Chapter 5
[https://i.imgur.com/eINjtAi.png]
“The Seljuk Tribe will likely be your greatest threat.” Domitia had spoken with her usual tired voice as she struggled to draw on the blackboard. First a circle, then another circle, her tail swinging and twitching on its own as she added a pair of triangles until…
Domitia tapped the board and said with the slightest hint of disdain, “The feline demi-humans have a sub-race that is perhaps the most powerful ring of spies in the Iberian Empire.”
The crudely drawn cat-person would have been comical had CIA Agent Trent Colbert not been so stone-faced, or if the papers on their desk were not so grim. Dennis eyed the typed-out letters once more with some concern as the man spoke up.
“You all read the briefs. Reagan, their magic system, go.”
Domitia leaned ahead in her wheelchair as Andrew Reagan quickly said “Manipulation of the elements, like fire, water, and earth, but the Seljuk Tribe is different.”
Dennis noted how the wolf girl was oddly serious about this issue, however.
“Indeed. It goes a little beyond the control of nature with the Seljuk Tribe.”
It was Jason Clark, the Green Beret whom Dennis suspected had some medical need to speak whenever the opportunity presented itself, said “But Miss Domitia, the brief was all speculation. You don’t know for certain what these people can do, right?”
Domitia crossed her arms and said “Yes, but I won’t be the one fighting them. I made a point of keeping my innermost thoughts as hidden as I could, and perhaps their ability to read minds is an exaggeration. But do not underestimate the Empire’s spies. An organization like theirs cannot get by on word of mouth alone.”
“But then why didn’t they just slit your throat if they knew your plan?”
The wolf girl crossed her arms and said “I believe they might have done just that had the Emperor not been so enamored with the idea of opening a doorway to another world inhabited by humans. But as you noted, it is indeed all speculation on my part.”
“As well as some from the few prisoners who, at the very least, affirm that the Seljuk Tribe is a powerful tool of the Empire.” Trent Colbert added.
“Normal mages are not to be underestimated, either. It isn’t like your fantasy films or books.”
“Yeah, they don’t wear funny hats or wave wands around.” Clark noted.
“They can be identified with a tattoo on their right hand, right?” Dennis said, glancing at his notes.
“A small letter on their right hand, yes.” Domitia said.
Dennis muttered, “So we might not be able to identify them among common soldiers.”
“Or civilians.” Clark scoffed.
Andrew Reagan added “Heard stories from guys in ‘Nam. Even if they’re just normal folk with exceptional skill, imagine waking up one morning to find two or three guys in your bunk with slit throats.”
Dennis eyed the Green Beret for a second in subdued shock as Clark only nodded in agreement. This wasn’t something that should surprise him, yet he hadn’t considered it. Wars between modern nations no longer had to be all that clear-cut and these were savages. How much worse could they be? He’d already read the history books, the archeological records of Ancient Rome, the purges, the brutality, the fact it was a civilization that brought Europe to heel through quite literally blood and sword…
And if these men were remotely like them, just how much worse could they be?
It was with that thought in mind that Dennis Orville walked down the mountain trail careful not to slip or trip over the loose pebbles as he followed the others back to the area under US control, while also painfully aware of the shadows on the corners of his eyes. Trees leaned threateningly in the wind, as though just atop each branch could be an enemy scout or one of those “Seljuk” spies Domitia had warned them of in their briefings.
It was frustrating.
If his mind wasn’t flooded with what he’d left behind back home, or rather all he’d lost before leaving, then it would flood with thoughts of the dangers he was in. Well, he and everyone around him for that matter. Everyone around him was equally aware of this danger. Eyes shifted to every sound that didn’t come from their boots on the rocky mountain pass. If not the mysterious agents of the Empire, then who could tell if an enemy mage hid behind the cliffs above, ready to cause a rockslide? Everyone had eyes on something, partly due to training and partly due to the subconscious feelings of scouting out a literal new world. No one spoke until they were back at their main base of operations, right by the portal to Dallas, where it had all started.
Once again, M113s greeted them, and then they were back on the fields of the valley taken on the first day of the invasion.
Safe…
Old Glory was now flying pretty and clean on top of the pole it had been oh so meticulously attached to and hung to fly in the wind.
