It felt like the whole world was against them. From one failure to another, any attempt to salvage a victory had been in vain. Arendelle should have fallen but the resistance from the post-apocalypse survivors had ensured Elsa's birthright to her family's throne. Prince Hans exhausted every option that was at his disposal and now his army was in disarray and the plans for the future dashed before his very eyes. The poison gas that Saul and his men had brought was supposed to unleash the finishing blow and clear a way for his glory.
A massive green cloud encompassed the battlefield where most of his troops fought and died at. Death was meant to overtake them and bring them to ruin but then their silhouettes approached and changed everything. Those who were meant to be killed had defied their fates and the young man knew his time on this earth was coming to an end. Fleeing back to his camp alongside his bodyguards, his skin crawled at sensing what felt like anger and rage as if the gods of war manifested in their souls.
What made the whole strategic picture worse was the lack of organization and discipline within the ranks. Small bands of men fled for their lives, ignoring orders from their superiors as the Russian army was not far behind. Something had to be done; otherwise, he would be the laughingstock among his brothers while incurring his father's wrath for spending the family's fortune on a war behind their backs.
The prince and his bodyguards of cuirassiers encountered a group of landsknechts within the forest. He pulled the reins back and stopped his horse. "You there, stand and fight!"
One of the armored doppelsöldners among their kind had let off a scowl. "Lick our ass, dummkopf! We're paid to fight, not die for you. Let someone else do your dirty work you silk stocking full of shit."
"Insolent blackguard!" Cried out one of the cuirassiers at Hans' side. The rider galloped forward and drew his sabre from the scabbard. His blade raised high to perform bloody work.
That act of defiance changed everything when the offending German mercenary pulled out his pistol and fired. Smoke bellowed out from the barrel as a crack rang out throughout the woods. Then the horse's speed slowed as its rider stumbled forward and fell from his saddle. "If ye send the rest of your retinue, I'll make sure to run a pike through you."
The mutiny was interrupted when a Russian war machine growled from the royal's left. What trees stood in its way had been uprooted from the dirt and crushed beneath its treads. Its 'face' was looking back but in the wake of the destruction, infantry poured out from behind and fired upon them. Fear took over and the prince rallied his bodyguards to escape. Stray rounds struck two unfortunate cuirassiers, causing them to collapse and slam their riders to the ground.
"Run for your lives!"
Soon the pursuers were almost out of their minds but the prince turned his head and watched the gunfire run through the stragglers as they fled on foot. They were not going to make it.
Hans still had time to make it to the ships before the others.
Anna should have died at the base camp. The dismounted post-apocalypse soldiers had come to her aid but she noticed their attitudes and expressions toward the toxic cloud that was born. It was a terrifying concept for her that someone didn't need to slay a warrior with a sword or shoot a target with a gun when they could deny the very basic necessity for a human being - a breath of air. Their familiarity with such a weapon had made their already bleak world another shade darker.
"Keep going south, keep going south!" Ordered a Russian soldier while the entirety of Arendellians, Northuldrans, and Russians trekked through the path carved by ancient war machines that had been dormant in the confines of the bunker complex. The trees that stood in their way had been crushed or overturned by their roots, never to be the same as engineers pulled men from the column to push them aside for the mass of fearful souls. It was also difficult to get a good footing with the earth itself chewed out by the steel treads of heavily armored vehicles.
The green mist should have taken them all but a strange moment occurred when the winds themselves intervened on their behalf. There was little explanation to describe her amazement as the poisonous mist had been repressed, allowing all the time to flee from the danger. Hard to believe how lucky they were to have survived that encounter while the princess cared for the wounded passing by. Many wounded soldiers who fought for Arendelle or Prince Hans were collected from the dead that littered the battlefield and brought along by stretchers. Some remained silent while others were glad and grateful for the mercy that was shown to them. They at least deserved some measure of comfort that this kingdom wasn't going to leave them behind like the royal of the Southern Isles.
"Water…" A man gasped, putting much of his strength into his voice as he did on the battlefield, "Need… water."
Anna turned her head to find a German mercenary being carried by his captors. She walked over to his side along the stretcher and brought a canteen out before stealing a glance from the post-apocalypse Russians. "Stop for a moment." They heeded her order as she unscrewed the cap and placed the hole just above his lips before water poured into his mouth. His armored gauntlet grabbed ahold of the canteen to increase the flow a little more. Then the soldier of fortune gently handed it back.
"Thank you."
She looked to his guards and gestured a nod to continue. Her legs were beginning to get tired from the walking but the royal had to help somehow. There were no magic powers involved or the ability to fight; however, being left out compelled her to try. Standing from the sidelines was not going to do anything.
