So people it's been a month since I last updated. Me and my co-writer was just taking our time in reevaluating this story since we managed to reach halfway through the story now. Thanks to helpful advice from some reviewers, namely RiptideZ, I realized that there're some stuff that I need to fix in the earlier chapters, which I will do soon. Anyway the second arc has been going very good so far in my opinion and I hope to keep this up. Once we get to the third arc, I'll be working on drawing this story to a close. Got what I want for an epilogue in mind already. Anyway, I won't keep you any longer. Here's chapter 7.


Escalation: Besieged

Itami stood to attention in front of Captain Saza's desk. The small interior of the captain's office meant that he could only stand with his back touching the door to maintain that respectful distance between superior and subordinate as he waited for the captain to acknowledged him. The short captain gave a small nod to the second lieutenant to be at ease before speaking.

"New orders for you, Yoji. You and your team are to survey the city of Italica." The captain gestured for Itami to take a closer look at the map of the Special Region laid out across his desk. A red pin marked a location, which Itami assumed was Italica. "It's the largest city we've encounter so far and our information currently gathered states that it is one of the Empire's most crucial agricultural centers. But more importantly, the city lies on two major highways; one of them is the Via Appia, which the locals have told us leads straight to Sadera, the Empire's capital.

"Your team will be keeping watch of the city for three days. Find out what you can. Garrison size, defenses, etc. And it goes without saying that you're to immediately inform me if there's any unusual development."

"I understand, sir. We'll find out everything we can."

Captain Saza nodded. "Also, 3rd Platoon of Deep Reconnaissance is going with you. I believe you're already familiar with their commanding officer?"

"Do you mean Lieutenant Bowman, sir?"

"Yes, exactly him."

Itami smiled. Him and the marine occasionally saw each other in the base and they would share a drink or two during recreational hours, but this would be the first time the two of them would embark on a mission together. "It'll be an honour to work with him, sir."

"I'm sure it will." Captain Saza picked up a folder of documents which was lying on top of a filing cabinet and held it out to Itami. "Here, these are what air reconnaissance have picked up so far about the city. When you return, I want to see your own detailed report added to the file. Spare no details."

Itami took the folder. "Understood, sir."

"And I do mean spare no details. I don't want to receive another vague report like that Fire Dragon attack. Stop trying to cut corners, Yoji. You are recon, the eyes and ears of the Task Force's operations. Remember that."

"Yes, sir. I understand." Itami sighed inwardly, already thinking about the number of paperwork he would have to compile. He thought about the attack on Coda again. The Fire Dragon was still on the loose, but the effort to locate it was unsuccessful thus far; the land was too widespread and it was inefficient to devote too much resources to locate the rogue creature.

"Italica is where we will make our next major move," Captain Saza said. "The Empire has been quiet ever since attacking Alnus. We have them where we want. Beyond Italica is an open road the Empire's heartland. By taking it, we'll force the Imperials to the negotiating tables."

"Do you think the Imperials will actually surrender, sir?"

"They'll have to. We hold all the initiatives and advantage. But don't worry too much about that, Yoji. What matters now is that we do our jobs, let the higher ups deal with diplomacy while we back them with our guns."

"I see, sir."

Saza nodded. "You are dismissed."

As Itami left the office, he found a familiar face sitting in the waiting room outside. He smiled. "Sir!" he saluted.

Lieutenant Bowman of Force Recon stood, returning the smile and salute. "Ah Itami, I was waiting for you to come out. I guess you've just been briefed?" The second lieutenant nodded. "Good, good. Have you ever been deep behind enemy lines before?"

"No, sir. This will be the first."

The first lieutenant clapped a thick hand onto Itami's shoulder. "It's a whole new ball game altogether. But listen here, don't let your guard for a second. Complacency kills. Treat everything with caution. Proceed with every caution. Do that and you'll be fine."

"I'll have your lead to follow, sir."

Bowman chuckled. "That you have. But I'm not here to fucking hold your hands. You've got to lead yourself."

Itami nodded, understanding. "I think I'll be fine, sir."

"That's what I want to hear. Good." The first lieutenant let go his hand off Itami's shoulder. "Anyway, I'm told that you have the dossier on Italica?"

"It's all here, sir." Itami indicated at the folder Captain Saza gave him.

"Come then, we got lots to do."