It stood just over the mass grave the Americans had found themselves digging and dumping bodies into not long after that opening battle. Given the lack of communication by these "Romans", he wondered if their dead deserved even that. As if to immediately slap him in the face, his mind shot back images of the mangled bodies he’d seen after an all too effective fire mission and reminded him that before they’d been turned into a pile of shattered bones and grounded meat, they’d all been people. Men that had spent their entire lives training to be the best infantry force, were reduced to bloody pieces by a lone call over their radio.
He forced the thoughts away.
As a pair of Military Police greeted them, their German Shepherds sniffing at their legs once they passed them, Dennis became conscious of the fact he had barely spoken at all since their operation started. A few grunts, a few, nods, maybe a shake of the head, but words? English or Latin? Very few. None that were unrelated to calling in artillery or giving a report via radio.
He removed his somewhat crusty sateens and helmet and placed his M16 and its untouched magazines of 5.56 NATO down on the cot that had been prepared for them. He didn’t speak then.
Not one shot was fired, yet oh so many dead.
This thought remained as cold water fell over his pale skin. It was during their first field shower of the entire campaign, as frigid water carried dirt and dust from his body, that Jonathan “Sean” Cawthorne finally spoke.
“They really don’t want us to meet people, huh?”
Dennis only shrugged, as did Tom, but Matthew Alexander, their radioman, added “It’s expected, isn’t it?”
Tom finally added “Yeah, they probably think we’re monsters. How many dead, you reckon? Twenty thousand from these two weeks alone?”
Sean only shrugged, then went back to brushing the grime from his hair.
No one else spoke for the time being.
Dennis forced his thoughts to remain firmly on the present moment as, to his irritation, they kept drifting back to the dead.
***
“How did you get these?” Captain Thorne must have been wondering as he looked over the aerials. In spite of the expressionless look in his captain’s eyes, Andrew Reagan felt his mind torn between studying the aerials and wondering how they got them to begin with. The first UH-1s were already there, sure, but this kind of photograph wasn’t something you’d get from a Huey. Still, he kept that thought to himself.
The Air Force colonel’s lack of explanation as he finished placing the developed photos on the table only told them that it had to be something new. He could only tell that the photos were very much not like the ones they had seen taken with Domitia’s help. Those had been more like aerials taken through foggy glass. These were clearer. From much higher up. One even showed the ground partially obstructed by a cloud.
The men of E Company’s Long Range Reconnaissance Patrol arrived at the tent then, recently washed given the still somewhat wet hair under their caps, and the briefing could begin.
They all sat on chairs as the photos were projected onto a screen and an Army Colonel began speaking.
“The Air Force recently took these aerials with an experimental unmanned aircraft.” He said matter of factly and everyone did their best to ignore the look of discomfort on the Air Force officer’s face as he continued. “They reveal the city of Vicenzo as of four days ago. Paired with the information from our recent collaborators, it appears we have a unique opportunity here.”
Drew jotted down some notes as he looked at the decisively oval-shaped city. It was near the mountains, with trails leading up the cliff walls that entered the peaks. The city itself was otherwise surrounded by fields that, in the black and white image, appeared barren. Like an ashen ocean, really.
“Importantly, there is a large garden on the outskirts of the gubernatorial palace, excellent for landing our UH-1s.”
So, they want us to take the city on our own?
“The current plan will require you to fly in and try to initiate peaceful contact with the governor. The imperials are very clearly panicking, so if we can convince them of stopping all this scorched earth, it’d be a great benefit to us.”
Clark of course spoke first.
“Hold on, so the plan is to fly, what, eight guys a Huey in, and just wave a white flag and ask for talks with the people who faced Patton tanks with sticks and still refuse to give up?”
“The governor of the region may be willing to listen. Luna has informed us that the man has a soft spot for demi-humans. Those are all being killed in the villages we’ve seen, and he might be against it. Barring that, there is also the very clear scorched earth campaign you’ve all been witness to, and his city is likely on the chopping block as well. News that he and his city can be saved may be enough to calm things down for a little while.”
Drew nodded internally.
He’d heard of other scouts encountering abandoned and burned-down villages. The 3rd Marines had been the only ones to make contact with civilians and those had been fleeing from the destruction further away. There was some irritation that the branch that was really only there as backup was the one getting all the major victories while the spearhead, the United States Army, the force that was meant to defend West Germany in case of a sudden Soviet advance, the force entrusted with ending the war as soon as possible, had slowed down all progress due to the untenable roads.
