Colt Formal was the ruler of Italica - a small trade city - and an officer. As most of the other officers that had passed through the gate had either been killed or captured, he was rendered a defacto leader of a ragtag group of survivors - a hundred and two men in all. Of those hundred and two men, half of them continued on to Sadera, after a quick rest. The other half acted in lieu of his badly depleted Italica guardsmen.
Colt prided himself as a well-rounded warrior: equal parts brave, compassionate, and intelligent. Over the many conquests he had taken part of, the men under his command had hardly sustained over twenty percent casualties, but over the gate...that was different. The defenders had taken some time to reorganize themselves, but once they did, it became evident that another Imperial victory was far from grasp: how can their spears, swords, bows or battle axes fair against a stick that spews lightning? Or an armored transport that can deflect arrows?
He feared a counterattack was imminent: the enemy would have to make their way through Italica in order to reach the Empire's capital; as the Dumas Mountain Range provided a natural barrier, save for a narrow valley just east of the city.
It would be wise for Emperor Molt to situate his troops in the valley, as it would be easy to defend, though he doubt a man as headstrong as him would default for such a strategy. It was very possible that Italica would be the staging ground for a grisly battle, one that may very well destroy the Formal Clan.
His youngest daughter, Myui, still resided with him in the castle, so her safety weighed heavily on his conscience.
He juggled his position as a military leader and as a father: it would be utter cowardice to simply abandon the city his family had ruled over for countless years, but if the otherworlders were especially vengeful, what would stop them from ravaging all he held hear?
His only conceivable hope would be the women he had captured from beyond the portal: if these otherworlders valued their people as much as he did his own, then perhaps he could use them as a bargaining chip. What more could he do?
"Oh, gods..." Colt Formal sighed, slouching back within his throne.
Laredo, 0900, 3 days since contact
The gate itself was an impressive piece of architecture: a large row of columns parading towards a Roman building; which was so massive it could easily accommodate for six Abrams at a time, and give comfortable airspace for helicopters to pass through.
A large perimeter was formed around the gate, totalling four square kilometers. It was all very improvised: simply hesco barriers reinforced with razor wire. Of course, security was very tight, otherwise: armor, machine gun nests, soldiers, and air support on standby.
"We have a general overview of Italica's castle, although the exact layout is all guesswork," the Colonel began. An overhead sketch of the castle was drawn on to a whiteboard, with each section of the map compartmentalized into areas of interest, "dark zones", and areas to avoid. The courtyard located in the center of the castle was labeled, with entrance ways and rooms given vague descriptors to denote their possible importance.
"We land at the courtyard at 0100. Team two, led by Master Sergeant Daniel Cunningham, is to apprehend Colt Formal, located somewhere around here," he pointed towards the throne room, located at the far end of the castle.
"If he's not, then I want you to go down the hall and clear it out in search for him."
"Rules of engagement?" Donovan asked.
"Let me emphasize: you are to apprehend, not dispatch - Colt Formal. He's no good to us dead. If anybody gets in your way, though, you have full permission to blow their asses back."
Everybody in the room collectively agreed, with a few quips thrown about, even.
"Team one, led by Major Thomas Wright, is to capture the prisoners. There's believed to be a stairway located within one of the towers - or both - that could lead you to some prison cells."
"That's a lot of vague information, Colonel," Donovan Matrisciano said.
"It is. Unfortunately for us, the Formal's aren't too keen on welcoming guest at the moment: they suspect something is about to go down, but they probably won't expect us to come in from the air - and so soon."
He offered up a grin.
"We worked with less before, and with greater risks: I believe you guys can pull it off. Dismissed."
5 minutes en route to Italica, 0100, 4 days since contact
The 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment housed some of the best fliers around: these guys were cool under immense pressure, and when push comes to shove, can hold their own in a fight. Two MH-6 "Little Bird" helicopters each carried four Delta soldiers, the small helis easily capable of landing within the castle courtyard.
No words were exchanged in the flight, but everybody silently marveled at the new world around them: the expansive Dumas Mountain range seemed to go on for hundreds of miles, and the sky above them lit up like a canvas, on account of the lack of artificial lighting pervading its beauty. Soon enough, however, it would all begin to resemble the surface of the moon, if these people didn't surrender.
"Two minutes 'til ETA."
Their NVGs provided a clear picture of Italica: it's ten meter walls racked with guard towers every thirty meters or so, the inside of the city densely packed with clay tile buildings. At its center was the castle - itself surrounded by large walls. "There she is, boys!" one of the pilots exclaimed. "Ain't she a beaut'?"
The Little Birds circled over the castle, before descending down its center. Their skids landed on the soft grass of the courtyard, the whirling of their blades shaking about the trees and foliage.
All eight men exited the vehicles and quickly set to do their jobs: Daniel's team pushed into the lower half of the castle, and Wright's team, the other. They had thousands of hours worth of CQC drills under their belt, as well as real life experience, so the men were able to fill a room in a matter of second, and clear it in under thirty.
