FWWWWTT! FWWWWTT!
The sound of boots, bits of snow crunching on their soles, meeting marble floors echoes in the halls and through the walls of the abandoned Pavolian Manor House. Military police scramble through the snow-swept grounds of the Manor House to the tune of frantic whistles and curse-laden shouting.
Private Magni Dezmond sprints through the chaos, kicking up snow behind him as he cradles his last overstuffed box of contraband goods. Packets of Pavolian ' Fowlboro ' premium cigarettes and bundles of provocative ' PlayBird ' gentleman's magazines fall off the top of the box, littering the snow with peafowls - in one way or another.
Magni isn't especially fast, but he darts and weaves through the grounds without missing a beat. He hops over crates scattered about, lunges under heavy machine gun emplacements and zips between patrolling guards with picture-perfect precision.
One thing was for sure, Altare thinks.
' This ain't his first rodeo. '
Altare and Vesper see that frantic scene. They turn to each other and follow the MPs to chase after Magni.
"That hawker's our loader...!?" Altare asks mid-sprint.
"He was supposed to be...!" Vesper hisses between sparse panting, "His sleight of hand... would have made him a good loader! But now... Now, I'm having... second thoughts!"
Suddenly, Magni turns a sharp corner and zips even further away from his pursuers.
"FUCK! The rascal's getting away!" one of the MP's yells.
And Magni nearly does.
Until a loud voice with a thick, North Elysian accent echoes through the grounds.
"GET BACK HERE YA CHEEKY CUNT!"
Out of nowhere, a soldier with fiery red hair and bright blue eyes appears. He runs at full tilt, cuts Magni off and tackles him!
"Ahhn~!" Magni moans questionably. His box of contraband comes flying out of his hands while he and his captor fall into a thick snowbank.
THWOK!
. . .
Altare, Vesper, and the military police catch up and surround the snowbank. There, they find the redhead master-locking Magni.
"O-okay, okay! You got me, you bastards!" Magni squeals, "Now let go!"
The redhead, however, doesn't budge. Not until the military policemen pull Magni out of the snowbank and slap handcuffs on his wrists. Meanwhile, Altare squats down and offers the sprinter a hand.
"That was some mighty fast running, buddy." Altare smirks.
"Private Dezmond, that damned greaseball, had it coming - peddling that Pavie shit on my base!" The redhead hisses.
"Hey! Fowlboro 's pretty damn good, bud !" Magni argues through gritted teeth. "And have you seen the PlayBird cover this month!?"
He squirms, his handcuffs rattling, "It's a ' Love Me, Love Me' edition! On the centerfold, you get a glimpse of the Empress' thig-"
The military policemen jab Magni with batons before he could lust over the Pavolian gentleman's magazines any more. They proceed to take Magni away, dragging him through the snow.
"...He's a lost cause." The redhead shakes his head. Then, he takes Altare's hand and lets himself get helped up, "Thanks, mate."
Clumps of snow fall off the redhead's uniform, giving Altare and Vesper a clearer view of it. It was olive green, well-worn with many stitches of patchwork and repairs. It was of Elysian design too, just like the PCAPs, but the patches on his shoulders were different: two chain-wrapped rifles superimposed over the Starfall Banner.
"You're with the Correctional Infantry." Altare determines, eyeing the redhead's patch.
"That's right. 2nd Recon - Hakos Company. We're your boots on the ground for the PCAPs." The redhead beams, "That's you guys, right? Our tankboys?"
"You know we're from the PCAPs?" Vesper wonders.
"Yeah. I saw your patches." The redhead winks, "My eyes are pretty darn good. Wouldn't be in 2nd Recon if they weren't!"
"So it would seem," Altare muses.
The redhead straightens his back and points to himself, "Private First Class, Axel Syrios. North Elysian, born and raised - and arrested, heh." He then pounds his chest proudly, "But I'm still a true-blooded Elysian through and through."
"A real patriot, huh?" Altare hums.
"Yes, sir," Axel nods. "I was one of the first volunteers from my prison." He lifts up his olive green shirt and shows an old scar, "Got this cat scratch fighting against some Pavie tank division. My CO told me it was shrapnel from a 70mm or something while I was running recon."
"A 75mm. Probably from a HaKu V Panther." Vesper corrects, shifting his glasses knowingly.