Roads getting destroyed by these savages…
The Colonel continued, “Given that the city still stands, we are working off the presumption the governor either does not intend to destroy it, or the Iberians intend to make a stand there. Your job will primarily be to try and get them to surrender the city, peacefully if possible. You will be accompanied by the Seventh Air Cav, and they will be responsible for bringing in supplies and reinforcements if needed.”
Supplies and reinforcements.
That meant they were expecting a fight. That meant this wasn’t just a mission to try and open talks once again. That meant they were in for a rough time if things went south. Things usually went south if past experiences were anything to go by.
Fine by me...
“This city is vital to the war effort. While our aircraft could reach the capital from here, the return trip is difficult with no ability to refuel in the air, so a second air base will be necessary. We don’t want any misunderstandings; this is why your interpreters will be tagging along. If fighting starts up anyway, we will support you as best we can. I understand we’ll be able to bring in Skyhawks by next week?”
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
The Air Force officer, apparently a little irritated by the previous betrayal of revealing their secret technology, only said “Yes, colonel.”
“Good. Any questions?”
Imperial City of Vicenzo
“Why” was such a simple question in theory.
Why did things turn out the way they did? Why this, why that, why, why, why, so many questions started with a simple “why”.
Governor Lucretius Tullius lay on his bed with a thousand variations of the question “why” running through his mind. Not one had a good answer. Most had no answers at all. In reality, he was left with the sickening sensation that he would never get any answers and would ultimately be left to the fate that befell so many in the capital. He shifted somewhat under the covers.
His bed was rather comfortable. Tempting him to just lay there and wait for the inevitable. Why not?
Well, he at least had an answer to that question.
“Sire.”
His eyes shifted to the woman but he remained silent.
She laid a hand on his shoulder and shook him gently.
“Lucretius Tullius.” She said firmly.
He eyed her body a moment longer, then spoke up.
“What is it, Hypatia?” he groaned.
The woman’s rabbit ears twitched once, and then she smiled slightly. That image brought warmth to his tired mind. It made it easier to ignore the eyes that had been seared shut by cruel hands not so long ago.
“Senator Marcel has returned.”
Lucretius immediately sat up in bed hugged the woman tightly, kissed her once, then grabbed his tunic and ran off.
Marcel was young, he knew the young man was less a proper representative of the region and more a messenger for him, but it mattered not. He stepped into the cold night and walked over to the main hall where he promptly froze.
The Wyvern was bleeding, two servants tending to the gash on its leg.
Marcel appeared shaken as he walked over, the Wyvern’s rider lay silent on the ground, hands gripping a chalice that one of the girls had served up. Vicenzo was known for its employment of demi-humans which left a bad taste to many in the Empire, but the rider did not care of the girl’s cat ears as she spoke softly to him.
That was really what caused Lucretious to let go of any semblance of hope.
Marcel calmly said “They tried to kill me. I-I thought… I thought I could have made it through if I identified myself-”
Lucretius interrupted him quickly, “You did make it. You are here, you are well, and you bring news.”
“Y-yes, but governor, it is not good-”
“I figured. Come, come. We can discuss this over a late-night drink.”
***
The stars above them could not have been a better canopy as they shakily sipped their wine. An uncaring universe above them as they worried about their impending doom. Hypatia stood silently by his side as Senator Marcel spoke.
“The entire region is to be burnt down—all of it. Nothing will convince them otherwise. Thus decreed Emperor Adrian Sol Traianus.”
“But the enemy has not left the mountains!”
“He did not care, governor. The options remain the same as they were two weeks ago. Die in a fire, or flee.”
“Why not use the city to stand and fight? A good siege will surely be as effective as this scorched earth campaign if not more so!”
“Evidently, the enemy does not fight wars the way we do. That, and Emperor Adrian is in a dangerous mood, Governor. He leaves no room for debate anymore and… and this order alone is a declaration that returns us to the old ways of fighting wars. Total war, sir.”
“Against the… human enemy at the Alpines?”
“Yes, sir.”
Lucretius forced away the urge to cover his face in his hands. It was madness, was it not?
“Does he not realize how many will die uselessly if he carries this out? Is it so mad to just… allow us to fight and defend ourselves?”
“He… he is concerned of betrayal by the demi-humans.” Marcel said with caution, his eyes darting to the rabbit woman.
Oh, he called her his “servant”, but they all knew what she really was. He knew everyone knew as well, but neither he nor anyone commented. Why cause discourse where there was no need for it?
