WITHOUT BANNERS - Short Story from the Tenebrine War

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story took me longer than expected, especially on figuring out how it would end but alas, I made it. Thanks to a friend that suggested a story about a soy behind enemy lines, it gave birth to this tale of revenge from a man who worked for the Empire. There is also the battle report for Operation Thunder Spear which details the events mentioned in the story. Anyhow, enjoy your reading lads and lasses! Please leave a comment if you do enjoy this!

~Ryan Cay

Battle of Ghurka, 2337

Without Banners

Junior Sergeant Mordin “Kyle” Remus,
Urmanean Intelligence Agency,
Tenebrine Phoenix Base, Town of Galladeon,
26^th October 2340,
2 days before the Galladeon Offensive

Walking through their base in their uniforms made me itch. I have been in this base for several months, listening closely to their plans and taking notes of anything valuable to our fight against Tenebrine. I have estimated a number of troops garrisoned in this town – an army of half a regiment strong, tanks in the dozens, from the Griffin Types to the dreaded Chimeras. I wouldn’t want to face the latter in battle; its fire is more than enough to burn through multiple squads of men.

I took the name ‘Kyle Morn’, the name of a man whom we have captured almost a year prior. I do not recall what the commanders and interrogators have done to him – only that I have heard rumors that he keeps saying someone’s name and begs for forgiveness. I do not know who it was – nor do I care.

I have learned of their plans – the Galladeon Offensive that begins in the next 48 hours. Everything that they have mustered here, every men, tank and weapons procured by the regiments here are to be sent to the front lines in this attack.

That is where my purpose lies – to report to my brethren about this imminent attack. Have them prepare for the assault that lies ahead.

“Kyle!” I heard someone called me out. I turned and saw a group of men gathering around a Pegasus Type tank. “You’re going to miss the whole show tonight!”

It was First Sergeant Adam Grayson’s voice, tank commander of the tank they call as the ‘Crimson Horse’. I knew only a few things about him, enough to relay important and relevant details to command.

“The show’s tonight?” I asked. Then I remembered the group of performers who comes all the way from Edelheim has arrived hours ago to give these men some entertainment. “I’ll join the rest of you soon. Got a busy night,”

The crew of the Horse laughed. I can see their dirty rows of teeth, uncleaned for day – or maybe weeks. After all, do people even have the time to clean themselves in this war? Both sides never did.

“Have a girl to have fun with?” said another one of the tank crew as the bearded man to a huge swig out of the bottle of wine. They call him ‘Titan’ for his huge stature and wide shoulders – he is truly a giant with that height.

“No woman would ever sleep with a man like me, Vincent,” I answered. No Tenebrine-born women would want an Urmanean man.

“Very well, Kyle. Suit yourself. Don’t regret your decisions there lad but we’ll save you some booze later on,” Sergeant Vincent responded, raising a bottle of wine as he speaks.

He is a friendly man, shame that he fought for the enemy – a shame that I know of him in times like these. I only known the crew for months but then, I feel as if it has been a lifetime. But then, why would I feel such things with men who committed atrocities against my people?

I wouldn’t know. Such is the curse of being a spy, to blend in with the rest of them took effort – one that requires the will to keep your identity intact and never forget the sense of ourselves. So far, I made it successfully as none have expected of my role.

I find a place to rest in one of the town’s buildings where a small room was prepared for me by the locals. As I closed the door behind me, I set down my sling bag on the chair besides a wooden table and hurled my body on the mattress like a corpse.

One must enjoy the times where we would sleep on soft beds such as these, as most of the time we would find ourselves slumbering on benches across the trenches or inside of tanks where our heads can only rest at the side of the walls. The shivering cold nights were unbearable without thick blankets which were made even worse by the rain or the snow if they were stationed near the snowy plains.

My job is nearly done. I told myself. A few more reports to the men that wait for me every week outside of town and I’ll be done with all the façade I’ve been putting up. To be honest, I do not even know why I agreed to sign up for this job.

I am much more suited fighting in a tank, loading shells of pure devastation into the chambers and let the gunner fire wherever the enemy is. Many men have told us that our job is akin to fighting in a metal coffin, one well-placed round to a vulnerable part of the armor and everyone inside would meet death earlier than they were supposed to.

Yet, I am here, doing a bit of skulduggery for the Agency. I wouldn’t do this without a reason. It is for what happened at Junerva, for what these bastards have done against my people that forced me to slip into their ranks with another man’s name for my own.

They must pay and they shall.

 

 

As the clock tower dings at the strike of the sixth hour, the soldiers gathered around in the huge square where a small stage has been built. They sat down quietly, eating and drinking as if it was the end of the war. After all, this offensive would be their push into breaking our lines.

But I shall not let that happen.

While the tank crew, infantrymen and the other people within the army have their fun and a time of their lives, I shall continue on with my mission – to give my brethren near Groskha a fighting chance against the number of forces stationed here. After all, these men at Galladeon must pay for what they’ve done at Junerva.

I walk in the shadows, carrying nothing but a pistol holstered by the hip and an envelope with a neatly folded letter inside – it was for the captain in Groskha.

I stealthily snuck off town and walked my way towards the nearby forests with my head turning back occasionally for I fear that a few of the soldiers might have seen me. But by God’s grace, I am safe – I am alive.