§§§§§§§§

The blacksmith felt the heat of forge as it sent sparks flying at his cheeks. With an experienced hand, he pulled the bar of metal out of the furnace and laid it on top of a worn anvil, where using a hammer he began to shape the bar into an axe-head. From time to time, he would reheat the piece of metal, striking only when it glowed a bright yellow. The blade of the axe-head was crusted with impurities and they would be later removed in a different stage of the forging process.

Drops of sweat fell from his clammy forehead, sizzling and evaporating immediately as it hit the iron. His hair was full of smoke, now looking almost an old grey from all the soot. The exhaust stung his eyes as well, having turning it bloodshot red after several hours of work, but he had grown numb to the irritation. Fumes filled his nose, and he tried his best not to inhale, though it was impossible task. A fiery chip of ember flew out and landed on his arm, and he patted it away automatically, barely wincing at the pain.

He turned the axe-head over and over, hammering with consistent force. The dull ringing sound filled his open-aired workshop and he was only slightly aware of the glances he received from people walking past.

When the axe-head had finally been shaped to the quality he thought appropriate, he quenched the blade into a bucket of water, a sharp hiss sounding. Then he added the piece to the eleven others he had made earlier, and began to grind each of them to bring out the deadly edge which would allow them to cut through flesh in battle.

Once he was finished, he took off his leather apron, which had protected him well from sparks of the forge, and sat on a stool with a cup of water in hand. He was extremely parched and breathing felt like rubbing sandpaper against the linings of his throat.

As he rested, he watched the street. Three homeless men were camped outside his workshop, finding the heat of the furnace a comfort to the harsh winter air. He could not find the will to chase them away, not during tough times such as these. Times when people had to walk through the streets always armed; no one lingered or talk on street corners. Nobody met each other's eyes. Even the beggars kept out of people's ways, staying huddled to themselves, their eyes shifting with nervousness.

The blacksmith remembered just earlier this day one skinny man was stopped by a group of tattoed-grunts down the street. Before the man could say anything, he was knocked to the ground, kicked and stomped. His cries of pain and yelps for help went entirely ignored by other bystanders who hurried by, eager to be far away from the conflict as possible. The blacksmith had picked up his hammer when he saw this, but then slowly put it back down after a moment of consideration and looked away. The man was stripped of his belongings, his clothes and purse, and then left naked on the street, bleeding heavily from his head.

All along the street, folks had avoided the man with fear and trepidation as if he was inflicted with the plague even as he whimpered and cried. They were all fearful of the raptores—one of the many gangs which had rose to dominate the slums of Italica and whose members were responsible of the beating of this thin man.

With the city under siege and the absence of law and order, thugs, criminals, and killers now ruled the streets of Italica. In times of peace, Italica had been one of the Empire's greatest cities; its inhabitant spoke with pride of their heritage and of their governor as they conducted themselves in trade and business. But now, surrounded with enemies on the outside, everyone was at each other's throats.

Terrible fires burning down houses during the night were not uncommon, sometimes killing entire families. The survivors were forced to take to the streets, where they starved and were beaten. Most of those who resorted to thieving for food had ended in their deaths.

How did all these happened? It started when Count Formal was summoned to take part in an expedition abroad. He had taken the city's best men. It was months later when the news came that the count had died in battle. Several months later, more men were sent to join the army advancing on Alnus. Then word came of the defeat at Alnus, followed by trade caravans being attacked on the road, then now an entire army of bandits appearing out of nowhere and laying siege to the city with barely enough men to defend it.

A teenage boy came running towards the blacksmith' workshop, and the blacksmith waved at him as he neared.

"You're here for the axe-heads?" he asked.

The boy nodded and held out a pouch jingling with coins.

The blacksmith took the payment and handed over a large bag with all dozen pieces inside. The boy would be taking the heads to a craftsman, who would be the one making and fitting the wooden poles to the axe-heads to complete the weapons, which would then be delivered to the city garrison.

"Lad, wait," the blacksmith stopped the boy as he turned to leave. The blacksmith walked up close to him and, when he was certain no one was looking, held out a small apple in his hand. "This is for you, lad. Keep it out of sight. People get mugged for less these days."

The boy nodded, hid the apple inside his shirt, and then ran along. The blacksmith watched as he disappeared down a corner of the street before sitting back down.

In the distance the watch tower's bell began to ring again, warning of another attack on the city.

§§§§§§§§

Kuwahara looked down at the checklist in his hands again, ticking off several items. He flipped a page and frowned.

"Kurata, where are those fuel containers? I asked for them fifteen minutes ago!"

"Was just on my way to get them, sarge," the driver called out before not-so-conspicuously running towards the motor pool's storage.

