Thus, the Kaiserreich Fought There!

by KlockB

Following her victory in the Second Weltkrieg, the German Empire and her allies of Mitteleuropa find themselves in a three-way Cold War between themselves, the League of American States and the Empire of Japan. In the midst of a fragile peace in 1948, a mysterious Gate open in the heart of Berlin. The rest, as they say, is history.

4. In Alnus reitet der Tod

Hello! And welcome back after a looong hiatus. I apologize for it again, and for not showing any signs of life. I was busy with college, as this past semester has been rather hectic for me. But now that exams are over, I should be okay to work on this story, at least for the next few chapters. So, without further ado, let's continue!

Imperial Senate, Sadera, 2164th year of the Saderan Era, 4th day of the Month of Deldort

„Forgive my tone, Your Majesty, but this news from Alnus Hill is disastrous! Six Tenth of the Empire's fighting strength has been lost and the Otherworlders have seized the Hill! How can we recoup such losses? Tell us, Your Majesty, how does the Emperor intend to respond to such a crisis?!" Marquis Casel El Tiberius, a senior member of the Senate spoke in the centre of the chamber in a raised voice directing his words at Emperor Molt, sat on his throne in resplendent purple robes while the rest of the toga-wearing senators looked on from their seats as the Marquis spoke.

Ever since the news reached the Senate that the Gate atop Alnus Hill would soon open, many senators saw it as a great opportunity to expand the Empire's territories and gain riches and slaves from the lands beyond it. This 'hawkish' faction within the Senate was opposed by a smaller portion of senators who advocated against waging war with an unknown enemy. The Hawks soon began to belittle them as weaker 'Doves', but it was a title they quickly took for themselves, seeing it as a fitting epithet even if it had initially been an insult. The Doves' numbers, however, were few and their voice was drowned out by the many Hawks in the Senate and, more importantly, the Emperor himself was in favour of conquering the lands on the other side of the Gate. Since news of the recent battle on Alnus Hill reached the capital however, the Doves had gained more influence and some of the neutral senators joined their ranks. This gain of political power was what allowed Marquis Casel to voice his thinly veiled outrage at Emperor Molt in such a manner.

"Marquis Casel, I share your concerns." The Emperor spoke as the tirade ended. "You think that in our moment of weakness, both our vassals and foreign lords will rise against us. This wouldn't be the first time this Empire was threatened like this. In the Aktek War 250 years ago, the Emperor, the Senate and the people of the Empire stood united against those threatening our realm and vanquished them together. Now we must echo that feat of our ancestors and unite to defend our Empire. I don't believe you wish to play politics while enemy forces gather on our borders. Not every battle can be won, and I will not hold anyone responsible for this defeat."

"But your Majesty!" Another senator spoke up as he rose from his seat. "It took the enemy but a single battle to annihilate our Expeditionary Army and they have taken Alnus Hill!"
"Pa-Pa-Pa!" Another senator took the floor next to Marquis as he leaned on a cane. "Their weapons made that noise as they fought!" An elderly member of the Senate, with mid-length grey hair bound in a ponytail, wrinkles etched into his features - He was one of the few survivors of the battle and he did not escape unscathed, his forehead and left arm wrapped in bandages - The wounds made Senator Godasen recognizable by all present. "We tried to beat them back once they arrived, but we stood no chance! We couldn't even get close to them before they annihilated our soldiers! I've never seen such powerful magic!"

In response, another Senator rose from his seat. He was a large, muscular man with a clean-shaven head wearing a suit of armor. Senator Podawan was the leader of the Imperial Wyvern Corps and given how the last days had been one of the darkest days of the prestigious unit, he was eager to take revenge on the Otherworlders. "We must fight back!" He roared as he raised a fist into the air. "Our vassals must give us what we demand! We will levy their armies to bolster our numbers!"
At that the Doves in the senate shouted in outrage.
"Warmonger!"
"It will only be another disaster, Senator!"
The Hawks responded with equal fury.
"Cowards!"
"You would have us meekly submit! Traitors!"

