Hello, Pepper gum here. As you know I've posted this new story not as a continuation but as a remake of TROBTE. This author's note is here to explain why.
I after a while wasn't happy with the product before I even finished it. It felt rushed, shallow, the characters felt like empty puppets, and the tone I wanted wasn't there. For example, I wanted a full on battle in the Imperial palace but decided to cut it as good 'ol writer's block got to me and it felt more like a chore to update it. It didn't help that I didn't want a curb stomp like the source material but unintentionally made the US a bunch of incompetent fools.
Even with that I am deeply appreciative of the support this community has given me over the years and I can't thank you enough. I thought of simply going back and editing the story as a remaster and fixing it's issues but realizing I would have to go through 48 chapters in a story I was unhappy of, ended up decided to simply redo it in the form of a remake; thus The bells toll for us was born.
This is a HEAVY remake, so much so that other then sharing characters and certain events, this and the original are almost completely different stories. But there lots of improvements as a cleaner writing style, more dialogue, a smoother pace, longer chapters, and a more clear vision. A lot of changes to make sure you guys actually have a good product now that I've gain valuable experience writing.
Originally even before The revenge of the bald eagle, I wanted to change the tone of GATE to be darker, to have the JSDF be MUCH more vengeful and bitter to the Imperials for the Ginza massacre rather then quirky, otaku Mary-sues the original source made them out to be. I wanted to have a lot of black and grey but decided to do it with America as I of course being an American would be easier to write. But even with that I lost the vision, even the most graphic chapters in TROTBE felt like they were only there for shock value and had no true meaning or purpose to the overall story.
To make quality, I must take time to think off, create, edit, and check over each and every chapter before release. I hope y'all can understand. I believe I have said everything I want to say, thank if you supported TROBTE.
From your's truly: Peppergum
Note: I Don't of course own Gate: Thus the JSDF fought there!
Chapter 1: First contact
Falmart
April 15th, 2017
From her vantage point in the heavens she watched as the large swarm of an army sat at the base of the holy hill of Alnus, the birthplace of most of the sentient races of Falmart. She through her priests informed Emperor Augustus Sol Molt that the Gate would arrive on Alnus in two years time
Just as she expected the Empire quickly amassed as much men and supplies as it could to conquer the new world. And watch she was staring down at was the fruit of the Empire's sweat and gold but from what she could gave from this new world, its dreams of colonies that would feed the Empire would be either harshly broken or the loses sustained would negate any worthwhile gains in the short term at least.
The Empire has grown too big and powerful for its own good. The political body brought stability and order across the land which meant more followers so the gods left the Empire be.
But the nobility had foolish thought they were on par with the heavens and it didn't help the Avionese had successfully developed projectile weapons using chemical reactions and distribute them across Falmart, so better now then later was her reasoning. Technological progress and hubris was a dangerous combination so her plan was to open the Gate to Earth where the Saderans originated and have them be thoroughly beaten before her apostles would cone to save the day.
She knew the others would be unhappy with this plan so she had kept it to herself and besides, someone had to remind the mortals of their place in the universe.
Alnus
Herm Fule Maio scanned the humungous camp as the sun rose stood high above the great mountains. He could barely contain his glee for he was to be apart of the great expedition across the Gate, and into the New world. It was his chance to prove himself worthy and rise his station within higher society.
The logistics for this grand venture was gigantic. Forty standard infantry and two marine legions, twelve calvary Alaes, ten Wyvern squadrons, twenty auxiliary cohorts, row after row of slaves and thousands more pack animals with wagons filled to the brim with supplies; not even mentioning the vassal armies held in reserve. He heard of locals gathering around the army camps out of curiosity, only to be either shewed away or press ganged into service, not that it mattered to him.
He envisioned in his mind, simple barbarians in fur clothes, unkept beards, and crude weapons charging forward in a crazed mob with no sense of strategy; only to impale themselves on the pikes of his men with musketeer fire withering them down. Then his men would march forward and push the enemy back before the calvary, led by him of course, destroyed what was left of their hoard with swords and lances. He felt like a boy playing with his toys but this time, it wouldn't be imaginary.
