Cent. Calendar 08/06/1639, high above Paganda, 23:55

Just before midnight, a lone Zs-635 transport plane of the Imperial Gra Valkas Army (IGVA) flew eastward at the height of 30,000ft. The IGVA woodland camouflage could be seen as light from the two moons reflected off the transport plane, but from a distance, the plane nor its features, paint, or even roundel could be seen from afar. High above the clouds, the only thing that gave off the light to the otherwise dark, serene environment besides the lights coming from the cockpit and the moons were the lights emanating from the Pagandan capital. Drowning out the two turboprop engines of the Zs-635 were the incessant booms of fireworks coming from below, showing that despite it being late at night, the festivities of the National Day are still in full swing.

After months of signals intelligence (SIGINT), the Gra Valkans learned that the Pagandans did not operate any sort of radar. After the intelligence-sharing agreements between the governments of Gra Valkas and Mu, they learned from the Muish that the Pagandans resorted to mostly visual sightings from their hundreds of coastal batteries and observation posts. As for their wyvern force, they were only sent out when enemies or potential enemies were spotted beforehand and were hardly sent out on patrols. To the pro-martial conspirators’ delight, the Pagandan military participated in the National Day festivities, drawing a huge percentage of their force to the celebration. With the one-day deadline that the Pagandans gave, the Gra Valkan military command decided that sending in a unit via air was the quickest and most efficient method.

Inside the belly of the aircraft, 35 Kommandos of the IGVA’s elite Kommandokompanie (KMK) unit sat along the two rows of seats that lined the sides of the aircraft interior. The majority of them wore their iconic black assault suits underneath their custom-made body armor while balaclavas and ballistic helmets donned their heads. All of them came equipped with headsets and built-in microphones. For this operation, they were split into six Arbeitsgruppe (teams): Anton, Berta, Caesar, Dora, Emil, and Fritz. Anton would maintain oversight of the Pagandan MP compound and handle the diversions, while Berta, Caesar, Dora, and Emil would be the ones that would break into the compound and rescue the diplomats. Fritz would stay behind as a reserve.

As the clock inched closer to the drop point, Stabsfeldwebel Roland Nadler took the opportunity to address the men.

“Gentlemen.”

After a slight pause, Roland continued.

“Today... Nein... Tomorrow-In 5 minutes, we will be making history as the first unit in all of Gra Valkas to go into real combat in this world, Asherah...”

Roland then felt a hand land on his left shoulder. Looking in that direction, he saw the eyes of KMK commanding officer Oberstleutnant Dominik Hippel, who was already wearing his goggles, looking at him with an expression that said, “keep it short.” Acknowledging his commanding officer, Roland proceeded to end his short-lived speech as he put on his goggles.

“Remember your training, men! We have to come back from this mission to face that arschloch Schmidt in the GD and shove his precious ‘intel’ up his arsch!”

Ending it on a high note, Roland then proceeded to put on his oxygen mask and check his altimeter, two chutes, and the rest of his equipment one last time. As the hands on the clock struck midnight, the Central Calendar flipped over to the 9th day of Month 6 while the Zs-635 neared the drop point. Consequently, the cargo bay door at the end of the aircraft opened. The first to stand was Hippel, followed by Roland and the rest of the 33 Kommandos. They all faced towards the open bay door and ultimately the pitch-black void that awaited them at the end.

It was about time.

With their goggles and oxygen masks, the most prominent sound that they could hear was that of their own breathing. The Kommandos each took deep breaths, trying to make sure that they were calm and resolute for the coming task at hand. After all, the fate of ten Gra Valkan diplomats was in their hands. Their countless hours of rigorous training all led to this very moment. And so, the countdown finally began.

Each passing second was represented by a beep.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

At the last beep, the Kommandos all sprinted forward, jumping out into the pitch-black void and out of the comforts of their aircraft. As the last Kommando jumped from the Zs-635, the high altitude, low opening jump phase of Unternehmen Amboss Tropfen had begun. Greeting them almost immediately was the intense blast of air pushing against their entire person as they all descended towards the Kingdom of Paganda at terminal velocity. Fixating their gazes at the colorful display of red, orange, yellow, and green fireworks emanating from the light-filled city streets, which were distinct enough that they could recognize the ones they’ve seen from the maps. The Kommandos had a moment of chronal pause as they momentarily took in the sight, with some inwardly uttering the words “wunderschön” in awe.

As the altimeter approached the designated reading, the Kommandos all reached out to open their parachutes. One after another, the 35 Kommandos deployed their chutes, drastically reducing their descent speed. Due to the altitude at which they deployed their chutes, they were able to slip past the observation posts that still maintained their eyes towards the skies, unaware of the threat that had just deployed to their rear. While there was some degree of variation, all the Kommandos were able to steer their parachutes towards their designated landing site: a clearing in the forest some distance away from the MP compound.

