battle. After that, Lt. Solak's Anti-Tank specialists dispatched the four vehicles and their crews. Meanwhile, Lt. Makar's platoon used the bridge rubble and vehicle wreckage to set up impromptu redoubts, and improvised roadside bombs using unexploded ordnance. All that was left to do was rest up for the coming fight.

That fight would not come until almost noon the next day, when Cpl. Teke once again burst into the command basement.

"Sir, they're making a push. I saw three companies of armored cavalry; even mix of BT-5's and 7's, and twice that many BTR-152's following what I guess is the rest of the Recon battalion. They're better spaced this time. They're also yelling a lot."

"So, 400 infantry and light vehicles and 16 light tanks; that only leaves them 16 tanks as a reserve force. Rusatil (Brothers) let's move." The assembled command staff headed to the nearby barn roof; the highest point in 10 kilometers. "You said they were yelling?" Constantin asked incredulously.

"Yeah, 'Cast off your predator overlords, the will of the majority is the will of nature, prey of the world, unite!', standard Bullshevik rhetoric." The dirt covered hare spat at the thought. "We're Efrafil! U Hrare-lion, 'The Thousand Lions'! We are the hunters here!"

The Lt. grasped his subordinate by the shoulder. "It's time to remind them of that fact; head out and tell Lt. Arap to pull back into reserve. Makar is to blow the road to eliminate the 12/3rd; don't waste ammunition on survivors, or bombs on the 12/2nd."

"Narn-ni, Lt.!" With that, Teke ran off to relay the orders.

"Solak, deploy north of the highway along the creek; once they're within range of your mortars, you and Makar will focus AT fire on their north and south flanks and walk mortar fire up the middle of their formation."

The ragged eared Lt. grinned and saluted.

"Narn!" He paused as he was turning to leave. "Why do you think it took them so long to act?"

"I don't think they've actually seen who has been stopping them yet, and I want to keep it that way; ignorance in warfare is lethal; also, you know these Reds can't wipe their backsides without approval from higher headquarters, much less change their battle plans on the fly. Use that against them. M'saion Efrafil!"

"M'saion Efrafil!"

The afternoon's battle was no less brutal, and no less efficient. When the remainder of the 12/3rd was entirely within they array of improvised explosives, including several salvaged 120mm mortar bombs, the Efrafans sprang the trap; a quarter of the Bullgarian vehicles and their unfortunate crews were instantly killed by the blast effect of the mortar bombs. Another 14 caught ablaze as 45mm incendiary rounds detonated under their chassis, cooking their occupants alive. Of the remaining six, two attempted to flee to the south, only for the storm-softened earth to cause them to roll over, either trapping their crews in the flood waters or crushing them. Two vehicles ended up crashing into each other and were eventually caught in the growing bonfire. The last two vehicles managed to safely turn around, only to be fired upon by the advancing armor elements. Less than one day had seen the end of the 12/3rd.

With the road forward blocked, the 12/2nd turned north as a unit and drove into the muddy farmlands; their 35 kph advance had become a nine kph slog. As the battalion re-oriented itself to continue its eastward push, the hare commandos quietly repositioned themselves to strike at the column's flanks. After a kilometer of advance, the BTR's became too bogged down, forcing their passengers to disembark; the tanks did not stop while this was going on, and so the infantry was out of position to support when Solak and Makan's troops opened fire on the flanks of the tank sections; within five seconds, five of the armored vehicles were burning wreckage. As the infantry deer tried to get their medium machine guns in place to support the tanks, they came under sustained BAR fire, forcing the survivors to take cover behind their vehicles. The tanks began wheeling about to face the two attacks and fired their 45mm and 76mm cannons, as well as their heavy machine guns, but by then the hares had moved. That was when the mortars began firing; the 60mm blast fragmentation warheads, normally not a threat to the frontal armor of either the BT-5 or 7, instead began raining down on the exposed side and engine armor, immobilizing or destroying another four tanks. Two more vehicles were struck by AT fire before the remaining five tanks withdrew to the infantry line. By now, the armored reserve had come up to reinforce the advance, but the momentum was lost, and the remains of the 12/2nd opted instead to bunker down.

The Efrafans did not come away completely unscathed, with two commandos struck by blind 12.7mm assault rifle fire, and one crushed under a tree struck by a lucky tank shot. The only other injury was when Cpl. Yilmez sprained his ankle jumping from his tree when tracer rounds caused it to catch fire. Lt. Uzun was satisfied with the results of the battle and pulled most of his troops back.

"Rusatil, M'saion U Hrair éveer!" (My brothers, hail the victorious dead!) He called to the assembled company that night. He stood beside the unit's Lieutenants and Sergeants; they had divested themselves of all but their breechcloths and Yataghan and had covered themselves in dark mud and soot so that they were nearly black as night.

"M'saion Efrafil!"

"Our enemies have thought themselves safe behind their walls, their armor and their rhetoric. Now, they huddle in their encampment in OUR homeland, and think themselves safe in Morpheus' embrace; we will show them how vulnerable they truly are." He turned to his cadre, "Squad leaders, you have your quadrants; move in straight lines, and kill everyone you encounter from one end of the camp to the other. Leave the sentries, wounded and medical personnel; for everyone else, zhylai hraray!"

