In the twilight of the afternoon, a group of soldiers advanced through the frozen tundra, their steps leaving a trail in the freshly fallen snow. The daylight diminished quickly, casting long shadows over the winter landscape. The intense cold made the air seem sharper, and silence was only broken by the muffled sound of their steps in the compact snow.
Leading the group, Karl Romanov moved with a determined posture. His eyes, accustomed to the harshness of winter, scanned the horizon with meticulous attention. With every step, he evaluated the terrain, the position of the setting sun, and the subtle signs of nature that surrounded him.
Romanov is a man who exudes authority and experience. Towering at about one meter and ninety centimeters, he has a robust and well-defined physique, shaped by years of military service. His hair is short and dark, combed back in a disciplined manner. His face has striking features, with a strong jaw and dark eyes that reveal no emotions. His imposing mustache extends across his face to his sideburns, leaving his chin exposed. Karl carries in his gaze a mix of severity and wisdom. He wears his uniform impeccably, each piece placed with precision and purpose, always prepared for unforeseen adversities.
Suddenly, Karl stopped. "This is a good spot. We can camp here," he said.
As twilight deepened over the frozen tundra, Sergeant Alexei Ivanov approached Maxim Popov, who struggled with the stiff fabric of his tent. The young recruit, with hands trembling from the cold, seemed frustrated and anxious. Alexei, with a calm and experienced expression, crouched beside him.
Sergeant Alexei Ivanov is a man of stature, standing about one meter and eighty centimeters tall. His hair is short, dark brown, styled to maintain military discipline. His face, marked by expression lines and always well-trimmed beard, reveals a scar that runs horizontally across his chin. His green eyes are perceptive. His physical constitution is robust. His movements are always calculated and confident.
"Come on, Popov, let me show you how it's done," Alexei said in a tone that was firm but not harsh. With skilled movements, he began to help Maxim set up the tent, demonstrating each step methodically. "You need to be quick and efficient in this. In the field, a well-set-up tent can mean the difference between a night of rest and a night of misery."
Maxim watched attentively, absorbing every gesture and word. "Sergeant, I... I don't want to be a burden to the team," he confessed, clearly eager to prove his worth.
Popov is the youngest of the team, with an appearance that still retains traces of his adolescence. He is slender, about one meter and seventy-five centimeters tall, and his body is still adapting to the physical demands of military training. His hair is black and shaved to be very short. His gray eyes express a mix of anxiety and curiosity. Maxim's expression oscillates between determination and uncertainty, typical of someone still finding their place in the world. His uniform appears slightly large for him in Karl's eyes.
Alexei looked at him, his penetrating green eyes shining under the dim light. "Every soldier has their first encampment, Popov. The important thing is to learn and keep improving. You have courage for being here, and that counts for a lot."
With the tent finally set up, Alexei proceeded to inspect Maxim's equipment. He adjusted the straps of the recruit's vest, checked his ammunition and the functionality of his weapon, and ensured his survival kit was complete.
"Never underestimate the importance of well-prepared equipment," he advised.
Maxim nodded, feeling a mix of gratitude and respect for the sergeant. He knew the mission awaiting them would be challenging, but Alexei's guidance gave him a bit more confidence.
After finishing, Alexei patted Maxim on the back and stood up. "Now, get ready. The night will be long, and tomorrow even longer."
The night advanced over the frozen tundra, enveloping the camp in a mantle of darkness and silence. Around the carefully controlled fire to avoid visible flames, the team gathered.
Karl Romanov, the experienced and respected leader, knelt near the fire, preparing a simple but nutritious meal for everyone, with Corporal Dmitry Sokolov. Karl opened the compact packages of military rations with precise and methodical movements. These packages contained a mix of dehydrated food – meat, vegetables, and grains –, designed to be light, durable, and nutritionally complete. With the skill of an improvised chef, he poured the contents into a metal pot over the fire.
He added water that had been carefully heated and purified, stirring the contents of the pot with a sturdy spoon. As the water began to boil, the dehydrated ingredients absorbed the moisture, expanding and releasing their subtle aromas. Karl added spices – small amounts of salt, pepper, and an extra seasoning he had brought himself – to enhance the flavor.
