Chapter 15 (Sumter)

  "First Officer Sir!” a young recruit rushed into my tent, his right hand tilted upwards hovering over his chest, a proper Osmiran salute. The stark white of his long coat was parted, showing the deep purple facings of his inner uniform, trimmed with a sharp line of green. White crossbelts formed an 'X' on his chest, and his dark trousers disappeared into knee-high black boots. He was unarmed, save for the faint glow of an arc cell at his hip, identifying him as a field runner.

  “At ease, state your case soldier."

  “Preparations are completed, Our siege engines are prepared and we're ready to begin our assault on Fort Sumter.”

  "And the shield batteries?"

  “Our saboteurs were only partially successful. Three of the batteries were completely destroyed, Four were severely damaged, the remaining five sustained minimal damages and have already been repaired.”

  “What of our men?" I ask, standing and grabbing my coat as I push my chair back. It's thick and purple in color. Its soft white fur collar weighs on my shoulders. It's a symbol of the honor and righteousness that I, as King Viktor’s blade, stands with.

  “I'm sorry sir, only two have returned and they are both critical." The young man's professionalism falters for a moment. His voice falling as he chokes back his emotions. I see the pain behind his eyes and his field slip.

  “Ensign?" I question his change of demeanor. He takes a steadying breath and bows his head.

  “I apologize sir, one of those lost was a close friend of mine." He explains. I place my hand on his shoulder and gesture for him to raise his head.

  “Do not apologize for your grief Ensign, I'm sorry for your loss." My condolences feel hollow, how many times have I repeated these words within the past year. Each one of these men's lives weigh heavy on my conscience. “Tell the advance teams to move into position. Alert Duke Lavencroft to prepare his Shock troopers.”

  "Sir!” The soldier salutes me again before rushing out of my tent. I look down at the picture of my children on my desk and touch it gently. “I will do this for you." I whisper to myself, before turning and leaving the tent. My Commander and Nephew, Amond stands and salutes me along with other officers in my party. My brother was reluctant to let him serve as my commander, but as they're both in service to my house he figured it was a good way to allow him to do his part. I'll be the first to admit that The man is exceptional at what he does.

  Count Thesmond, a young man thrusted into the position only after his father was killed in battle three months ago salutes me as well, a show of respect I wasn't expecting. I don't smile, but I do reciprocate with a salute of my own. His father was a brave man, a trait he seems to have inherited.

  “It's a pleasure to have you, my Lord." I offer in greeting. Our conversation is met with a backdrop of troops rushing around making final preparations and being ushered into position. My presence is a signal that we are going to begin our assault soon.

  "I'm honored as always to serve the King.” He replied, his voice confident. Young man for sure. Not a boy like his useless brother. “And frankly, I'm honored to serve alongside you sir."

  I raise an eyebrow at this sentiment. Before I respond Amond whispered a message to me "There are reports of Bellavarnisia joining The Gratans.” He says before stepping back agan. I look at him and frown before turning back to the young Duke, my placid expression returning.

  "Why is that?” I ask in my curiosity.

  "You are without a doubt the greatest general of our time sir… I appreciate what you did for my lands, I'll never forget.” My expression softens as I think about our victory against the Gratans. It's satisfying to know that even nobility thinks of me so highly, I put those feelings aside lest they allow me to become arrogant. I bite the inside of my cheek as a reminder.

  I nod in thanks. “You are too generous with your words, but I am appreciative for them as well as your support here.” I salute him again and he returns it, his eyes shine with admiration. I hate it… they all look at me that way before I send them off to their deaths.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  I turn and walk through our encampment, the last of the soldiers setting into their formations, each one wearing the colors of the Osmiran empire, white purple and green. Their coats now however soiled with the harshness of the battlefield, caked with blood and sweat.

  “Organize the lines Commander.” My voice firm, leaving no room for interpretation. Amond begins shouting commands, and the lines settle with officers taking the lead over their men.

  Steel Cannons are rolled out glowing with a vibrant green energy. Our enemies sit perched up on their fortress walls overlooking our position behind the faint shimmer of shield batteries. Our own own batteries glow vibrantly, Their integrity in peak condition.