South of the MP compound, 0:10

It was the middle of the night at the decline of spring, which could be felt in the increasingly dry wind that blew in. In the forests south of the Pagandan capital, darkness reigned almost supreme, only partially set aside by the light coming from the two moons and the countless glow of assorted colors coming from the fireworks being set off in the skies above the capital. Disturbing the otherwise scenic and tranquil night were the echoes of loud bangs from the fireworks, music from the festivities, and cheers of people celebrating in the capital’s streets. Suddenly, filling in the empty skies above the forest were 35 dark flowers: the parachutes of the inserting KMK. Exercising what they learned in training with graceful near perfection, the Kommandos all landed on Pagandan soil without hiccups. Taking off their chutes and other equipment they used in the jump, the Kommandos gathered their equipment on the ground before moving to the bearings designated as their regroup point. Once everyone was there, they did a headcount before organizing themselves to their respective Arbeitsgruppe. After that was done, Anton went on towards a cliff south of the MP compound that overlooked it while the four assault teams moved towards their staging points. Most of the Kommandos, especially those within the four assault teams, were armed with externally suppressed Strauss MP5 submachine guns and Ziegler P39 pistols, Ziegler Löweschuß pump-action shotgun, and stun grenades for breaching and close-quarters combat. The five Aufklärer and Scharfschützen of Anton wore camouflaged uniforms, alongside matching tan balaclavas, gloves, and body armor, and they were armed with SSG1 designated marksman rifles (DMRs) and PZG1 sniper rifles.

As the spotters and snipers of Anton reached their positions 20 minutes after landing, they were astonished by what greeted them. Pulling out the map and sketch of the compound they made from copying the “sketch” handed to them by the Geheimdienst (GD), Unterfeldwebel Bertram Werner double-checked the intelligence, looking up to look at the MP compound and back down at the sketch to see the differences. Much to his frustration, which the other spotters and snipers also felt, the intelligence handed to them by the GD was as garbage as they initially thought.

“Verdammt!”

Werner cursed, muffled by his balaclava. He then turned on his radio and reported to Hippel.

“Hochtafel (Hippel’s callsign), there’s a major setback.”

“I know.”

From the staging point of the assault teams, they also had a clear view of the MP compound, which was extremely different from what the GD gave them. The main building at the center of the compound was in fact, a three-story building, not a two-story building as drawn in the “sketch” provided by the GD. The southwestern main entrance was nonexistent, instead replaced by the stables initially depicted as separate from the main building. Moreover, there was now an entirely new wing to the northeast that extended from the main building. Judging from the wing’s equally spaced barred windows, it was likely the detainment wing of the building. This, along with other differences, such as different entry points, new windows that were not detailed, the presence of two extra guard towers, and more gave everyone a headache. Thoughts of the GD wanting them to fail started coming in, but the Kommandos all swept it aside, as they neither had time nor energy to spare grooming and to entertain such thoughts. Breaking the silence, Hippel checked in.

“How long do you need?”

They were only given a window of three hours to complete the mission before extraction. Without much time to fully draw an entirely new map of the building and the compound, the Kommandos’ hands were tied. Despite the unrealistic expectations placed on them, they were taught and trained to still push through against the odds. Taking a deep breath, Werner replied back flatly.

“An hour and 20.”

“Ausführung.”

With only an hour and 20 minutes to do additional reconnaissance on the building, the members of Anton moved swiftly and silently to proceed with their mapping of the building and the compound while the other members went their separate ways to plant diversionary explosives.

Somewhere inside the MP compound’s main building, 1:20

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The sound of water drops falling from somewhere and hitting a puddle that formed on the concrete floor was the only sound that permeated within the cold, dark cell. Listening closely, one could hear the faint sound of air rhythmically entering and exiting a man’s nostrils. The man, Dallas, laid weak yet alive on the floor of his cell with his hands, feet, and waist bound by chains to multiple points on the floor and the walls. Lately, he was too weak to utter even the slightest of groans, having been mercilessly starved by the Pagandan military police and tortured by means of dipping him into a well, beating him up, tying him to a horse to be dragged around the compound, and a multitude of other unpleasantries. He lacks the necessary calories to stand up properly, and he has difficulties in even lifting a single finger. Still, despite the barbaric means that the Pagandans employed on him, he stood true to his beliefs that as a proud Gra Valkan, he would never yield nor surrender his nation. Lamenting that his rich parents did not allow him to fight in the armed forces during the Great Eternity War with Kain, he was instead put into a liberal arts course at a university in Ragna, further aggravating his hate for his parents and by extension, the rich and powerful. Believing that he was destined to fight and give his life for the empire, Dallas harbored resentment from his parents for stealing that away from him. Now, in Asherah, as an esteemed diplomat of the empire, he faced extreme torment from new world adversaries, and despite his initial glee, the Pagandans, in one way, did get to him. Despite his incessant threats to the Pagandans and his own personal beliefs that the empire would come in guns blazing and liberate him from the filth of the new worlders, it did not materialize, fueling the Pagandan mockery and spits he received. A mentality that he had been abandoned, forgotten, perhaps even on purpose due to some backdoor deals made by his parents to make sure that their wretched son never comes home again, had set in, despite it only being a day and a half since his incarceration. He wanted to shed some tears, but his dehydration and growing apathy overpowered him.