"M'saion Inle-rah!"

At this, Constantin turned, gripped his Yataghan in his teeth, dropped to all fours and ran towards the Bullgari camp. By pairs, the cadre of 19 hares and one fox followed suit.

It was nearly midnight when the Naval forward observers arrived from Constantinople, a mixture of otters and roe deer; their squad leader, a buck Midshipman Tiryaki who was barely into his second points, was impatiently demanding to see Constantin.

"I don't care about excuses, Corporal I'm here on the Admirals direct orders! Now where is your C.O.!"

Cpl. Teke was about to tell Tiryaki what he could do with his Admiral's demands, when the cellar doors swept open admitting a blast of cold night air, and the scent of smoke and blood. The midnight black seemed to disgorge blood soaked, blade wielding shadows as Uzun and the command cadre descended into the basement.

"Ah, Lieutenant! this fine…mammal was just inquiring after your whereabouts."

"Inle-hlao. You were supposed to be here before nightfall." The filth encrusted hare left the question implied, while gesturing for his soldiers to get cleaned up.

"The…uh…Yav…(cough)…the Yavuz took longer to come up to steam than normal, but she's…(cough)…she's on her way and should be in position by dawn!" It was clear the sailors were trying to avoid retching.

"Huh, good to know. If the Bullgari are still here in the morning, you are welcome to them. If not, you will likely still be needed to deter any adventurism on their part."

"If…(cough)… they are still there? What's been going on here?"

"Inle-rah flaye." Sgt. Telki said as he passed the Midshipman. At the deer's confused look he clarified,"The Devil's Feast." Though still confused, the sailors were reluctant to interrogate the SWD soldiers any further; with dawn would come the answers.

The dawn broke bright and clear for the first time in more than a week. There was a strange contrast to the carnage left in the wake of the last two days, and the serenity of the surrounding countryside. Cpl. Teke came into the command center and reported that the Bullgar camp and vehicles were empty of everyone, save those who could not move on their own, whether it be from combat injuries or the previous night's bloody work. The naval forward observers moved with the SWD Co. to survey the sight, taking pictures the entire way. When they reached the line of destroyed BT's, Constantin climbed onto one for a better vantage. The wind and the clicking of the camera shutter were the only interruptions to the scene. Sgt. Burukgazi looked up at his commander.

"What's troubling you, sir?"

Constantin sighed heavily, "Just wondering if I am worthy of her, now that my paws are stained with blood."

"To shed blood so that others need not live in fear is a soldier's lot, pup. You know that, so does Marli Banu Rautha and everyone in Edirne."

The Lt. scoffed, "This was a soldier's lot," he said gesturing to the line of broken vehicles. "That was not; Telki had the right of it, that was the work of Malak-al-Maut, a feast for Inle-rah. I only hope my own children never live to see the like." He hopped down from the tank and began walking towards the camp again.

The Bullgar had indeed left everything behind; the dead were left where they lay, while provisions, equipment, and even official documents lay forgotten. The naval observers ecstatically poured over the intel treasure trove, even if only to block out the carnage which surrounded them. All attention was soon drawn to the jarring sound of laughter, coming from the medical tent.

"HAHAHAHAHA! Zaĭcheta, zagubikhme zaĭcheta!" (Bunnies, we lost to bunnies!) The broken soldier began weeping. This was drowned out by the sound of armor advancing from Edirne; 3rd Corps had arrived.

"We've done it!" Lt. Arap suddenly whooped. "Constantin, we've won! M'saion Constantin!" Saying this, he slammed his pedal paw on the ground. The whole company soon took up the chant, stomping in time. "M'saion Constantin!" -STOMP-

"M'saion Constantin!" -STOMP-

"M'saion Constantin!" -STOMP-

"M'saion Constantin!" -STOMP-

"On the Plains

Of Edirne,

In the Spring

Of the Red Bull,"

"M'saion Efrafil"

The scent of death and burning vehicles slowly faded from Jacob's nostrils, as the song returned, and he saw that he was by the fire, almost exactly where his grandfather stood all those decades ago.

"Where once stood

the Bullgari,

was left naught

but the fallen."

"M'saion Owsla-fa."

The old hares finally fell still and silent, as Burukgazi approached Jacob. Ata paused when Jacob looked at him in puzzlement, "But there was one left; his leg was broken, and they left him behind."

The assembly started at that. The old Sgt. peered closely at Jacob, "Then tell me truly, boy; what did this survivor say?"

"He said, 'Zaĭcheta, zagubikhme zaĭcheta!' What does it mean?"

Burukgazi chuckled, "It means, Owsla Raibert, that you are indeed Owsla-fa Rautha's grandchild." he said while cradling his Yataghan in his arms. "It also means that this," holding the sword out to Jacob, "is yours."

"Mine?!" Jacob stared in shock at the alarmingly familiar blade now in his hands.

"Yes; when Constantin finally married Marli-fa Banu Rautha and took her name, he left the Uzun family sword, this sword, in my care. Long has it waited, but now is the time. Yours is a deep and storied lineage, and I have no doubts now that you will yet add to the song of your ancestors."