"Maio!" A voice shouted and he turned to his left to see his long time friend Marquis Calasta ride up along side him. "Can't you believe we're crossing through today?"
Maio let out a luagh, "Ha ha! Me neither friend! I can feel that day is the day we make history. How our great battle to bring glory to ourselves and the Empire has just begun. I'd be a liar if I said I wasn't bursting at the seams with excitement."
It was Calasta's turn to laugh which for the viscount was quite infectious. It was good to get it out of his system, to ease the nerves before a great battle. Though thousands of men stood in formation like toy soldiers, the air was almost festive with as much excitement as he felt. Who wouldn't when presented with the opportunity to cement your name into legend?
"Look! There's a scout! I wonder what reconnaissance picked up?" Asked Calasta. It was almost funny how calculating he could be, the man he called his friend would be a far bigger threat on the battlefield had he had some courage to back up his intelligence.
It was the signal created by General Arlos, each time a legion made it safely through the Gate then a scout would come back and signal for the next legion to pass through. A calvary detachment along with the 1st legion had already crossed and would protect the area around the Gate until sufficient numbers were amassed to confidently mount an offensive opperation.
"My time has arrived dear Calasta!" Said Maio with a grin on his face. "Don't mope around or I fear I'll take the glory all for myself.
Calasta waved him off, "You'd get yourself killed before that happens. Stay safe.
"Fortune favors the bold." He shot back as he then rode down towards the encampment for the 12th Legion, the unit hailing from the province of Ugaria where his family held domain in.
The men saluted their general who didn't even think of returning the favor, too busy with daydreams of fortune and power this war would bring to himself. He sat on top of his caramel brown horse while his silver armor twinkled in the sunlight.
"Soldiers!" He boomed with authority in his voice as he eased his horse to a stop in front of the formation. "Today will be the day we etched our names into the halls of legends! The Gate has once more arrived on the top of this holy hill to act as a bridge between our world and the New world.
You will discover things vastly different from what you are used to, you will trek through alien terrain, and you will fight an enemy who is sure to be so strange that it will border on madness. But fear not for he will be inferior to the armor that you proudly wear.
He is a mere barbarian with no sense of civilization or culture or arts. He is no better then a wild animal, a savage if you will. But that does not mean there is no value in the New world. Empty fields to cultivate into lush farmland, wild wilderness to tame and replace with grand cities, beasts to domesticate, riches to uncover, and women to marry.
Remember your training and fight hard for the Empire and his holy majesty depends on our success on the battlefield. The arrival of the Gate is a sign that it is the will of the Gods for us to expand civilization and the realm to the rest of the universe. Let the will of the heavens and his holy majesty fill you and give you the courage to fight in this new world. Let's make the tales that will be told about us be passed down for eons! Let them say, 'Thus the Imperial Army fought!'"
The legion erupted into cheers and hollering as the men readied themselves for battle. The viscount felt his ego rise and rise from the noise and pulled out his sword as he used it to point at the sky.
"12th Legion! To the Gate." He shouted as he gave his horse a kick and it trotted towards the great marble structure.
Without any hesitation he rode into the mouth of the Gate and into darkness. For all his bravado and breath required for the speech, traveling through the Gate made him uneasy with only the sound of the distance clanking made by the soldiers not too behind him. His stomach began to churn while his breath was caught in his throat.
It felt uncanny, it was more black then the darkest of starless nights yet he could see the outlines of individual bricks of the walls and floors. The primal part of his brain screamed for him to leave to get out, to escape before he was swallowed whole by this ink.
Just when he thought it was the end of him, he saw a small orange light flicker ahead of him. A few moments later he at long last finally exited the terrible darkness into an almost blinding daylight that illuminated the woods he found himself in. Men were around cutting down trees and setting up tents.
"General Maio." He turned to his right to see the aged General Arlo who looked up at him with just as aged eyes.
"General Arlo..."
Maio had a bad taste in his mouth when he learned that the prune named Arlo was going to be the chief general of the expedition. He was cautious, weak, defensive, and preferred to move around his opponents rather then facing them head on like a true warrior of the Empire. It be far more befitting to have Count Woody or his dear friend Mudra lead the operation though he couldn't go against the Emperor as he himself appointed Arlo to that position, a position he would have to obey no matter if he liked it or not.