I saw a figure standing in the darkness. As I get closer, I can make out his even more easily – the suit he wore blends almost perfectly into the shadows, with leaves flowing down his back making him seemed like a beast that is ready to leapt forth and slay his prey.

His sniper rifle holstered beneath that cloak of leaves, his face painted with deep green and black. I saw no badges on him for he is one of Urmanea’s Ghost Squadrons or as we called it the – Volkreut Thekars; trained to sneak behind enemy lines as means of reconnaissance or to aid agents such as myself.

“Silent night?” I spoke the words, part of me hopes the man isn’t one of the Tenebrine’s own team of elite soldiers but I knew he wasn’t.

“A divine and holy night,” he responded as he lowered his gun. “Do you have the reports requested by Captain Zechreus?”

“I have what he needs,” I said, walking into the forests and took refuge in its haunting darkness. “There are at least a hundred tanks, many more on the way,”

“And footmen?”

“At least, half a regiment strong. Some of them are veterans from the Gauscian and Junerva campaigns in the north,” I answered. I recalled the crew of the Horse was once a part of their battles in Junerva – bloody months of endless fighting across oceans of sand as waves of tanks charged over the dunes. I was there but luckily, they do not recognize me.

I handed the letter over to him, “Will our forces be adequate for this scale of an attack?” I asked. I have seen what these men can do on the field, especially during the Junerva attacks. They are tenacious and stubborn but understandable for what they have to do in these circumstances.

“Oh they will be ready,” said the Ghost as he slipped the letter in his pocket. His hand reached for the flare gun holstered on his right thigh. “Will there be fireworks?”

My eyebrows raised, my head tilted. My eyes shifted towards his hand as he loaded the flare gun, “What are you doing?”

“You don’t answer the question. Will there be fireworks? You told us that they will have some sort of feast a few days ago. So, are there?” he asks again, his eyes do not even look at me as he spoke as he gazes to the sky.

“Yes, yes there will be,”

“Good, then you better take cover,” the Ghost aims for the heavens and as the first set of fireworks rose to the sky, he lets the flare loose.

A red sizzling comet flew and just like that, the Ghost vanishes into the forests. His footsteps were silent, the rustling sound of grass and leaves were drowned by the thunderous bursts of fireworks. It was only then I realized what it was.

“Bloody hell,” I uttered under my breath as I began to make my way back to the town.

 

 

Sergeant Vincent ‘Titan’ Harrington,
9^th Tenebrine Armored Division,
Tenebrine Phoenix Base, Town of Galladeon,
26^th October 2340,
2 days before the Galladeon Offensive

I sat inside the Crimson Horse while the others were partying and dancing with the women. Such things were not in my best interests.

But I can still hear their voices outside, cheering and singing as if the war has ended. Yet, we all wanted that don’t we? An end to this mess of a conflict – that started when Urmanea decided to declare war on the Republic of Grecca just because they look at them funny.

To be fair, I have forgotten what the newspapers said on the day when the Empire declared war. For all I know, Tenebrine joined the war because of some old forgotten oaths made by the two countries decades ago. More and more nations hopped into the chaos and thus began this whole thing where old men and boys alike were sent to the front lines welcoming death.

This is my eleventh month away from home, two more and I’ll be back to Aeronburg for two weeks. I have that to look forward to, I have my family to come back home.

I heard a knock on the door, “Hey Vincent, brought you something,” Adam’s voice can be heard from outside. Even with the banging noise from all the partying, I can still listen to his words as clear as day.

I let out a brief sigh, “If it’s girls I won’t be accepting your offer,” I said, flipping through the pages of the book I held in my hand; a religious tome, one that I usually read a few passages from it before I went to sleep.

“Nah mate, I brought you some food and drinks. Don’t want to have my gunner having an empty belly by the next possible attack,” said Adam as the door to the tank swung wide open. A couple of wine bottles in his hand and a plate filled with delicious food in the other.

“Hot food?”

“Hot food, Vince. Better than those rations we used to eat,” he said, entering the tank as he hands the food over.

I set aside the book and took the plate. “Thanks, Adam,”

The smell of warm rice and fried chicken doused in thick honey liquid took my mind back to a seemingly forgotten time – a time before this whole shithole started. I remember my wife cooking me some pastas for our anniversary or grilled beef during summer. It was a good time compared to what we have now.

Adam puts down the bottle of wine beside my seat as he looked around the tank. “Well, some things never change in this place huh?”

I shrugged, digging into the food. We have been together for a long time – before Junerva, before Galladeon. Adam was the one that kept us all alive, he led us through the toughest of battles, he points and I shoot. Private First Class Garrick was our driver, a short man with dark brown hair and a skin darker than ours but lighter than that of an Endregalese – he is of mixed heritage after all.

Corporal Duke was the Horse’s tank loader. He is quick and reliable, with his skills gained as a former thief on the streets of Edelheim; he is able to load the shells into the cannon as fast as he could. We called him ‘Flash’ for that.

“How many years has it been?” I pondered. For four years the war began and countless of lives shed, I have lost count of the time that the crew of the Crimson Horse have stayed alive together.

