Rusgren Pass - June 6 1836
"Tell anybody, and I will kill you."
"What?" Gunther groggily asked, trying to remember who he was talking to... or where he was, for that matter. He was in some sort of medical tent, that was clear, but something seemed out place somehow.
"Pay attention," the sergeant sitting by his cot said sharply, spooning up some soup from a bowl and extending it towards him.
Realization struck him like an artillery shell. "You're that woma-" His revelation was cut off by a howl of pain as she poured the contents of the spoon on his forehead.
"Like I said, tell anyone and you're dead."
Gunther was taken aback. A woman in the military? And a rather fierce sergeant at that.
"Prisoner refusing to eat, sarge?" A grenadier asked, poking his head into the tent. When the Imperial officer gave him a puzzled look, he paused for a moment and repeated himself in Imperial. "You, not like food?"
"No, I just-" Gunther howled as the sergeant "spilled" the scalding contents of the bowl into his lap.
"...I'll leave you two alone, then." The other man made a quick exit as he shot the sergeant a questioning glance. The two sat silently for a minute before Gunther coughed and piped up cautiously.
"Do you all speak our language?"
"Imperial? Many of us had to learn while serving His Imperial Majesty."
As the sergeant spoke, Ehren's brow creased slightly. She was using High Imperial, a rather antiquated and courtly dialect mainly used in the capital by the better-educated. Her speech made her sound like an Imperial courtier or judge, not like a sergeant in a backwater country's army and a woman to boot.
He shook his head to dispel the illusion and instantly wished he hadn't. The pain at the back of his skull still hadn't fully receded. The Imperial officer groaned and cradled his head, trying to block out the throbbing ache behind his eyes.
The sergeant reached out with a hand, her hand cool on his forehead before she retreated, biting her lip. "Did I punch you that hard?"
"Ja," Ehren said, tenderly poking at the bruise on his scalp. "But this one is worse." Mostly to distract himself, Ehren raised his head. "Where did you learn to speak Imperial like that?" he asked.
The first sergeant hesitated before answering. "My parents were from the Empire," she said finally. "My father was the Governor-General's secretary."
They made small talk for some time before she stood up almost regretfully. "I had better be going. I have other duties to attend to."
"Wait." Gunther trailed off.
"Hm?"
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Adelle Wagner." The sergeant paused in the doorway. "That's First Sergeant Edel Wagner to you though," she said with a grin.
Javier Franz sat brooding in his tent, wondering what had become of the newly-minted Lieutenant Colonel Gunther and his command. The last courier had come on the second, reporting that the Imperial column had spotted some Gallian forces in the pass, but that they expected little resistance.
"Not like the boy to go for so long without sending me a report..." the colonel muttered under his breath. Gunther had taken about ten percent of his cavalry, leaving Franz with only about nine thousand troopers. Franz snorted humorlessly. Due to the unique organization of the I Corps, he was probably the only colonel in the entire Imperial Army that could think in terms of "only" nine thousand troopers.
The I Corps, cream of the Imperial Army, consisted of the I, II, III, and IV Brigades and also served as the Imperial Guard for the Emperor's palace. It also was the only corps in the Army that had multiple branches, allowing the Imperial Guards to operate as an independent group, outside the Imperial Army's main command structure.
I Brigade was without a doubt the primary arm of the corps, with over twenty thousand infantrymen. II Brigade served as the household cavalry, while III and IV Brigades supported their activities as the artillery and engineering sections of the corps.
Franz sighed heavily. For all that the corps was supposed to be able to operate independently, General Gregor remained the commander of the I Corps and was the very antithesis of independent action. The cavalry colonel's reverie was rudely interrupted as Dieter Furst, his other protégé, burst into the tent panting.
"What's happened?" Franz demanded sharply.
"Sir...I think...something's happened to...Ehren!" the captain said between gasps.
"What?" The colonel stood up quickly. "I want to see the messenger, Hauptmann."
A pair of guards led an almost fainting staff sergeant into the tent and deposited him into a chair.
"What's happened?" Javier asked urgently.
