It had been a lazy dawn, only broken by the sound of someone ungracefully screeching as they slipped on waterlogged floors. A shaggy, unkempt and slightly bruised face with heavy eyebags greeted Dylus in the mirror at the rise of dawn, a dreadful sight he wished not to see. Even after thorough washing with ricewash and saponza oil, it remained that way for several hours as he ran through the usual motions for the mercs left here on guard duty.
Fortune had him in its grasp today, as there was no more paperwork for the moment. The rest was being written up and signed by his father- who technically was the commander-in-chief for this operation- Tarn and a few other logistic officers. Dylus took the opportunity to stretch his one intact arm out of his tent and walk around the base. Wally hovered behind him all the while, hoping to find some new food and people to annoy.
The morning routines of the mercenaries hadn’t changed at all from the ones back home. As Dylus oversaw the likes of Brenner and several other staff sergeants keeping the idle mercenaries busy, he passed a few squads of Regalia soldiers working alongside them. To see them exchanging small trinkets from recent excursions, sharing stories and laughter after a month of deployment ignited warmness in his heart. There was much need to foster camaraderie with the Regalia regulars to achieve the most out of their contract. He needed to let those under him know they could count on the grunts to pick them up when they went down. It was a matter of practicality and rationality in his head, Dylus reasoned to himself, but it did not stop him from enjoying the sight.
Trying to join in, however, was a completely different story. Some reached out and asked the rather young commander to come over for a game or two of Rook. Others invited him for a free hunt in the woods nearby, while a few seemed privy about his mechanical skills and saw fit to request some help with repairs. Most of these he definitely could not do, lest someone needed him and he was somewhere else entirely. The ones that could be done without much hassle weren't. Those off-duty soldiers were briefly confused when the boy froze up, pursed his lips and jittered in place, then left while speaking incomprehensibly quickly about being busy. Seeing such a strange reaction only pushed them to one course of action; shrug and move on with their business.
The lazy dawn ended when a call from Desjarnes came through. The good Colonel had a task ready for Dylus’ men. Without much hesitation, the mercenary took off, Wally trailing behind in the rising sun’s rays. The meeting place, an operations tent that had gone unused in the last few days, was quiet and only populated by a few infantrymen who were assigned janitorial duties. They paid Dylus no heed outside of a few acknowledging nods when he arrived, allowing him to take some time recovering from his anxiety earlier on. When Desjarnes had arrived with a rolled up map and a small box, they all stood up and saluted immediately, leaving when he requested some privacy for the briefing.
The colonel had lost his formal attire from earlier on, when it was needed amidst the presence of many equals and superiors. Gaudy ornaments and his peaked cap had gone and made way for a simple monotone dress uniform. A sign of his authority, a bright red beret with the emblem of his personal division at the very front, was still there alongside his ranking mauve cuffs, but overall Dylus was much more at ease with interacting with the man. He felt like a peer, not a hired gun, and Desjarnes was quick to make sure his first words of the day reflected this thought.
“Morning, Captain, I hope you’ve found some quality rest out here. You and your strange little friend up there.”
“Rest, me? With all these req forms, sitrep sheets and crisis meetings I have to deal with, rest is becoming something of a luxury for me,” Dylus then reached out for an aloof Wally, bringing him close and rubbing the crocodillian’s bald top, “this guy though? He’s the lucky one, snitching meat from all corners of this place and trying to sleep through training. Maybe you can take him in to give him some disciplinary action.”
Desjarnes chuckled. A hint of weariness was in there, if his eye bags weren’t already a sign of the same strain, “Well, we are fighters after all, not clerks, and I’m certainly open to the idea of straightening out that squishy thing in your grip. For a lad your age to deal with paperwork fit for officers rather than soldiers, I’d say you’re doing a pretty good job. As all things are, it could be better,” he took a brief pause, rubbing his face, “As for luxuries, best not to get too caught up in enjoying that. They only serve to take us off guard. Makes us easier targets for our enemies.”
“Sounding awfully close to my father over there.”
“Well, that comes with being one, I suppose,” said Desjarnes, putting his things on a nearby table, “Three kids back at home, two girls and one boy around your age. They’ll be getting their second letter from dear old dad soon Even enclosed a small gift for them as well from the forest around us. It’s not much different on this side of the wall, but they’ve never gone past it before.”