“Heh,” Adam took a swig out of the bottle of wine and wiped off his mouth with the back of his gloved hand. “Two years – two years since we graduated tank school. Two years since we were deployed to Heinkolf and then to where we are now,”

Some things never change indeed. I finished up the last bit of food I have on my plate and set them aside. Things like these made me appreciate the little things in life, small stuff that seemed insignificant but impactful in its own way – for this, I am grateful that I am still alive.

It was then when I feel the ground beneath us quaked, followed by the thunderous sound of explosions. I hear people screamed and shouted outside the tanks, the blasts were too loud for me to make out the words they have uttered.

By then, I realized what it was. My ears caught a sharp whistling sound – one that could only mean that a volley of explosive shells descending from the heavens.

I prayed that our tank’s thick hull may be adequate enough to shield us from the bombardment. Every blast shakes the Horse; every thunderous boom is followed by the sound of dirt rattling off the armor. I recalled our time in Junerva where the exact same thing happened, it was terrifying for us even to this day.

My knuckles were white as I grabbed the edge of my seat, my heart thumped against my chest as the shelling continues. My mind thinks of how many of our troops have perished in the volley of steel sent against us, I would think of an estimated number – but I’d rather hope most of us survived.

As the blasts stopped, I let out a sigh of relief – it’s as if I held onto my breath for so long like I’m deep underwater. My muscles tensed throughout the whole ordeal as I feared for myself, that the grip of death came close to claiming my soul. Not today, reaper. Not today.

“Are you alright, Vince?” Adam spoke. His voice is as composed as he always is – unshaken, undeterred like the mountain. But I know that he felt the same as I do.

“We’re in a fucking tank Adam, of course we’re alright,” I remarked, sarcastically. Though a part of me believes that is true to its word.

“Of course we are,”

I stood up from my seat and climbed up the ladder towards the hatch. I pushed it outwards as I opened it, poking my head through as I pulled myself up. God, I can smell the dust from here.

I looked around and saw the carnage that left in its wake. Buildings crumbled to the ground, burying whoever is unlucky enough to be inside. I saw some soldiers desperately digging away the rubble to save their brethren. They’re with God now. I told myself and those same words, I wanted to tell them.

But let them be, let them hold onto the slight glimmer of hope in their hearts – it’s what we need in this useless war.

I saw Kyle emerging from the corner of the street, limping as he passed through the soldiers. “Kyle, are you unscathed?”

The man shook his head, “Luckily, not sure about the others to be honest with you,”

“Bollocks,” Adam cursed beneath his breath as he climbed out. “Those Urmanean bastards have done us dirty with that barrage. I thought the captain said that no one from the other said knew where we were?”

“Are fireworks and loud stupid music aren’t enough of an indicator that we’re here?” I remarked. Sure, the captain has told us weeks ago that we would be fine for no Imperial soldiers have seen the troops approaching the town. I’d be grateful for the boys at the intelligence division for that.

“Fair enough,” said Adam. “But there’s a possibility that some scout or sniper could have pinpoint our exact location,”

“That or we have a spy in our midst. One that has done his job properly until now,” I looked around and grimaced at the sight of the destruction. That few minutes of bombardment have undoubtedly lowered our numbers down by a portion – how large our losses were, I am not sure. Judging by the number of screaming men and burning buildings, I’d say a lot.

 

 

8 hours later…

More tents were set up, medics worked around the clock to tend to those who are injured. We were lucky to have an abundant amount of the red-crossed men stationed here, or else half those that survived would’ve bled out to death.

Adam and I walked around, looking for our crewmen. It’s a bloody mess. Hundreds were dead and many more were injured in that one night. How they are able to find us, I am not sure. For all I know, the snipers and teams from the Shock Division have kept us safe for months as we planned our assault.

Any Imperial trooper who carries their trident emblem? The snipers would blast their heads off without hesitation and the cleanup crew does the rest. Enemy vehicles? The Shock Division would blast them to kingdom come and our machine gunners mops up the rest. They leave no man alive – or at least a few to be captured.

Even then, the general is ruthless to the core in keeping our location secret. Now, with our place is known by the enemy, I do not know what he’ll do next.

I felt a nudge at my arm. I turned towards Adam and his eyes were locked onto a man covered in a white cloth from head to toe, his bloodied and dusted hand dangled by the side of the bed.

I cursed as I recognize the watch with the leather strip on his wrist. Duke’s wife has given it to happen as a gift and I remembered how proud he was of such small things. “Fuckin’ hell,”

One of his legs is ripped apart, presumably by the blast of artillery shells from last night. I could not bear to watch his body lying so motionlessly on the bed.

“Fucking Imperials,” Adam clenched his fists and grits his teeth. There is no denying that Duke was a friend of ours – like a family. To lose one of our own would burn the fire deep within us to rage like the storms.

 

 

6 hours later…

“So how are we planning to do this general?” asked Adam, as he stood near a rectangular wooden table where the commanders were gathered.

It was a change of plans, undoubtedly. With the sudden hail of fire on the other night had us switching our coordinated attack strategies in just a shirt amount of time. I looked around and saw them all, anxious and filled with rage – they wanted a piece of the Imperials even more.