"Have you decided to take a vacation in the woods?"
"No, I had something else in mind." He answered with a hint of derision in his voice mostly found in the nobility of Sadera, a tone that was soft yet blunt in the delivery.
"11th Legion has just taken control of the tiny peninsula we are situated on right now. The sun is high and already locals are coming out to investigate our presence. My scouts have located a town west across the bay from our position. Your legion is to follow the road and take it before any coordinated push can be made against the Gate."
"Ha! And I'd though you'd be a tortoise." He laughed any turned to the column of men just exited the Gate behind him.
"Men! West of us is a city waiting to be conquered. Follow me and I'll bring you glory!"
With that Maio with his legion in tow marched away from the camp and towards their first conquest.
thirty-eight minutes later...
He was jolted awake from his peaceful slumber by the very loud banging on his front door where he could hear it all the way down the hallway from the small bedroom.
"Fucking hell..." He grumbled as he managed to get up and out of bed.
this young man had short curly black with the sides faded, chocolate brown eyes, a recently clean shaven face which was bent into a scowl to match his mood. He checked his wrist watch that said it was eight in the morning on a Saturday and someone had the audacity to bang on his door during the time that he would usually spend sleeping in because it was the weekend for crying out loud. To add insult to injury, someone was shooting off fireworks. He readied a storm of insults until he heard a particular someone yelling from the other side of the door.
"Johnson! Get your ass up!"
He quickened his pace and unlocked the door before he flung it wide open to reveal his superior Corpral Samual Collins standing there in full gear with a scowl that mirrored what Johnson had moments earlier.
"Sir, what going on?" He asked.
"First off, why the ever loving fuck have you not been responding to my calls dipshit?!"
Johnson was startled by Collin's bark, he was pretty chill but he was not someone you wanted to get angry and whatever was going on must've been very serious.
"Sorry sir, I must've not heard it while I was sleeping. And why are people shooting fireworks?"
"There's no fucking fireworks.."
His blood went cold, then what the hell was it?
"Some bumfuck cosplayers are running amuck across town killing people and shit, now get in the HUMVEE soldier!"
He didn't know what the hell was going on. First he's sleeping and now had to stop a bunch of crazy cosplayers? When he joined the New York National Guard a little under a year ago, he expected to do routinely battle assemblies and annual training with the occasional activation to assist after a natural disaster like a heavy blizzard or flooding but stopping a riot of murderous reenactors was not what he was expecting.
The Humvee was parked right in the middle of the street and Johnson opened the left passenger door to be greeted by the fireteam's dedicated grenadier Private Anthony Cork, a slightly older man with dirty blonde hair, thin black glasses, dark green eyes, and a rather positive outlook on life.
"Get your ass in here sleeping beauty." He says while Johnson gives him the bird willie.
"Go fuck yourself."
"If I don't, will you?"
"Go get yourselves a room retards. Right now is NOT the time to fuck around." Adds a voice in the driver's seat.
Specialist Philip Zhao was the opposite of the stereotypical nerdy noodle arm Asian commonly shown on tv. He was tall, muscular, short sleek hair, and enough bark to match his bite. He would've manned the mounted M240 bravo if the HUMVEE even had a mounted weapon to begin with.
"I think we can make it a threesome." Retorts Cork though he shut his mouth as Collins takes his seat in the front.
"Step on it." Orders the Corporal and the vehicle jolted back as Zhao steps on the gas petal. Johnson watches as the suburbs of West Plattsburgh roll by as they head east towards the city center.
"Here you go." Cork hands him a combat helmet, SPCS plate carrier with eight stag mags already neatly snugged into its pouches, and finally a M4A1 carbine though without a magazine inside.
"Much appreciated ." Johnson thanked the grenadier before Collins cleared his thought.
"Damn it, the road's blocked." The men looked forward to see the street where dozens of abandoned cars sat with panicked civilians scurrying through the maze of vehicles like mice running away from unseen danger. Sporadic gunfire could be heard in the distance while sirens echoed across the city.