“I see. I hope they’re living good lives.”
Wally perked up, having escaped his friend’s grasped, “They definitely are, with a rad dad like the Colonel over here. Heh.”
Both of them watched the colonel unfurl the map of the Shielded Region. Pieced together by what could be hundreds of aerial images around, beyond and impossibly far from Sapland Airfield alongside a topographical estimation of the terrain itself, he could see that the war had, so far, been in their favour. Coalition bases had been marked and subsequently labelled captured, civilian townships had been noted with orange lines and points of interests not yet in control or still active were marked bright red. Even then, there was so much more of the region that the Regalia and his forces hadn’t taken a step in. That included some areas close to Sapland that were conspicuously empty of any markings, surrounded by question marks and numbers.
From his box, Desjarnes placed a small flag over one of these areas. The motion gave both Dylus and Wally a hint of what the tasking was. Desjarnes spoke as soon as he settled in a chair, “Captain, I understand your company has been split up recently under one Lieutenant Yumiko Haarshan and a few others as auxiliary slash independent operators for Major Kemp’s strategical push into the province of Yarma so that we can safely seize a large, nearby port for our purposes. While our forces are numerically superior, constant fighting for the last week has left them disorganised and vulnerable to enemy raiding attacks. Aerial reconnaissance is having problems capturing images of the area surrounding the province and beyond thanks to Warp-related interference and much thicker jungles up ahead, which also leaves Kemp’s men open to ambushes without any advance warnings.”
Another flag was placed. This one was closer to the Airbase - and had already breached into conquered territory.
“General Harmeng and Major Nali are also reporting that some of their artillery, engineering and logi divisions have been targeted by squads of fast-moving infantry far behind the Yarma frontline, not to mention a recent downing of a transport helicopter carrying vital supplies. We’ve been cross referencing the locations of these attacks through reports, available intel and village sentries, but nothing’s in the clear for now.”
Dylus spoke up, “could it be the rebels attacking the Coalition’s forces as well?”
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Desjarnes coughed, “On that, we’ve received some new information. There’s more at work regarding that aspect of our little invasion. Those rebels,” the colonel pulled out a single wooden figurine of a soldier and placed it right in the middle of the biggest provinces next to the Ghincheng, “are actually fighting in these areas. RISIKO agents have verified that most of their activities are bordering their industrial district, a wide area of dried seabed-turned-settlements and the capital city. Some cells have made their way to provinces near the fighting, but for now we haven’t seen a lick of partisan activity. There’s reports of several factors that are much more troubling that could hinder our advance into the upper parts of the Shielded Region, but that’s a separate meeting in the future.”
“Right, that inspires me a lot.”
“If war was as easy as walking down to a mamak, we’d be rolling over their bellies in no time,” the colonel shrugged. “As it stands, our difficulties fully taking Yarma is split between two factors, one of which you can deal with in any way you see fit.”
Dylus walked over to the map, pointing to the other side of the invasion, nearer to his home on the Empty Coast, “When you mean two factors, you mean your contemporary, right?”
“Colonel Kuda, yes,” said Desjarnes, “and I can understand if you’re going to bring up your reservations with her detachment.”
“Yeah, you can imagine our… uh,” Dylus scratched his chin, “distaste when some scavvers from Yintiawan saw your forces moving near that side of the border. If we hadn’t figured out it was Regalia forces, we might’ve picked a fight with ‘em.”
“I had no part whatsoever in that scheme. Harmeng and his peers knew, but kept me, Kemp and a lot of us in the dark on purpose. Tuah knows why.”
“Well, best not to start thinking about stuff like that only a month after, sir.”
The Colonel looked down and let out a low snicker, “Oh, if only you knew what went on in our offices,” then he shot back up into stern authority and continued, “but I digress. As much as I would prefer a more overwhelming approach to dealing with these raiders, I cannot spare any regiments to deal with them that aren’t reserved for Yarma’s taking. Too strict of a time frame to allow that, and they’re preparing for operations to undermine the Coalition port and other important enemy assets. However, since you’re relatively free, that’s where you come in.”
Dylus grinned and folded his arms. Wally was the first to voice out what was on both of their minds, “So we’re up for some carnage, sir?”