“How many men do we have left?” General South asked. He was one of the few most ruthless and capable commanders of the war, he does what he does – the mission comes first. “I’m guessing our infantry is down by a couple hundred,”

“Very much so sir,” said another man with a thick Greccan accent. “Our tanks have mostly survived the barrage. Nothing but a couple of repairs could but put them back into an optimum combat capability,”

“Well, that leaves us with more than a hundred. Loads of Griffin Types and a few dozen Chimeras,” Adam crossed his arms, his eyes on the long map stretched on the table before them. “The Crimson Horse and the rest of the Pegasus Types are operational,”

General South is silent. I see in his eyes, the same fire that burns within all of us – or is it the will that wants to see this war end? I do not know for I myself wanted to see an end to this whole mess.

He is composed and calm, a stoic expression on his face. His wrinkled and scarred face have been a testament to how our leaders preferred to do things – to fight in the front lines just so they can get a sense of urgency, to lead us better in times of chaos. Well, most of them do – some just get their ranks through deep pockets.

The general picked up a pencil and started drawing lines on the map. He circles our town and drew more arrows towards the enemy. I can only watch in silence, observing as he makes a plan with the numbers we have left.

“Alright lads.” His deep and coarse voice boomed like thunder. “The operation shall continue as we planned,”

The general then explained to us – of the days ahead. Our tanks would be the main force in conducting the offensive, followed by infantrymen and supporting fire will be provided by whatever remains we have of the artillery units.

I can only imagine of the battle, of how worse can it be than at Junerva. I pictured rows of our war machines charging straight into hell, our cannons roared and bellowed with every thunderous shot at the enemy, followed by the crackling sound of gunfire echoing at a distance.

“That’s the gist of it, anything happens on the field is up to you guys. We’ll attack at 0600 hours,” said General South. “Any more questions?”

Adam shook his head, as do the rest of the commanding officers nearby. They seem eager to fight, to give the Imperial soldiers a payback for what they have done. Well for now, it’s an endless cycle of revenge.

We lifted our clenched fists to our hearts and stood with a straightened back. Our plan is compromised but our assault must continue to move forward. We have come so far and we can’t let a little setback such as this to hinder our advance.

I walked by Adam’s side as we walked out. None of us wished to talk about Duke’s death and our minds were fixed on the battle ahead of us. No time to grief, no time to mourn.

I saw Kyle emerged from the side of the door of where we were briefed. Seeing as we needed a new tank loader, I figured that replacing Duke with another man would be the best course of action – after all, how’d we kill the enemy without a shell loaded into the cannon?

“Kyle!” Adam called out to him. “Let’s talk for a sec,”

He stopped in his tracks as he turned around. I noticed his face turned pale as he sets the icy gaze upon us. But I pay little attention to such things – let the commander speak.

 

 

Junior Sergeant Mordin “Kyle” Remus,
Urmanean Intelligence Agency,
Tenebrine Phoenix Base, Town of Galladeon,
27^th October 2340,
One day before the Galladeon Offensive

Fuck.

Have I been discovered? Or am I too careless in my steps? Have I left too many missteps until these crewmen of the Horse knew of my true role?

I find my hand inches ever closer to the pistol strapped to my thigh as I turned around, the heart beating against my chest. Sweat trickles down the back of my neck.

“How can I help you two?” I asked, keeping my voice as calm as it can be. The slightest of mistakes in my own mannerisms would get me caught and interrogated – or perhaps handed over to their scientists for their dreaded experiments.

Adam looked at me with those dead eyes and Vincent does the same, his gaze seemed to observe me from head to toe. It was them that suspected a spy in the base and perhaps, they have identified me – sharp minds, dangerous minds.

“We need you to be our tank loader,” said Vincent. “Duke died during the bombardment,”

Shit. My heart calms down, muscles relaxed as my head lowered. “How did he - ,”

“Lost two legs, shrapnel all over his body,” Adam’s voice was heavy as if he could not bear to utter a word about it.

“Direct hit,” I mumbled. Duke was a good man, always told jokes, always comforting the recruits in the face of warn and sometimes spout religious quotes to ease his mind. At that moment, I could not help but feel broken at the news.

They were supposed to be the enemy. I am supposed to hate them with all my heart. Now, it seems that the chance to serve my country presents itself before me – join the Horse and betray them.

But can I?

“Very well,” I said. “Let’s give those bastards what they deserve,” saying such an insult to my brethren leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Now it sounds like I have betrayed them.

 

 

28^th October 2340
6 a.m., the day of the assault

Vincent brought me into the Pegasus type tank that they have commandeering for the past few months. He told me of the crew’s history and introduced me to everyone in a proper way – the driver, the gunner, the commander and so forth. But I already knew that – I only have to play the fool.

A few hundred shells, enough for the length of an entire battle. I knew how to operate one for the battle at Junerva have thought me of its mechanics. Load the shell, fire and eject it out, load another. Even if I was a gunner for the Stormcaller two years ago, I knew how to operate one.

I recalled the time I fought during the battle, by the tenth hour I remembered seeing carcasses of tanks lined up in the middle of the battlefield. We call it the Metal Corpses while they called it the Row of Metal. Where there are no trenches in the middle of the field for cover, the craters and the destroyed machines of war should be more than enough for the infantrymen.

I counted the ammunitions supply, estimated around a hundred armor-piercing rounds and seventy high explosive shells. Fitting as the Pegasus types were one of the more fearsome tanks I have to face during Junerva.