Suddenly there was a loud shriek and something big flew past above the HUMVEE, scaring the shit out of the still disoriented Johnson.
"The fuck was that?!" He cursed as chaos reined king outside the safety of the vehicle.
"That was a dragon." Collin adds nonchalantly, freaking out the private even more.
"Come again?!" Johnson had never heard such bullshit before, but Collins wasn't someone to pull things out of thin air either.
"Suspend your fucking disbelief son. We're in Dungeons and Dragons now!" Answers the Corporal who pulls out a cigarette from his front pocket.
"Let me give you a sit rep on the situation. We got Roman cosplayers with muskets running around with goblins, orgres, trolls, dragons, calvary, etc. They outnumber us and we're on our own until reinforcements arrive."
"That don't sound to good."
"Don't state the obvious private Asswipe."
Collins cleared his throat as Zhao drove down Rugar street, readying himself to continue on reporting the situation to his private.
"The cosplayers may have numbers, but they most likely don't know what the hell machine guns and bombs are considering they like line formations." He added on a more happier note.
'Oh God..' Though Johnson as he contemplated his life choices that led him to this point, 'Its one of those shitty mangas.'
Just as he was regretting his decisions the CVPH Medical center came into view as Zhao drove the Vehicle through a gap in a makeshift fortification made of cars, trash bags and anything that could block the entrance. There were a mix of National Guard and law enforcement guarding the entrances behind barricades and on the rooftop awaiting for the inevitable push to take the hospital by their newly arrived foe.
Meanwhile, sporadic gunfire went off only a few blocks away which was accompanied by roars of whatever was being shot at. Johnson still in his pajamas was still disoriented and it didn't feel real. Questions that he wanted to ask would be put on hold as the situation unfolded.
"Everyone get out and let's receive our orders, but I think we all know what'll be asked of us." Explained Collins to everyone silently agreed.
The fireteam exited the HUMVEE and quickly loaded up on equipment they would need such as additional magazine pouches for Zhao's M249 SAW and a handful of grenades by Cork for later use. The men grabbed all that they needed and wasted no time in entering the medical center to receive official orders.
Ten minutes later in the Situation room, White House
"Secretary, please explain to me what the hell's going on." President Dirrel asked in a calm but firm tone as he took a seat.
He was for obvious bewildered when he was told men in roman uniforms were causing havoc in the city of Plattsburgh in New York but apparently it wasn't some prank or riot but a full on terrorist attack.
"Mr. President, the situation is dire. What we know is that they appeared on Cumberland Head peninsula and have taken effective control of Plattsburgh, Grand isle and along with both the Clinton County Airport and Plattsburgh International Airport. What resistance is in the city have fortified themselves in the CVPH Medical Center and are badly outnumbered and have limited ammunition. We have reports of our flyboys engaged with men on flying reptilians, they have the speed of a WW1 biplane with 'hovering' capabilities. Thankfully they were dealt with rather quickly."
"Dear god..." He sighed, "What are the known capabilities of our foes then?" The Secretary of the Department of Defense swallowed a lump.
"We believe they are numbered at the very least five to seven thousand from the latest intel. They are armed with approximately late medieval weapons with muskets and cannons making an impact appearance as well. Their objectives seem to take control of the Lake Champlain area before heading to a bigger target like Burlington. It also appears they have alien beings among them."
"And how many do we got in there?"
There was a pause, longer then he liked.
"Answer me damn it! How many?"
"Mr. President, we only have about a few dozen National Guardsmen in Plattsburgh."
Dirrel may have had a heart attack if he was older, that was impossible!
"Few dozen?! FEW DOZEN?!!" He slammed his hand on the table.
"Your telling me that all we got a couple poor bastards boxed in a hospital while a mob's raising one our cities to the ground?! Where the hell are the police or SWAT in this?"
Secretary Kane quickly regained his composure after the commander-in-chief's outburst. "The police station was overrun and were massacred, what's left are working hard with other law enforcement agencies in the area to evacuate as many civilians as possible."
This was horrible news, the first time American soil was occupied since the Aleutians in WW2 and nobody was there to stop them.
