***

“Confirm sir! Roland troops are in retreat. Infantry are boarding trains and carriers enmasse and are evacuating the city,” Harper reported from her terminal upon the bridge of the command ship. “Shall we pursue?”

Admiral Skirita pursed his lips, the graying officer standing beside the transposcreen with his hands clasped as he surveyed the destruction of the city defensive line.

“Incredible…” Skirita whispered, his gaze unable to look away from the storm sweeping across the battlefield.

Beside him, Director York, the blonde man rubbing his chin at the spectacle. “Lieutenant Harper, are we recording?”

“Yes Director.”

“Document everything, lieutenant, the eggheads back home may be able to make some sense out of this,” York said, the blonde man ordering the crew despite being a guest aboard the ship.

Skirita took out a cigar, a bad habit he'd developed over the years after watching so many young men die. “Five years.”

“Hm?”

“Since I last saw that punk,” Skirita said as York reached over with a lighter, ignoring the cigarette for the old officer. “And look at what he's become.”

“If I didn't know any better you sound annoyed at our new king, old friend,” Skirita said as York wiggled his nose at the sweet pungent scent coating the bridge.

Normally it was against regulation to smoke on the bridge, but who was going to stop a full bird admiral.

“Not annoyed Director, just tired. Men like you and I, what hope do we have against monsters like that? An entire destroyer? An entire defensive line broken in a day which would have taken us months,” Skirita shook his head.

“Sir,” Lieutenant Harper butted in, “Shall we give the order to pursue?”

“Negative lieutenant,” Skirita replied, taking a long drag of his cigar.

“The city defenses are still online. Looks like they aim to flee while having the city cover their retreat,” York surmised. “Do you think our king would be so kind as to level the city for us?”

Skirita grunted, “You want a kid to slaughter an entire city?”

“Why not? You all ask my daughter to do so,” York quipped, his eyes settled on the raging battle below.

“Remind me how old you are, Director York?” Skirita said, his cigar nearly finished.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Thirty-eight.”

“And yet you look almost as old as me,” Skirita grumbled, sweeping the cigar ashes at his feet with his boot. “Lieutenant Harper, contact the Jericho and Vigilance, I want those destroyers advancing to support General Oliva on the ground. And get flight command on the comm, it's about time we got into this fight.”

“Aye sir, Major Vulk linked to your station, instructions sent to the destroyers,” Harper replied as Skirita took a seat at his command chair whilst Director York stared at the silver-wing angel hovering over the city in the distance.

****

Hoffman fell to his knees, his jaw agape as his gaze focused on his home.

Retreat.

The order had been given.

All Roland forces were being ordered to retreat, to regroup around Rolanda, the capital of the new Empire.

Hoffman could scarcely believe it, even as he watched his fellow soldiers board trains, even as he watched his comrades climb into land ships and flee the frontline.

In a span of a day, hell had been brought down upon the Roland army, not because of the Selfians but because of one man.

“Sir! The last train is leaving soon!” Corporal Ferdinand shouted, joining Hoffman beside the entrance of the command bunker that now lay in ruin. Following standard retreat operations, the bunker had been destroyed, along with anything that could be valuable to both Roland and Selfian soldiers. “Achmad and Conrad can't stall them anymore! Sir we've got to move!”

Adolf Hoffman didn't budge, his body rooted to the cold soil beneath him. His home. His city that was being sacrificed to buy his king time.

“For a better tomorrow…” Hoffman whispered.

“Sir!”

“Go ahead corporal, I won't be coming,” Hoffman ordered as he turned his attention towards the figure in the sky watching the Roland soldiers retreat. Fortunately for some reason Jack was ignoring the Roland Air Force, allowing their army to retreat.

“But High Command-”

“If it was your home would you run?” Hoffman said with the corporal falling silent to the echo of gunfire. “Go, join the rest of the army. I will stay behind with the vanguard to defend my home and buy our army time.”

“I…” Ferdinand began but trailed off, a sudden feeling of patriotism welling within the man.

Hoffman turned to the sound of a four-wheeler puma pulling up beside him, the titanium chassed off-road vehicle operated by a familiar face to the Roland Officer.

“Sir, the trains are set to depart,” Corporal Conrad reported, the blonde visibly bloodied as he sat at the steering wheel of the open-top truck. “Colonel Lambert wishes to know your intentions.”

“I’ll be staying here, corporal, go join the rest of the army.”

“Understood, sir, if that was the case the Colonel instructed me to stay behind and relay your orders.”

“Go ahead,” Hoffman said, rising to his feet.

“Per Colonel Lambert and General Light orders, I am to relay that you are to defend the city to the last man and to congratulate you on your promotion, Captain Hoffman,” Conrad said, handing Hoffman a pair of silver bars and beckoning him aboard the puma. “What are your orders Captain?”

Hoffman looked down at insignia. Under different circumstances he would have been elated, but he, just as everyone here knew, he was just being promoted posthumously.

The blonde imperial turned to the sky, eyeing the blue skies beginning to be replaced by dark clouds.

“Take us to the wall,” Hoffman said quietly, boarding the puma as his eyes shifted from the clouds to the two destroyer-class airships bearing down on his home.