Disturbing the other sounds was the clacking of hard soles hitting the concrete that was getting louder and louder. Someone was coming. Moments later, the sound of metal being forced into a metal could be heard as the key to the cell door was inserted, unlocking the cell door, which opened with a rusty, ear-piercing creak. Following those sounds were the resumption of the hard footsteps and then a voice, one that Dallas had grown accustomed to and added to the list of voices he despised.

“Comfortable?”

Using whatever energy he could muster to process the Asheran common, Dallas then processed a reply, which sapped much of the energy left in his lungs, vocal cords, and mouth.

“Not really. I thought I had smelled the worst you Pagandans have to offer, but oof! You, sir, take the cake!”

It was a lie. Dallas could no longer properly process his sense of smell. Still, he took the opportunity to jab at the Pagandan military police commander that had walked in the mustached man. Not hearing a reply, only hasty footsteps, Dallas could feel the man getting closer. Suddenly, he felt a hard object pressing on his back with the weight of what seemed to be an entire man. Stepping on Dallas, the mustache man then talked.

“Why won’t you submit? Why do you have to make things so difficult, huh?”

Silence.

Shifting his body to put more weight on Dallas, the mustache man pressed on.

“Aren’t you afraid of the fate that awaits you when your pitiful nation decides to say no to our demands this morning?”

To this, Dallas mustered the leftover hope he has to repeat what he has been saying, despite thoughts and emotions that say otherwise.

“No. I am looking forward to my end as a martyr of Gra Valkas. As for you, aren’t you afraid of your fate?”

The mustached man chuckled, once again calling his bluff.

“What should I be afraid of?”

“The empire will not take our incarceration lightly. There are reasons why we ignored you in the first place.”

Tired of the weak man’s rambling, the mustached man stepped off of him and proceeded back to the door. Looking back at Dallas, he made one last statement.

“You will not die a martyr’s death, fool, for death does not discriminate.”

Dallas rolled around to look at the mustached man. Despite the darkness of the cell, the mustached man could feel Dallas’s stare on him.

“That’s comforting. The part where I will not die a martyr’s death, that is. Because, well... I won’t die here.”

Disgusted and insulted by the man’s borderline crazy optimism, the mustached man slammed the cell door shut and locked it again.

Contrary to what he showed Dallas inside the cell, he was actually shaken by the diplomats’ nonstop threats. Looking down on his shoes and trying to make sense of it, he learned that it wasn’t that far logically. They had indeed just given them a day to respond, which is not enough to mount anything significant. However, if a nation is truly desperate, then they would attempt something within such a limited time frame. To be fair, the Pagandans knew next to nothing about the Gra Valkans nor their empire to the west. The most they heard of were territorial violations complaints from their suzerains, the Leiforians, lodged against the Gra Valkans, who, according to themselves, just appeared out of nowhere to the west. Thinking more about it, he came to the question which all of them should have asked back then: how the hell did the Gra Valkans violate Leiforian territory without going through them? Paganda is situated in close proximity to Leifor, particularly their capital, Leiforia, and any such territorial violation by ship would have been seen by them first. Unfortunately for them, they have no such information-sharing agreements with the Leiforians, only a guarantee of safety from being their protectorate.

Clutching his head from headaches after only now realizing the ramifications of what they did, he immediately started considering that the Gra Valkans may attempt to do something within the next few hours before the deadline. Unfortunately for him, much of the military and the military police were diverted to host the National Day parade in the capital, and that historically, the festivities have always drawn more soldiers than needed. Due to this, the manpower available to him was smaller in comparison to usual. Aggravating the situation, his men were not in the best of shape, as the lack of significant action in recent history meant that they were mostly inexperienced and coupled with the fact that most of his men right now would rather be at the festivities. This meant that they were extremely vulnerable to an attack, provided that the attackers got past their countless shore batteries and observation posts. Even then, it wasn’t strange for soldiers posted at the batteries and observation posts to desert and join the festivities. As if it wasn’t enough, the mustached man remembered some of his commanders explicitly entrusting the duty of security to him and his men, adding that they themselves will be busy in the festivities and are not to be bothered.

About to shed tears from realizing just how unprepared they were, he slapped himself before turning to his vice commander, who was standing next to him at the cell door.

“How many men are accounted for?”

The vice commander scratched his head and looked away. He also knew that a significant number of men in the compound had been drawn away for official duties in the festivities, but men assigned to stay behind were also missing. Without any number to give his commanding officer, he then gave the last headcount he did some hours ago.

“Uhh... We have at most 50 men, sir.”

“50?! At most?!”

The compound served as a prison and a barracks for the Pagandan military police. On any ordinary day, there would usually be 120 men stationed here. For the festivities, the government redirected 40 personnel from the compound, leaving only 80. If the headcount from a few hours ago still holds true, then that means there are at least 30 men that snuck out to go somewhere else, likely the festival. Moreover, not all of those 50 men are up, as some are likely resting as part of their shifts or are resting during their shifts.

The mustached man could not come up with anything other than ordering his men to take arms and be fully alert. He could not ask for reinforcements nor inform his superiors as they previously made it clear that they were not allowed to be disturbed.

“Fuck...”

