Roderius Continent
Kingdom of Louria
March 4, 1640 Year of the Central Calendar.
Northern Army Camp
Tension could be sensed growing in the tent, King Hark was finishing dressing in his armor with the help of his squire. In a moment he was about to leave his secretive and warm hiding place to begin speaking in front of his soldiers, knights and his no longer hiding allies from Parpaldia.
"Ready your highness," said the squire who had just fastened the last piece of armor. An important part of his plan, the real plan of which only a few knew about were a few trusted bodyguards, his two favorite mistresses about whose fidelity he was sure, and his first minister Maus who was to negotiate peace with Poland after his "death".
He nodded wordlessly to Hark, then stepped out of the tent and, unusually for this time of year, the winter sun reflected on his cuirass. He squinted in pain, the sunlight also reflected unpleasantly on the snow around him.
He blinked a few times as he walked toward the stage prepared for the occasion from where his soldiers, with the help of magic, could hear and see him.
"The soldiers are waiting for your majesty." Pandour, commander of the Northern Army, said. His appearance had always to Hark resembled a battered fat dog with an idiotic mustache. Hark only nodded at this news. He then walked over to the previously prepared stand, climbed a couple of stairs and, after grunting to avoid sounding ochre, began a speech. A speech that was to go down in history as one of the best and greatest speeches ever made in Arcadia and on Earth. A speech that even historians hostile to Harka were proud of.
It began with the words "Great Warriors of Louria!...
No less can the whole thing be summarized by a famous quote from the great Roman leader and last dictator of Rome.
The dice have been thrown.
Principality of Que-Toyne
March 11, 1640 of the Year of the Central Calendar/ Anno Domini 2022.
The village of Pilar, about 23 km northeast of Gim.
The roar of the cannons once again sounded its loud bang, any snow that lay on the village rooftops had long since fallen under the unending shelling. Day after day, the 11th Mazurian Artillery Regiment, belonging to the 1st Division, shelled the Gim Lourians who were in the foreground.
Although the villagers complained about the constant noise, they thanked the Gods after all that their only inconvenience was the incessant thunder of the Krab self-propelled cannon howitzers. They did not have to, like those poor people from the near borderland, throw everything they have and, taking only the most necessary things, leave their homes to avoid the Lourian troops murdering, burning and plundering everything along the way.
Especially since this year's winter is surprisingly prolonged, with no signs of spring. While this was good news for the Poles stationed in their country, as there is no stubborn mud due to everything being frozen, it was terrible news for the Que-Toynians. After all, they all made their living from farm work, every day of winter means one less day in the growing season.
Of course, the famine will not threaten them, which no noble lord of Que-Toyne could afford, in which they were close to the Polish nobility who, in times of famine, did not force peasants to either sell their crops or forcibly give it to their lords. It was, however, the effects of the prolonged winter period that would hit everyone.
War beyond the border, rather should not.
"Artillery is the Lord, King and God of war in one." liked to say Pułkownik (Colonel) Jan Weiss, commander of the 11th Regiment. "We will chop so long in Lourian that not even a stone will be left on a stone." He explained to the assigned liaison officer from the Que-Toyne Army, Major Donus.
"From so far away Pułkownik?" asked Donus in disbelief, although he did not hide he was impressed by those overlapping boxes with a really long barrel sticking out of the top box which was called a tower by those Poles... Prussians... one dog, those foreigners.
As for firepower, in this he trusted the Pułkownik's word. After all, they wouldn't build such a complicated and most likely expensive contraption for a picnic, it must apparently accomplish such things, especially since the Pułkownik saying that no stone will be left unturned was speaking as if stating the fact that the sky is blue, the water is wet and the Lourians are a pile of shit to be buried in the ground, preferably in pieces.
"Major, such a distance is so much as nothing for our Krabs, in fact they can shoot twice as far from the fire zone as we are but this would require the use of less economical missiles without going into technical details."