"Those HaKus are all the same to me, man. They all deserve to burn in hell." Axel scoffs, pulling his shirt back down, "We didn't win the battle, but we lived to fight another day."
"We wouldn't be here talking to you if you didn't," Altare chuckles.
"No shit, Sherlock!" Axel laughs too, clapping on Altare's shoulder. He faces the two men again and asks, "So, I've told ya my life story. Who are you two lads?"
"Corporal Altare Regis." Altare introduces himself and gestures to Vesper, "And he's Private First Class Vesper Noir, my adjutant."
Axel promptly stands in attention and salutes Altare.
"Corporal Regis!" Axel hails brightly, "Gosh, you're that madman who took out three HaKu's out in the forest pass, ain't ya?"
Altare laughs lightly and returns the salute, "At ease, soldier. I'm just a prisoner pressed into service like you."
Axel complies, but sparkling stars remain in his eyes. He proceeds to shake Altare's and then Vesper's hands with puppy-like anticipation. Altare swears that if Axel had a tail, it would be wagging hard.
"Ves, what do you think?" Altare asks, pointing to Axel.
"Private First Class Axel Syrios, huh..." Vesper rubs his chin.
"Yeah, that's me," Axel confirms, grinning proudly.
"Have you ever taken PCAP tankery courses, son?" Vesper asks.
"Tankery...?" Axel tilts his head, visibly racking his brains. Then, his blue eyes shine, "Oh right, my C.O. was buggin' me about somethin' like that." He laughs heartily and gestures wildly with his hands, "I gave it a try but they gave me this book thingy that was YEA big. Biggest book I've ever seen in my life! Thing is, I don't do reading!"
"You... don't 'do' reading?" Vesper raises his brow.
"Nuh-uh. Ain't ever touched a book or read a newspaper that wasn't the funnies!" Axel spoke proudly, "Too many fancy hifalutin' words stitched together and all that, y'know?"
Vesper facepalms.
"He's illiterate..." The older gentleman groans.
Axel folds his arms innocently, "That some fancy compliment or somethin'?"
Vesper opens his mouth, almost as if he wanted to answer Axel, but he stops himself halfway. He turns to Altare to pass his judgment, but he doesn't get the chance to.
Altare, unfazed, turns to Axel and asks, "You ever fire heavy weapons in the Correctional Infantry, Axel?"
"Yep." Axel grins proudly again, "I fired them machine guns and them mortars - oh! And them anti-tank guns too. Those 30 millimeters!"
"37mm guns." Vesper corrects again, this time with a grumble.
Axel shrugs, "They never put me through any special courses or whatever - and folks were dyin' left and right, so I figured out how to use 'em on the fly." He pounds his chest again, "Bought the Company time to retreat. They wouldn't have made it out of that vicious Pavie attack without me!"
"You learn by doing." Altare nods, "You're calm under pressure - and you get the job done."
"You're damn right I do!" Axel raises his head proudly.
Altare turns to Vesper again and declares, "I think we've found our gunner, Ves."
Vesper raises up his finger, half-ready to complain, but he catches himself and heaves a sigh instead.
"If that's what you think, Altare." Vesper nods to his commander. Then, he turns to Axel and starts, "But I have one last question for ya, son, since you're a patriot and all."
"Shoot." Axel smirks.
"You do know who the Commander of our PCAP is, right?" Vesper tests, "2nd Lieutenant Ollie Kureiji."
"Ku… wait...?" Axel pauses for a moment, "She's a... Pavie?"
"That's right, son." Vesper confirms, "She defected two years ago."
Axel exhales and then shrugs.
"Listen... as long as she salutes the Starfall Banner, follows Captain Hakos and tells us to kill Pavies, I don't care who she used to be." Axel declares, clenching his fist.
The redhead's blue eyes sharpen as he declares, "I may be dumb, but I'm not stupid. This damn war's been goin' on for eight years. I know we need every bit of help we can get - and if Lt. Kerayjay helps us send the Empire packing, she's a patriot to me."
"Ku-rei-ji." Vesper corrects again.
"Tomato, tomahto," Axel snorts.
Altare laughs, patting Axel's and Vesper's shoulders firmly.
"Anyways, Axel - if I can call you that..." Altare starts, "We'll get in touch with your C.O. about tank gunnery training. We're all under Captain Hakos' Company, so it shouldn't be too difficult."