South of the compound, 01:45

After undertaking additional reconnaissance of the compound and building, the commanders of four assault teams and Anton convened to make the necessary revisions to the assault plan. The revisions were mostly made to their entry points and points of interest where the diplomats may be held. According to the reconnaissance, there are about five watchtowers around the compound, each possessing a single lookout. They accounted for 24 men around the compound, who were either loitering around aimlessly, fulfilling their patrol duties, chattering with someone else, or passed out from drinking. As this was within their scope, they had set up diversionary explosives and gunshot simulators with delayed timers in a shooting range to the northwest, not too far from the compound itself. To know whether the diversion worked or not, they set up anti-personnel mines on the road leading to the shooting range, which would serve as secondary explosions as verifications, as well as to disorient and trap the military police. Once they have been drawn away, the four assault teams would then converge on the compound while snipers from Anton would neutralize the lookouts. After they’ve secured the vicinity, the teams would then move in to prepare to make their entry into the main building: Berta would enter through the southern entrance just next to the stables, Caesar and Dora would enter through the double door entrance to the north, which was the main entrance, and then finally Emil would enter to the northeast wing through an entrance at the very end. Only the main wing itself had multiple stories. While Berta and Emil cleared and searched the southwest and northeast wings, respectively, Caesar and Dora would search the main wing. If a basement exists, Caesar would be the one to clear and search it as Dora moves up the floors. Once all the diplomats are secured, they are to immediately leave the compound before they are surrounded and flooded by the returning Pagandan military police. After that, they are to proceed to the extraction point and set up a defensive perimeter while Anton performs a delaying action as they retreat last.

Everyone knew that they lacked sufficient intel and preparation time prior to the operation. In any case, it was unlikely that it would become clinical. However, they were only expected to bring the ten diplomats safely home before they were executed. If anything, the circumstances in which they were forced to operate almost guaranteed that the operation was grubby with lots of potential for things to go wrong, as if that was the intention all along. Setting aside these thoughts and focusing on their mission, the Kommandos then returned to their respective positions.

Once they were all back, Hippel gave Anton the signal to commence their diversion.

“Jetzt.”

Hearing the cue, Werber, who possessed the detonator, activated it. Within the next few moments, two flashes of light emanated from the northwest through the gaps in the trees and shrubbery. Almost a full second later, the resounding booms from both explosions rocked the vicinity, disturbing the thumping of their hearts due to the shockwaves.

Boom. Boom.

The sound of the explosions followed by simulated gunshots captured the attention of the Pagandan MPs in the compound, rousing everyone, including those that were drunk or asleep, back to their feet. They then heard shouts from the MPs who signaled that they were going to investigate the explosions. Taking their rifles and guard wolves with them, all the 24 MPs loitering around the compound siphoned out of the north gate and onto the road that led to the shooting range. The diversion was working.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“Kehlsteinhaus.”

With that cue, the four assault teams then emerged from their staging points in the forest to the south and started converging on the compound. Taking also from the cue, the snipers of Anton then took their targets and pointed their SSG1 and PZG1 rifles accordingly. Due to the gunshot simulators happening in the background, they need not worry about being discovered via their rifles’ gunshots. With all snipers ready, Werber gave the command to down all the lookouts.

“Execute!”

In near-perfect synchronization, the DMRs and sniper rifles burst into life. Compensating for wind, distance, and other factors, the highly trained marksmen made sure that their shots all found their targets. Fortunately for them, the lookouts were all busy looking towards the direction of the blasts trying to see through the foliage what it was. In complete anticlimactic fashion, the lookouts all received a piece of lead each, dying instantly from the destructive force applied by the bullets on their heads and necks. Accompanying the bangs from the snipers were the thuds of the lifeless corpses of the lookouts falling down on the floor of their watchtowers. With the lookouts neutralized, the four assault teams could finally enter the compound uncontested.

As the teams split to take their designated entry points, they all heard additional explosions coming from the northwest. The explosions were drier and softer in volume, indicating that they were coming from smaller explosives.

“Looks like they’re triggering the mines. Right on time.”

Werber muttered to himself as he watched Berta, Roland’s team, position themselves on the southwestern entrance next to the stables.

The six men of Berta took their positions on the left side of the door of the southwestern entrance. The door had its hinge on the side opposite to the side where the Kommandos had taken position, and as expected, it was locked. Turning on their flashlights and making sure to stay silent so as to not alert potential enemies inside, Roland, the second Kommando in the breaching order, notified the others through the comms that they were in position.

“Hochtafel, this is Berta, in position.”

After some time, the comms roared to life as the other teams reached their entry points and readied themselves.

“Emil is also good to go.”

“Dora’s ready.”

“This is Hochtafel. Angriff, Angriff!”