Seeing how order in the Senate was quickly breaking down and nothing good would come from this bickering between the senators, Emperor Molt rose from his seat as he raised a hand. The commotion in the chamber quickly died down as all waited with bated breath to hear their Emperor speak.
"We cannot sit idly by in this time of crisis. Send out riders as far as their horses can carry them to our vassal states. Tell them that we need their help against these foreign raiders occupying Alnus Hill, and we need them now! We shall summon the armies of Elbe, the League, Alguna and all our vassals, and take back Alnus Hill!" The Emperor declared to much cheering from the Hawks in the Senate.

As the senators voiced their approval, Marquis Casel quietly stepped forward to the steps that led up to the Emperor's throne.
"Your Majesty… Alnus will only see the death of our allies…" He spoke so only the Emperor would hear him over the ovation. The look the Emperor gave him told him all he needed to know. Molt knew he was sending the vassal states' armies to their deaths. And Casel was powerless to stop it.

A few kilometres from Alnus Hill, 2164th year of the Saderan Era, 27th day of the Month of Flare

King Duran of Elbe rode ahead of his army onto a small hill- overlooking the soon-to-be field of battle. He could make out the landmark of the holy Gate to his right, surrounded by small gray-ish specks. The Otherworlders. To his left he could see the growing camp of the Vassal states' armies the banners and the tents of the various kings-', lords-' and knights-' were specks of colour amidst the white of the common soldiers. It was by now a huge tent city, housing 300,000 soldiers and camp followers.

"My Lord!" A rider came up by his side. "Our scouts give word of what seems to be enemy scouts a league away." He said as he pointed an index finger at a copse of trees close to the base of the hill. "Shall I give word for the cavalry to engage them?" He asked. Duran waved him away.
"Let them be, for now. I must hurry to the war council and the men need their rest." He said as he looked over the sneaking column, the Elbe army he forged over the years, trained and equipped in the Saderan style, complemented by the famed archers of his homeland. The troops carried the purple eagle banner of Elbe with pride as they marched towards the camp of the vassal kingdoms. The next few hours went by in a blur as he oversaw his army setting camp before he made his way to the war council's tent. There wasn't one dedicated tent for it in the ad-hoc amalgamation of the various different armies, so after much politicking and power plays between the minor lords, it was decided that it would be held in the king of Mudwan's tent.

Duran entered the tent where all the other vassal kings had gathered around an oaken table where a map of Alnus Hill was laid out. All heads turned to him as he entered. His reputation as the Lion of Elbe often preceded him; he was a cunning, yet honourable warrior, a great strategist, and a just and compassionate ruler. His muscular figure clad in dark armour, a purple plume on his helmet, a long cloak with a fur-trimmed collar and his eyepatch made him easily recognisable. He went through the endless formalities of greeting 19 other nobles and rulers before finally grasping the hand of Lord Ligu of the League Principality, with a genuine smile this time.
"Lord Duran, a pleasure to see you once more!" The younger blonde man said with a grin as they grasped each-other's wrists in a show of friendship.
"Likewise, Lord Ligu. You have changed a lot since we last met." Duran smiled. He had been a good friend and mentor to Ligu since he came of age and had seen to him becoming a noble warrior and statesman who had a bright future ahead of him with great potential for a vassal of Sadera.
"I trust the League is doing well?" He added as he took his seat next to him.
"Oh yes, your teachings have served me well as Grand Prince. Banditry is slowly being eradicated, trade is prospering, and we are looking forward to a bountiful harvest." Ligu said proudly.