Dmitry watched attentively, learning not just the technique but also the importance of keeping the team's morale high.
"Do you see? A good meal, however simple, can work wonders for the team's spirit," Karl observed his companions with a quick glance. "Learn a lot, Dmitry, one day you will be here as the captain of your own squad."
"Yes, sir, captain. Know that it is an honor to be in the presence of someone as skilled and experienced as you," Dmitry spoke from the heart. Karl's reputation as the best sniper in Tsaravin was not easily achieved, and even harder to maintain.
Dmitry Sokolov is a young soldier of vigorous appearance and focused attitude. He has an average height, around one meter and seventy-five centimeters, with an athletic and agile body, a result of rigorous military training. His brown hair is kept short, in compliance with military standards, and his bright blue eyes display a mix of enthusiasm and resolution. His face, still free from the marks of harder battles, carries an expression of someone always ready to learn and face new challenges. Dmitry wears his corporal uniform with pride, though sometimes he seems a bit anxious to prove his worth in front of his superiors and peers, his focus is still on completing the mission and learning as much as possible.
While the food cooked, Karl controlled the fire, ensuring it was hot enough to cook but not so much that it would attract attention or burn the food.
A few steps away, Lieutenant Yulia Kuznetsova was absorbed in reading the mission documents. Her brown eyes moved across each page with focused intensity. The dim light of the lantern illuminated her face, revealing an expression of absolute concentration. Yulia was the operation's brain, a natural strategist whose ability to plan and anticipate moves was essential for the team's success.
Yulia Kuznetsova has a distinct presence and a natural elegance that defies the rigorous conditions of the military environment. She is relatively tall for a woman, about one meter and seventy, and has an elegant and assertive posture. Her blonde hair is usually tied in a practical bun, revealing a face marked by strong features and penetrating brown eyes that exude intelligence and allure. Her expression is focused and serious. Yulia wears her uniform with a mix of professionalism and a discreet personal touch. She was the operation's brain, a natural strategist whose ability to plan and anticipate moves was essential for the team's success.
Sergeant Alexei Ivanov, after assisting Maxim with the tent, sat alone, checking his own equipment again. His gaze was serious and thoughtful, while he watched and waited for the food to be ready.
"Can you take it from here?" Karl asked Dmitry, as his eyes quickly exchanged between the corporal and the sergeant in a back-and-forth movement.
"Yes, sir, captain!" The corporal then took the sturdy wooden spoon and kept the broth moving without letting it burn.
Karl stood up and slowly approached Alexei. His steps sank slightly in the snow, the cold air seemed to want to cut through the captain's skin, but he cared little about it. As he approached, the man just sat down beside his companion.
"What do you think of him?" Karl asked in a calm yet serious voice, while watching the recruit writing something in his diary.
"Tenente Popov would be proud to know that his son is in your squad in the special forces," Alexei cracked a slight smile, his gaze still void and emotionless.
"I don't think anyone would think it's good that we're taking a child to the wilds of Tsaravin in search of Volo."
"We both know that was his choice. Maxim decided alone that he would leave the conventional army and serve directly to the emperor. This is a dream that many in the army aspire to, but few come close, and even fewer soldiers succeed. We should value the boy." Alexei looks Karl in the eyes. "He may not have skill or competence, but at least he has the heart."
"A soldier without a brain dies quickly. A soldier without a heart deserts quickly. We need capable people who have both." Karl began to stand up. "I'll talk to him later... I want the boy to be sure of what he's getting into."
As night deepened over the tundra, the team gathered around the fire shared their dinner under the starry sky. The aroma of the food mixed with the cold air, creating a temporary comfort atmosphere amidst the vast frozen expanse.
Dmitry Sokolov, now responsible for the food, continued to watch not to let the broth burn, and filled his companions' pots with a ladle.