Hearing the command, Roland then signed his breacher, Unterfeldwebel Eugene Günther, to ‘unlock’ the door. Roland then grabs one of the stun grenades on the back of the first Kommando in the order, Unteroffizier Bardulf Walter, then swings it around to Walter’s face, notifying him of its use. The Kommandos held their suppressed Strauss MP5 submachine guns at the low ready, already pointed towards the side they would take once they entered the building. Eugene then went up to the door and pointed his Ziegler Löweschuß pump-action shotgun towards where the latch bolt of the doorknob would be. Pulling the trigger, the flat sound of the shotgun firing accompanied the flat sound of the wood from the door being blasted apart and the latch bolt breaking. Pumping his shotgun and ejecting the spent casing, he then proceeded to kick open the now unlocked door, which swung wide open with a bang after the door hit the opposing wall on the hallway. Consequently, as Eugene swiftly backed off to the opposite side, Roland threw the stun grenade into the now revealed hallway, the pin of which he had already pulled moments before. Moments after throwing the stun grenade, the expected flash and bang emanated from the hallway, illuminating the surroundings for a split second before returning to pitch-black. As trained, the Kommandos then entered the hallway, with Walter taking point to clear the fatal funnel that was the door. He then took the right side of the hallway with his gun and flashlight attachment pointed down the hallway, finding no hostile targets. He was immediately followed by Roland, who took the left side of the hallway. The other Kommandos behind them followed suit, with the last three going through the middle as the hallway was clear of hostile targets. With the southwest wing being the barracks part, the hallway was filled with doors on each side that led to the quarters of the military police. Berta then proceeded with clearing the rooms of hostile targets and searching for the diplomats in the southwest wing.

Meanwhile, from the perspective of teams Caesar and Dora, which were both entering from the main entrance, the entry encountered some resistance. Disorienting the military police in the lobby that were about to exit with stun grenades, the Kommandos of Caesar and Dora immediately cleared the fatal funnel and gunned down the four MPs that were still clutching their rifles and eyes, having not even the chance to witness who their attackers were. Once the sides and corners of the lobby were secured, they saw a staircase at the end, leading to either the second floor or the basement. Without any cues, Caesar and Dora immediately formed lines and headed straight for the flight of stairs that led them to their designated destinations. Despite hearing gunshots and stun grenade explosions from both of the wings’ hallways connected to the lobby, the Kommandos of Caesar and Dora still practiced care, emerging from corners with speed and caution as they proceeded to the staircase. Taking the left side that was going down, the first operator of Caesar, Obergefreiter Klemens Hartmann, had his gun pointed down towards the approaching flight of stairs, ready to pull the trigger if a hostile were to appear. Rounding the corner, he emerged with his gun and flashlight pointed down on the dark, damp hallway of the basement. There, he saw two men in Pagandan military police uniforms armed with rifles, being stunned and dazzled by the sudden ray of light being shone at them and prompting them to react by covering their eyes instead of readying their rifles. Without hesitation, Hartmann disposed of them, firing four shots from his suppressed submachine gun, two for each man. The shots landed on their chest area, which was only reinforced by the cloth from the uniforms they wore, shredding into their vital innards and killing them.

Proceeding down the remaining flight of stairs, followed by Hippel, and then the other Kommandos of Caesar, they arrived at a short hallway with an open doorway towards the end. Light was emanating from the doorway with moving shadows on the floor, indicating the presence of people inside the room. Proceeding towards the door, the Kommandos were then greeted by two more men hastily exiting from the opened door, likely hearing the loud shots from Hartmann’s gun, despite the external suppressor. The moment the two men exited the doorway, they faced the Kommandos with their rifles still slung on their backs. However, by the time they realized it and reached for their rifles, it was too late. Identifying them immediately as hostile targets, team Caesar, which had split into two lines stacked on both sides of the hallway, had their guns trained on the two men. With each of their lines of fire uninterrupted, the Kommandos at the front pulled their triggers, showering the two Pagandan military police with bullets to their chest area. With the two hostile targets neutralized, the Kommandos then formed up on the left side of the hallway in breaching order just short of the doorway from where the light was coming from. Hearing slight ruckus inside, and they deduced that there was still someone inside the room. Hippel, the second in order, took a stun grenade from Hartmann’s back then showed it to him before pulling the pin and throwing it in the room. After the resounding flash and bang, the Kommandos then entered the room, led by Hartmann.

To their surprise, the room was populated only by a single Pagandan MP cowering on the floor face down with his hands on his head. After securing the corners and the cowering MP, they saw what the room was: the building’s armory. Lined up in racks across both sides of the room were guns, presumably of Leiforian origin according to previous intelligence, lined up neatly in racks. Some of the guns were missing, while the others remained untouched.

“Hochtafel! What do we do with this depp?”

Hartmann asked Hippel what to do with the Pagandan MP, whose hands they tied around. While he didn’t fight back, he was by no means their enemy nor their friend. Since they had no time to waste, Hippel decided to set aside the MP.

“Knock him out.”

With that, Hartmann turned his Strauss MP5 around and hit the confused Pagandan MP with its butt, knocking him out. He then dragged the unconscious MP to one corner of the room and had him lean against the wall. Just as they were about to exit the room, Hippel decided to leave a parting gift.

“Oi, koffer. Set up a tripwire mine on the doorway.”