"I'm glad to hear, old friend." Duran said with a nod. Before they could talk of old memories they shared, the tent flap opened and in walked a man in Imperial armour. He was only wearing a centurion's armour where they had expected the Imperial Army's Legate to attend.
"My Lords." He said as he lowered to one knee in front of the table.
"Where is the Imperial Legate? He is supposed to attend this war council, is he not?" The king of Muldwan asked.
"The Imperial Army is currently holding off an attack by the enemy. The Legate cannot leave his men." The centurion said, at which a trepid murmur went through the vassal lords.
"That makes no sense…" Duran said. "My scouts report that the enemy army is not larger than 30.000 men."
"King Duran, the Imperial Army is keeping the enemy busy and exhausted so we can flank them with our fresh troops." Ligu said on his left. "Isn't that the case, messenger?"
"Precisely." The kneeling centurion said. "Legate Julius requests that you attack the enemy at Alnus Hill at sunrise."
"Very well." The king of Alguna said at Duran's right as he rose from his seat. "My army shall make up the vanguard of our attack." He declared.
"No!" Mudwan's king stood up from his chair. "The army of Mudwan will lead this assault!"
Duran could only watch as the vassal lords broke down into fierce argument as to who will have the prestigious position to lead tomorrow's charge. It was eventually decided that the armies of Muldwan and Alguna would form the spearhead while those of the League Principality and Elbe would be their rearguard while the other armies would be kept in the reserve in anticipation of Muldwan and Alguna's breakthrough.

"Tomorrow morning, My Lords. Alnus Hill. We will be expecting you." The centurion said before rising to his feet and making his way outside back to his horse.
Duran watched as the tent flap fell closed behind the man, unable to voice his concerns to him now and many other of his vassal lords as they figuratively, some quite literally got drunk off the prospect of tomorrow's certain victory.
"Shame…" Ligu sighed dejectedly. "It should be our time to shine…"
"We outnumber the enemy ten to one, even without the Imperial army. Do you truly think the only way to gain glory here is at the forefront?"
"Well it's certainly not gained by bringing up the rear!" Ligu exclaimed. "We will barely participate in the fight. They are few in number and are busy digging holes on the hill for crying out loud! Even they know they are trapped and have nowhere else to go! Alguna and Mudwan will easily break this measly enemy before we even get up the hill!"
"This enemy has bested the Imperial Army before…" Duran shook his head. "I do not like the look of this battle…"
Ligu could only laugh uproariously at his response. "Even the Lion of Elbe's mind is no match against the passage of time!" He said as he laughed before joining the rest of the nobles in their drinking and feasting.

The next morning

As the sun rose above Alnus Hill, illuminating the soon-to-be battlefield, the unified armies of the vassal kingdoms stirred. Footmen grabbed their shields and weapons from the armoury tents before assembling to the orders of their officers. Knights donned heavy plate, they gripped lances and swords that were passed down from generation to generation as they mounted some of the finest steeds Falmart had seen. Wyvern riders of the vassals - though not as numerous or famous as their Imperial counterparts climbed atop their mighty beasts with pride as the lucky few who could tame such beasts. The vassals' demi-human troops prepared themselves for battle as well as they applied war paint to their bodies and took part in their various tribal war dances in front of the allied camp before letting out their roars of bloodlust as they gripped axes, hammers and maces in their muscular arms that would take two men to even lift, let alone wield in combat.

Soon, a 30.000-strong contingent led by the kings of Alguna and Mudwan, as well as the League Principality set out from the allied camp towards Alnus Hill. Meanwhile, Duran was also preparing to depart on the attack with his best troops. He was just finished putting his armour on with the help of one of his squires. As he made his way out of his tents, where his officers were already waiting for him.
"My Lord, our contingents are ready and awaiting your orders." The cavalry commander reported.
"Good, good. It is now time we take our place on the battlefield." Duran said with a nod. Before he could do or say anything else, a messenger came rushing towards him to quickly kneel.
"My Lord, the Kings of Alguna and Mudwan have departed to assault Alnus Hill. Lord Ligu has joined their vanguard." He said as he kept his head bowed before his king.
"The boy just can't help himself chasing glory, can he?" Duran groaned. "And what of the Imperial troops?"
"My Lord… Not a single Imperial soldier has been sighted anywhere. They… They are not here." The messenger said.
"WHAT?!" Duran exclaimed, the messenger flinching in response. "Where the hell are they then?! Shit…" He said as he gritted his teeth. "Those fools in the vanguard are walking straight into a trap!" He then turned to his officers. "Get our companies moving to support the vanguard, on the double! And someone get me my horse!"