"Come on, stop slacking! We should be ready to go on a moment's notice."

He sighed, then ticked another item off the list as he saw Tomita bringing in the ammo boxes of 50 Cals needed for the M2 Browning. Setting aside his clipboard for a second, he helped the tall sergeant first class load the boxes onto the vehicles before returning to his supervising duties. Since the Third Recon would be behind enemy lines for several days, it was Kuwahara's job to ensure that the team was well-stocked in supplies.

"What else do we need, sarge?" Tomita asked.

"Go help Kurata with the fuel, will you? It'll probably take an hour longer if he's by himself."

"Very true, sir." The sergeant first class grinned and Kuwahara watched as he jogged his way to the storage. It was good to have a reliable man in the team, Kuwahara thought before returning attention to his clipboard.

For the next few minutes, he called off items on the list and listened as members of the team responded, either confirming that they have it or were going to get it. He double-checked what was inventoried, making sure that he had not ticked off something by mistake. The watch on his wrist told him the time was near noon, and it was only a few hours before they would set off from the base. He wondered when Itami was going to come back from his meeting with Force Recon; the second lieutenant was discussing with Lieutenant Bowman about their approach to Italica.

"…excuse me?" a voice came from behind him and he turned.

Lelei stood there, carrying a small satchel. She was not dressed in those blue robes she had when the Third Recon first met her, but in a simple green t-shirt, and brown trousers that were given to her.

Kuwahara smiled at her. "You shouldn't be here, Lelei," he said disapprovingly.

"I'm looking for…Mari." The girl's command of the Japanese language was far from fluent, but the rate of her learning was still nothing short of amazing. Mari had never failed to comment on that fact whenever she returned from her daily lesson with the girl.

"Sorry, Mari's not here. She went to get some medical supplies in the infirmary. She should be back soon though."

Lelei nodded slowly as she comprehended the sergeant major's reply. "Oh."

"Why do you want to see her anyway?"

"I want to give her these." She opened the satchel she had been carrying, showing that inside was a number of scrolls.

"What are they?"

"They're…my late master's maps. I recreated them from memory."

Kuwahara's eyes widened. "From memory?" Had he heard wrong?

"Yes…from memory. My master…he told me to copy a few maps for your leader," she said haltingly. "But…but those were…destroyed in the fire as well. These are new."

"Can I have a look?"

Lelei nodded and passed the satchel to him. There was no hiding the look of astonishment on Kuwahara's face as he took one scroll out and examined its contents. The details were extraordinary well-drawn, and one glance at it would begged the reason that this could not have been done by a child's hands. But if Lelei had not drew this, there was no other explanation. All of Cato's works had been destroyed along with the rest of Coda Village and the girl hardly seemed like the type to lie—or rather she had absolutely no reason to lie.

"You did all this from memory?" he said, unbelieving.

"My master used to say I have a very good memory," she said as if it was the most natural explanation ever.

"This isn't just a good memory. This is photographic."

"Photographic?" The girl's head tilted slightly at the new word.

"It means that you can remember something just like looking into a photo." He stared in wonder at the girl. Back on Earth, he had heard of only a few rare people whose memory were near perfect, such as one who was able to draw an entire city's skyline after a short helicopter ride. He wondered whether Mari knew about the girl's memory capabilities after spending so much time with her.

"You're a prodigy, Lelei, do you know that?"

"My master used to say that too. I…don't know though." The uncertainty on her face reminded Kuwahara that she was only merely still a teen, one who had perhaps spent most of her life with her master than with other girls her age.

He smiled and put the scroll back into the satchel. "You're also a good girl, Lelei. You miss him a lot, don't you?"

She nodded.

He leaned forward and place a hand on her shoulder, the gentle smile still on his face. "You know, my daughter was around your age, maybe slightly older, when she lost her mother. It's hard losing someone you love, especially when it's still far from their time. We feel like we could have done something to save them, when in reality we can't because that's what reality is; harsh. But you know what we can do? We can try to stay strong.

"After my wife's funeral, my daughter spent days crying herself to sleep, but after that? She realized that with me working in the base most of the time she had the responsibility to take care of herself and her brother. I can't say how long it actually took for the pain of losing her mother to dull completely, but what I can tell you is that she stopped crying after that. You see, Lelei, we can let out all our tears now but there comes a point where we have to do our best to move on, for our own sakes."

Lelei nodded as she listened. "Your daughter sounds like an amazing woman.'

