Jozef and his ministers, those who were aware of Operation Speartip, watched Olonia stop at the door to his office. It was huge, although all governmental buildings were constructed with the knowledge mascots Divines would visit them. She wore the traditional shawls of white and red, snowy-white hair spilled down her back. “I saw how Iliyal treats Anassa and Neneria Jozef.” She spoke without turning around.
“That’s a different thing entirely Olonia.” Jozef replied.
“Is it? Are they not Divines? They get to speak.”
“You are Lubska’s Divine Olonia. You have responsibilities.” Olonia shook her head, still not even deigning to look at the president.
“I do have responsibilities.” Olonia said coldly. “And this is my nation. I will not go if you give me an order. Will you bear that responsibility Jozef? What if they fail? Do you really think the Pantheon will just bat an eye? That there won’t be an investigation? I’m not going to see my Lubska become Epa’s Kirinyaa.” Jozef opened his mouth, but said nothing. It was Olonia’s responsibility, but it was his too. They both served the nation. She stood for a minute in the silence before answering for Jozef. “I’ll take that as a no.”
“If you go, you have to succeed.” Jozef shouted suddenly.
Olonia merely raised her hand and flicked them all a wave as she walked down the corridor.
There was nothing else to say.
Iliyal turned his head and braced for impact as Ricard turned the steering wheel to smash the hurtling van into a team of Paladins. Grey steel plate was rent out of shape as the massive vehicle forced men over and the crushed them under heavy tires. Ricard slammed the breaks, rubber lost traction and the machine started to slide on the cobbled square within the second wall of Drayim fortress. The side of the van slammed into the keep in the centre and Iliyal held onto his belt to not slam into the man ahead of him.
“LEGIONNAIRES!” Iliyal shouted, he was the first to recover from the stunning concussion of the car crash, but the others were far behind. The sound of shouts, of fire and of more screeching brakes and crying tires came in from outside. A thunderous beat of a drum meant another vehicle had gone in too fast. “TO BATTLE!” Iliyal shouted as he stood up in the van, he still needed to bend his back, but it was a mere two quick steps to the rear door.
Iliyal pressed it to open, and then kicked the door open with his black boot. Unlike the rest of the men, he had chosen a long coat, his ears were plugged to protect them from the gunshots, and his black cap sat over his long blonde hair. A Paladin with his greatsword in his hands already stumbled backwards as the black steel hit him across the entire body. Other men would have jumped into battle immediately, but Iliyal took an instant to survey the situation. Two squads of Paladins were straight ahead. More were spilling out of castle walls, all armed with tower shields as they formed ranks. Greatswords were strapped to their back, and smaller longswords hung off their hips. Maisara’s armour revealed almost nothing, a slit for eyes was the only visible weakness.
Iliyal’s eyes scanned the walls. The men up there were the problem, Maisara favoured the crossbow over the bow, she had back then, she did now. Easier to aim, slower rate of fire. Iliyal saw the Paladins already winching heavy bolts back. “UP THERE! FIRE!” He drew his sword into one hand and pulled out the pistol in the other as the hundred started to spill out the armoured vans.
Men knelt and aimed there weapons, a few ran around the vans to lean over the hood and steady their aims. Those who had firing positions in the roof hatches stayed were they were as a wave of lead rolled into the top of the wall. Guns blared with a chorus of harsh and fast beats like a series of drums, each one beating its own frantic melody, and shards of lead danced their way through into steel plate.
A few Paladins fell immediately, stumbling backwards and toppling over the wall or just falling flat. A few more had armour strong enough to resist the initial barrage. Concentrated bursts of fire on the survivors wiped those out. But a few managed to loose their crossbow bolts. They shrieked through the air as arrows always did, the feathers whistling as they hurtled towards Iliyal’s men.
Bolts suddenly sprouted out of chests as Iliyal narrowed his eyes and stepped to the side. There was a saying in the past that elves could block arrows with a sword, that wasn’t true, but they were faster than men. A bolt flew past his head and slammed into the castle wall behind him. The chaotic gunshots continued until the wall was empty. There were still arrow slits through which they could be fired at, but the mass volleys would not happen. That was the important part. “BREACH THE DOOR!” Iliyal shouted. “SET CHARGES AND BREACH THE DOOR! ENTER THE KEEP!” Inside, with hallways and tunnels, two men with guns were worth a hundred with swords.
Iliyal turned as he saw one of the teams of Paladins break rank and initiate a charge into his forces. He spun on his feet, sword raised and pistol drawn and took aim. The trigger clicked, he kept his arm straight, and saw the helmet of a dent into his forehead. It was only a glancing hit, the armour may have saved his life, but the simple dent would still be as powerful as a hammer slamming into his forehead. The man collapsed backwards onto the ground as another Paladin stepped other his body, greatsword already in his hands.
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A burst from a rifle dropped the man. His chest-plate opened up with bullet souls and the front of his suit was painted red as he toppled forwards, sword hit cobblestone and bounced on the ground. Iliyal took aim at another man’s chest and pulled the three times. The man didn’t even stop, although the attack had been a test. One shot, it could have been a glancing hit, but four? The calibre of the weapon was simply not strong enough to penetrate the steel plate.