Karl's spoon dipped into the brownish-orange broth in the pot in his left hand, only to lift with a bit of meat and grains that went into his mouth. Although his attention was focused on the delicious food he had prepared, the captain soon noticed that Maxim was slow to eat.
"Empty sack doesn't stand up, Maxim. Eat up before it cools." Karl said, approaching the recruit.
"Yes... Yes, captain..." Popov watched the nearly full pot in his hands, and Karl noticed disgust in his eyes.
"Are you that scared of the mission?"
"How did you know?!" Maxim's eyes widened, and he looked astonished at his captain.
"I've been in this life since before you were born. I know very well that you're afraid, and I know you feel like throwing up." Karl felt relieved. "Don't feel bad about it, it's your first real mission and it's actually good that you're afraid."
"Really, captain?"
"Yes. Fear keeps you alert, keeps you awake. When soldiers are afraid, that's when they start thinking about how to survive..." Karl seemed to stop himself from continuing. "But that's no reason not to eat. The food is good, and you need energy to fight."
"Yes, sir." The young recruit said, his voice muffled by the wind. Steam coming out of his mouth.
Karl watched him from top to bottom. The young man sitting, trying not to tremble there in the cold. "Why did you decide to join, recruit?" Steam comes out of his mouth.
"I've always wanted to serve my country, sir. Fighting against beasts and magical creatures just like my father was what I've always dreamed of." The recruit's eyes shone.
"Yeah... You're out of luck. It's been months since we killed magical creatures." Karl continues to eat his food.
"Not? What will we kill then, sir?" His voice trembles.
The captain inhales calmly. "Although we are known for dealing with 'natural' disasters, recently the current situation has led us to deal with humans. Added to the troop's high efficiency, there are not many magical creatures left to cause harm."
Karl watched the young recruit, his face illuminated by the faint glow of the fire. Internally, he felt a mix of concern and resignation. "How can they bring inexperienced boys to battlefields?" the captain wondered.
"But it's for the good of the empire, isn't it?" Maxim asks, lowering his head and putting his spoon in his food.
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
"Yes, we never kill innocents. All the men we go after have committed some kind of atrocity."
"I understand, sir captain."
After talking with Maxim, Karl cast a final look around the camp, observing his team sharing a moment of calm. His eyes then fixed on Lieutenant Yulia Kuznetsova, who was moving towards her documents.
"Lieutenant, are you going to speak now?" Karl raised his voice to be heard.
"Yes, just finish eating," Yulia then begins to rummage through maps, photos, documents, and much more.
"Did you hear the lady, men?!" Karl speaks loudly. "Thirty seconds to finish eating."
The soldiers then hurried their spoonfuls, swallowing quickly the food, and drinking their water rapidly. Alexei and Dmitry Sokolov ate with urgency but without choking, until they emptied their pots. The recruit tried to eat quickly but couldn't and left his pot more than half.
"After the lieutenant, finish eating," Karl tells Maxim.
After the soldiers hurried to finish their meals, Lieutenant Yulia Kuznetsova stood up, assuming a posture of authority as she looked at the gathered team. With the documents and maps laid out in front of her on her table, she began to detail the mission with a clear and precise voice.
"Gentlemen, our target is Ivankov Volo, a former captain of the special forces, fifty-three years old, who now leads a revolutionary group known as 'Volo's Band.'" Yulia pointed to a black and white photograph of Volo in the documents, highlighting his graying hair and robust bear beard, marking his imposing presence despite his height of one meter and sixty-nine. Yulia then proceeds to pick up documents of the weapons that have been seized. "Volo is a formidable adversary, experienced and dangerous. He not only possesses exceptional combat skills but also a charisma that allows him to command fierce loyalty among his followers. As if that weren't enough, his band is heavily armed and has military training," the lieutenant observes with attention and care each of her companions, she was looking for something. "Our mission is to capture him alive and transport him to the capital. Significant resistance is expected. So we will enter stealthily, kidnap him, and leave with as few deaths as possible," she passed her fingers over the maps, indicating potential routes and points of confrontation. "The success of this mission is not based solely on brute force. We will need strategy, discretion, and impeccable coordination. Karl, I hope you can be my eyes watching us from afar with your precision rifle."