Donovan made his way toward the large double doors at the far end of the courtyard, quickly turning the knob, then filing in, his teammates in quick pursuit. All of their weapons were immediately fixed on possible points of contacts. They found themselves in a long hallway, two doors each adorning either end, with a peculiar large one in the middle.
Same procedure as before: they turned the knob, filed in, then pushed forward. Two astoundingly simple velvet chairs sat on elevated flooring at the far end of the room, with blue and yellow drapes behind them. This was definitely it, but they would be lying if they said it wasn't as grandiose as they would've thought. That aside, there were two doorways positioned on either side of the room. The four-man team split in two, both pairs quickly investigating their respective room: the one on the left seemed to be reserved for meetings and perhaps war planning, while the other was exactly what they were looking for.
Two rooms were located within the right hall, and expectantly, they were reserved for royalty: one little girl, whom they deduced as Colt's daughter, and the big man himself.
One man stood watch while the other three, Daniel and Donovan included, discreetly entered the room.
Even in his vulnerable sleeping state, Colt Formal still held quite the presence: despite looking like he was in his late fifties, the bed sheets did little to disguise his rather impressive physique. No doubt, this was a fighting man; in all honesty, they were almost certain the he could beat them in an individual melee.
Donovan did well to the sword laying by his bed to the far corner of the room.
Daniel kept his distance, MP5 trained on the ruler. "Tie him up," he ordered.
"Yup," Donovan replied. He had attempted to grab at his hands, but as soon as he touched Colt Formal, he sprung awake, his eyes darting around frantically for the assailant. He quickly realized the situation and jumped out of bed, only to find his sword nowhere in sight.
"Get down!" Daniel spoke in the native tongue. The man did not listen, writhing and cursing at the intruders as they wrestled him to the ground.
"You have committed a grave mistake!" he hissed. His elbow made contact with Donovan's face, the appendage landing squarely on his nose. He grunted, but didn't let go, as the other Delta soldier grabbed at his heels and pulled.
The momentum from Colt Formal's near-erratic struggling propelled him into the ground, finally enabling them to restrain him.
"Calm down," Daniel warned. "We can get you and your daughter to safety: all you need to do is listen to us."
"My daughter?" Formal spoke behind gritted teeth. "Don't you dare hurt her!"
"We don't want to. If you give us what we need, we can guarantee your safety."
Colt Formal was stood up. He had relaxed somewhat, but the man was still glaring daggers at Daniel. "You'll protect us?"
"As long as you answer our questions, we'll hold our end of the bargain."
He was visibly apprehensive. "What of my people?"
"We'll come back for them."
"Okay...will you wake my daughter for me?"
"Of course."
If the rest of castle hadn't been alerted to their presence yet, they certainly would have now. The girl was obviously alarmed, but at the reassurance of her father, they were escorted out of the hall.
A man in Imperial armor had made his way through the door when he spotted the soldiers, and quickly began to unsheathe his sword when three 9mm rounds impacted his chest and head. In an instant, the man dropped.
Colt didn't say anything, but Myui was clearly shaken. As they passed the fresh corpse, the girl couldn't help but to stare at it. "Come on, ya don't need to be looking at that," Donovan whispered in English. He doubt she knew a word of what he was saying, but she seemed to catch on, hurriedly tailing her father as they pressed forward.
The trek to evac was far from a long one, but they could hear commotion emitting from the courtyard.
Two guardsmen were left in a puddle of their own blood, while three maids watched on helplessly as strange men loaded the captured women on to the strange black beetles.
Donovan noted the age of the girls: they all looked to be between twelve and twenty years of age.
"Master!" one of the maids, a cat woman, gasped in shock as she noticed more people approaching, with the ruler of Italica in tow.
Here he was: the man she had served under for much of her young adult life, forcefully moved about by lesser men - and in such an undignified state, as well.
The maid had reflexively drawn her claws, and was well-prepared to pounce the men - damn the consequences - had Colt not told her otherwise. "Persia, stand down."
"Why?"
"I'll explain later," he rasped.
The combined capacity of the two helis were eight passengers, and unfortunately, they were at max capacity.
"Don't worry," one the pilots began, "Blackhawk should be here in a few minutes for extract."
"Alright, then." Major Wright gave an affirmative. He cursed under his breath as they took off, but offered no complaints.
The three maids on the other hand, certainly did. "What in the world is going on!?" Persia demanded.
"I don't quite know myself, but it's for the protection of Italica," Colt Formal answered. "
An eldery women, the head maid, raised a brow. "By restraining you and whisking you away into unknown lands?"
"It's not like I have a choice."
"You have our word that Italica is under our protection," Daniel added.
"How?" the third maid, a bunny girl, asked. "The Empire is a powerful force: they have the manpower, and the material needed to keep those men moving. I experienced it, myself, and I don't want to, again."
Daniel could only offer a nod. "We can do it."
Just wanted to correct a little error in the last chapter: Italica is 50 kilometers from the gate, not 450.