“120mm howitzer cannon, dangerous up close,” Garrick noted. He speaks well for a man with a mixed heritage; most of the ones I have met have spoken with such thick Endregalese accent. “We have smoke shells in the back as well, for retreating purposes,”

“You guys haven’t replenished its supply right?” asked Vincent as he pulled himself up to the gunner’s seat. He moved side to side, giving himself a comfortable position to aim and fire.

“Heh, we haven’t used the smokes that much in combat,” said Adam as he stood with half his body out of the hatch. “You okay down there Kyle?”

Kyle, I’m sick of that name. At times I feel my mind is slipping between the man I am and the man I am supposed to be. Reminding me of my true name keeps my sanity. “I’m quite comfy,”

“Keep yourself that way Kyle. We’re going for a ride,”

Then I feel the tank move, the rattling of its tracks and the roaring of its monstrous engine. I hear the booming voice of the general through the comms, telling us to move alongside the infantry.

I took a look outside through the peeping window slits on the sides, protected by a bullet resistant glass. I saw the soldiers moved in unison, their dark green coats and steel helms bears the emblem of their country – the skull of a raging dragon.

“Move! Move!” I hear the sergeants and lieutenants bellowed as they marched alongside the troops. Some carried bolt action rifles, others submachine guns and there scout units wearing coats with camouflage patterns of green shades – fitting for a place such as the Galladeon fields.

As soon as we reached the open fields, the tanks formed up multiple columns. The Crimson Horse was the third in one such column, led by a Pegasus type at the front. Behind us were more soldiers, troops taking cover from potential enemy fire.

We were lucky to have the fields unsullied by mud and craters, usually a result of artillery shells blasting everything into oblivion. But I know that my brethren would not let the Sovereignty pass without a problem.

This is quiet. A bit too quiet. There were forests to our left, a perfect spot for ambush but the soldiers have ventured within, eliminating any possibility of Urmanean troops hiding anti-tank weapons in the woods. They wouldn’t stand a chance against the Shock Troopers, even if they do, they won’t survive.

Then I saw it, the row and row of Urmanean tanks emerging from the hills. They were the size of an average Chimera type at around 3 meters with 105mm cannons outfitted as its main weapon. They weren’t as fast as Stormcallers but they sure hit harder than them.

“INCOMING FIRE!” they bellowed as my brethren unleashed the first volley of shots upon us.

I heard the sharp sound of metal ricocheting off the front armor of a tank, whistling by as it flew away. “Fuck! Those are Stormtridents!” Adam cursed, “Load up the cannon!”

I do as he told – for now. I knew nothing of the Urmanean plans for this assault and for all I knew; I have given the necessary information about the operation.

I picked up one of the high explosive rounds and slid it into the loader, locking the chamber as I’m done. “Clear!” I cried out.

“Titan move 40 degrees to the right, we aim for that one Stormtrident,” Adam ordered.

“Solid affirmative!” Vincent peered through the scope and does as he told; the turret spins and aimed for one of the Urmanean tanks that go down the hill on our right. It aims for the Chimera next to us; such a tank with the flamethrower unit equipped can be devastating for the infantrymen.

“Firing!” he bellowed and stepped on the pedal. The cannon roared like thunder as the explosive shell was belched through the muzzle. I hear its haunting whistles whooshed through the air like a sparrow.

It hits the Urmanean armor and bursts into a cloud of fire, its crewmen climbed out the tank and Tenebrine infantry finished off the survivors with a hail of bullets. “Good hit Titan!”

“Unva’har ba’sat!” Garrick cursed in his ancestral tongue. I can feel the sheer excitement in his voice – I can’t help but feel the same.

But they were my kin, my people. I told myself. I am killing my own men by staying at the side of the actual enemy; I put down the lives of my comrades all while I am feeling like a part of the crew. Fuck!

The tank before us stopped as an explosion from an enemy shell blew off its tracks. Adam bellowed to Garrick to halt our advance but even I knew if we don’t keep moving, we’ll be sitting ducks for the rest of the battle. I would not die by the hands of my own people.

“Right stick Garrick, right stick! We have to get out of the column!” Adam ordered as the driver obeyed his commands without any questions asked.

As our tank swerved to the right, I hear the sound of low caliber rounds rattling through the hull of the machine. They were desperate to get us off the battlefield, even with machinegun fire; it won’t be enough to put a dent into the Crimson Horse.

But then I feel the sound of a thunderous clank as the tank shook followed by the haunting whistle of a high velocity shell bounced off the hull. “Fucking hell!”

“Another Stormtrident!” Garrick shouted as he peered through the periscope. He quickly realigned the tank where the front part faced towards the enemy.

I quickly loaded another shell into the cannon as the empty case from the previous shot ejected out. I closed the chamber, “Clear!”

“10 degrees left!” Adam ordered. His eyes were sharp and his mind, sharper. I guess that’s what made the crew of the Crimson Horse is feared during Junerva and I can see it now why we retreat or escape the fort two years ago. “Fire when ready!”

“Firing!” the cannon belched flame, bellowed like a beast.

But the shot do not land, missed the Stormtrident by a few meters to the side. I loaded another as soon as the case spat out from the chamber. I can hear the beat of my heart against my chest, the sweat trickling down my neck and my heavy breathing.

I’ve done this before but the sheer rush of it never failed to take over a soldier’s mind. My hands trembled but I shall keep a firm grip on the shells I loaded into the cannon and my mind shall be clear. I only care to live now – not to die with the enemy, even if it means helping them killing my own people in this forsaken machine.