Flying contraptions flew overhead as Anna looked up from her mundane worries to see the machines pass by in formation. It was strange to see them go after all of the bloodsheds that had transpired since the arrival of the flotilla. Even though their pilots were responsible for dealing with death and destruction, there was a strange elegance to be had when they played their part in defending a kingdom not their own.
A pair of footsteps approached her and the princess turned to see it was Lieutenant Mathias. His sword was sheathed and his shield remained on his arm but the expression was more than enough to leave an impression. "I thought this was going to be the end for us all. How are you feeling, your highness?"
She appreciated his care. "Partially exhausted but I'll be fine. It is everyone else I am worried about." Elsa's departure from the camp made her stomach twist with fear for the future but that was alleviated when she witnessed a friend of the family do something so heroic on the queen's horse. "I just hope that we finally see the end."
The vanguard had been reinforced and the ghosts of the Red Army would be placated by exacting vengeance upon Prince Hans' army. Initial engagements from the main force had resulted in troop formations being routed by the combination of mobility and firepower - a concept that was seldom met by soldiers of this era. It encouraged their allies and shocked their enemies. All would be brought low by steel and fire but everything changed when he received radio hails about poison gas. Colonel Mel'nikov had been shocked at first, questioning the morality of the Caspian bandits and the ruthless capability they brought to the battlefield. The military discipline instilled into his blood had kept his anger in check; however, the deployment of chemical weapons was a line they crossed. If he intended to stop them, this battle will be won in a manner he was most familiar with.
Communication between platoons and squadrons had been let on the air for the past hour. Information was key in warfare and any detail played a crucial role in breaking the enemy's combat arms into ineffectiveness. If it was not for the radio, major events would have turned out differently. The constant reports have painted a picture of a collapsing frontline that the hostiles attempted to form to stall the continuous series of advances by the more mobile units. In a military sense, they should have approached along a wide front to prevent threatening pockets of resistance if the opposition was a modern professional military that challenged the Red Army. Only NATO could truly answer the Soviet Union's military might with its innovations and technological superiority.
His gunner spoke of the current situation outside of the tank. "The second and third platoons are coming in from our left flank."
"Good," The Spartan Commander acknowledged as he rose from his seat and opened the hatch of the T-72. He was reassembling the tanks and infantry fighting vehicles after chasing down the routed troops through the forests. With the enemy on the run, it was only a matter of time before the disheartened and desperate would flee to their ships, and what better way to deal with this army than to destroy the only route back to the landing zones? Then reached out to the handle of the pintle-mounted Dushka while turning on the radio on his person. "All mobile contingents, the primary objective is to advance towards the coast and control the shoreline from enemy activity. Any stragglers and pockets of resistance are a secondary concern. Those who cannot accompany are to continue a wide advance and close any pockets left behind. Good hunting, comrades." What came after was many replies belonging to company commanders complying with his orders across the frontline.
A lieutenant reported on the channel."Sir, we've finished refueling and rearming. Transports are filled with personnel for air assault. Orders?"
"Find a suitable terrain for deployment near the shoreline occupied by hostiles. They are to slow the enemy's advance and corral them into a narrow route. Maintain air support for them until we get there."
"Understood."
Gunfire rippled from the bushes to his left as bullets bounced on the turret armor of the tank and whizzed past his head. Fortunately, he had a bigger gun. The colonel tightened his grip on the handles and directed the barrel toward a group of Caspian bandits firing wildly in his direction. Soon he saw the fear in their eyes as they fled from the failed ambush sight before the commanding officer fired. Every few seconds his fingers would hold down the trigger as he watched the tracers rip through the vegetation with unrelenting fury but he was not alone. A vehicle on the right flank of his T-72 had advanced with its turret aimed at the retreating infantry. Autocannon shells dominated the scene with trees falling apart or exploding into splinters.
Time was against the enemy and Colonel Mel'nikov would gladly drive them into the sea.
The chaos of battle was difficult to create a mental picture of a frontline. Northuldra's environment and the black powder smoke from musketeers had made it possible for the enemy to mask their movements. It was a fine tactic for the retreating troops but Artyom had no intention of letting them escape, not after they brought a weapon that had no place in this world. He hoped that the base camp got far from the battlefield but he would not give in to safe lies. Some would die and choke on their lungs. All of this bloodshed for a prince's ambition.
He had broken off from the rest of the army and traveled through the forests on foot. A fresh magazine was loaded as he gripped the handles of his assault rifle. There was a group of mercenaries that took a beaten path to the shoreline. It was likely that they were avoiding the wrath of their superiors for cowardice or unwillingness to face the fire but he wouldn't let them go. They had just a hand in this fight as their employer and there would be little pity left in his heart for them.