Major Donus nodded, "True, true wars are expensive, especially with toys like these Krabs of yours." He paused when the Krabs once again began firing a salvo of shells, from what he counted three per minute, which, with a stockpile of forty rounds, makes for about fourteen minutes of uninterrupted firing, before the cannon went quiet for a while to load back up. According to what he learned, the number of shots is only half of the total capacity.
He watched in awe as the artillery batteries one by one within their platoons (the artillery does not use retinue like the Cavalry and Infantry) opened fire to continuously pelt the Lourians with crushing fire for the next hour and twenty-four minutes, or so he counted it in his head. And this was one of the two squadrons of Krab self-propelled cannon howitzers that fired on the Lourians before Gim!
"And those trucks are what?" Donus pointed out the vehicles standing idle and the crews around them who were mostly engaged in what soldiers do when they have nothing to do, that is, play cards, tell unquoteable jokes and other such things.
The Pułkownik smiled mischievously "This, esteemed Major, is our surprise for the enemy, the WR-40 Langusta."
Donus looked at him questioningly
"Do you know rockets?" Donus nodded
"And have you seen the rocket launcher?"
Donus marveled "Wait a minute, wait a minute it's a huge rocket launcher but on a truck?" then scratched his chin "All in all, I guess it would be possible to mount such on a horse cart, although the horses will somehow be used to the sound of rockets." He looked at the Pułkownik "But why don't they fire?"
The Pułkownik raised a surprised eyebrow "Then you don't know?"
"What don't I know?" quipped Donus
"That the main forces of Louria have not yet arrived, for now we are fighting with the advance guard, numerous but the advance guard." pointed out Lobsters "And these launchers are just for the main forces, the Lourians don't yet realize that the real hell is yet to come."
Donus slowly nodded, he understood the Polish intention. Using the rocket launcher now would most likely allow the main force of Louria to escape, and after all, that's not the point of having them escape certain death, is it?
At the same time
Trenches in the foreground of the Gim
3rd Marine Regiment
The loud, distinctive swish of bullets sounded high above his head. The Krabs began the accompaniment again. It will be quiet for a while, God and the artillerymen thanked, having just fired the last shells from his worn-out Tantal.
He watched for a moment as artillery blows fell on the damned Lourians like a bolt from the blue. He watched with grim satisfaction as the bone-frozen ground crumbled under the impact of artillery grenades hitting with a groan. Although it wasn't as spectacular as it had been two days ago when they first hit the still snow-covered clearing in front of the city everywhere, there was some magic in seeing the ground float under the impact of the blast.
"We have a moment's peace, eh Jan?" spoke up his teammate Hans Kleiner in a voice of relief "Damn fools, because of them we have fired two of us more bullets in these three days than our entire regiment has in the last thirty years!" he continued as soon as Jan nodded his head
"Is that good or bad?" asked Jan uncertainly, not knowing what his colleague meant.
"What good?" stunned Hans
Jan rolled his eyes, shook his head then sighed, "I ask you if it's a good thing that our regiment has shot less total in the last thirty years than we have in the last three days."
"AAA" exclaimed Hans "that's what I meant!" He nodded, saying "Yes, that's good. We make hell on earth when we need to, not when someone wants to cash in on this or that war."
"Or to boost se ego ." Added Jan mockingly, nodding in passing toward the Lourians being torn to shreds. The moans and panicked cries of the enemy were audible despite the deafening clamor of the artillery bombardment. When he first heard it he involuntarily squirmed, but now he didn't give a damn. Especially since the Gim militia had effectively cured him of more than minimal pity for Lourians. Scabby types, Jan ruled after talking to the locals having in mind, of course, the Lourians who are extremely loved by everyone.
Hans looked in the direction of his opponent's position, then glared at Jan "You know, I would accuse Hark of a lot, he's certainly a motherfucker but I wouldn't say he's trying to boost his ego. You know, that son of a bitch and a broken goat-fucker has the balls to stand exposed like that in extremely conspicuous armor on that hill."
"Then why didn't they shoot him?" marveled Jan.