It was Kuwahara's turn to nod. "Her mother would've definitely been proud of the woman she has become. Today, she's engaged to a nearly amazing man. I hope they're well."

"You also must be proud of her."

"I am. Always. And I'm sure your master was proud of you as well, Lelei."

At that, a bundle of emotions appeared on those clear blue eyes of hers, but she held them from spilling out. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now go along. I'll tell Mari you stopped by."

The girl gave a nod, then made her way out of the motor pool, her sandals making sharp noises against the asphalt ground. Kuwahara took another look at the satchel of maps which she had left behind with him, and once again marveled at the prodigious ability of one so young. He glanced over to his side, and caught one female sergeant first class looking at him.

"Were you listening to us the whole time, Kuribayashi?" he asked.

"Sorry. I was just wondering what Lelei was doing here." Shino paused. "That was a good story you told about your daughter."

Kuwahara let out a sigh. "It was good that you heard that actually. Because I've been meaning to say something similar to you, Kuribayashi." He stared straight into her eyes. "It's been long enough since your brother's death, when are you going to start to move on?"

The female sergeant first class averted his gaze. She shrugged.

§§§§§§§§

Evening was approaching, the sun an orange haze on the horizon. The blacksmith had been packing his tools into the equipment cabinet when a young man called out to him. The man wore a bloodied chainmail, which had links missing, and he limped towards the workshop.

"My good smith, could you repair my sword?" he asked.

The blacksmith reckoned that he was a part of the garrison. "Sorry, I'm just about to put out the forge. Come back tomorrow."

"Please, I really need this repaired." He held out a blade battered and chipped beyond any practical use.

The blacksmith pursed his lips, then nodded. "I guess I can at least hammer it till it's straight again."

"Thank you very much."

The blacksmith took the sword and laid it on the anvil, hitting it a couple of times to correct the bent metal. Meanwhile, the garrison guard found himself a stool and sat himself down, wincing in pain. He checked the bandages on his left thigh and found them covered in blood. The blacksmith noticed this and he tossed the man a fresh roll of bandage which he kept stored in the workshop.

"Thanks. A right bloody bastard nicked me in the leg with a lucky blow in the last assault."

"Thank the gods that it wasn't any more than that."

"Yeah, but damn these bandits are not giving us a break. They're a fucking persistent lot."

"When the relief force arrives, we'll make them pay."

"If there's one coming."

The garrison guard's statement made the blacksmith paused. He shrugged. "There must be one. The Emperor won't let one of the Empire's greatest city fall."

"Well the Emperor can go fuck himself. He's the one who got us in this bloody war in the first place." The guard spat as he redressed his wound. "My good smith, you haven't stood on the walls like I do every day. Every time I look at the horizon I hope that I'll see help coming, but now I'm pretty much convinced that no one is coming."

"That…can't be true."

"Think about it. We've been hole up here for almost a month now. If someone was coming they would have been here already."

The blacksmith shook his head, but deep down he knew the guard's reasoning was not incorrect. Messengers had been sent to nearby settlements for aid, but so far none had heed the call. Even close friends to the Formal family, the ruling dynasty of Italica, had yet to lift a finger to help the besieged city. Trying not to give a response, the blacksmith took the sword to the grindstone and began to sharpen its edge.

"Our only hope is that we can hold out long enough till the bandits realize that there're easier targets to pick on and leave," the guard said.

"How long will that be though?"

"I don't know. Months?"

The blacksmith winced at the news. It had hardly been a month and the city had already fallen into such chaos. The city hadn't even seen its leader, the Countess Myui, at all in that time as she hid herself in her manor with dozens of servants attending to her while her people suffered. Who could imagine the situation in a few months. Moreover, the garrison were already starting to resort to conscription, since their members were dropping faster than volunteers could be found.

He finished fixing the guard's sword, oiling it before handing it back to the man.

"Thanks again. How much do I owe you?" The man pushed himself up to stand, reaching for his purse.

The blacksmith shook his head. "It's fine, no need to pay. It was nothing."

He turned to look out on the street as a commotion was suddenly stirring. Men and women were running down the road. Excited voices were raised, and people pushed on each other as they hurried forward for some reason.

"What's going on?" the blacksmith said.

The guard was equally confused. "No bloody idea. They're heading for the western gate it seems. Hey you there! What the hell is happening?" he shouted at one teen on the street.

"Help's here! They broke the encirclement!" the kid shouted back.

"Who?"

The teen was gone before he even heard the question. The blacksmith shrugged at the guard. "Guess we'll have to find out ourselves."