Soon he was behind their backs and less than fifty meters out. Artyom ran as he raised his rifle and fired upon them with disciplined shots. They turned around to face him and the musketeers cocked their firearms the prepared to aim down their sights. Three men were cut down by rapid-fire as the halberdiers and great swordsmen charged. He would receive no favors at entertaining their combat advantage in close range and so the Russian slowed down to a walking speed and let out his bullets in their direction. One-by-one the armored fighters stumbled to the ground as the losses built up. The few that remained were fortunate that the young man was merely out of ammo to kill them. Then Artyom pulled his assault rifle aside and reached for his sidearm, brandishing it before their surprised eyes. They tried to close the distance by spending as much energy in the legs; however, he was faster. The American-produced sidearm made short work of the last five men out of the twenty that were slain. They would not be the last and so he reloaded his weapons before proceeding further into the Northuldran lands.
The ground shook and caught him off-balance as a loud commotion in the distance became his concern. It didn't help that the screaming of the dying and musket fire sounded like a battle was occurring beyond what occurred at the base camp and the dam. The Polis Ranger charged headfirst into the danger while the air beneath the gas mask had grown stuffy. He need not worry about that since it was an issue that he was used to. A hill was the only obstacle in witnessing what the sounds of war were all about. His lungs huffed at burdening the equipment on his person but the prince had to make do since his horse was nowhere to shoulder a fraction.
Artyom reached the summit and looked down to find a camp or what remained of it. It was a strange sight for him as great mountainous giants stomped the retreating soldiers of Prince Hans' army. Some did try to resist but it was difficult to put up a fight against creatures of immense size. Yet, the stone giants were not alone as purple flames flickered and danced throughout the camp, further sowing chaos and discord into the enemy ranks. His eyes caught something else amidst the destruction, an angel bringing the wrath of winter and her steed throwing her assailants back from her. What was Elsa doing here? There was no room for questions as he descended from the hilltop and slid down its slopes. Perhaps the only danger to him was smashing himself against a tree but was diligent at avoiding that fate.
More soldiers continued to surround the Queen of Arendelle and although it seemed like her powers allowed her to put up a fight they could overwhelm the royal with numbers. He had no intention of letting that happen. His eyes stole a quick glance as ten men charged toward her; unfortunately, she covered the ground in ice before she artistically raised pillars from their positions and sent them flying. It impressed him as a dismounted cuirassier charged at her from behind before the Nokk appeared out of nowhere to back-kick him into a tree. "Elsa!"
She turned around and expressed a brief moment of relief as he slowed down with his boots and came to her aid. "Just in time!"
"What are you doing here? I thought you were with your sister." He needed to know why the queen was here he ran to her side and pressed his back against hers.
"Hans captured me but I broke free. The spirits of the forest are helping me. How's everyone?"
"We repelled their advance," He informed while his gaze scanned the surrounding area with the Nokk patrolling the perimeter, "Colonel Mel'nikov met with the rest of us. They're chasing them to the sea."
"I suppose the only thing we can do is wait for him until then."
Shots rang out and bullets flew past them as Artyom's attention returned to the fight, only to see several dozen soldiers approach him, half of them musketeers. As they began to reload, he reached for a grenade on his person and lit the fuse before throwing it with much reach. The enemy realized what he had done and tried to warn the others from engaging the Polis Ranger and the Queen of Arendelle. Then the explosion erupted among their number minimizing the numerical advantage that they possessed before. Those unaffected began to charge towards him as he double-tapped his trigger for each target.
"Switch!" Elsa ordered, confusing him in the midst of combat. He didn't know what she meant but the royal took action and stepped in front of him. As the soldiers and mercenaries sprinted towards them, she summoned a wall of ice and stopped their charge. What followed was something he didn't expect - Elsa weaponized it to her advantage. Two clenched fists reached out in front of her with the walls of ice moving against the enemy infantry. Then she opened her palms outward as her construction exploded into a shrapnel of icicles upon the foes. It was as if she created one massive claymore mine. "I didn't think that would work."
He would have admired her handiwork if a red dot laser didn't find its mark on her back. Pure instinct took over as he pushed her behind a tree and watched her get out of the immediate danger. Then his ears heard the crackle of gunfire and turned around to face the threat - it was too late for him. The first bullet hit hard in the Kevlar but the force pushed him down on his chest. As he recovered from the initial impact, he saw a group of Caspian bandits bypassing him and Elsa; however, three men took the opportunity to stay and fight with their assault rifles aimed at him. Artyom tried to bring up his Kalashnikov to reply and they continued to fire on him. Each round made him stumble backward as the hail of death rained on him. He could do nothing except receive their blows. This moment would be the first time he was helpless as his back met the bark of the tree and his throat coughed up blood. Unable to stand, his legs collapsed as he leaned on his back to hold himself upright. It was all so sudden but now he was nothing his soul could do but accept his doomed fate.