"You think they didn't try?" asked Hans rhetorically.
Jan raised his eyebrows higher surprised "How?" he mouthed after a moment
Hans shrugged his shoulders "So far only the Lourians know," he looked up " and God the Father Almighty himself."
Silence fell for a moment, Jan slowly nodded and just as he was about to add something else their squad leader, Drużynowy (Section Leader) Krzysztof Serpees called out "Private Kleiner and Szulc, you'll talk to each other later, get your asses together, the local cook has prepared a regional specialty, take advantage of it!"
The privates looked at each other, then moved off without a word with a smile.
A few minutes later
Lourian encampment in the foreground of the Gim.
"Your Majesty!" cried the messenger, "I have news from General Frank, the main force will be here tomorrow."
Hark didn't even turn around, he watched as once again his army was ripped to shreds. The messenger felt uncomfortable seeing his ruler's lack of reaction, hearing that the King had come to his senses. Nevertheless, he knelt politely waiting for his ruler's response.
He was in this uncomfortable position and still in the sulfurous cold for a long time. And as he shivered harder the King reacted.
"You could have left my faithful servant the moment you said that." replied the King, the messenger marveled. The last time he saw and heard the King, then he sounded extremely proud even arrogant. Here he sounded extremely... how would you describe it, melancholy? Certainly not proud, one could see some wisdom in his voice and a readiness for some deed, he did not know what kind.
Besides, the very phrase "my faithful servant" was the first time he had heard it come out of the ruler's mouth. He had never heard or seen the King ever address anyone that way.
"Understood my lord," replied the servant and hurriedly moved away, leaving his ruler staring at the massacred soldiers. The latter, meanwhile, looked gloomily pondering, no change on the front, for the time being. That was one of his thoughts.
"What do I have to do to get the Poles to finally fire here?" he muttered under his breath, the sooner he "dies" the sooner this madness will end. Yet despite the downright obvious exposure to gunfire, nothing of the sort happened. Unfortunately, he could not personally lead his soldiers in the charge, although it would have helped him a lot in building a myth and given him a good alibi, his officers guarding him like an eye in the head.
"Well, nothing," he thought to himself, "maybe the arrival of the main forces will make the Poles pull a card from their sleeve that will be useful to me?" he hoped so, his plan was that he would "die" in a pitched battle leading his troops, his "death" in battle was to become a fig leaf for the end of the war and Hark himself would become the scapegoat on whom the blame for the outbreak of war was to be placed.
By the way, Hark intended to deliberately cause the death of many of the Lourian soldiers thus eliminating the possibility of a civil war, hence the emphasis on dividing forces within separate arcs of attack. He wanted the defenders to use this to devastate the Lourian troops.
In this way, all possible contenders for power would be significantly weakened, so that Maus could, according to the pre-established plan, take over as Interex until the Grand Duke of Mates was elected as the new ruler. In view of the fact that he would control the strongest group of troops, namely the Palace Guard, the Capital Garrison and the Order of Michalius, no one could realistically oppose him. He used up almost all his political capital to make sure there would be no problems, in the "afterlife" he would not need it.
By the way Hark hoped that the Poles would humiliate Parpaldia, that way he could be sure that firstly the Parpaldians would focus their anger on the Poles, and secondly such a little spite on his part for getting him into this situation and sacrificing Louria to save his own ass.
But one thing did not give him peace of mind. Namely, each army was supposed to report to him every six hours on its situation. That's how he knew what the First and Second Armies were doing in the north and how devastated they were by the steel monsters.
He also knew what was going on with the other armies going to Quilla, he had heard their complaints about the incessant aerial strikes of enemy dragon riders, the constant rallies or how in the identical manner as here in front of Gim they are annihilated by the enemy from afar.
There is only one army, the Third Army of Conquest led by Lieutenant General Adem, which gives no sign of life, not a single report has arrived since yesterday noon, and it was already approaching evening.
I wonder what happened to them?
Thirty Hours Earlier
Marching Column of the Third Army of Conquest
About 79 km south of Gim.