Another shot ricocheted off the hull of the tank. I am thankful that we survived another potentially deadly encounter but how long will it last? Another minute? Half an hour? I do not know.

“On one!” Vincent bellowed at the top of his lungs as he stepped on the pedal.

 

 

Sergeant Vincent ‘Titan’ Harrington,
9^th Armored Division,
Galladeon Fields, Galladeon,
28^th October 2340,
9 a.m., 2 hours after the assault began,

I fired the cannon at the enemy and the satisfying eruption of flames from the Stormtrident brought a sigh of relief into our hearts. But I know that the assault isn’t over just yet. There are more enemy tanks to deal with – Stormtridents to Stormcallers, who knows how many numbers of the dreaded Serpent V they have waiting for us? That’s a deal worth of any Pegasus types.

“Good job Titan!” Adam complimented. “Move forward Garrick! We have a battle to attend to!” Every shot that landed is a combination of luck and skill; without one of them, we would’ve died a long time ago.

The tank moved again and so does the line of infantrymen behind us. We needed them to deal with the enemy troopers, the cannons of this machine won’t be adequate to fight hordes of soldiers even with the high caliber machinegun mounted on top.

The sight of metal carcasses scattered across the once green fields of Galladeon sends shivers down our spine. Such a pristine sight now robbed of its beauty by the cruel hands of war. The Stormcaller tanks kept emerging from the hills and plains, firing their cannons upon our force as if they act so desperately to win the battle.

Thus, we returned fire. Exchanging shell after shell at the enemy, creating massive craters left behind by missed shots intended for the kill. I counted four tanks from our side that were destroyed in the first fifteen minutes of the battle and I know the numbers would rise as the hours passed.

Our assault continues through the green fields until it was nothing but craters and dead men scattered across the plains. The tanks from both sides kept fighting, firing shell after shell at the enemy war machines as they advanced.

Then from the smoke above the hills, I saw a horde of soldiers charging at us with a screaming rage from the top of their lungs, mounted on armored steeds as they brandished their rifles and swords. The rattling sound of the pebbles on the ground felt as if they brought about the doom of the world, reminding me of a passage in the Codicia I’ve read in peaceful times.

“Here they come, with a cloud of smoke at every step and the scream of beasts pierces your ears. They were the manifestation of death and chaos, one that comes when Armageddon summons them forth,” I recalled and noticed how the Knights of Greldean were like the horsemen called by war itself to serve the Empire in its darkest times.

Adam quickly manned the machinegun turret on top of the tank and I bellowed to Kyle to load another shell. They are getting closer and while their rifles do little damage to the Horse itself, our infantry suffers the most if they approach us and slaughter the men with their blades.

The rest of the tanks fixed their aim to the incoming horde of cavalrymen and lets the fury of their guns loose upon them. It’s a shame to see such culture be decimated in a war that no longer fits their forgotten ways. To see bullets shred through their ranks as if they were nothing but as paper.

Yet, their tenacity lets them pushed forth. Their overflowing cloaks of bluish black flapped behind their backs as they get closer and closer, our own infantry fired their rifles desperately to hold back their advance. Horses fell and its riders crushed beneath its weight or trampled by their own brethren – a horrific way to die, but it is what it is in the face of death.

“Fall back!” ordered another one of the tank commanders. His voice clear through the radio.

Slowly, the machines reversed. But they weren’t quick enough and even with the hail of bullets showered upon these men, they do not stop.

It was until I heard the sound of explosions snapped me back to attention. I looked through the scope and noticed a few of them have explosives strapped to their chests as they charged, maneuvering their way closer to the other tanks and roared their final battle cries.

“Titan, get them as far away from us as you can!” Adam bellowed as the machine gun roared.

“I fuckin’ know it you bellend!” I peered through the scope once more and lined my shot. I stepped on the pedal and let the Horse belched flame upon them while my other foot pressed the second pedal, unleashing a torrent of .30 caliber rounds into their chests as they approached.

Grenades fell near our tank, kicking off dirt and mud as they explode. I could not aim clearly with all these obstructions in my sights, but I have to fire no matter what. “My God, it seems that they are prepared for our assault!” Garrick screamed.

I fired another round of high explosive shell, then another and another. I piled up more dead soldiers than I have ever do in my life. “Bloody hell! Why won’t they turn around?” I mumbled to myself. Why won’t they?

“They were most likely drugged,” Kyle answered as he loaded the chamber once more. “Clear!”

“Garrick, back up! They are getting close!” Adam commanded.

My eyes through the scope once more; finding for another one of those dreaded suicidal horsemen to kill before we became its victims. But they are too many – my mind could not estimate how many lives they are willing to sacrifice for this brazen charge.

I caught the sight of one of them, the clear shape of the explosives around their body made them stand out from the rest. My heart thumped, my breath’s ragged as I huffed and puffed and my foot stepped the pedal. The fiery trail left the cannon for the horseman.

All I see was the blast of mud and charred dirt kicked into the air with such a ferocious force. I missed. The rider swerved to the right too soon before my foot stomped on the pedal. Now he got his sights on us.