  "Adjust angle to 100°” My commander yells down the line and cannons tilt upwards in succession as the officers relay the command."

  “ADJUST ANGLE"

  “ADJUST ANGLE”

  The encampment becomes still as I bow my head, “I offer a prayer to you oh Lord, of forgiveness for my men. The lives they take today are not at the will of their own hands but at the behest of my own command." My prayer is silent, it helps me to steady my nerves. I hear some of the men mutter amen as I look up.

  “Drop the shields!" Our shields tower some thirty feet tall and sit on rolling struts. As they lower the green tint of the battlefield fades, this is the only way we can use our cannons.

  I raise my hand with two fingers pointed to the sky.

  I tilt them downward pointing at our target.

  “FIRE!" My commander screams out his voice steady and strong.

  The command is echoed across our offensive as the cannons erupt with a thunderous boom. Green streaks lit up the early morning sky and only moments later slammed into the enemy shield battery The faint shimmering light of their already damaged defenses flicker out from the first volley. A Plume of smoke arises from the fortress walls, the unshielded parts of the fort now full of holes from our cannon fire.

  "Recharge!” My commander yells out, once again his voices echoing through the voices of my officers as their men recharge the cannons. Opening the back of each gun a white canister is slid out and replaced with one with a bright green glow.

  " Lower their firing Angle.” I direct, my voice calm and direct.

  "Lower angle By 20 Degrees."

  “Angle set!"

  " Let me see the spy glass.” I ask my commander who hands it to me.

  I Point towards the fortress again.

  "FIRE!”

  another barge erupts this time I watch. As our cannon fire hits true, I can see parts of the battlement razed. Our shells destroy their cannons, and send their men flying through the air.

  “Sir the gate!" My commander calls out frantically that I have to lower my spy glass for a moment to find the gate before looking closer. I see the fortress doors opening as they roll out a cannon.

  “PREPARE THE SHIELDS!" I scream out the order as soon as I understand. And the response from our men is quick. The green tint returns, a darker shade in front of me as two shields are erected before me.

  “Brace for volley.” My commander calls out, my men so as they are told but I stand firm watching still through my lens. The Cannon before me flashes with a bright blue. My eyes widened as a smile stretched my lips.

  "Those crazy bastards.”

  A bolt of blazing blue light much quicker than the rounds we've been using Streaks across the field

  “BLAST ROUND!" I yell out, to which my officers again relay to my men.

  My men lay down on the ground and trigger their personal shields. I grab my Cell and do the same. It blooms a similar brilliant blue.

  As the round hits the ground it feels as if the world is tearing itself apart a blue field blooms in a perfect sphere and pushes against our shield batteries. They flicker for a moment, incapable of withstanding the superior energy. but weakening the charge nonetheless. The second shield battery stops the wave from reaching me but many of my men weren't so lucky as to have two Shields between them and the Oppressive weapon. I hear them cry out as the last of the wave crests over our trenches before finally fading out completely.

  “TAKE OUT THAT CANNON!" I order. The command obvious as those who survived the attack get back to their feet and start recharging our cannons. With our shields already down our recharge time is much quicker than normal.

  "FIRE!” A focused blast of burning green Arc explodes against the Fortress gate and then is followed by a brighter blue and then Purple explosion we can only see beyond the fortresses walls.

  "My God, they had Violet shells?" Commander Amond muttered beside me. The battlefield froze for a moment as we watched the fortress burn and explode in this disturbingly beautiful array of colors.

  “INFANTY! ADVANCE!" With our shields recharged, Our infantry climbed out of the trenches and start marching forward behind the giant glowing walls of energy.

  “Well done Uncle." Amond commends as our assault continues.

  “How many did we lose in that blast?"

  " The first report suggests about 2,000 men sir.”

  I grimace and then let my face return to my stoicism. These conscripts stood no chance….

  "Have our healers see if they are able to recall those who they can. But make sure they save something for our assault team.”

  " Sir!” Amond moves to convey my commands to others around us as I watch over the remains of our encampment. I can see the energy of our men just flickering in the air, their arc attempting to return to the world like fireflies in the night. I sigh, hoping we can save at least some of these brave souls.