The soldiers roared with their voices, because singing it can't be called that, more marching songs. They had just covered more kilometers deep into enemy country, plundering and burning all the villages along the way. Unfortunately, to their disappointment, there was no one in them so they had to make do with a taste of female charms.
Not that Adem is complaining, women's screams during soldiering always played on his nerves. What the hell are they shouting for? After all, no one is going to help them, well, unless such a misguided knight wants to end up as an exercise dummy, always some attraction. Well, at least until some idiot comes to ask where his subordinate is, then the whole thing seems to happen and suddenly everyone feels like ripping his head off, not knowing why.
After all, these babies are inhumans anyway right? So what's the harm for them? Let them be useful for something.
"General!" remarked one of the officers to him, probably Dorian, or maybe Sterian? What a difference, some asshole.
"What?"
"Madar has detected a column of dragon riders from the east!" he said in a heavily concerned tone. Pepper, let the peasant loosen up, why the hell does he bother. What don't we have our own horsemen for such occasions? Adem thought.
"Send a squadron, stop the column and deploy anti-aircraft crossbows." The officer nodded and passed on the orders. Quickly the chants quieted and their place was replaced by shouts of orders and curses.
The marching column broke up, the crossbowmen and archers began to line up to cover the others, and the special anti-aircraft crossbows placed on the carts - quite a bit of machinery aided by magic so that they can pretend to be a machine gun - began to be unpacked and prepared.
Meanwhile, squadrons of Lourian horsemen of the vyverns turned sharply to the right towards the oncoming opponents. Adem himself pulled out his binoculars so he could see up close how the Que-Toys horsemen would be massacred by the elite of the Lourian forces.
He took a quick glance at his own before looking at the enemy's formation. Here he was met with a surprise, there was something else in the formation besides the vyverns. Some gray something that looked like an ironing board with a wooden log attached at the bottom. Some were already flying around the opponents on their own, leaving them behind, while others were just falling... no wait, they are unhooked and dropped from the enemy vivariums!
After a short fall, they began to pick up and fly faster than the vyverns. What's more, the enemy, after throwing all that gray stuff away, began to turn back. This seriously worried Adem, it was the first time he had seen the horsemen refuse to fight in the air, turning back because the enemy is more?
No it's not, it must have something to do with what the enemies threw out. He took a quick look at the little gray machines, they were flying at an astonishing speed in a huge swarm. There were far more of them than his riders.
The officer who commanded them saw this which is why he ordered a change of formation to cone formation, this was the basic formation for air combat against a more numerous enemy. By positioning themselves like an upright cone, each horseman was able to open fire as well as make a charge straight into the enemy's formation smashing its tight center.
Adem itched something when he saw this formation, he had a feeling that it was a mistake. As soon as they came within firing range and fire erupted from the mouths of the vultures, he thought it was a silly feeling, a moment later he cursed in his spirit that he was right.
The airborne locusts as soon as the vyverns slowed down to open fire dispersed, surrounding the Dragon Riders. With incredible grace and inhuman precision, they dodged the fire, then slammed into the bewildered Riders. Then a huge bang pierced the air, causing an involuntary reaction of fear. Adem then blinked for a brief moment, then began to shake his head because he was unpleasantly blinded by the sudden light.
He came back to the world a moment later as panicked shouts began to mix with the bass sound of an extremely fast-moving saw. With one last glance at the air, he could see the remnants of what was left of the Riders begin to fall to the ground, then he began to look around looking for the source of the commotion.
"Lord, Lord! The enemy!" cried Dorian in a panicked voice.
"Where, moron?" growled Adem furiously, still searching.
"Everywhere!" exclaimed Dorian showing various places. Adem followed his directions with his eyes, to his amazement and anger he discovered that the enemy was literally everywhere. He hid under his bloody nose, in the fields around the road in prepared dugouts from which gushed fire that massacred his men.
"FUCK!" he growled loudly as his horse began to freak out, as the Gray Locusts began to fall everywhere, engulfing in explosions entire battalions which, knocked into a heap, became easy targets.