The two of them joined the crowd, which grew and grew as they passed more streets. The young, the old, the sick, the weak, all of them hobbled along. The area stink as many had not even seen clean water for the better part of several weeks. The blacksmith wondered who it was that had come to Italica's aid, and he sent up a prayer to the gods for them to bless this man. As he approached the gate, he saw other garrison guards hurrying to open the two large steel doors, lifting the heavy wooden bar which barred the gate. Other guards were holding back the masses of people who have gathered.

There was a murmur in the crowd as the doors were slowly pulled open. The clatter of iron-studded hooves sounded and many people pressed against each other as they strained to gain a better glimpse at the arrivals. A score of riders came into view, their silver helmets and breastplates glinting a brilliant brightness against the dying sun at their backs as they passed under the arc of the gate.

"Hats off!" the guards started shouting. "Hats off, you bloody fools! Hats off and kneel!"

All around the blacksmith, men and women clawed off their bonnets and hoods, and got down on their knees in the muddy ground. The blacksmith and the young guard next to him did the same.

The leading rider was a young, beautiful woman, with a narrow face and sharp, stern eyes. She rode a black horse gilded with polished leather and glittering gold. A red cape draped from her shoulders and she had a golden band donned on her forehead. A jeweled hilted sword hung by her waist, and her hand was held not far from it. The sight of her reminded the blacksmith of the stories of elven beauty, who had perfectly symmetrical faces and could make a man's heart shudder.

Beside her was another female rider, though considerably younger than the first rider. She carried a tall velvet banner, which displayed the emblem of a blossoming rose. In another hand, she held a small trumpet horn, which she blew several long notes into.

"Her Royal Highness: Princess Pina Co Lada, fifth child of His Majesty, Emperor Molt Sol Augustus," the bannerwoman's voice rang out.

Murmurs broke out again amongst the crowd again, the large majority of them having never seen a member of royalty before. The excitement was almost palpable in the air as they all realized that the Emperor had not forgotten them and had sent one of his own to save the city.

"See, there was a relief force coming after all," the blacksmith said to the wounded guard next to him. He was happy that the man was proven wrong in the end. Italica was saved.

"Not so fast, my good smith. Two dozen knights don't make an army."

Before the blacksmith could respond, the Princess Pina urged her horse forward, towards the people. Her impossibly red hair pranced as she swept her gaze across the street, and men and women bowed their heads under her scrutiny.

"You have suffered, Italica," she spoke, her voice hard and noble. "I swear to you, the bandits outside these walls will pay for what they have done. Each and every one of them will be executed and their bodies nailed to a plank every mile from here to Sadera as a demonstration to criminals everywhere."

The people cheered, yelling their approvals, calling for the deaths of the vagrants.

"They are the scums of this world," Pina continued, "they have forfeited their lives when they forfeited their loyalty to the Empire. Emroy watches all of us from his dark throne, and we will send him the souls of these traitors to accompany him. Rest assured, Italica, I will personally get my hands on the leaders of this tirade and wrung their necks up the gallows myself. When they cry for pity, I will give none. When they cry for forgiveness, I will give none. When they cry for mercy, I will cut their tongues out!"

The blacksmith roared with the others. After weeks of entrapped within the city, with no escapes, the princess's speech had riled up the anger in their blood and they were hungry to wreck their revenge on those bandits who were so impudent to even attack this great city.

As she basked in the approval of the people, Pina did not smile however. She sat on her horse, waiting patiently for the noise to die down. When it finally did, she spoke again.

"My knights of the Rose Order and I have currently broken through the bandit encirclement of the city. But I do not doubt that they will return again with more numbers. My scouts have reported to me that an even larger bandit army is arriving soon. But we will definitely prevail. The forces I have with me now are not enough to launch an offensive, so we must hold out until more relief shows up." Confusion began to spread throughout the crowd. Wasn't the Princess supposed to be the relief force? "Take heart, brave men of Italica We will prevail!"

The people did not cheer this time, as they slowly realized that they would be besieged once again. Pina was looking more nervous, losing the air of confidence she had earlier when she made those grandiose promises to punish the bandits. The blacksmith looked at the young guard, who merely shook his head with an I-told-you-so expression. He felt his anger boiled, and he silently cursed the Princess. Why did she not bring enough men when Italica needed an army?

"I'll need a handful of volunteers," Pina spoke again.

"What for?" the young guard next to the blacksmith shouted.

A male knight next to the Princess bristled at the insolence and half-drew his sword before being stopped by the Princess.