At the base of Alnus Hill

The three armies continued to make their way up towards the hill without encountering any resistance, and more worryingly, no Imperial Legions joined up with them. Regardless, they still pressed onwards, eager to win glory and fame even more so now that the Saderans were either late or too cowardly to take back Alnus Hill. The only thing that stood in their way so far were a loose ring of white boards planted at the base of the hill, all having the same text written on it; one set of text written in a completely foreign language, while the other below it was in Saderan:

Achtung!

Sie nähern sich einer Militäreinrichtung des Deutsches Heeres.

Das Betreten ist ab diesem Punkt strengstens verboten!

Tödliche Gewalt wird gegen Unbefugte angewendet!
Warning!

You are approaching a military installation belonging to the German Army.

Entry beyond this point is strictly prohibited!

Lethal force will be used against trespassers!

The advancing 30.000 troops promptly ignored the signs placed along the paths as they marched on, though some of the more arrogant Algunan officers had their demihuman troops trample some into the dirt as a matter of pride. Unbeknownst to them, German artillery crews atop the hill had their guns zeroed in on the signs and the dirt paths that led up the hill. Once the observing troops sitting in their trenches reported that the enemy has passed the outer perimeter, the order was given to fire. Mortars and field howitzers, both towed and self-propelled ones carried by Hummel and Wespe artillery vehicles, opened fire.
For the troops still marching in neat, tightly-blocked columns the only sign that things were about to go horribly wrong was the dull thuds that they could hear in the distance, and a shrill whistle before great explosions erupted all across the base of the hill, tearing apart whole companies of infantry and cavalry as plumes of earth mixed with body parts were thrown high into the air as the artillery mercilessly bombarded the approaching army. In a matter of seconds, thousands of people died or were gravely injured. King Duran could only watch helplessly as he crested the hill in front of Alnus with his bodyguards as the three monarchs' columns disappeared in the explosions and the thrown-up dirt.

"I-Impossible…" Duran muttered as he watched the carnage unfold, his mouth hung open in shock and horror. "Is the hill erupting…?" The bombardment stopped after a few agonising moments and Duran led his bodyguards over to the base of the hill to look for survivors. As the smoke dissipated, he was met with a scene straight out of a nightmare.
The once pristine grassland was now pock-marked with craters, green replaced by black and brown. Dead bodies were intermingled with dying wounded. Many of them were in shock as they missed limbs or tried to hold their own guts as they spilled out from torn-open stomachs. Duran could see what remained of the famed Mudwan cavalry: a lone panicked horse that tried to kick its own intestines away as they tangled around its hind legs, dangling from its shredded abdomen. The entire vanguard was either dead, seriously wounded or retreating in a panic from the enemy's all-powerful magic. The air was filled with the stench of blood mixed with earth that spewed out from both dead and wounded alike, carried over to them by the rising wind. One of his guards, a young man who haven't been on campaign before, could not bear the sight and smell any longer and threw up into his armoured gloves that he brought up to his mouth in a futile attempt to keep himself from vomiting.
"Where's Alguna's king…? W-Where's the king of Mudwan…? Where is Grand Prince Ligu?!" Duran exclaimed in despair, looking for his old friend whom as far as his eye could see, was nowhere to be found anymore.

When the war council quickly reconvened within the hour and their losses were accounted for, the heavy toll the attempted attack took on their numbers became apparent to all remaining vassal lords. 15,000 men were slain, including three monarchs and the majority of the nobility and professional troops of Alguna, Mudwan and the League. 10,000 more were wounded, most of them so grievously that their chances of recovery were small even by the most optimistic estimates.