Desjarnes shook his head, “Carnage is too heavy of a word, but it's also not something I’m averse to. Without knowing where these bastards are, there can be no fighting at all. Your objective, as it goes, will be to discover where these raiders are stationed at and eliminate them with extreme prejudice. To do this, we’re going to need to play a little nicer with the local villages nearer to the reported ambushes.”
“A little bit of gunsha diplomacy, Colonel?”
“If there’s a need for it, yes. Convincing the nearby villages into coercing with our cause has been relatively straightforward so far. With these places,” Desjarnes placed the final flag down, making it three locations that Dylus seemed poised to investigate, “this is proving to be a little more difficult than expected.”
“I’ve heard some stories, seen some battle damage, maybe a body bag or two. I believe you.”
“The Vinetar thought it’d be easy to win hearts and minds,” said Desjarnes. The very moment the word ‘Vinetar’ was uttered, an atmosphere of mockery came into existence. Both of them shared glimpses with each other that communicated the same expression of gleeful idiocy regarding Harmeng’s mouthpiece before the Colonel continued, “A nasty encounter with an errant Pribady township changed that pretty mindset quickly. However, this doesn’t stop us from trying to coerce with them for our benefit. At least if they won’t help us in any way, it’d be best for them to continue on like there wasn’t a war in the first place.”
“Makes sense. I don’t like the idea of gunning down civilians in a crossfire either way.”
Desjarnes nodded to that, and then tapped the second flag, “your little hunting trail should start around here, a metalworking village called An Vrong. It’s surrounded by rolling hills and marked by some Old World ruins, around the proximity of a hit-and-run attack on one of our artillery units. There’s a detachment of soldiers heading out late afternoon under the command of Commissar Engli. She’s under orders from me to parley with the village’s chief and you'll be joining their convoy as co-commander. You have no restrictions on force composition, but keep your vehicles limited to recon types and trucks. Anything more would jeopardise her current tasking.”
“Yeah, I imagine the locals would be spooked at the sight of an armoured platoon rolling down on them,” Dylus coughed, “not like we have anything that significantly big for now.”
“I’m aware of that, Captain,” Desjarnes moved away from the map. He revealed he had smaller ones in his possessions, all copies of aerial surveillance over An Vrong and several other places with traces of topographical markings and prior guesses made by the Regalia’s intel officers, and passed them on to Dylus. Before he could even read it, Wally snatched it out of his hand, a comically large pair of glasses on top of his bulbous snout. He let out a snarl of annoyance, taking the rest and thanking the colonel, “Distribute these accordingly. They’re not limited, but losing this out there might be problematic.”
“Like walking through a Warpfall blind, except the risk of death isn’t from some ungodly abnormality.”
“Exactly. Engli’s got a few radiomen with her, they’ll be your link to Sapland on your assignment. Conduct your investigation thoroughly, Captain, I would like to hear something markable on these raiders as soon as possible. We need Yarma and these buggers are making it hard for us to hold whatever ground we gain.”
“And the other locations, sir?”
“One at a time, son. For all we know, we might only need to make one stop to find out where the enemy are hiding, or we might need to make all three. I’ll relay more intel via radio on the field.”
“Affirm,” Dylus beamed, neatly keeping away the maps into his side pockets. Before the mercenary left, he looked at Desjarnes and bowed his head down briefly. While it was a sign of courtesy for a superior officer, the gesture was also to thank the colonel for relieving him from paperwork for now. He made his thanks audible, “Oh yeah, sir? Thanks for getting me out of my quarters. Paperwork sucks.”
Desjarnes hummed, “You’re welcome, but they’ll be there when you come back. Hopefully, your replacement can handle the workload, eh?”
“Definitely.”
As Dylus was walking away from Desjarnes, he heard the colonel call for his attention one last time.
“There’s… one more thing, son.”
Dylus turned around with a puzzled look.
“Give the commissar some help in convincing the folks if you’re up for it. I remember the Chancellor’s little speech about your reputation fondly. Those people you’ll be visiting may not see us as anything benevolent, but for the slayer of the dreaded Blastfang whose growing legend has gone beyond our walls, they might sing a different tune. Might defrost some of my people too, if you help them out enough.”
Dylus put a palm on his face in amusement, shaking his head.
“Did you wait the entire briefing to tell me that I’m now a PR asset for this little incursion?”
The colonel looked around, feigned confusion, then shrugged.
“Maybe. Just food for thought, young man, food for thought.”