"DORIAN!" he growled at his subordinate.
"Yes sir?" he said timidly
"PASS ON THE ORDER - DISPERSE AND STRIKE IN LOOSE FORMATION ON ENEMY HIDEOUTS!"
Dorian only nodded before he began to obey the command.
"ERIAN!" cried the other appendage, his personal magician. This one quickly turned toward the general "BARRIER, NOW!"
Erian obeyed the command at the last moment, a solid magical barrier to protect against everything appeared right in front of the Locust approaching from above, this one just smashed into the sudden obstacle in explosive style. Adem himself, a man with rather little empathy, squirmed as he saw the explosion blow away everyone outside the barrier, and the shrapnel tore apart the others who were unlucky enough to survive the blast wave.
"What was that my lord?" Asked a horrified one of the appendages, probably just Sterian.
"Polish Locusts." Replied the General coolly, silence fell for a moment before the sounds of the battle going on outside came to life again.
"Well," said the General, "Erian how much can you stand?"
"Such explosions?" asked Erian, Adem nodded "Not many, my lord." shook his head Erian "I need to strengthen it."
Adem nodded, throwing a sharp look to the other mages "Execute"
He then turned to Dorian and other staffers. "Set up equipment, organize constant communication, I want to know in five minutes what the fuck happened and what's going to happen," he said.
Dorian and his men saluted without a word, while Adem himself took out his pipe and, to calm his nerves, lit one. As soon as he let out the first cloud of smoke, he muttered under his breath. "These lowlanders at least make tobacco."
No one dared to draw the general's attention with an extremely politically incorrect statement. not that they wanted to, what was happening outside motivated them to sit quietly and occupy themselves with something besides looking at the surroundings. The interested party himself, meanwhile, started looking around again with binoculars.
He watched emotionlessly as his soldiers were eliminated by every possible method.
He paused when a couple of infantrymen desperately ran up to the barrier, and began pounding their fists demanding to be let in. The general looked at them, raised his eyebrows then made it clear that he would not let them in, if they wanted to survive they had to fend for themselves.
Moments later, the Locust fell, and what was left of the soldiers left a bloody mark on the barrier, the general nodded slightly in appreciation of the Polish technique, seeing how the soldiers' entrails slid along the barrier pulled downward by gravity.
A couple of his appendages couldn't stand the sight and emptied the contents of their stomachs. As soon as they finished, the general said, "Bury it, we don't want an unnecessary stench here." The soldiers complied with the order without a word.
"All ready my lord!" cried Dorian, Adem turned to him, nodded his head let out the last puff of smoke then put out his pipe.
"Time to get back to work." He muttered under his breath while standing on the map, "Report status!" he said to Dorian.
1st Marine Regiment
2 Retinue
The Prussians were attacking the enemy in a tyral line, between the ranks of infantry drove vehicles that easily broke through the thick snow. Everyone fired carefully saving ammunition, machine guns on the roofs of Varangians and Cossacks fired short bursts and ordinary infantrymen fired single shots.
"Take your time, take your time! Do not rush! Those there won't escape, save your ammunition!" Shouted Drużynowy Adolf Wolf, commander of Team Tenner, as he saw his subordinates firing in bursts. Their Kozak-4 fired over their heads with his Heaviest Machine Gun, a good-luck twenty, eliminating entire companies of the enemy, leaving the team's survivors to be slaughtered.
Tenner himself shot infrequently because he had almost no one to shoot at, and at the same time it was somehow not to his taste to shoot people as targets. For indeed, none of the opponents were able to threaten them. They ran forward, only to fall like a marionette that someone had cut the strings on which it moves.
He was more drawn to the world beyond the Gate, and those strange Nipponese people. He felt like peeking into their world and seeing what was going on there. What is the situation of his Heimat or Prussia and Vaterland or Poland. Well, and he was curious to see if another Florian Tenner was living there, what he was doing, what kind of life he had and so on.