It was decided that their best method against the enemy's magic was simply to exhaust their mages. Their own ones advised the vassal kings that such destructive magic from such a long range surely must take serious toll on their minds and bodies, and they would not be able to sustain it for long. Casualties would be great in the first few minutes, but once they exhausted themselves, the way should be clear for the allied armies to advance and meet the foe face-to-face. As such, a 150,000 strong force was assembled to assault Alnus Hill once again while all the Wyvern riders the allies had were ordered to fly over the battlefield, find the enemy mages and eliminate them if possible before taking to the sky again, only to join the encircling attack the allied foot and cavalry contingents would execute together with their troops held in reserve.

Their attempt quickly turned into a repeat of the previous one with disastrous effects. The enemy could not only maintain their fire, but it only intensified as more allied warriors tried to make their way up the hill. Entrenched tanks and Panzerwerfer 42 rocket launchers added to the artillery fire, blanketing the approaching allied formations in a rain of steel and explosions. To the vassal lords' horror, their wyverns were the targets of the enemy magic as well, the mighty beasts shot out of the sky by the autocannons of German self-propelled anti-air guns, or their bodies were shredded when flak exploded among their midst. The allies routed or were ordered to retreat before they even made it halfway up the hill, with entire companies suffering horrific casualties as the runners carrying the orders to fall back were either too late or never arrived. By the time all armies fell back, more than 40,000 men were killed, including 11 monarchs and two-third of the combined allied Wyvern riders, with a further 30,000 wounded.

At dusk, another war council of the surviving monarchs convened. The vassal states' armies were now a mere shadow of their former selves. With so many monarchs and members of the nobility killed or missing, morale was at an all-time low as the common troops simply had no liege to serve further who would pay them and provide them with land, and so many had simply deserted their now largely leaderless armies. The barber-surgeons, monks and clerics that accompanied the army to treat wounded were entirely unprepared for the tens of thousands of wounded in need of their care, and even with a rudimentary triage system set up, the number of wounded that were expected to survive was depressingly low. Out of the 21 vassal lords the army started out with, only 7 were now in attendance to discuss their next moves. There wasn't much any of them could think of as they hung their heads low around the table, despair permeated all present.
"We have brought over 150.000 troops on our last attack alone, yet half of them are now dead or dying… How can this even be happening?!" One of the surviving monarchs said with a pale face.
"What is Emperor Molt's Army doing? Why aren't they here to help us?" Another spoke, his voice thick with a mix of anguish, impotent anger and despair.
"Even the Imperial Army would be no match against an opponent wielding such power… Retreat might be our only option left…" A third answered, who managed to keep his voice somewhat calm and collected as he looked over the map in front of them.

"Retreat is not an option, My Lords." Duran said in a calm voice. Ligu's broken helmet lay in front of him, the only thing the League Principality's Royal Guard managed to bring back of their monarch at the cost of most of their members. "We must fight back against these invaders for our realms." He added with grim determination as he looked into the eyes of each 6 vassal lords around him.
"Lord Duran, we have neither the men, nor the materials to do so. Our remaining troops would get annihilated if we attempted another attack!"
Duran looked down at the map in silence for a minute his brows furrowing as he was deep in thought, before an idea crossed his mind.
"A night raid, perhaps…" He spoke. "The new moon will be tonight. If we make use of the darkness and make our approach towards the enemy's flanks under the cover of the night, we should be undetected until it is too late for the enemy to strike." He explained. The vassal lords shared a look, small, almost imperceptible glints of hope in their eyes.