“Perhaps we should acquiesce.” Hypatia sighed.
“No, I will not have them kill you or…” Lucretius fell silent.
Marcel sighed and said “We’re all dead either way. I saw soldiers carrying siege weaponry on approach. They’ll be here by the morning, likely to demand compliance.”
“What about Legate Marius? Could he speak sense into these men? Do you know which commander will come in the morning?”
“Marius may only be able to do so much, sir. Legate Sulla should be leading the detachment of troops that will arrive if the banners I saw were correct.”
“Sulla is a good man.”
“And a very obedient commander.”
Lucretius fell silent.
He reached for Hypatia and pressed his head against her belly. There was an almost imperceptible bump on it as the woman passed her hand through the man’s head without a word.
“I cannot lose them.” he sighed. “There must be something we can do.”
But the woman in front of him was herself proof of the opposite. Proof that sometimes there really was nothing that could be done, and that fate would be cruel regardless of sex, race, or creed.
Still, as a governor of the Empire, he could not stand the thought of surrendering so easily.
“We shall invite Legate Sulla to discuss things. Perhaps he will listen. Perhaps not. But it’s worth a try, is it not?”
Marcel only nodded, and Hypatia remained deathly quiet.
Outskirts of the Region of Vicenzo
“Princess” was, in her mind, a demeaning term.
In theory, it sounded better than “whore’s daughter”, or “illegitimate child”, but as the lone girl in the line of succession, Parthea Traianus had to compete with two boys who from the start understood their roles very well.
Lucius Sol Traianus would be the next emperor. No doubt. The decisions of where to send soldiers, how to deal with emergencies, maintain order, all that on him.
Antonius Sol Traianus would not be the Emperor, but would instead be a statesman who managed the economy, the more civil aspects of life in Iberia.
She…
Well, she’d won the heart of Adrian Sol Traianus. A daughter that had, admittedly, been spoiled a touch.
“Highness, I do not believe- what are you wearing?!!” Paloma demanded as she walked into her tent.
Parthea winced as she pointed at her spotted shirt.
“It is an expensive garment from the Nubians! Very few own these, and it will help identify me as a member of the royal family, Paloma. Even I can be tactical with my decisions.”
“H-highness, you can use your rings to identify yourself, you do not need-”
“Paloma, please, we’re women out on the battlefield of a dangerous new war, we need to stand out.”
“Standing out is the worst idea in this situation, highness!”
Parthea frowned.
“Fine. Fine, you have made your point. However, I am still wearing the expensive garments.”
Paloma cried out and crumpled to the tent’s floor like a wilting flower.
Parthea frowned, saying “What bothers you so?”
“You are already going against your father’s orders, and the news I keep hearing from passing troops is that Vicenzo may be on the verge of an all-out rebellion if not right in the path of an ever-advancing enemy and you want to head right for it!”
“Yes. If the crisis is as bad as Father believes, then it makes sense for a royal like myself to be present there, does it not?”
Iberian Camp
General Octavius appeared about as angry as she would have expected.
“So, let me see if I understand…” he spoke calmly, his voice maintaining a smooth tone that was just above a whisper. “Not only did the enemy capture the secret road used by our people to transport vital assets during times of war, not only did they kill the men bringing in these new important assets, officers included, not only did your man fail to kill the assets to prevent them from being taken by the enemy… but the Americans have the slaves on hand and the slaves are cooperating with them now?”
“Yes.” Lucy stated equally as calmly.
Octavius stood, glared at her for all of two seconds, then turned to Agustine and in a more firm tone asked, “Are all the roads blocked?”
“Yes. All major roads are blocked, all wells have been poisoned, and with this new explosive magic we’ve been plotting traps that we can set on the roads should the enemy achieve a breakthrough anyway.”
“Good, but it will not matter much once their metal birds come through. They can bypass the mountains then and move straight to Vicenzo or the capital.” Octavius turned to Lucy then and said, “Tell me, Agent of Seljuk, why should we not simply slaughter any and all demi-humans given how useless you have been thus far?”
Oh, do try…
Instead, she said, “Because we can at least confirm that the Americans have completely halted their advance even in roads that Augustine’s men did not fully plug.”
She let those words hang in the air for a moment, watching as Augustine did not refute her. Good.
“Our spies may struggle to get close to their base, but we have managed to garner some intelligence.”