I fired the machineguns instead but he was an angle too low for the weapons to hit. All I did was wasting more ammo by shooting the ground. “KYLE, LOAD THE SHELL!”

It was too late. Seconds later, a loud thunderous blast rocked the tank as we moved backwards, followed by the rattling sound of our tracks falling off to the ground. The blast pushed me away from my seat and Kyle fell to the floor with a thud.

My head struck the metal floor too hard and it was the last thing I remembered.

 

 

Junior Sergeant Mordin ‘Kyle’ Remus,
Urmanean Intelligence Agency,
Galladeon Fields,
28^th October 2340,
8 hours after the beginning of the assault

My eyes were wide open by the time the clock strikes 2 in the afternoon. I hear no gunshots, no sound of rolling tanks across the field – nothing but silence.

Or am I dead?

No, I’m not. The sound of my beating heart, my head against the cold metallic floor of the tank and the smell of smoke and sulfur from outside pierced my nose like a spear. I’m alive, thank God. I told myself.

I pulled myself up to stand with all the strength I can muster. I looked to my sides and saw Vincent lying on the floor and Garrick’s head lay on the walls next to him. Are they dead? If I have the time to check, I’d know.

But I do not, I must return to my brethren at this opportune moment.

I climbed up the hatch and sealed it close as I got out. I saw Adam’s body on the ground next to the tank, half of his body was charred black by fire and the rest were sullied by mud. Did he survive? I do not know nor do I care.

I stood on top of the tank, my eyes scanned my surroundings and I saw nothing but a field of corpses – of flesh and metal. Its smell is horrid and plumes of smoke rose from the tanks that were set ablaze. My hands reached for the pistol holstered by my hip as my heart beats against my chest. There must be enemies, there could be.

My stomach twists at the sight of countless riders from the Order lay dead before me. Their steeds ripped apart by bullets and explosive shells, innards spilled over the ground, sullying the green grass with shades of red. Where butterflies once flew, came the flies that comes to feast with the rotting dead and vultures swooped from above to harvest the flesh of the fallen.

Who prevailed? I do not know. But I can hear the distant sound of gunshots behind me – from where we come from. I can only guess that they have failed in the attack to conquer Galladeon.

I saw squads of men traversing through the field, wielding rifles fixed with bayonets at the end on their weapons. I heard them speak in Urmanean and with that, I felt a sense of relief in my heart – even though I am surrounded by the dead.

One of the Urmanean troopers turned to me and raised his rifle, draped in the usual colors of the Empire, padded vest underneath the dark grey coat on top. There are little badges stitched – only for the distinctive trident that symbolizes our nation’s tenacity – on his right sleeve and for the number ‘XIII’ just below.

He shouted at me, uttering the langue of our forefathers in an angry tone. God, do we sound that angry all the time? “Down on your knees! Get off the tank!” He continued in Urmanean Speech.

I raised my hands, “Are you from the 13^th?” I asked out loud in the comfort of my mother tongue. Speaking the language of the Tenebrine made me fear I’d lose my sense of identity. Thankfully I don’t. “I need to see Captain Zechreus,”

The soldier lowered his gun as he approaches, taking cautious steps towards me. “What is your service number?”

My eyes rolled as I sighed, “Nine-Two-Six-Zero-Zero-Nine,” I answered. “Now where is Captain Zechreus?”

 “Kyle!” I heard Vincent called me out from within the tank.

I cursed, my fingers rolled to a fist. It seems that I have to keep on my facade once more. “You okay down there?”

“Just hit my head a bit, where are you?”

I gestured to the soldier with my hands that only men from our Empire would know its meaning. Go gather your friends here, enemies to capture. “Just taking a look outside the tank, it’s a fucking mess around here,” I told him.

The soldier gestured to the others that are nearby, calling them over. He looked at me as moved forward, rifles gripped firmly in his hands as he walked over the dead bodies that were laid before him. The rest followed.

I counted four of them, all carrying the same weapons as the others. I hear them whisper in hushed tones as I put a finger on my lips, Approach cautiously. I said with my hand gestures. They nodded.

“Can the Horse move?” Vincent asked.

I walked over to the other side of the tank, my eyes looked down at the tracks – they were no longer attached, a result from the Order Knight who charged brazenly at us and blow up into chunks of flesh, one that knocked us out. “Well, track’s off. Can’t move unless we can get someone to repair it,”

A thunderous blast erupted just behind me and my hand immediately snapped, raising my pistol towards the soldiers before me instinctively. My heart jumped at the moment, as if lightning have struck the ground. But as I looked at the Imperials that approached the tank, one of them fell on the ground.

I turned around and saw Vincent climbed out of the hatch, a long barreled pistol held firmly in his hand as he stood. The barrel of his pistol sizzled with smoke, his finger on the trigger. “Goddamned Imps!” he shouted as his finger squeezed.

I leapt forth, my hand reached for his forearm. I gripped it tightly, my fingers wrapped tightly around his sleeve as I shoved it away from the other troops he was aiming for. “NO!” I shouted.

“Kyle! What are you doing?!” He pulled his hand away from me as we struggled to gain control of the situation. He wanted to survive, to let his instincts drive him forth and kill his enemies – I see that in his eyes as his gaze darted from the soldiers and me. “You fucking bastard!”