Their final attack would soon be prepared under the cover of darkness. All remaining armies, companies, cavalry squadrons the allies had made ready, their numbers bolstered by those who swore fealty to Duran and the remaining vassal kings, those who had lost comrades to avenge, those who had oaths made to their now dead lieges to fulfil, those who wanted to do what they could do defend their homes and families against foreign invaders even if it was the last act of their lives. Their numbers were small compared to those who deserted the allied army, but Duran would make it work. He had to. The army separated into two parts, each circling around the hill to make their approach from its sides in a pincer movement. The men were disciplined and determined as they marched, trying to make as little noise as possible, even if they were anxiously looking around, glancing up at the sky for any sign of the enemy, to hear the accursed death whistle that signalled that the enemy had cast their devastating magic. But their fears turned out to be misplaced. They had made it farther up the hill than their previous attacks did, the enemy seemingly unaware of their presence. That was until suddenly, the sky erupted with a brilliant orange-hued light, cast by a trio of glowing orbs that slowly descended from the sky. The sudden brightness scared horses into letting out terrified neighs, their riders had their hands full trying to control their steeds. The footmen did not have it much easier either, as all of them looked up amidst gasps and shouts. They made the trek so far in utter darkness, and now looking directly at the sudden brightness caused their dilated pupils to shrink rapidly, their eyes, previously used to the dark now barely seeing anything not illuminated by the orbs. Panic quickly spread among the men as they realised the enemy had surely found them.

"Godsdamit, no…!" Duran exclaimed from atop his horse as he watched everything fall apart once again. They had gotten so close; this was their best chance to take the fight to the Otherworlders, they could not afford to waste it. He drew his sword, holding it high above his head for all to see as he spurred his horse into a full galop.
"All troops forward!" He declared as his bodyguard rode after him, trying to keep up. "Charge! Take the fight to them!" He bellowed at the top of his lungs, his army following behind him in a massed charge. The enemy soon responded, Duran could see flashes of light near the top of the hill before things that were fast and glowing orange impacted amongst his men with large explosions, killing many of his bodyguards, yet the Gods smiled on him that time as he emerged unscathed from the smoke.
"Forward! Charge!" He roared defiantly over the screams of those less fortunate. "Follow me!"

His horse crested another hill as he saw coils of something thin and metallic stretched between wooden poles. Before his mind could process what he was seeing or order his horse to stop, the animal ran straight into it as it attempted to jump over it at the last second. He could feel the saddle under him come to a sudden stop while his forward momentum kept carrying him forward, resulting in him unceremoniously getting launched forward from atop his horse and into the dirt while his horse was now thrashing in the metallic wire in a desperate attempt to escape its painful ensnarement as dozens on metallic thorns along the coiled wire dug deep into its skin. The impact combined with the heavy armour made it difficult for Duran to get up, giving time for his remaining bodyguard and the army behind them to catch up.

"My Lord, we're coming, hold on!" A guard said as he hopped off his horse, trying to see how he could get through the barbed wire as the troops trickled in. It didn't take long for them to figure out that a few footmen could use their large rectangular shields to trample and push the somewhat loose wire down, allowing them to pass through the gaps they made this way. A wall of shields soon formed around Duran as a couple soldiers helped him up, all the while around them the enemy kept sending up their glowing orbs, illuminating the army as it made its way through the wire. As Duran got to his feet, their formation was engulfed by rays of white light that were even brighter than the orbs around them, making the men squint and try to hide their faces behind their shields.
"Move! Get moving! Loose formation, now!" Duran ordered in a panic as he realized what was about to happen while he pushed the soldiers around him away frantically before he heard a shout in an alien tongue coming from further up the hill.

"Feuer Frei!"
Instantly, the entire hillside erupted with rapid flashes of light accompanied by loud, staccato booms. Metal impacted against metal rapidly on the shield wall, Duran could hear it tear through the shields, whatever projectiles the Otherworlders used penetrated both the shields and armour of the men around him as they died, some screaming in pain and agony while others died instantly as they crumbled to the floor. Duran could only watch helplessly as the troops around him were massacred. The attack was falling apart, some companies made a daring last charge only to be cut down to a man while most ran for their lives as far as their legs could carry them. He picked up the bow and arrow of a fallen archer close by. He notched the arrow to the bow string and pulled it back to his cheek as he aimed, just like he was taught as a boy. That time felt like it was a thousand years from now.