"They murdered us sir!" the sergeant said wildly. "Never seen anything like it. We didn't have a chance." He buried his face in his hands. "Two thousand of our best soldiers, and we didn't stand a chance!"
"What?" Franz strode over and shook the distraught trooper. "Has Gunther disengaged? What is your current position?"
The Feldwebel was already shaking his head. "Oberstleutnant Gunther is down sir. I saw him fall during the last charge."
The colonel restrained a gasp as he exchanged a stricken look with Dieter. "I asked you what your current position is, Feldwebel."
The cavalryman looked up despairingly. "Oberst Franz. There is no position. There aren't even men enough to make a squad in the saddle."
The officer rocked back on his heels, stunned by this latest tragedy. "What? What was the Gallian strength? In his last dispatch, I was informed that there would be no difficulties."
"There weren't supposed to be!" the trooper wailed. "We were more than four to their one!"
Franz stood decisively. "Hauptmann Furst, I am taking the rest of the II Cavalry down to Rusgren Pass to see exactly what has happened and to achieve a breakthrough, if possible. Inform General Gregor to that effect."
The captain saluted hesitantly. "General Gregor may-"
Javier cut him off. "Inform him after we depart. Make sure any orders recalling us don't get to me either."
Furst saluted again, this time more enthusiastically. "Sir!"
The colonel strode out of the tent, beckoning the prostrate sergeant after him. "Come along Feldwebel. I need to know some things about how five hundred infantry could annihilate our cavalry like that."
Kasu set down a heavy wooden crate with a grunt as he entered the medical tent. "Here's the supplies you needed, Private Turner."
"Ahh. Alright, thanks." The sergeant chuckled as Turner tried to pry the lid off the crate, and ducked under the tent flap, noting the slowed activity. Considering the heat, he decided it wouldn't be a bad idea to take a break himself. Kasu stepped outside, making a beeline for a shaded awning pitched over one of the guns.
As expected, Gatz was already there, stripping the mechanism and looking over its internal workings. Less expected however, was a private from the recently-arrived 147th, leaning against a revetment and watching the proceedings with interest.
"Oh, hey!" Gatz said cheerfully, looking up from the gun. "This is Private Lee. He's been asking a few questions."
"Chester Lee, one-fohty-seventh. I reckoned I'd come see what y'all were doin' with this here fancy new gun that gone and kilt so damn many of them big-britched Imps."
Kasu blinked slowly, attempting to decipher the man's curious way of speaking. "The repeater?"
"Yep," the man said coolly. "You git 'em from Randgriz?"
"No, actually," the sergeant said grinning. "Gatz here cobbled a few of them together after our scouts saw the Imps coming. Of course, it took a lot of pla-"
"You what? Nothin' personal, but y'all really built those there guns?" the man said, startled.
Gatz looked slightly offended, despite having encountered such sentiments before. "We're not stupid just because we have dark hair, you know."
The private scuffed a boot into the dirt awkwardly. "Didn't say-" He paused and considered for a moment. "Well. Guess I did. Say, if you came up with them guns, how do they work?" the man said, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.
"Well, the idea was pretty simple; you have the rifle barrels rotating around a central axis with the cartridge feed on top, with an extractor for each barrel. There's a spur gear attached to the axis, with a-"
"All right, you know what you're talkin' about sure enough," the man said almost deferentially. "I always thought you dark-hairs were all yaller, but I s'pose I was wrong." He extended his hand with considerably more warmth than he had shown throughout the rest of the conversation. "I'm Chester Lee. Ya'll can call me Chester tho'."
Before long, Kasu was engrossed in a heated debate with the former cavalryman over the merits of a certain breech-loading cavalry carbine. He almost didn't notice Major Weber walk over to investigate the conversation.
"Well, well, well!" the major exclaimed jovially. "Getting along well, are we?"
Chester affected to be offended. "Me, friends with these two smart-asses?"
Kasu was about to respond when he noticed the man's huge wink.
"We don't like that idiot either!" Gatz cut in. The three glared at each other before breaking out into wild laughter.
Author Note: Thanks to Markal for the beta.