"I need men who are willing to ride out of the city and deliver my requests to nearby lords for their aid."

Men and women looked around, trying to see if anyone would step forward. None did.

"We've been sending request for aid long before you came. Yet no one has come!" the guard shouted again.

"It'll be different this time." Pina stared in the blacksmith's direction. "With my seal, the royal seal, these lords will have no choice but to come."

Or they could just ignore it, the blacksmith thought, and hope that the bandits kill you; the Emperor would not be the wiser then. Nevertheless, he raised his voice.

"I'll do it."

The guard next to him stared. "What're you doing?"

"I won't let my city fall to bandits," he simply said.

He pushed his way through the crowd to stand before the princess. The knights beside her stared at him with serious expressions, their hands on the hilt of their weapons. The Princess herself nodded at him, then turned to rest of the people.

"Who else?"

At first no one else moved, but then the blacksmith saw the young guard limping forward as well. The Princess frowned at him. "You're injured."

"I can still ride." His omittance of the royal highness address was noted but not commented on. The guard grinned at the blacksmith. "Guess I'm coming with you, my good smith."

The blacksmith returned the grin.

§§§§§§§§

The drive to Italica was uneventful. The city was over two hundred miles north of Alnus and the journey was estimated to be at most five hours, given the fact that the recon teams' vehicles were heavily marred by uneven roads which were not designed to accommodate modern wheels. Itami watched the countryside roll by with disinterest. A range of mountains encroached to his right, their peaks covered by thick, foggy mist. At first when he had arrived in this world, he was amazed by the scenery, but by now he was used to it and did not think much of it any longer. There was only so much you can appreciate of natural beauty, he reckoned.

He longed to be back in a metropolitan city, where the streets were filled with pedestrians, and where each morning begot a hasty frenzy as people rushed to their day jobs and students to their institutions. It was strange how he didn't realize how much he would miss home until now.

Rain began to fall, pattering on the roof of the LAV, and Itami leaned back against his seat as he watched the droplets drizzle. The locals had a certain reverence for the rain; to them, the rain was a sign of prosperity, given by the gods to water their crops and quench their thirst. To Itami, rain was just water out of the sky, a natural cycle that sustained the world's ecosystem. But he found it interesting to indulge himself in hearing some of the local superstitions.

The comms started to buzz.

"Third Recon, this is Deep recon." The voice belonged to Lieutenant Bowman. His platoon was at the head of the small convoy.

Itami picked up the receiver.

"Deep Recon, we hear you."

"Be advised, we're within a hundred miles of the targeted destination, so we'll be pulling off the highway to avoid visibility for the last stretch."

"I see. Understood. Anything else?"

"No, nothing else. Will inform you when there's any more development. Deep Recon, out."

Itami placed the receiver back to its resting place and pulled out the map which Lelei had recreated, trying to judge where exactly they were along the track to Italica.

§§§§§§§§

Nightfall had come and the blacksmith was ready to ride out. It would not be easy, for the bandits presumably had men lingering everywhere to pounce on any escapees. But the blacksmith had lived in these lands for over three decades, he knew every trick of the landscape there was and he was confident that he could evade any man.

The city guards were working on opening the southern gate, attempting to be as silent as possible so as to not alarm any waiting bandits outside. The blacksmith reached inside his pouch, making sure the letter that was given to him was still there. It was sealed with the Princess's ring and thus bore the royal emblem; ignoring the request the letter carried would be tantamount to treason.

"Time to go, my good smith."

He nodded at the young guard to his right, the same guard who had come earlier to his workshop asking for his sword to be repaired. A fast and unlikely friendship had formed between them, and the blacksmith was glad that he would not be alone in this mission.

"How's your leg?" he asked.

"Bloody hurts, but I'm not the one going to do all the running. This little pony is." The guard patted the mane of the brown mare.

"Just follow my lead, aye? I know the quickest route." The guard nodded.

The two of them would be heading south to a remote castle, where they would be delivering the Princess's message and hope that the demesne lord had enough men to send to Italica. There were other messengers as well, but they were to go to other lords. One messenger was to find the lady Bozes Co Palesti, who was leading a second contingent of knights in the Rose Order, and inform her to ride to Italica's aid as soon as possible.

"Once all this is over, I reckoned I'm due for a promotion in the garrison."

The blacksmith did not say anything in response, for the double steel doors of the gate were slowly creaking open. He edged his horse forward, hearing whispers around him wishing the two of them luck. The stakes of failure were high, but he tried not to dwell too much on it, knowing that he could do well without the pressure.