"But thankfully, Burlington police have halted their advance at the Sandbar Bridge. Until federal and national guard units are deployed, the police will have to do for now."
"Alright, we need everything at our disposal to make sure they are all dead men walking. What units are coming?"
"Four regiments of the 27th Infantry Brigade, 42nd Division is on their way along with detachments of the 87th regiment, 10th Mountain Division from Fort Drum. Right now we are aiming to contain, pin, and destroy the enemy where he stands. As the situation develops we'll have the ability to conduct air strikes against concentration of hostile forces."
'Goddamn,' He thought to himself, 'The press are going to have my ass for this.'
Later at Imperial headquarters
He wasn't in the best of moods at the moment for he was in a debacle. He had taken the unwalled city but faced resistance from the local militia with its remnants holed up in a strange keep of sorts with metal wagons acting as barriers while they shot from windows and the roof. They fired a ridiculous amount of volleys at his men, cutting down dozens of men in such sort time they broke formation and ran.
But what scouts recalled, they had vastly superior firepower. It could've been solved by a simple siege until they ran out of food and water or to simply attack with overwhelming numbers but his air cover was already being mauled by a force they couldn't fight back against, and explosions started going off across the city where men gathered around.
To make matters worse were was the general population themselves. Many hid in their homes but others took to the streets in small unorganized groups to repel his forces, they were easily repulsed but if a soldier wished to enter a house, it was flip of a coin if they encountered a terrified family or a man armed with a weapon that could fire several times before reloading. If the people they encountered were the norm in this land then things would be harder then they had originally thought.
Then Maio entered the building he had set his headquarters in with a scowl on his young face with no hint of even a single hair on it.
"General Arlo!" He half yelled, "Our men are being killed off by some explosion spell. They are unsafe in the streets and the residents are cowards that don't even fight or worse, fight dirty!"
"Well it makes sense, we are foreigners in their lands." The older man replied, "What are the casualty report?"
Usually a casualty report would be taken at the end of the day but with both of them worried, it'd probably be better now then later.
"About two thousand already have perished to this trick with just as many wounded with the numbers rising. The men are become afraid and restless. I suggest retaliation to discourage these attacks."
Arlo cringed at the idea this fool was spatting out of his mouth. If these people had the ability to attack with such powerful magic then he feared what they'd do in retribution.
"That would only anger them further if they really do have such skilled mages."
"Then you lack bravery general. Our soldiers are dying without the ability to fight back and you expect me to sit and watch? Pathetic! The marines are being halted at a road paved on a sandbar by men in black. I'm sending auxiliaries to breakthrough their resistance."
Before Arlo could reprimand him he left without another word. He cursed under his breath and hoped to the Gods that this campaign would go his way. Men and material were pouring through the Gate with ten legions currently at his disposal. Their mages were targeting men out in the open so he'd be forced to have the men stay indoor to, cruelly but necessarily, use the peasants as shields until they could fight on more equal terms.
To the east, the marines had commandeered several boats included a ship that didn't require sails. The crew couldn't understand them but having swords pointed at them did help them cooperate with the Imperial army to ferry them across the channel to the islands in the center. The 4th Marine Legion had successfully landed and secured the southernmost island but received trouble on the Sandbar like Maio had said. Wyvern attacks had inflicted heavy casualties but they held firm and the thin bottleneck effectively halted the advance in that direction.
1st Marines had to use small sail boats which unlike the ship were attacked by flying metal wyverns and many were blown out of the water. They unlike the 4th marched northward across a bridge onto the the next island which was much, much more sparsely populated. Messengers had told him that it's general wanted to send a party over to two small nearby islands to use as a stepping stone to the city on the overside of the channel. He didn't want all his manpower to be bunched up together so he approved the plan.
On the mainland was a handful of small communities connected by roads leading north to a town similar in size before one massive city, possibly double the size of the capital of the Empire Sadera. He sent the 41st Legion to head north along with with the 19th Calvary Alae where they encountered skirmishers with very impressive firepower, whom fought a slow fighting retreat until they made a stand just outside a village where the calvary were repulsed several times. The sounds of thunder in that direction soon after put a pit in his stomach.