Karl Romanov, listening attentively, nodded in agreement. He knew Volo's reputation and understood that this would not be an ordinary mission. The captain was confident.
"Any questions?" Yulia looked at the team, ready to clarify any doubts.
"Yes, ma'am lieutenant," says the recruit. "What will the others' roles be?"
"I will be the shadow, and you will be my shadows. Any more questions?"
The team remained silent.
"Perfect, then memorize the maps well, and you can rest for tomorrow. The day will be very long," Karl says, heading to his tent.
The captain then takes off his uniform, getting more comfortable. He turns off the gas lantern that illuminated his tent, lies down on his improvised mattress, and quickly falls asleep, accustomed to the cold and discomfort.
The dawn broke with a faint light over the frozen tundra. The cold morning air carried a tense quietness, broken only by the subtle sounds of nature and the calm breathing of Karl Romanov. The captain, camouflaged among the rocks and snow, watched the distant base of Volo's Band through the telescopic sight of his rifle. His trained eyes meticulously scanned the area, analyzing every detail in search of any sign of Ivankov Volo.
The enemy base, an improvised but heavily guarded structure, stood alone in a valley surrounded by icy peaks. Armed guards patrolled the perimeter, moving with an efficiency that revealed military training. Tents and parked vehicles indicated the presence of a significant number of fighters. Karl noted strategically positioned lookout points, each with a clear view of the base's approaches.
He then adjusted the focus of his sight, trying to get a better view of that specific area. Although he could not see directly inside the room, the discrete nature of the activity and the extra attention given by the guards raised suspicions.
After contemplating for a few moments, Karl picked up his radio communicator, a small box with two antennas that produced a slight voltaic arc, and whispered a crucial message to Lieutenant Yulia Kuznetsova, informing her of his observation and suspicion.
"Over, lieutenant, I believe Volo might be on the third floor, in a windowless room. Intense movement of guards. Proceed with caution. Over."
"Over, understood, Captain. We'll adjust our plan. Keep us informed of any changes. Over," Yulia responds, on the other side of the radio.
After receiving the crucial message from Captain Romanov, Lieutenant Yulia Kuznetsova turned off her radio communicator with an agile and deliberate movement. She carefully stored it in a secure compartment of her tactical vest, ensuring it was well-protected and accessible for future communications. Her face was serious.
"Let's go," she says, waving her hand.
With silent and precise steps, she led the group towards the imposing wall that surrounded Volo's Band's base. The structure, over five meters high, posed a formidable barrier, topped with barbed wire designed to deter any invasion attempt.
Reaching the wall, Yulia quickly assessed the situation. She signaled for her team members to prepare. From her equipment, she took out a roll of thick, resistant cloth, treated with a special substance to prevent it from tearing upon contact with the barbed wire. With agile movements, she threw the cloth over the wire, creating a safe passage over the obstacle.
The team organized quickly for the climb. Sergeant Alexei, the strongest and tallest, crouched down, interlocking his fingers to form a support with his hands. Yulia, with a light run, placed her foot in the soldier's hands, who boosted her up. With the agility of a cat, she grabbed the top of the wall, using the cloth as protection against the wire. In a fluid motion, she balanced on top and began to descend on the other side, landing on her feet.
A rope is quickly thrown over the wall, falling securely in the middle of the cloth and sliding to the ground. Yulia then tied it against a gaslight pole. One by one, the other team members used the rope to overcome the wall. Each soldier moved with efficiency and silence, aware that the slightest error could compromise the entire operation.
Karl watched calmly the team's entrance into the base. His sight roamed the base analyzing the movement of armed patrols, and memorizing more and more the internal pattern of the central structure.
Lieutenant Yulia Kuznetsova, with her team of soldiers, advanced silently through Volo's Band's base. The tension was palpable among them, each movement calculated and every sound muffled under the cold, compact snow. They moved like shadows among the base structures, avoiding detection by the guards.
