Rusgren Pass - June 4 1836
First Sergeant Edel Wagner's head whipped up as the sharp crackle of gunfire echoed down the pass. "What the hell?" he muttered to himself.
Wolffe was looking just as puzzled. "Strange, huh Edel? It's supposed to be some odds and ends from the 57th and about a Battalion's worth of Imperials, but it sounds like there's a whole goddamn division on the line." He sniggered to himself. "Maybe the high command's got its thumb up its ass like it normally does and knocked a couple zeroes off the numbers here."
Wolffe's chuckle died abruptly as Edel sent a frigid glare his way. "Very funny sergeant," the senior underofficer said coldly. "Skirmishers forward! We don't know what's around that bend!" he shouted, jogging to the head of the column.
As the pair of sergeants edged forward into the first lines of tents with the skirmishers under their command, they were joined by the other noncommissioned officers from the regiment.
"Hm, this place isn't so cheery," Sergeant Ustinov remarked. "It needs a joke or two to liven it up!"
"The only joke 'round here is you, Theo," Cheslock chuckled, grenade launcher slung lazily across his shoulders.
"Hey, that's uncalled for!" the sergeant said in mock indignation.
"Will both you clowns shut up?" Edel hissed. "We could-" He trailed off abruptly as the firing ahead ceased. "Damn! Come on!" he called, starting to run through the depot. "Let's see what's going-" The sergeant stopped again as they emerged from the line of tents and spotted the earthworks and what lay beyond them.
Wolffe gulped, paling as he took in the full extent of the devastation. "Oh my god..."
Ustinov nodded in agreement. "Even I don't think that's funny," he said faintly.
The Darcsens behind the revetments whirled at the sound of the voices but relaxed on seeing the Gallian uniforms. "Mighty good to see you!" a blond-haired officer shouted, hauling himself bodily out of a trench. "Could have used you an hour earlier, but no matter. You're here, and that's what's important," he laughed jovially. "I'm Major Harold Weber, at your service."
"Lieutenant Colonel Giuseppe Landzaat," Edel's commander said, having ridden up to the front. "If you don't mind me asking Major, just what happened here?"
"Well, that's the thing sir. Corporal Gatz here, he came up with these here guns, and they licked the Imperials damn near by themselves," the Major said, gesturing at a nearby Darcsen corporal.
"Is that so? Well, I congratulate you sir," Landzaat said. Turning in his saddle, he addressed Edel. "Sergeant, take some men with you and collect all the wounded, and bring in any prisoners you might find too. These boys have done enough," he said, his wave encompassing the Darcsens emerging from their works.
"Sir." Edel tore off a salute and gathered up his men as the officer turned back to Weber.
"So tell me Harold..."
Gunther awoke to a world of pain, the ache behind his eyes almost drowning out the sharp burn on his thigh. He groaned, rolling over onto his back, listening to the other moans around him. Damn that Zeichmeister and his attack-happy ways. Damn those Darcsens and their guns. He was distracted by the sound of voices growing closer.
His eyes closed to mere slits, the Imperial officer watched the Gallian trio come closer, turning bodies over with their rifles and probing for survivors.
Well, they wouldn't have another captive to gloat over. Gunther's fist tightened on the hilt of his saber, anticipating his final rush. The senior sergeant in the middle would be his first target, if they didn't get him first.
As the three approached, he tried to scramble up, only to realize his legs didn't want to hold him. His world spun as the ache on the back of his head redoubled in intensity.
"Drop the sword!" the First Sergeant barked in good Imperial. "Surrender and you will not be harmed!"
"Never!" he shouted, bringing the sword back for a clumsy swing. The sergeant rushed him, holding his sword arm back as the other two attempted to pry the saber from his grip. He brought his off hand forward to shove the other man away, only to have his fingers encounter an oddly yielding surface.
"What?" he said in puzzlement as the woman viciously punched him between the eyes, toppling him back into darkness.
Adelle Wagner stared dangerously down at the Imperial officer stretched at her feet.
"Wow Edel," Wolffe laughed, idly twirling the man's saber. "Did you know him from before the war or something?"
Adelle looked up with a guilty start. "I'm sorry, what was that?"
Cheslock cocked a quizzical eyebrow as he checked the unconscious figure's pulse. "There was no need to knock him out you know," he said, lifting the limp Imperial by the armpits. "This guy's got a bruise on the back of his head the size of a dinner plate. We could've just dragged him back awake."
The First Sergeant dismissed the idea. "Nope, now we can just get Turner to drag him back on a board or something." She waved, already turning to the rest of the field. "Come on, let's go find another one."
Wolffe followed slowly, shaking his head. "You really are the scariest guy I've ever met…"
Author's note: Thanks to Markal for the beta.