The convoy crested the final ridge of the hidden route, emerging onto the hardball road that led them through Durdan Ridge. As they transitioned from the rugged path to the smooth highway, a collective sigh of relief swept through the convoy. They’d made it through the elven lands and the unforgiving desert beyond, and now, the lights of Outpost Yasumin twinkled on the horizon.
The convoy moved at a steady pace toward the Convoy Gate, the specialized entry used exclusively by the Beastkin Unified Army. Flanked by armored pillboxes and a heavy-weapons bunker pointed out toward the ridge, the gate stood as both a barrier and a symbol of security. As they passed through, soldiers on guard saluted, a show of respect that carried more weight after all they’d endured.
Once they rolled into their designated spots, Lt. Tarfire ordered the post-mission routine. Alpha 2 stopped, and Sergeant Targzon immediately began the weapons check, methodically unloading and securing the heavy machine gun, assisted by Swiftail, who maneuvered the empty machine gun to the armory for storage.
The familiar outpost, though still bustling, now felt like a sanctuary. Dust-coated and bone-weary, the soldiers disembarked, each Beastkin moving with the weight of the recent mission heavy on their shoulders. They had accomplished what felt insurmountable, and now, Yasumin offered the first chance to rest and reflect.
As the last of the trucks were unloaded, the remaining supplies handed over, and equipment returned, formation was called. Lt. Tarfire, visibly tired but standing tall, faced his unit. His eyes scanned the weary but resilient soldiers, each bearing marks of fatigue but holding pride and determination in their gaze.
“Beastkin soldiers,” he began, his voice strong despite his evident exhaustion. “Today, we did something extraordinary. We carried out a mission that went beyond any single objective. We’ve freed lives and struck a blow against the Austorian Empire’s foundations. We faced hell itself—and we came back standing.”
A solemn hush fell as he continued, the weight of their accomplishment and the sacrifice settling over them.
“We also made the Austorians pay in ways they’ll never forget,” he said, his voice carrying the resolve of someone who’d seen the cost firsthand. “We brought down their Red Tower—a monument to their cruelty and arrogance. That cursed place won’t haunt another soul because of us. We tore down a symbol of fear, and now that fear lies in ruins.”
The soldiers shifted, the weight of the words resonating, but Tarfire’s tone grew more somber as he spoke of the fallen.
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“I’ve been informed about the heavy cost that came with that victory,” he said, his voice lowering. “We lost many of our own when those Chaos collars activated. Brave Beastkin forced into a battle they had no control over—taken by that same evil we’ve been fighting. Their lives were precious, and we will not let them be forgotten.”
He took a deep breath, steadying himself before continuing. “What we’ve done here proves one thing: that fear has no power over bravery. Even the Red Tower, that symbol of terror, fell when faced with our courage. It’s a victory we all paid for, some more dearly than others, but we’ve shown that bravery stands unbreakable against the weight of fear. We won this fight, and we honored the memory of every Beastkin who was lost.”
The soldiers’ faces softened, a sense of resolve and camaraderie shining through the fatigue. He let the moment sink in, then added, “Our efforts weakened the Austorian slaver forces, dealt a blow to their cursed plans, and freed innocents who thought they’d never see daylight again.”
After a long pause, he lifted his chin. “There’s a formation at 0700 tomorrow. But after that? A four-day pass for everyone.”
The roar of approval was deafening, and he held up a hand, smiling. “And one more thing—formation tomorrow night, 1900 hours, at Bulwark’s. Open bar.”
As the unit broke into cheers, Tarfire couldn’t help but feel the weight of their victory tempered by the sacrifice. Yet, he saw in their faces that the mission’s cost only deepened their determination. These were soldiers who knew what they were fighting for.
The reaction was explosive, laughter and cheers ringing out as the tension broke completely. The soldiers clapped Tarfire on the back, calling out their thanks as they dispersed, carrying both the weight of the day’s battles and the satisfaction of a hard-won victory.
As the convoy finally settled into the rhythm of post-mission routines, Kael Swiftail found himself approached by two medics, both familiar faces wearing worried expressions.
“Are you Kael Swiftail, the driver of Alpha 2?” Sergeant Jesse Wildtalon asked, her voice steady but edged with tension.
“Yes, Sergeant, I am. How can I help you?” Kael responded.
Staff Sergeant Marinus Redfur, her concern evident, stepped forward. “Where’s Corporal Brightclaw? She was assigned to your truck.”
Kael, momentarily caught off guard, fumbled for an answer but quickly found his footing. “She is at Firgan Hospital, ma’am. She was needed to help stabilize the Heroes we brought back—they were in pretty bad shape.”
Both medics sighed in visible relief, the tension easing from their faces. “Thanks, Kael,” Marinus said. She shared a quick look with Wildtalon, then turned back to Kael with a nod. “We’ll head there now.”
With a quick wave, the two medics sprinted toward their UTV, speeding off to Firgan Hospital in search of their friend. Kael stood watching the taillights fade into the night, a warm sense of satisfaction filling him.
Alone for a moment, Kael walked over to his vehicle and gave it a pat. “Thanks for getting us there and back in one piece,” he murmured, almost as if speaking to an old friend. Finally, his barracks called, the thought of a warm bed a welcome change from the battlefield.
“What a story this is going to be,” he thought aloud with a tired grin as he walked off, already picturing the tales he’d share when he wrote home.