The south saw the numerous bridges cover the river taken and the conquering of the southern half of the city where a big part of paved road was just sitting there with weird contraptions on it. The direction from wyvern reconnaissance showed that aside from the lowland road by the shore, the area was mountainous with tiny villages dotting the valleys. He mentally noted that it could be a hub of rebel activity if left to fester.
Finally there was the west which was the least populated, mostly bring situation on the small river that winded its way into the interior. After his wyvern begun falling out of the sky he couldn't get much further information about the landscape so he'd have to simply expand until he bumped into something, which was absolutely not his fighting style but it'd have to do.
He then jolted instinctively as an explosion went off not to far from his location.
"Damn mages..." He cursed, "Few more corpses."
He had reluctantly excepted the position of chief general but the emperor directly requested he take it and no reasonable man would go against his wishes least risk crucifixion. If Heaven forbid he was defeated, the only way to save his life was to send the emperor many riches and many slaves. With the attacks slowly vamping up, it was a far from unlikely that he'd lose before the campaign really began.
The greying general turned to his personal messenger and walked up to the young lad, who possibly was no older then twelve.
"Mark! I want you to inform the generals to round up as many valuables and slaves as possible to be sent back. Is that understood?"
The boy stretched his right horizontally and his palm vertically with fingers touching, a common way to show respect to authoritative figure back home. Arlo returned the gesture and the messenger scampered off to conduct his mission.
He too exited the house and gaze towards the beaming midday sun, it was much like the one in Falmart, a big round light that lit up the world and gave it warmth. He liked the sun for it was simple and the sensation where it wasn't too hot was delightful. What he saw of the landscape outside civilization was quiet nice too. If these people had no need to wall up their settlements then it had the potential to be a wonderful place to build a home, or even for a soldier to build a family.
Suddenly there was a loud high pitched sound that sliced through the air a knife and he looked up to see a grey bluff fly overhead before a few explosions went off.
'So it wasn't magic.' He thought, 'They have wyvern corps as well. I should've anticipated this!'
His heart dropped more and more with each and every explosion, he was certain they were targeting columns expanding the Imperial breach head in the Other-World to which had no defense against, it was a slaughter.
Perhaps it was a mistake to spread them out like that, not bundled up but left out in the open to be picked off like tiny rodents being swooped away by a flock of hungry birds of prey. Maybe he should've just hunkered down in the city and await the enemy's counterattack.
Or, as sacrilegious and cowardly, the expedition was doomed from the start. Several hours in and he lost one percent of his force without inflicting a major defeat on the enemy say for a few skirmishes. He faced a foe to which he had no direct way to fight back against, who attacked with showing one's self, whose presence was felt even when not present.
He was physically sick at the thought. These people had grey wyverns that dropped solin balls just wyverns back in Falmart but only much more powerful, firesticks that turned a man into a walking century, ships that could sail against the wind, and houses that sometimes put manors to shame.
Then another but more older messenger jogged up to him while calling out his title.
"General!" He exclaimed, "I have news." His words lowered in volume and his look was one of uneasiness.
"What is it?!" He snapped, "What could possible be worth taking my time?" He didn't mean to shout but his anxiety was at a boiling point and being released through aggression he rarely expressed.
The messenger stuttered on his words, earning a light yet firm slap to his left cheek. The general had no time for games and glorified mutes who couldn't do their jobs.
"Speak now or I'll have you flog!" Arlo in reality wasn't going to but it got him to articulate his words.
"General Mudra and his 33rd Legion is here."
The color disappeared from his face while he lost his breath for a moment. It was name that struck fear no matter ally or foe or bystander. If there ever was a demon then Mudra would be the king of all demons in human form.
"Where is he at the moment?"
"The 33rd is headed into town on its own accord."
Things kept getting worse and worse and worse for him. Mudra would transform their anger to fury for sure. Even a chief general like himself couldn't leash him and his band of murderous drunks.
He waved the messenger away and his stomach flipped at the thought of what'd he do. Not even the most callous of men in the Imperial army had anything on that wretched monster.