From his hideout, Karl maintained constant vigilance over Yulia and her companions. Through his telescopic sight, he followed each step of Yulia and her team, ready to provide assistance at any moment.
Suddenly, the captain noticed a group of guards moving towards Yulia's team. They were about to cross an open corridor that would lead them directly into the guards' field of vision. Quickly, Karl grabbed his radio communicator, pressing the button to transmit a crucial message.
"Over, lieutenant, change of plans. An enemy squad is approaching from your right. I recommend taking the door immediately to the left, right after the third marking. Over."
Yulia, hearing the message, signaled discreetly for her team to stop. She quickly weighed her options, aware that any confrontation could alert the entire base. With a silent gesture, she directed her companions to prepare for a possible silent confrontation, if necessary.
Karl noticed that Alexei touched Maxim's shoulder and seemed to whisper something to calm him. Everyone looked at Yulia and nodded in agreement.
As the tension in Volo's Band's base intensified, Lieutenant Yulia Kuznetsova led her team with almost ghostly precision. The next step of their infiltration led them to a door that separated them from the stairway to the third floor, an opening that provided a clear view of the location where the five enemy soldiers were concentrated.
Yulia approached the opening cautiously. Her breathing was controlled, each movement measured to avoid any noise. She carefully peeked through the gap, observing the enemy soldiers absorbed in their game and drink, oblivious to the imminent presence of danger. Satisfied with the assessment of the situation, she silently signaled the others right before passing silently to the staircase.
Sergeant Alexei followed, moving with a dexterity that belied his robust stature. He also passed quickly and stealthily through the door, without alerting the enemies.
Corporal Dmitry followed the example of his superiors, passing through the opening with the same caution and silence. The air was cold, the day was dark. The strong smell of tobacco and sweat took over the place.
However, when it was recruit Maxim's turn, the luck of the team changed drastically. Nervous and focused on maintaining silence, the recruit tripped over his own foot, falling awkwardly to the ground with a dull thud. Before he could recover, his weapon accidentally discharged, echoing loudly in the corridors of the base.
Immediately, the sounds of gaming and laughter from the soldiers ceased. A deadly silence fell over the environment, broken only by the recruit's accelerated heartbeats and the alarmed looks of his team. They knew they had only seconds before the entire base was alerted to their presence.
The moment Maxim's accidental shot broke the silence of Volo's Band's base, Karl Romanov sprang into action. With the precision of a predator, he aligned his telescopic sight on one of the approaching soldiers, gun in hand, from Yulia and her team's position. Without hesitation, Karl pressed the trigger. The muffled sound of his rifle was almost inaudible at the distance, but the effect was immediate - the soldier fell, hit by a precise shot. His head was pierced.
The sudden start of gunfire triggered chaos in the base. Yulia and her team ran to the third floor, following the direction previously indicated by Karl. They moved with urgency but maintained formation, Sergeant Alexei eliminating any soldier that appeared in the corridor, clearing the front of the group with his semi-automatic rifle.
From his hiding spot, Karl continued his role as a sniper. He alternated between targets visible through the base's windows and those attempting to enter. Each shot from Karl was calculated, making the most of his elevated position and the element of surprise. Enemy soldiers fell one after another, hit before they could even identify the source of the shots. Karl continued to reload his weapon, shot after shot, the bodies of his opponents spreading across the ground, the snow painted red.
Dmitry took care of the rear, ensuring they wouldn't be caught from behind. The recruit who had been lifted by the corporal ran desperately, losing control.
"What a mess!" Karl thought, incredibly annoyed by the situation. He stood up quickly and started running towards the base, seeing that the situation was getting out of control, and his team could get trapped in a place without visibility.
Quickly, the captain ran through the tundra, his steps sinking into the snow. He carried his precision rifle with both hands, swinging it along with his body to not lose balance. "I have to get there faster," he thought, increasingly accelerating his pace to the wall through which Yulia and her team had entered.
Lieutenant Yulia, the sergeant, the corporal, and the recruit are cornered in a mechanic's workshop on the third floor. Hiding behind the benches with weapon parts and engines on them.