“I will not let you kill my kind any longer!” I screamed through my gritted teeth, pushing the gun away from the soldiers. There, I can see the shock and disbelief in his eyes turned to anger, his rage becomes his strength.

I feel the sudden jolt of pain from the side of my face, hitting me like a train as Vincent swung his fist towards me. My head rings and I can feel my grasp on his hand weakened by the second. But I shall not waver.

I pulled him across and shoved him off the tank with all the strength I can muster in this exhausted body. Vincent rolled off the sides and fell towards the muddy ground, beside a sea of corpses and rotting flesh.

My pistol raised and aimed towards Vincent as he pulled himself up to stand. The mud sullied the dark green uniform of Tenebrine, quite a disgusting combination of hues, really. “Stand down, Vincent! You have lost the battle, Tenebrine has lost!”

He took deep breaths, wiping off the muck from his sleeves. As we locked our gaze upon one another, there is a beast in his eyes and that sends chills down my spine, coupled with his humongous size that stood a head taller above most men – he seemed like a berserker from ancient times. “You bloody traitor,” he growled, his voice rough as metal scraping against pavement.

“I did what I have to do,” the words left my mouth, eyes against his.  My finger pressed against the trigger. A part of me just wanted to kill him and let it be done; a part of me does not. “My duty for the Empire is my purpose,”

“Fuck you and your Empire,” he cursed even with his voice that seemed calm. But I know he isn’t, a cold flame burns within – one that is far more dangerous than one that burns violently. “Then this is how it all ends? You getting away after dropping shells at our men at the town and killing Duke,”

“You don’t get to say that!” my voice rose, now I can feel my own heart burning as he spoke. “Your country killed my men as well, my family, my brothers! You think I’d let it all happen?”

“And you’re forgetting what happened at Branworth?”

“Oh for goodness sake, Vincent,” my eyes darted to the corpses of horses and its riders beside him. Their flesh charred black by fire, ripped apart by gunshots and mortar shells as well as the explosives that brought their lives to an end. “Don’t turn a blind eye to what Tenebrine has done to us, Vincent. The Rape of Ghirdra, the Aldeon Wars, and your country shed blood like we once did in the past,”

“That was thousands of years ago!”

“So? And you think I’d let you forget for what happened at Junerva?” I looked at him deep in his eyes. I remembered that fateful battle two years ago where they stormed the fortress, killing our forces that defended the refugees holed up in the underground bunkers of the base.

It’ll be okay. I told the children who cowered in fear. I reassured them of their safety that the Empire shall stand in the face of danger and death. The explosions that rocked Junerva to its core is nothing compared to what they have done to those that seek sanctuary inside its walls.

I saw his eyes widened at the mention of the name. I know he was there, I know the Crimson Horse was there. We fought for hours at the day where they launched an all-out assault, where we failed to keep them at bay.

Where I failed to keep the promises I made to the children.

“What happened to the women, the children and the men that seek for safety at our walls that day?” I hate myself for running away that day. I hate myself for not even trying to save those that were trapped in the fort. I should’ve stayed and fight.

Vincent shook his head, “I’m not the one who took them away and - ,”

“Of course you aren’t the one that took them and raped the women as ‘spoils’ to your victory. But you and the others did nothing when they yank them off their holes and did things to them!” I snapped. Now I see guilt in his eyes and now, I just don’t care of that. “They were afraid of you and your soldiers for the things that you might do, and those bastards did it anyway,”

“I saw the reports too, Vincent. None of your commanding officers mentioned the defiling of the refugees that your troops have done to them,” I continued. “Not in the news, nothing. You let them go on a dime,”

I heard boots stomping on the ground around us but I do not take my gaze off Vincent. I hear them speak in Urmanean Speech as they approach. As I glanced over my shoulder to look at them, I saw the distinctive outfits of the Halsiegels Troops – wearing a dark colored coat with leather gloves and boots. The sound of their backpack clinks at every step, the heavy breathing as they moved through the sea of dead men were audible with the gas mask they wore and the rounded black steel helm almost made them look like shadows ready to kill.

I nodded towards them, “Cuff him and the man inside as well,” I ordered them in a language that Vincent won’t comprehend. But even he would know what it could mean. “Have them locked in our prisons,”

Seven of them, I counted. Seven troops from the Halsiegel Div. If they were at Junerva – what a battle would it be if their blades clashed against the Shock Troopers of Tenebrine. But now they are here for one job, cleaning up the mess that we have left behind.

All of this is for Junerva. A difficult task for me to accomplish and now I get to see them broken and defeated even if we sacrificed an entire brotherhood of knights to the cause. “For Junerva and the Empire,”

They surrounded the man before me with one of them approached him with a handcuff in his hands while two others stood nearby, lifting their automatic rifles aimed for his head.

He does not fight, his head lowered as I can see in his eyes, the colors of defeat. Good, do not resist – for you have lost.

I looked around and saw the rest of the Halsiegels dragged Garrick out of the tank, still unconscious but his wrists chained. Then my eyes peered through the battlefield once more where the skies begin to darken as clouds gathered; so many dead men, so many good men.

I told myself that there are no good things in war, not even the greatest victories we accomplished. Every battle we’ve won comes with a price, a heavy one at that. But each of us reminded ourselves that we all do this for the Empire, for the vengeance of those that have been wronged. “For Junerva,” I mumbled.

“For the Empire,” I whispered.