"I'll be looking forward to it, Corporal Regis!" Axel salutes Altare again, "Oh, and 'Axel' is totally fine, mate!"
With that, Axel turns around and hurries off through the Manor House grounds, snow crunching under his boots. Vesper then heaves a sigh, his face worn as though he'd not seen sleep in days.
"We didn't get a loader, but we did get a gunner." Vesper recounts, "I had some other gunner candidates, but you seemed to have very strong convictions about PFC Syrios — despite having just met him."
"Axel's worlds apart from the gunner I used to have, believe you me." Altare hisses, remembering the baldie man that left him to die, "Besides, I know a good man when I see one."
"I'll have to trust your judgment on this one." Vesper concedes, adjusting his glasses, "It's a shame that Private Dezmond turned out the way he did..."
"Yeah..." Altare squats down by the snow and picks up a PlayBird magazine. The scantily clad silhouette of the Empress of Pavolia behind a transparent, blue, silken veil promptly greets him, "Holy shit...!"
Vesper's face sours, but he studies the front page of the PlayBird magazine regardless.
"Do you think we should still talk to PFC Dezmond about this?" Altare asks, waving the magazine around, "He sure had a lot of these - and those cigarettes too."
"Leave it to the military police, Altare." Vesper snatches the provocative magazine out of Altare's hands and tosses it aside, "Let's report to Lieutenant Kureiji for now. We have to contact PFC Syrios' C.O., after all."
"Lead the way, Ves." Altare smiles.
Vesper nods. Then, the two men walk around the Manor House grounds to look for their loudtenant .
. . .
With the winter air sharp and brisk, Altare and Vesper make their way through the Manor House grounds, searching for Lieutenant Kureiji.
"Knowing her, she shouldn't be too hard to find," Altare mumbles to himself.
Vesper overhears this and adds to the thought. "She's a real worker bee, digging trenches here, setting up sandbags there. She has her hand in everything — even in talking the officers above her down." He sighs.
"Yep," Altare chuckles. "But good thing she's on our side now, huh?"
That said, when the two men finally find their elusive officer, they find her riding an M3A1 light tank out of the Manor House garage.
VROOOM! VROOOM!
The engine of Ollie's tank roars as it comes into view. A small convoy of other M3 lights follow her lead, rumbling through the snowy cobblestone paths and the snow-coated pavement outside the manor house complex.
"Lieutenant!" Altare cups his mouth and shouts over the rumble of tank engines and the thrashing of tank treads.
"Corporal!" Ollie shouts back, waving from the cupola of her tank with a grin.
"Why are we moving the Stuarts!?" Altare asks.
"We're making room for the Regular Army - damn greedy bastards!" Ollie answers. Her grin wavers and grinds down into a frown, "They want their vehicles in the main garage. We're getting pushed out to that barn over yonder."
Ollie points to a barn sitting atop a forested hill just outside the Manor House. Altare brings out his binoculars and scopes out the hill - where he finds PCAPs tents being pitched.
"Our new home , huh?" Altare whispers, clicking his tongue with displeasure.
"I'll meet you at the Manor House after we haul ass!" Ollie bids Altare farewell. Her tank and the others in the convoy carry on down the road.
Before Altare could say anything else, loud horns blasted his ears.
HONK! HOOOONK!
Vesper promptly pulls Altare away to the side. Then, an Elysian Regular Army jeep coming up the opposite direction of the PCAP tanks runs up the pavement where Altare was standing.
"Get off my fucking road, criminals!" The jeep driver yells, shaking his fist at Altare.
A fleet of open-topped Regular Army M9 halftracks filled with soldiers follow after the jeep towards the large Manor House garage. Every M9 flew the bright green Starfall Banner of Elysium, contrasting the stark white of the falling snow cloaking the landscape.
Vesper helps Altare back up to his feet and hisses at the advancing Regular Army convoy and their fluttering green flags.
"What do they think this is, some sort of parade ground!?" Vesper lashes, "Are they putting on some circus show or something?"
"They probably are." Altare muses, pointing to an unusual vehicle in the convoy of M9 halftracks, "That jeep in the middle. They've got newsies on board."