He looked around to the side, his post led by Captain Mutig was advancing with other post from the 2nd Rota from the side of the forest where the Gate was located. In between them and the enemy, meanwhile, were natives of the militia who were firing from machine gun nests and mortars previously hidden under the snow in dugouts.
As far as he also knew, the Jegrzy (Jeagers), or Łowcy (Predators) as one prefers, were rampaging far to the rear of the column where Louria's stockade was located. All in all, logical, who better to exterminate than just robots?
"Attention Dragon!" someone shouted through Topaz, Tenner turned his gaze toward the marked vivre.
"Roger, it's about to fall." said a heavy bass voice in which Tenner recognized Konrad Figarski one of the operators of the Poprad, a self-propelled anti-aircraft rocket set, and a moment later a Piorun (Lightning) rocket from one of the truck's launchers fired from the forest behind them. It quickly flew up and pulled one of the surviving Dragon Riders of Louria from the sky.
At least it was a quick death, Tenner thought, staring at the falling corpse. The rocket hit perfectly where the rider had been, tearing the head of the vivre from the rest of the body. In passing, he was reminded of how those Nipponese behind the Gate had done the same thing to the Lymian Dragon Rider. Of course, he already knew that they were called Saderians, but the name Lymian had become so strongly accepted among the soldiers that it was like trying to teach everyone around them that Germans are called Deutsch. No advice, no one but the Germans themselves call them that.
Pardon, these Nipponese call them that, but only those and most likely also those who are trapped with the Poles on Arcadia. In his world, from what he has learned, they say Niemietsu*.
"A Wampir gets the job done doesn't he?" puzzled Geeler to him.
"What?" he asked pacing before catching what he meant. "Yes, yes. It does the job, one such swarm and the enemy without a decent air defense is at a loss." agreed Tenner. Here he had to admit to the WB Elektronika guys that they knew what they were doing. Such a Swarm that could be pulled down to a given location on demand was a powerful asset, because each of the drones was damn cheap hence any private could simply ask for a precision strike on a given location. What's different than those damn missiles, too expensive and always too few, hence having to ask to get even one.
On the other hand, bullets as they bring down is nothing to collect, although in Tenner's opinion it has always been overkill. Why blast such an expensive thing on just any target? For a base, some solid bunker or other expensive and important place. Rest assured, he understood here you need something of considerable caliber and at the same time much more accurate than classic artillery, even if modern artillery can hit a target the size of a pin.
Well exaggerated, the size of a head of cabbage. Nevertheless, the main objection is correct, bullets are a cool toy, especially for sailors and aviators but in many cases they are simply an expensive exaggeration. Although they have advantages, the price made them a special weapon and in many cases disposable. Well, and it was a very fickle weapon to begin with, naval and air clashes during the Fourth of July War showed that up to 75% of the missiles fired lost their target and just flew the hell away.
Drones, on the other hand, were designed and built from the very beginning to avoid this problem. Of course, they were not without drawbacks, the main one being that they are very susceptible to anti-aircraft defense, missiles less so but until the introduction of laser cannons, then they too became just a regular problem. Of course, the laser cannon, in addition to being very expensive, requires a lot of energy hence they are only on ships or larger vehicles, mainly tanks. Ordinary trucks have to make do with machine guns.
Fortunately, Louria being a medieval/renaissance magic kingdom is well below what even a backward country on Old Earth can usually do.
"Wait a minute did I see correctly, did a sudden wave of wind suddenly push many of the Sokoły (Falcons)?" said a puzzled Geeler as a strong wind appeared out of nowhere scattering the attacking drones.
Tenner shrugged his shoulders, "Nothing these magic tricks will do for them, until they knock down the Mewy (Seagulls) who are watching the whole area from the air and coordinating the Wampir at the same time, the Falcons will quickly regain control of themselves." After a moment, a pair of Falcons collided with each other, creating a spectacular explosion. "Well, unless they push them at each other with enough force." he commented afterwards, causing an involuntary giggle from his colleague.