That same time, Dallas’s cell

Hearing the explosions and then consequently gunshots, the paranoid Pagandan military police commander received a wake-up call that it was too late to implement the plans he had drawn up in his head. Left with one last choice, he went to Dallas’s cell, locked it, and decided to use Dallas as a hostage. As he walked to unlock the many chains holding Dallas down on the floor, he shouted at him.

“Get up, dammit!”

Dallas, meanwhile, hearing the explosions and gunshots as well, chuckled.

“See? Now that you’re no longer in a position of power, you resort to underhanded methods. Civilized my ass.”

Ignoring his taunting, the mustache man continued to find and unlock the lock on the second chain binding Dallas. While doing so, he inwardly hurled curses at Dallas, at his own men, at his superiors, at his own circumstances, at the military’s inability to prevent such an attack, and at his own luck since he was not able to experience one more festival before going down. As he unlocked the third chain, he heard a loud bang emanating from the cell door, prompting him to look back at it reactively. Following the bang was the loud sound of the padlock hitting the concrete floor. Knowing that they were finally here, the mustached man immediately reached for his pistol. By the time he pulled it out and pointed it towards the door, the door burst open, followed by a blinding light that disoriented him. Before he could react and pull the trigger on his pistol, he felt two consecutive intense pangs on his chest synchronizing to two dry bangs bouncing all across the cell room. Feeling intense pain, he was knocked down to the floor by the force of the bullets hitting his chest. In an instant, the Pagandan military commander was neutralized, leaving him to die on the floor of Dallas’s cell.

As the Kommandos secured the corners of the room, they recognized Dallas from pictures during the briefing. Hippel took point and talked to Dallas while the rest of team Caesar unlocked the chains using the keys from the dead commander.

“Herr Dallas?”

“Y-Y-Y-Yes...”

Dallas stammered as tears flowed down his eyes and nose. Despite feeling apathetic about his circumstances, the fact that the empire had still come for him was a relief more fulfilling than anything he had ever felt before. Shedding tears of joy, he could not stop himself from bawling. The Kommandos felt some pity for him but set aside their feelings for the moment since their mission isn’t done yet. Hippel, ever the straightforward man, asked Dallas a very important question.

“Can you walk?”

“Barely...”

Although satisfied with Dallas’s honesty, Hippel scratched his head as he sighed since Dallas was going to be more of a liability than they anticipated. Deciding to undertake the task of carrying Dallas himself, he ordered Unterfeldwebel Helfried Lehmann to substitute his position.

“I’ll carry him. Lehmann, take my position. Let’s go.”

02:05

All four teams reported whenever they secured a diplomat. As of 02:05, Dora had secured the last diplomat in an interrogation room on the third floor of the building. At that point, all ten diplomats were found with injuries and in varying circumstances. Two were found in interrogation rooms, six were found in the prison wing, one (Dallas) was found in the basement prison, and one was found in the barracks being sexually harassed by a Pagandan MP. Despite their conditions, which ranged from mild bruises to bodily trauma, they were all alive. With the southwestern entry point as their point of exit, the four Kommando teams swiftly proceeded out of the building. However, by the time they were heading out of the compound, they were spotted by the returning Pagandan MPs, which they expected as Anton had warned them earlier that the MPs were coming back. With team Berta taking the initiative to put up a delaying action, the rest of the Kommandos exited the compound and back into the forest with the diplomats in tow.

With the last Kommando out of the compound, the Kommandos from Berta withdrew from their positions, and themselves exited the compound. Seeing that their assailants were escaping, the Pagandan MPs gave chase but were stopped by AP mines set by the Kommandos before they broke into the main building. Seeing their comrades maimed by the explosions, the other MPs stood and hesitated, allowing them to be easily picked out by the snipers from Anton. Sensing that they were still being fired upon, the Pagandan MPs took cover behind the stables and what hard cover they could find. As some decided to go back into the building to recover their firearms, others decided to go around the building and attack from the northeast wing. However, they then learned that the armory and the path leading around the northeast wing were both booby-trapped, setting off the mines that the Kommandos had set up. Fortunately for them, however, since the explosions in the shooting range, other MPs from the festival and regulars in the army mobilized to investigate, only arriving now on horseback.

“Scheiße! The cavalry’s here!”

As dozens and dozens of men on horseback started arriving at the gate to the northeast, Anton was starting to feel the pressure from the now volley of fire descending on their position after prolonged fire gave away their position. While their marksmen still scored hits on the Pagandan MPs, downing several, the firefight was now escalating to a point beyond what they themselves could contain. Werner then decided that it was time to join their comrades in the retreat.

“Rückzug! Set up some mines on our trail!”

Discreetly getting up from their positions, team Anton descended from their overwatch position back into the forest to the south, laying down mines as they ran to join their fellow Kommandos at the extraction point.