True enough, the jeep in the middle of the convoy has a motion picture camera on a tripod mounted instead of an M2 heavy machine gun. A short man with two-toned black and red hair mans the camera and captures the fluttering flags of the halftrack convoy in a wide shot. Behind him, a man with pale pink hair, blue highlights, a conspicuous pink-and-purple coat and an even more conspicuous top hat, scribbles down on a notebook.
"Elysium Commonwealth News. The Commonwealth's propaganda arm," Vesper's frown deepens, pinching his nose as he groans. "That flamboyant fool in the top hat is Mr. Bettel Gavis, one of their favored news anchors. The one on the camera should be his technician, Mr. Flayon Machina."
"You know them?" Altare asks.
"Know them personally? No... Seen them around? Unfortunately, yes," Vesper answers with a sigh.
"I've seen those clowns in our camps often. Captain Hakos and all of the other attention-starved Regular Army officers don't miss a chance to get interviewed. Lucky for them, Bettel never misses a chance to get scoop and Flayon films every second of it." He shakes his head and scoffs, "According to them and ECN, we've been winning the war for eight years!"
Altare snorts, "If only they knew the truth."
"They probably do," Vesper deduces, adjusting his glasses. "They're just choosing not to report it. That's 'EC News' for ya."
He folds his arms bitterly, "Thinkin' about it, though... this is as close to the frontlines as ECN's gotten. Maybe Pavolian shelling will revive their journalistic integrity... but I'm not holding my breath."
"Hmm... I'd rather not deal with them if we can help it, then." Altare sighs, watching the small news crew filming the impromptu parade, "With the Regular Army moving in, we hopefully won't have to."
"Agreed." Vesper nods.
On that note, Altare and Vesper march back to the Manor House and steer clear of the Regular Army forces and their fluttering Starfall Banners pouring into the compound as best as they could.
. . .
Later that afternoon, in the pristine study room that once was Altare's, the two men lean against the thick blue curtains on the walls while they watch Regular Army troops nearly emptying the room of its handsome mahogany furniture.
"It was a nice room," Altare muses.
The beds, chairs, and coffee tables had been plucked from the room. Everything but the couches bearing the peafowl-shaped seal of the Elysian Empire, the royal blue drapes, and the imposing portrait of Empress Reine Pavolia hanging over the hearth were carried out in short order.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Brisk footsteps echo from the halls. Then, Lt. Kureiji Ollie bursts into the room. Altare and Vesper salute her as she marches in. She joins them in watching the Regular Army soldiers cart off the last of the non-blue furniture, who don't even so much as bat an eye at her.
"...The bastards got here and they're already redecorating hard," Ollie scoffs, eyeing the now ' deforested ' room.
She shakes her head and turns to Altare and Vesper, "Sorry for the delay, gentlemen. The newsies and the Regular Army staff wanted to get dramatic footage of the M3 Stuarts on the move, so we had to circle around a few times."
Kureiji heaves a sigh, crossing her arms. "We've got a one-star Brigadier General setting up shop here at the Manor House after all, and she wanted a goddamn parade - a show of force for the cameras."
"It's alright." Altare reassures her, "The sooner we move out of the Manor House, the better I'll feel."
"Likewise." Vesper nods, "I've already brought out most of the meat and provision stores the Pavolians left behind."
"Good man." Ollie smiles, "We can't let the Regular Army leeches get their hardtack and eat it too!" She closes the door behind her and asks, "So, the two of you were looking for me?"
"Ah, yes." Vesper confirms, "We have some news - good and bad - on the recruitment front."
Vesper proceeds to recount their encounters with Magni Dezmond and Axel Syrios to Ollie. The lieutenant listens closely and hums thoughtfully.
"Talking with the Correctional Infantry won't be a problem." Ollie confirms proudly, "But I suggest you two resolve your Loader issue as soon as you can."
"Why so, Lieutenant?" Altare asks, "Did something come up?"
"Yeah," Ollie says flatly. "The operation to rescue Lieutenant Watson's getting fast-tracked... so it might be better to hear it straight from her partner's mouth." She turns around to face the door and calls, "You can come in now, Miss OSS."
Thud. Tack. Thud. Tack.
At Ollie's invitation, the doors of the room open once more. A short, white-haired lady steps slowly into the room. She was sharply dressed, wearing a formal olive green dress-jacket with matching tie, trousers and peaked cap. Insignias on her cap and on her shoulder pauldrons showed that she was a Second Lieutenant like Ollie, but from an entirely different - better funded – branch of the Elysian military.