One of the bandits approached him as he emptied his magazine and replaced it with another. Artyom took one long look at the man's face and realized it was the same individual who offered terms in the Caspian. The irony of the moment almost made him want to smile if his body was not in pain. It seemed that if he tried to reach for his pistol, the bandit would finish what had started. "You fuckers may have won this battle but I'm not going to leave without carving one of you bastards up."
"Get away from him!" Icicles started flying as the two men accompanying this bandit leader were cut down by Elsa's ice magic.
The final bandit turned around to bring his weapon upon the queen of Arendelle but Artyom reached for his holster and brandished his sidearm with whatever fleeting strength he had left in his arm. It would be his end but not without a final act of vengeance as he cocked the pistol. A brief moment occurred when the bandit realized his mistake of turning around but no mercy was left in the heart of the Polis Ranger. Artyom pulled the trigger at his foe's head and watched as he stumbled forward and fell to the ground face-first. He wanted to be relieved; however, the pain in his body has arrived in full force.
Footsteps approached him as Elsa ran out of cover and came to his side with a worried look. "You're hurt! We need to get you to a doctor."
He shook his head. "I think it's too late for me." His hand reached for an orange case on his person, it had been struck twice as the soldier opened it to find one syringe of morphine that hadn't been damaged. The young man picked the only form of first aid and flicked the red cap off before injecting the needle into his body. It could alleviate the pain but only for a moment.
"Don't say that. You've survived this far. Just hold on as much as possible." She was almost on the brink of tears and the sadness in her eyes merely reflected on the wounds he suffered. His soul wanted to assure her that he was alright and would truly endure but even he was unsure about those prospects.
Artyom released the grip on his pistol and reached out to touch the beautiful royal with a gloved hand. He didn't want her to fall into despair, even at this moment, it would be too much for him. He caressed Elsa's cheek as her hand held his as much as possible. "My love."
The strength left the prince of Russia as the world stopped being relevant. Her calls seemed to be drowned out as the darkness swallowed his vision and an endless dream overtook his soul. Was this to be his end?
The shoreline was in great chaos. Hundreds of soldiers and mercenaries were huddled near the makeshift docks as dozens of boats from the ships arrived to pick them up. Each man was desperate to avoid the coming storm that approached from their rear. When a boat was close enough a crowd would shuffle their feet into the water and clamber aboard before the sailors would depart to avoid too many men from sinking what little space was left.
Prince Hans and his retinue broke through the sea of men as they begged him not to leave them behind but he had no intentions of entertaining their feelings. There was no victory and all he had left was a broken army on the brink of rebellion. That is if the Russians don't kill them first. His horse broke through the ranks and reached the furthest of the docks as a boat arrived; however, one of his cuirassiers blocked the nearby men from boarding. The young man dismounted from his saddle and stepped into the boat as his guards joined him.
Soon the rowers paddled away from the terrified looks as they went to the ships. It was only a matter of time before they would be overrun. No amount of distance from their gazes would wash away the shame of defeat; especially, of this scale. As the boat was half away from the ships, explosions erupted near the shoreline but were then followed up by intense gunfire. He looked up to see the huddled masses face the oncoming assault as silhouettes of Russian infantry backed by tanks appeared out from the trees. Those who were brave enough to make their stand had fought back in a vain attempt at resistance - the others tried to rush the boats or foolishly make the attempt to swim to the fleet. He watched their suffering unfold as the enemy made its slow advance to the sea and even went out of its way to fire upon the boats and swimmers in the water. Tracers and tank shells ripped into the water with bodies sinking into the cold depths while the rowers were overturned by the explosions.
A loud roar echoed from behind with cannonballs screaming over and cared not for friend and foe alike. Men screamed and shouted on the deck as the boat was adjacent to a man-of-war. Few noticed his arrival as ropes were tossed over for the prince and his men to climb up the steps. While rising to the top, the cannons at the gun deck were pulled away from the windows before the sounds of crews yelled out to reload their guns. A moment later, enemy cannon fire responded back with their own volley as the royal was unnerved by the sheer amount of danger he found himself in. Some shells find their place within an unfortunate vessel. Once he was helped onto the deck, it was quite clear that they had no intention of staying any further.
The young man took one more look at the shoreline to witness the carnage unfold before his very eyes. Yet, there was nothing else left for him except a return home. Then he turned toward the ship's captain, who was looking at the fighting with his spyglass. "Captain, we depart home. There is nothing left for us."
"Sir," The naval officer seemed unsure about that order, "You still have men by the shoreline."
"I know but the longer we stay here, our lives may end up like theirs. Open the sails and raise the anchor."
The captain lowered his spyglass and turned away. "Lads, we're going home! So much for all of this."