Several minutes later, the assault teams and the diplomats were fast pacing through openings in the woods southwards towards their extraction point. While the sound of gunfire and explosions were some distance behind them, they still maintained a sense of urgency and alertness since they were still on enemy territory. It was now 02:15, and the extraction point was still some distance away. Some of them had to slow down since the diplomats’ conditions could not afford to run the distance. To this end, the Kommandos resorted to carrying the diplomats that were in the worst condition on their backs to expedite their escape. Continuing through the trail, they managed to reach the opening where they had landed earlier. Scaling the slight hill through the opening, they were treated to the light of the moons shining down on them. Ignoring the waning sound of celebration and the increasing intensity of gunfire and explosions, it was an otherwise calming environment. Had the circumstances been different, they could have set up a picnic or camp in such a location, which despite the slight elevation, was still mostly surrounded by trees that blocked their view towards the ocean and the capital.

Then, disturbing their so far uneventful trek, gunfire erupted from the forest to their right: the treeline to the west down the hill. These were Pagandan soldiers posted on guarding the observation posts who decided to descend their hill to the compound to investigate the gunfire. While they didn’t anticipate gunfire coming from that direction, the Kommandos still reacted professionally, either hitting the dirt or taking cover on lone stumps that dotted the hill and returning fire. The Kommandos that accompanied or carried the diplomats all dashed down the hill and into the forest. Taking into account their limited munitions, the Kommandos sparingly fired their submachine guns, having taken off the external suppressor, into the spots where they saw flashes of lights. Despite being outnumbered, the skill and rate of fire from the Kommandos, coupled with being at a higher elevation, offered them the advantage against the Pagandans, who had to raise their rifles to fire single shots at the Kommandos. With the diplomats safely out of the area, the Kommandos that covered them started withdrawing from their positions on the hill to join the escape. The last of these Kommandos was Hartmann, firing off two more shots before turning around to run. It was at this point that tragedy struck: a bullet fired by the Pagandans hit Hartmann’s exposed flank, prompting him to fall on the ground as he was running. No amount of rigorous training prepared him for the excruciating pain that came from an actual bullet hitting his left side just under the shoulder. Screaming in pain, the Kommando in front of him noticed this and hurried to pull Hartmann out from the volley of fire.

“Of all the damned Kommandos to get hit, it had to be the koffer!”

Since their Sanitäter had already run ahead and the Pagandans were rapidly closing in on the area, he judged that it was better to carry Hartmann to the extraction point where they planned to set up a defensive perimeter to hold out before their extraction came.

“Hang in there; I will carry you! Okay, three, two, one-”

Pulling Hartmann up from the ground, he grunted as the wounded Kommando tried his best not to scream from the pain. Now that Hartmann was on his back, he then ran down the hill to join their fellow Kommandos at the extraction point.

02:30

By 02:30, the first Kommandos had reached the extraction point, a slight hill that had ancient earthworks surrounding the circumference of its base-perfect for a defensive perimeter. The hill was situated just next to a cliff that towered over the waves crashing against it. On the summit of the slight hill was a single monolith dotted with mysterious carvings and symbols visible under the moons’ light. There, at the base of the monolith under its relative safety, they tended to the manageable wounds of the ten diplomats. As the other Kommandos set up explosives on the ancient earthworks which might be used for cover by the Pagandans, the wounded Hartmann was taken up all the way to the base of the monolith at the top of the hill to be treated by their Sanitäter, Helfried Lehmann. With Hartmann lying on the grass, Lehmann went to work to ascertain the damage and apply the necessary treatment.

Returning to the monolith after designating the particulars of the defensive perimeter, Hippel asked Lehmann about Hartmann’s condition.

“Will he be fine?”

Despite feeling anxious over Hartmann’s condition, Hippel didn’t show it in his tone nor expression.

“I’ve done what I could. The damage is too extensive for me to do much. He needs to be taken to a hospital immediately.”

Hippel sighed.

He knew that immediately was out of the question, as the scheduled extraction won’t arrive until 02:50 at the earliest. Still, getting beset by emotions during a mission was dangerous, so Hippel set it aside and looked away from Hartmann, who was already starting to look lifeless. Lowering his helmet in a bid to try and hide the dismay in his eyes from the others, Hippel walked away to return to prepare for the inevitable horde of Pagandans that would descend on them.

At the same time, Himmelßturz, leFZT., the oceans 75km southwest of Paganda

On the deck of the Himmelßturz, leFZT., a light carrier of the IGVN, four Navy Krauss helicopters are starting to take off. The coaxial rotors of the helicopters created powerful downwashes on the deck, blowing winds onto the faces of the aircraft directors guiding the aircraft. As the dark blue-colored helicopters rose into the air, they swiveled to face northeast, towards the Kingdom of Paganda. With a carrying capacity of 12 and a cruising speed of 220 km/h, they will be the ones to extract the Kommandos and the diplomats from Paganda.

As the helicopters cleared from the carrier, the pilots in the lead helicopter contacted the KMK through a previously designated radio channel.

“Amboss, this is Eisvogel of the 206th Navy Helicopter Squadron. Do you read?”

Several moments later, they received a reply from the Kommandos, which came with sounds of gunfire in the background.

“This is Amboss; we read you loud and clear. We’re currently at the extraction point and under heavy fire from hostiles. LZ is hot. I repeat, LZ is hot. Fire support would be very much appreciated.”

“Copy. ETA 25 minutes. Designate the hostiles and the LZ, over.”

“Roger, out.”