Iliyal gripped his sword as he aimed for the head. He managed to drop another fellow, the bullet hit the side of the man’s and bounced off, but the dent was large enough to crush the man’s ear. On the next man, Iliyal’s gunshot simply glanced off the top of the man’s helmet as the fellow started to lift his sword in an effort to decapitate Iliyal.
The elf ducked and stepped into the blow, that was the easiest to deal with great swords, the moment they passed you, they were too heavy to stop unlike with shorter blades. The swing grazed the man’s hair as Iliyal’s eyes silently scanned the man’s armours. He saw it, underneath the shoulder, were a white shirt was being worn underneath the heavy plating. The decision came instantly, he stabbed his pistol into piece of cloth and pulled the trigger twice.
There wasn’t even too much blood, the bullet holes were small, and the man fell to his side as the inside of his chest was ripped apart. Iliyal didn’t watch the man fall, he turned, blade raised just in time to see another sword coming directly towards him. Iliyal swung upwards, his hilt catching the tip of that massive grey great sword and he threw the swing to his side. The distance was closed once again, Iliyal slammed the butt of his pistol into the man’s helmet.
The Paladin took a step back as he shook his head to recover from the stunning blow. Gunfire echoed from around them as Iliyal’s Legionnaires started to mow the Paladins down. Iliyal sidestepped, hit the front of the man’s helmet with his pistol again and took a lunge as the fellow’s head jumped backwards. The tip of his sword found the weakness in his armour immediately, and the Paladin collapsed as Iliyal drove the blade further in.
“GET DOWN!” One of the men shouted from behind Iliyal and the elf immediately kicked his feet back as he lunged behind himself. Amateurs would do somersaults but there was no need for being flashy, Iliyal merely released the tension from his legs to fall and then pushed himself off a corpse to slide along the cobbles. Immediately, gunfire raged from his rear and the Paladins started to drop.
Same as before, a few fell immediately, a few were knocked back, and some remained standing. Those that still managed to retain themselves on their feet wobbled. Iliyal’s men focused their fire. A hail from three from rifles toppled one Paladin kneeling behind his shield, five others gunned down another man. Iliyal took a breath as he looked the entrance square to the keep.
His men were starting to re-arrange themselves. Forming lines and covering all the major entrances to the square. Maisara’s grey Paladins retreated from the square after they saw how quickly the first teams were gunned down. A Paladin stepped out a door from one of the towers and loosed a crossbow bolt. Immediately, the figure was met with gunfire and collapsed, still in the doorway. The crossbow had been shot too hastily, before he could take aim and the bolt stuck itself into the heavy armour of one of the vans behind which men were taking cover.
Iliyal looked over the dead. He didn’t even bother counting the Paladins, but it was some thirty or forty, and eight of his. Two had been cut down by blades, the others had arrows sticking out of their chests. He inspected the faces of his men, no one even looked at the dead bodies. That was good enough, the survivors could suffer later, but now there was a job to be done.
Iliyal turned on the spot, his coat spinning around him in the wind as he looked up at the huge keep of Drayim. Someone in that grey block of stone, with its arrow slits and its high windows, past its crenulations and underneath its tower, was hidden the entrance to the Divine Armoury. Iliyal clicked his tongue as he started shouting orders. “SECURE THE ENTRANCE! SAPPERS STATUS REPORT!”
“Explosives are almost ready Sir!” One man shouted from the door. It was classic Maisara-design, simple heavy oak beams, unadorned other than with a thin layer of polish to stop the weather’s rot, and reinforced with heavy beams of a dark steel. Iliyal watched the team of sappers crouch as they hooked up small explosives on the doors hinges, one, in the very middle, was already stuck on with heavy-duty tape. It was just a block of pale putty with wires stuck into it, Kassandora had said it had been field-tested in Melukal.
“MAKE SPACE!” One of the sappers shouted, the entire team retreated from the door and hid behind vans. The guards who had been providing overwatch for the sappers quickly ran too as the rest of the men spread out. Gunfire echoed through the square whenever a solitary Paladin was found hiding behind a wall, but the rest of them were outside the inner wall. Two men were keeping them suppressed with short round bursts through the destroyed gate.
“BLOWING IN THREE!” Iliyal took cover behind one of the vans as the sapper captain kept shouting. “TWO!” Iliyal put his fingers over his long ears. He already wore earplugs, but elven ears weren’t made for explosions. “ONE!”
And the doors went up in a glorious fireball of flame and dust and wooden splinters and rending metal. Iliyal waited for the smoke to clear. When he had the ranged advantage and was facing melee opponents, charging in could only be hasty at best, and disastrous at worst. He checked his pistol instead, the magazine was empty. He threw it on the ground and slid in another, it gave off a satisfying click that bounced and echoed slightly off the stone walls.
And as the smoke cleared, he was glad he did.
Past the unadorned stone corridors, the suits of armour and weapons hanging off wall. There were two machines. With three legs and four arms, each of those metal appendages holding a glaive that was directly welded into what should have been an arm. A blue ring of crystals made up a sensor array to allow the machination to see.
One was bad enough. During the Great War, one would have required Divine or Sorcerer support to take down, or heavy weaponry.
But two?
Iliyal lifted up his pistol and took aim. It was a good thing he had been brought here. Jozef and Wissel would have not done it alone.