Still, the newcomer's uneven footsteps are followed by taps of a crude wooden crutch, walking fast for an injured woman.
"Gentlemen, meet the fine young lady who commissioned the PCAPs to rescue Lieutenant Watson." Ollie gestures to the newcomer and beams, "Lieutenant Gawr Gura of the Elysian OSS."
Altare and Vesper promptly salute Gura. The short Lieutenant returns the gesture and faces the two men.
"I'm here today to make a personal appeal to the PCAPs," Lt. Gura speaks, eyeing Altare directly. "The situation's changing on the ground in Xenokuni City. Changing for the worse ."
"What happened, ma'am?" Vesper asks.
"Lately, Army HQ's been receiving distress signals from Ame." Gura explains, her white brows furrowing hard, "She says that her position's been compromised and that she's on the run from local security forces. That means we can't waste any more time."
"Ame?" Ollie asks. "Who's 'Ame'?"
The snow-haired lieutenant's shoulders jump a bit. "W-Watson. That's First Lieutenant Watson. Sorry."
"Well, Xenokuni City is still a ways off, though." Altare argues, "We'll try our hardest, but our Stuarts aren't gonna be breaking through enemy lines on our own, and not in such short time."
"I know that." Gura snaps back, but catches herself halfway, "I know that... which is why we're coordinating an attack with the Regular Army and the Xenokuni Resistance within the city itself."
She unbuttons her coat, brings out a tactical map of the region and spreads it out on a coffee table by the fire, "It will be a three-pronged attack. A Regular Army armored division, armed with our strongest Sherman tanks, will assault the enemy front lines this weekend. At the same time, the partisan Xenokuni Resistance will start a riot in Xenokuni City and light fires under the Pavie jackboots as best as they can."
"And the third prong... is gonna be the PCAPs." Altare deduces.
"That's right." Ollie confirms, "Our Stuarts are gonna exploit the chaos and punch through when the Pavolian garrison is committed. Then, we'll rescue Lieutenant Watson and see how much of Xenokuni City we can retake from Pavolia."
Altare squints as he eyes the long, dotted lines of battle plans written all over the tactical map in different colored pencils. The red line marked 'PCAP Strike Team, Kureiji Platoon' snaked through sharp corners, machine gun emplacements, trenches, and all order of things that could give their units high hell.
"...This looks like a suicide mission." Vesper says honestly.
"Just like most of our missions so far, Vesper," Ollie chuckles. She turns to Altare, "So, Corporal Regis — you're gonna be my platoon's spearhead. Think you're up to the task?"
Altare takes a deep breath. Images of the hellish battlefield of the snowy forest passes come to mind, but Altare eyes Lieutenant Gura. He can see the expression on her face - harrowing fear clashing with dogged determination.
' She's also seen hell .' Altare thinks, ' She's also fighting for someone dear. '
Altare clenches his fist and answers wholeheartedly, "We'll be ready to strike when the time comes, Lieutenant Gura."
Gura smiles and heaves a sigh of relief.
"That's what I like to hear." Altare notices Gura holding her crutch firmly, a slight flutter to her free hand too, at his confirmation. She looks out the window wistfully. "I can see why Lieutenant Kureiji holds you boys in high re... gard..."
Gura's words, however, trail halfway through.
"Lieutenant?" Altare asks.
"Just now, in the mountains..." Gura's blue eyes shimmered in the late afternoon sunlight, "I thought I saw a flash."
Altare's jaw drops. "Lieutenant!" He cries, "Get down!"
Suddenly, the window shatters. A bullet whizzes through the air. It grazes Gura's cheek and draws blood, barely missing her right eye.
Everyone in the room ducks for cover and even more rifle shots crash into the room. Then, explosions - Pavolian mortar fire - start rocking the vast grounds of the Manor House. Machine guns open fire from the mountains too, peppering the entire compound with lead. The manor shakes as the boots of Elysian soldiers thump its floors, scrambling to their positions in the halls below them.
"FUCK — PAVOLIAN ATTACK!" Ollie shrieks. She points to Altare, Vesper and Gura and barks, "You three are infantry now! Grab a rifle and get organized!"
And so, as the late afternoon sun starts to dip in the horizon, the Second Battle of the Manor House begins.
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– TEMPEST –