Ancient monolith site, 02:55

It has been nearly 25 minutes since Anton had appeared in the treeline to the north of the ancient site. Running tirelessly up to join their fellow Kommandos on the ridgelines of the hill, they were then subject to the booms coming from the explosions of AP mines set by Anton as they escaped. After readying their guns, they opened fire at the first sight of Pagandan soldiers emerging from the treeline. While they were able to down dozens of them, there were a lot of them that poured out from the north, and then later the northeast. Whenever the Pagandans tried to take cover in the ancient earthworks on the foot of the hill, the Kommandos would detonate their explosives, decimating several soldiers in spectacular fashion and throwing up earth and blood into the air. Despite the initial surprise, explosives, and professionalism that the Kommandos possessed, it didn’t take long for the advantage to swing towards the sheer number of the Pagandans. They were also quick to learn, taking cover in the craters left behind by the explosions after correctly deducing that there were no longer any explosives left in those positions.

After 25 minutes of seemingly ceaseless exchange of fire under the moonlight, another sound soon dominated the battlefield besides the popping of guns. It was insignificant at first, but it rapidly grew to a volume that was hard to ignore. The rapid beating of air resounded across the hill and the forest, carrying with it an ominous feeling similar to the sound of a horde of locusts closing in to exact famine on a population. As if it wasn’t yet obvious, Dallas mustered the strength to stand up and raise his hands into the sky, calling out to the approaching helicopters.

“HAHAHA! They’re here! The Imperial Navy has come!”

Seeing Dallas stand up and turn himself into a target, Lehmann proceeded to tackle the crazy diplomat.

“Get the fuck down! You’re gonna get shot!”

Knowing that their extraction was approaching, the Kommandos threw colored smoke grenades, a purple one to designate the landing zone and a red one to designate the Pagandans firing at them. Just then, four dark blue-colored Krauss helicopters arrived in the skies over the monolith, hovering for a few seconds to try and land on the spacious clearing in between the monolith and the cliff. As one of the helicopters continued to hover, the sliding door on its right side opened, revealing a door gunner with an MG 12, a 7.92 mm caliber general-purpose machine gun. Confirming the smoke signal provided by the Kommandos, the door gunner then unleashed a barrage of lead down on the exposed Pagandans on the hillside, shredding the soldiers as they ran for cover.

Taking advantage of the chaos, the Kommandos on the ridgeline made a desperate yet organized dash for the monolith. Before the Pagandans realized it, the last Kommando had crested the ridge, reaching the plain upon which the helicopters had landed. The diplomats and Hartmann were loaded first while some of the Kommandos took positions around the helicopters and joined the door gunners that were ready to fire their machine guns, poised to shoot any Pagandan that crests the ridge. Once the diplomats and Hartmann were onboard, the remaining Kommandos sequentially boarded the four helicopters. By 02:57, the last Kommando had lifted his combat boots up from Pagandan soil. With that, the helicopter pilots had the four aircraft lift off from the hill while the door gunners fired on the Pagandans that crested the ridge to shoot at them. The helicopters, with all the diplomats and Kommandos accounted for, flew southwest to return to the carrier, escaping from the range of the Pagandan guns in no time.

Himmelßturz, leFZT., 03:20

After the four helicopters had landed safely on the deck of the light carrier Himmelßturz, leFZT., Hippel, Roland, Scholz, and the other Kommandos who weren’t with Hartmann disembarked from their helicopters and rushed to look for the helicopter that carried Hartmann. After checking the two others, Hippel finally found the helicopter, which was flooded by Navy medical personnel evacuating the injured diplomats. Getting past the multitude of people, he then saw several other Kommandos, including Lehmann, looking extremely dejected. Roland squatted on the deck with his hands covering his face while Scholz looked the other way out towards the sea. Hippel finally arrived at the helicopter, where Navy medical personnel were carrying a stretcher with a body covered by cloth. Looking forlornly at the stretcher as it was taken away, Hippel was approached by Lehmann, who took the courage to say what no one wanted to tell Hippel.

“He didn’t make it.”

Lehmann sighed as he looked down on the deck.

Seeing the stretcher and the medics disappear into the bowels of the carrier, Hippel was left with his thoughts as his eyes wandered to the two moons shining in the sky. Despite their short time together, Hartmann was the youngest among the Kommandos at 27. His kind and gentle disposition betrayed everyone’s impressions when he was among those selected for the KMK’s initial training, which he then passed. Everyone fondly referred to him as koffer, meaning “new fucking guy.” As it was the first operation as a unit, there was always the associated risk of one of them not coming back alive, which was true anywhere in the military. Still, they were all taken aback when the one that kicked the bucket in the first operation was their youngest and brightest comrade. Still, despite the unrealistic expectations placed on them by command and the lack of proper cooperation from the GD, Unternehmen Amboss Tropfen was a massive success as it achieved its objectives. Even so, none of the Kommandos felt that it was the definitive victory they needed to bring back pride to the Imperial Army. If anything, it felt as if they danced to Schmidt’s tune.

Overcome with emotions he couldn’t properly express, Hippel threw his helmet on the deck and walked back to retrieve his gear from the helicopter.