“Such as?”
“Such as the fact we can now fully confirm they did not know where to go. These scouting parties stopped entirely upon finding a few guides. A small Lupus tribe to be exact. They have knowledge of the mountain roads which they exchanged for protection, and the Lupus tribe will likely lead them to the nearest city once they are out of usable roads to lead them to.”
That last sentence struck a chord with the general, but she did not allow him the respite.
“They seem to have pointed them directly at Vincenzo, and it does seem that they are gathering forces to try and push towards the city.”
“What? They are still gathering forces?”
“New chariots come through the doorway each and every day. They bring supplies for the men and their weapons. But it seems that they are holding off on bringing in the metal birds that you saw.”
Octavius settled back onto a chair and glared at the map of the Alpine Mountain Range. She could tell he was thinking of where to stand, which pass allowed them enough of an advantage that they could hurt the enemy somehow.
“Augustine, your fire mages… that wall of flames you carried out on that first day…”
“Difficult to carry out without being spotted. I would need a large concentration of my students to allow me to-”
Octavius waved the thought away and said “No, no, I was thinking of something else. Vicenzo is a city with many wooden structures.”
Lucy’s ears perked up, and she said “Burn the whole city down?”
“If that sniveling little governor refuses to follow the commands of the emperor, then yes. We should burn the whole city down.”
Augustine said “That can be done with some ease. I believe we can use the surviving wyverns to carry this out. Set wooden or hay rooftops ablaze from above. Most of the outer part of the city is fairly interconnected and will light easily enough. Then spread.”
“The sooner the better. Seljuk! Get the word out! Vicenzo burns tomorrow!”
United States Army Forward Operating Base
1100 Hours
Eight.
Eight Bell UH-1 Iroquois Utility Helicopters, though nobody really called them Iroquois when “Huey” rolled off the tongue so much better. They’d been brought in by truck, their rotors kept neatly tied down as they had been unloaded onto the area cleared by dozers early on in the invasion. The neatly stenciled “ARMY” lettering on their tails stared back at him as he walked by their crews, each going over some last-minute inspections.
Behind the neat line of eight Hueys, were four “Guns”—the gunship variant of the Huey. Two had a pair of M60 machine guns mounted on their side doors with rocket pods just beneath them, but the other two had the newer and more terrifying M134 machine gun.
Dennis stared at the helicopters in silence.
He was too far away to hear what the crews were discussing as they went over their machines. Helicopters had already proven themselves in Korea, but as far as he’d heard, Bell had outdone themselves with the UH-1, which had performed admirably alongside the older choppers in Vietnam.
But how would it fare here?
He focused on that question to ignore the nibbling dread at the corners of his mind as the last words he’d heard before leaving Aragon for Dallas rang over and over, like a broken record. Scratching. Scathing. Angry.
“Can you believe it?”
Dennis whirled around as James Hastings walked over with a disappointed expression.
“What?”
“Fox girls! We have wolf girls and fox girls now!”
Dennis Orville answered as honestly as his tired mind would allow.
“Yeah, so?”
Hastings was taken aback, shocked as he spoke with indignity.
“So, it ain’t fair the Marines are hogging them to themselves!”
“The wolves work with our guys, too.” He muttered.
“Yeah, but the girls clearly have their preferences!”
“Well, they made first contact with them and got them a nice deal. Figures as much.”
Hastings eyed him for a moment. Something in the older man’s eyes seemed to sparkle as the E Company scout considered what to say. Or perhaps if he should say anything at all. Dennis braced himself, partly happy for the distraction, partly annoyed.
“What kind of girl do you hope to find, kid?”
“Specialist.” he stated, fully aware of the response it would garner but only wishing for more of a distraction. Really there was only one woman in his mind right then, and he didn’t want to think about her or the fact he’d never see her again.
Hastings did not take the bait and instead simply countered with “You hope to find a lady specialist?”
Dennis made sure to shoot him a spiteful glare to hide the fact he did appreciate the humor.
“Well, I’ll go first. I want a girl who stands out! Curves, hair, and the animal ears don’t hurt!”
Dennis ignored him.
“Come on, specialist, did you forget your lines for tomorrow? Or maybe you’re wondering what kind of girl you’ll use them on? Come on, teach me some…”
Dennis did not reply as Hastings continued, but he did smile slightly.
Yes, he needed the distraction alright.