As he rode under the gate's arc, he felt the moonlight falling across his face, and he counted his lucky stars for he knew that the light was all that he had to navigate through the darkness tonight. He kept his ears open for any signs that might betray hidden bandits, but the land was dead silent.

The gate closed behind them, and he heard the sound of the bar locking in place. There was no turning back now.

He kicked his horse into a fast pace, trusting the young guard to keep up with him. The wind blew against his face, chilling his cheeks. Around him, there was no other noise except for the hooves of their horses. In the distance, he picked out landmarks, such as wide ditches or low ridges, which told him that he was heading in the right direction.

For the next several minutes they rode without speaking. The journey to the castle would be a fairly long one, but if they did not stop for the night they could cover a good distance. They were likely to reach the more difficult trek of the route by tomorrow afternoon, where they would have to navigate through narrow mountain passes and risk the danger of wild animals which inhabited there.

The guard suddenly called out from behind, "Fuck! Look left!"

The blacksmith glanced sideways and saw fire. Campfires. There were hundreds of them, perhaps thousands. A realization dawned on him that these belonged to bandits. This must be the large bandit army the Princess was talking about. He must have wandered directly into their path by accident. Cursing his luck, he changed his direction.

He forced his horse to gallop faster, knowing that they must not be spotted now. His heart raced with anxiety. Their route was blocked by the army, and they would have to find another way.

Any idea of backtracking however was suddenly shattered as the blacksmith heard gruff shouts coming from behind them. He turned and saw a small party of horsemen, their persons visible because of the torches they carry. Thankfully, they were still a very far distance off, but the sight of them made the blacksmith' heart jump.

"Did they see us?"

The guard watched the group for a long moment before answering. "Probably not. Most likely they're scouts heading back to their camp. We're just unlucky we got caught in between them."

The blacksmith nodded, then changed his direction once more. "Come, I know a place where we can lay low. We can find our way out of here in the morning."

The place he was talking about was a cluster of trees grown in the nest of a shallow valley. It was an ideal place to hide, for it was a difficult location to access. The blacksmith just hoped that the cover of darkness was enough to keep the two of them out of sight until they reached there. Once within the trees, he knew he could shake off any pursuers with ease.

§§§§§§§§

"What do you think of this, Itami?" Lieutenant Bowman asked, taking his eyes off his night-vision optics.

They stood on top a low ridge where they had a clear view of the vast flat plains ahead. From one corner of Itami's vision to the other, he could only see the enormous encampment. Torches lit the area, showing thousands of tents arrayed. The shadows of men flickered as they sat, drink, and eat by campfires. Itami thought that he could even hear their laughters. In the distance, beyond the camp, was the faint outline of the city of Italica.

"Looks like the Imperials are mustering another army, sir."

The recon teams had not expected to find such a large number army when they had first arrived on the outskirts of Italica. Air reconnaissance had estimated that the city garrison could not have been more than a few thousand men, but the discovery of this army threw those estimates out of the window.

"Do you think they're going to attack Alnus again?" Itami asked.

Bowman nodded. "No doubt about it. They are probably camped here for the winter, and once spring comes, they will begin their campaign."

Itami could hardly believe the Empire would send another force after being so utterly smashed in the last engagement. Does the Emperor truly hold the value of his subjects' lives so lowly?

"What's your estimate on their number, Itami?"

Itami paused as he considered the question. "I don't know, sir. Around 50,000?"

"I reckon around the same. We won't get a clearer picture until the morning, but for now just look at the number of campfires. That's a good indicator of the size of this army. It looks far smaller than the one we chewed up on Alnus."

"I assume more men will join when the winter is over," the first lieutenant continued. "Tomorrow, we'll capture some stranglers and question them. Find out what we can. If there's anything up their sleeves, we'll see."

"I've already informed my captain of what we've gathered so far, sir. He's relaying the information to Hazama as we speak."

"Good. If your general Hazama knows what he's doing, he would order a pre-emptive strike and scatter this army before it gets any bigger."

Just then, Itami's radio began to buzz and Sasagawa's voice came through. "Sir, we've spotted two riders heading in our direction."

It took a moment for Itami to process the information. "Have we been spotted?" The Third Recon and Deep Recon had positioned themselves in a dense cover of trees to camp for the night and it seemed impossible for anyone to have seen them in the darkness.

"Negative. But they're approaching dangerously close to our location."

"Keep eyes on them, and update me if anything happens."

"Yes, sir. Out."