"Florek, something seems to me that this is exactly what the magician who did it meant. They are yes, backward but they are not stupid." Geeler replied.
"Everyone sews as best they can!" interjected their teammate Vaupel while reloading his UKM-61D Bor.
"Jasper is right, everyone sews as best they can." agreed Geeler, after which another wave of Sokoły fell upon their victims like the animals from which they took their name. Hundreds if not thousands more Lourians said goodbye as the Sokoły performed their act. "And the fact that he doesn't know much. That's another matter isn't it?" he added in an ironic tone.
Some time later
321st Infantry Company of the 123rd Infantry Regiment of the Third Army of Conquest.
The shouts of the sergeant added to their animus. "Run, fuck, run if your life is good to you!" Dawir didn't need to be told twice, he dropped a higher gear and started running faster ahead. Instinct screamed he would get as far away from danger as possible, but training and a sense of solidarity with his colleagues still kept him in formation, though rather what was left of it.
What is there to say, the Poles are devils incarnate. Like demons of vengeance they fell on Lourian from the air with their monsters which someone called Locusts. Dawir recognizes this as an apt term.
But unfortunately, the Locusts were the beginning of the plagues. The roaring sticks, or hand cannons as someone smarter than him called them, were another, even more frightening. For such Locusts it is possible to see, and try to get rid of them because they are quite large. Magic, a crossbow or even a simple slingshot could deal with them, but a stick? How to avoid invisible arrows that are able to pierce even the best cuirasses as if they never existed?
The worst were those on their horseless carts, they played a very thick bass and the consequences of being blown off were nightmarish. A shot-off hand was a kind sentence, provided the company medic managed to save you from bleeding out. Which was not so obvious, for such cannons are capable of shooting a couple of soldiers in a row with chestnut-sized arrows. Armor and chainmail disintegrated as soon as they were hit.
Dawir himself had the misfortune to come under fire from one of them. Fortunately for a short time, the air charge forced a change of target. Unfortunately, within that brief moment, a good portion of the company fell dead.
What was left of it simply threw itself into flight. As Dawir later noticed a couple of colleagues who happened to survive disappeared somewhere in all the commotion of a few hours ago. He didn't cry for them, they don't need traitors.
"Get on the ground!" shouted the sergeant, and Dawir fell along with many others, just in front of the snowdrift. Those who didn't make it were cut down by invisible arrows.
"Fucking bastards, they are playing with us. They got their toys from the Poles then now they show who is in charge. How I hate these elvesbich." spoke up one of his companions, probably Towit.
"Shut up, Towit. Do you want to kill us all?" growled the sergeant, as in confirmation of his words a short series flew over their heads. Fortunately, the Toynians were aiming at someone else. Hearing the horse and human groans, it was easy to guess at whom.
"Too bad for the peasants, they were cool." muttered someone else, after these words there was silence. Some said a silent prayer for the fallen. They were supposed to serve as a diversion for Dawir's company, but unfortunately the Toynians got rid of them. Fortunately, they had a plan B.
Dawir smiled when he heard the distinctive dawn of a rocket taking off, quickly pulled his face down to the ground and pressed his hands to his ears. The muffled sounds of exploding stun rockets, an original Lourian design designed to break sieges, reached his ears. They were already so unpleasant, but what could the unsuspecting Toynians say?
He felt the vibrations of the rockets hitting the ground. He bared his teeth in satisfaction, now it was their turn to make a terrifying impact. As soon as the last rocket fell, the company rose quickly from the ground.
The sergeant swung his sword forward shouting "Forward! For Louria!" With the enthusiasm of an attacker, Dawir glared at the enemy dugout. He had already just taken the first step roaring in unison with the others "Louria!" and after a moment he felt something splitting his skull, the last thing he felt was as if the hooks driven into his body pulled him backwards. That's when Dawir, the son of Eniv, understood how gold, glory and other material possessions of this world are worth little.
*From the Polish 'Niemcy' which, of course, means Germany.