Soldiers from Volo's Band enter the room, exchanging gunfire with the empire's elite squad. The lieutenant shows precision with her pistol, managing to hit many shots on her opponents. Alexei and Dmitry are not far behind in their demonstrations of skill. Almost every shot the team makes, a body falls to the ground.
Maxim Popov, hidden without shooting, just crouched and crying there, watched everything. He remembered his father, Yuri Popov, one of the most prestigious lieutenants in the empire's special forces. The one known as "The Midnight Hunter." "I'm his son; I can't cower!"
The recruit, furious with his own weakness, grabs his weapon, determined to correct his mistakes with the team and ruin the operation. He stands up, showing his face above the bench, and his skull is blown away.
"Popov!" Alexei screams in pain. His fists clench and grip his rifle more firmly. "You bastards! I'll kill you!" Alexei unloads his entire magazine against his enemies, with the speed and precision that only a life dedicated to war could bring, while screaming from the depths of his chest.
Dmitry approaches Popov's corpse, holding it in his arms. Seeing that there was no salvation, just a hole where his left eye used to be, and parts of his brain dripping on the ground. The corporal then grabs his weapon and, with mute fury, changes position to flank his opponents.
The room begins to fill with corpses, blood, bones, and even pieces of internal organs. The ferrous smell in the air would cause nausea to those present if they weren't so accustomed to this life.
After the last of the bodies fell, Karl appeared at the door.
"Are you all okay?" The captain asks. His clothes completely clean.
"Yes, but the recruit is gone," Alexei says frustrated.
"May he rest in peace, but we can't waste time. Volo will escape," the lieutenant says as she moves out of the workshop.
Dmitry remained silent. There was nothing he could say that would make him feel better. He wasn't as accustomed to losing comrades in combat, but he understood he needed to stay alert, or he would be next.
"Where are the rest of the soldiers?" The corporal asks after a few moments, realizing no one else is coming.
"I killed them," Karl says, approaching the door of the windowless room.
He draws his precision rifle and shoots at the door right in the center. After that, another shot from the pistol at the doorknob. The door opens, and a man with slick dark hair parted in the middle bleeds in a chair behind his desk.
There was a hole in his chest, right at the solar plexus. He coughed blood, but he was clearly unarmed.
"Where's Volo?" Karl asks as he approaches the man.
His team enters the windowless room. The place was tidy, even luxurious, one might say. There were shelves and bookcases, a small library. There were drinks, jewels, and cocaine on the desk.
"He's not here! He fled! Ha ha ha!" The man laughs in pain, while coughing, and blood spreads across his mouth.
"You should have been more careful with what you say. Now your last words will be lies," Karl shoots him in the head. The captain then looks at his team. "Search for Volo, let's go!"
Everyone starts to leave the room, while Karl remains there, standing, observing the place.
Volo then jumps from a hidden board in the high ceiling of the room and lands on Karl's back with a knife in his hand. He was going to pierce his neck and kill him instantly, but the captain made a shoulder movement and threw the ex-military man back on the floor. Still gripping his wrist, he twisted his arm and positioned himself with his knee on Volo's back, disarming him.
"I was sure you were here. It's not in your nature to flee," Karl says, while twisting his ex-companion's arm a bit more. "Lieutenant, bring the handcuffs."
"Handcuffs? You intend to take me to the capital? Ha ha ha! What a joke!" Volo screams, his face marked with wrinkles and battle scars. His graying hair and bear beard gave him an imposing image even in these situations, but the main thing was his gaze.
"Shut up," Karl slaps Volo on the back of his neck.
"Why do you want to silence me? Are you afraid I'll tell everyone what you are? A m-"
The sound of the shot was deafening. Karl blew Volo's head off with his pistol before he could finish speaking. The captain wipes his face, clearing the blood and pieces of brain that flew.
Everyone is in complete silence, watching their captain defy the mission before their eyes.
"Karl, what have you done?" Lieutenant Yulia asks.
"Let's go back to the capital," the captain says, leaving the room.