Itami looked into his binoculars down the slope of the hill he was on, where the two riders were discovered, and saw the thermal of two men galloping with haste. He could not think of what reason that those two could have for being out here in the wild in the night. Lieutenant Bowman, having heard the exchange, was also staring at the two horsemen.

"What do we do, sir?" Itami asked him.

"I say we capture them. Whoever they are, they must know something." The first lieutenant activated his microphone and spoke. "Sniper Elements, do you have eyes on the two tangos? Okay, drop their horses when they reach the woods."

Itami relayed the order to capture the two riders to his team, and then continued watching the two as they approached closer. As soon as the leading horseman was within arm length distance of the treeline, two muzzled sniper shots fired, and the two men came stumbling down off their now-dead horses. Without a moment wasted, members of the Deep Reconnaissance platoon darted forward, descending on the two helpless victims. The prisoners struggled, but it completely futile.

Lieutenant Bowman returned his optics to his pack and gave Itami a pat in the back before making his way down to the captured men.

"Let's go see what's all this is about."

§§§§§§§§

"The City of Italica.

Founded in -836 IC (roughly 490 AD), the city of Italica was recorded as one of the first human settlements in the continent of Falmart. Archaeological and written evidence has stated that the origins of the city began as a small farm, which grew as more humans migrated to the area after discovering the rich fertility of the soil. From there, the small community of farmers eventually integrated to form a town, and they built walls to stop wild animals from invading.

There is little evidence of what kind of government Italica had before the founding of the Empire, but it is believed that the city operated under an elective monarchy. Voting rights would have been only reserved for members of nobility.

It was around -55 IC (roughly 1271) when the current ruling dynasty, the Formal Clan, came into power. The previous king of Italica had squandered much of the city's resources in fruitless wars, and when the Formals came into control of the city, there was little left to salvage. Recognizing this, the then head of the Formal submitted to the authority of the Saderan King, a growing power in the center of the continent. Over time, and under the leadership of the Formals, Italica proved to be instrumental to the formation of the Empire. As such, the Duke of Italica was given a high-ranking post in the first Emperor's court.

It was during the mid-early days of the Empire, when works on infrastructure began throughout the Empire. Italica benefited greatly from this as it was positioned on the crossroad of two important highways, namely the Via Appia and Via Dessria. This brought much trade to the city, and the era was marked with many expansions as the population soon boomed to astronomical levels, as food production from its rich fertile land skyrocketed.

Consequently, the ruling head of Italica was often considered to be one of the richest man in the Empire, and there was a rumour which had spread that one of the Formal dukes owned an entire bath room paved entirely in gold. These allegations were proved to false however, as no evidence of such a bath room was ever found upon investigation of the Formal manor. Nevertheless, the story still indicates at the immense wealth the Formal family must have possessed at one point in time.

Throughout the centuries, Italica has stayed loyal to the Empire, always responding with its levies whenever the Emperor went to war. During the war between the coalition and the Empire, Italica once again raised men to join the expedition through the Gate. Duke Formal himself led the Italican forces, but in the Battle of Ginza, he was killed, leaving the city under the administration of his eleven-year-old daughter, Myui Formal.

This plunged Italica into a succession crisis as the sisters of Myui fought over regency, leaving the city without a clear ruler. And when the Special Region Task Force first arrived at the city, they found the situation to be dire and desperate.

Click here to read more…"

Excerpt from Special Region Knowledge Hub. com, 2018


Lots of things to talk about this chapter. First thing, it was actually going to be longer, but I decided to shift some scenes to the next chapter instead. I just thought that there was already too much going on in this chapter and didn't want to overwhelm any readers. Second thing, as this is a reimagining of the anime, I have combined the Fire Dragon arc and the Italica under siege arc together in order to just create a tighter storytelling rather it coming across as Itami and friends going on adventures. Third thing, you might have noticed that I made up some stuff about Italica's history in the short excerpt in the bottom. Since the wiki page on Italica was short and lack any real information, I decided I was better off coming up with my own history.

This chapter also reintroduces Lieutenant Bowman from chapter 2 again. I finally got an opportunity to insert him back into the story again. I also like how I got an opportunity to write a scene in Kuwahara's point of view this chapter (he's by far my favorite character to write, with Mari being a close second). Kuwahara's POV is something which I feel has been lacking in this second arc, so it's all good now. The lack of action is also something that is lacking, but in the next two chapters we'll get to see some fighting.

Not sure when I'll update the next chapter. Got some uni work to do, but I'll see.