"Gods damn you all!" He shouted in anger as he let the arrow loose, watching it fall somewhere among the enemy with no effect at all to the deadly barrage around him. He watched as a dwindling formation of charging infantry was finally annihilated in another explosion. So, this is what it has all come to. All his decisions, everything he learned, every duel fought, every battle lost or won has led him to this moment, standing in the midst of the massacred Elbean army he built up with painstaking effort. He used all his knowledge of how to wage a battle, everything that was passed down unto him, and all those years of experience failed him in the face of this enemy, who could cast untold devastation to everything it laid its eyes on. Fierce wyverns, noble knights and common soldiers were felled with equal ease by the Otherworlders. He failed. Failed to lead his men to victory, failed to defend his homeland and he failed Ligu. All his life had ultimately amounted to nothing. He heard another shrill whistle from above him growing louder by the second. He made no effort to get to safety.

Next morning, 8th of October 1948

Karl Schmidt walked through the battlefield of the last day and night, going around the craters as he looked at the broken earth strewn with the remaining unburied bodies. Most of the surviving wounded of the enemy army were already gathered and treated in a field hospital, but soldiers were still sent out with teams of medics in case more were found and to help get the dead to mass pyres to be incinerated. The latter activity often came with the German soldiers looting the bodies for "souvenirs". They took everything from mostly intact weapons like swords, spears or the odd axe, cloaks and fallen flags that were not torn to shreds by the fighting, to helmets and other odd bits and pieces of armour. Karl spotted another body, one that wore a more ornate set of plate armour, a noble of this world, no doubt. The cloak he wore caught Karl's eyes, it was in a nice shade of blue, and looked to be both warm and elegant, though it got a bit dirty where it touched the ground and had a few bullet holes in it, but nothing a round of washing and a seamstress back in Berlin wouldn't be able to fix. He crouched down next to him and began unfastening the clasps that held the garment to the deceased man's armour.

"Afterall, why not…? Not like you will be needing this anymore now, are you?" He muttered as his hands worked deftly.
"Found a new friend, Karl?" Hans asked as he walked up to him, a looted helmet tucked under his armpit.
"Heh, yeah, might be my secret admirer." He remarked as he freed the cloak and held it up for emphasis. "I mean, you don't just gift people luxurious garments unless you really like them, eh?" He said as he folded the cloak up before stuffing it into his backpack. He looked back down at the body, noticing the dagger he had around his waist before grabbing it and putting it into his pack as well.
"Or cutlery, apparently." Hans joked before his expression turned more serious. "Have you heard? Intel estimates we defeated around 300,000 of them. Around a 100,000 dead, wounded or missing for them without us taking a single one."

" 'Artillery adds dignity to what would otherwise be an ugly brawl…' Yeah right…" Karl quoted Frederick the Great with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Jesus Christ, Hans we're killing entire cities' worth of people in every battle against these guys…" He said as he looked over the desolate wasteland they created.
"Yeah…" Hans said as he followed Karl's gaze. "They can't keep this up for long…" He shook his head.
Karl could only nod, the images of the Russian human waves he faced near St. Petersburg surfaced in front of his mind's eye before he forced his mind back to the present with a shake of his head. "Hopefully… Come on, let's mark this guy for the pyre and continue our patrol."

Even though he tried to keep his focus on his job, he couldn't help the feeling he felt when he witnessed similar massacres in the Weltkrieg years ago. This wasn't the first time he saw death on a large scale, and yet, this one stung him more than those. At least in the war their enemies could fight back. At least the last time he fought around this hill there were barely a thousand on his side, surrounded around the mysterious structure before the Germans could break out. Here, it was nothing but a slaughter. An army came to them, and a day later they were corpses. Now the corpses were being turned into ash. He could only hope he would not see such things again.

Aaand that is a wrap for the Second Battle of Alnus Hill now. Thank you for reading and take care!