The hot August sun bore down upon the silver helmed 14e Régiment de Cuirassiers as they trotted along roads of dirt atop beasts of war, packed tightly in a column. Beads of sweat sliding down their faces as their deep blue uniforms and heavily polished cuirassiers added new degrees of heat to an otherwise sweltering summer day such as it was. One such man suffering alongside these men was that of a young blonde-haired officer who rode at the head of the twelve-hundred man formation of mounted Cavalry. His pale and sweaty face was partially shaded by the brim of his helmet -a minor blessing in an otherwise hellish march towards Wörth- providing his eyes with some level of protection as he twisted around to look over his shoulder. The young man named Luc Demoulin -who wore the uniform of a Colonel- began to take in the sight of his men, noting how exhausted they were already, and who could blame them? Having ridden hard from Paris to join the rest of the Brigade near the small town of Wörth, the unit was understandably tired, and some were already showing the telltale signs of heatstroke.

Biting his bottom lip in worry, he shifted back around and began to contemplate his options. “Shit… shit, shit… this isn’t good…” He thought silently for a moment before glancing over at his trusted friend and Regimental Adjutant-Chef (Regimental Sergeant Major) Alexander Moreau.

Moreau, a thirty-year-old man of Algerian descent, he had served with the young Colonel for well over nine years, and in those years, he had risen from the rank of Corporal to the position he now held. Looking at him now, the Blonde officer couldn’t help but notice how his onyx skinned friend looked as though he was fairing a lot better under the summer heat than the rest of the Regiment.

“Chef, Any idea how far out we are from the rest of the Brigade?”

Alexander twitched his moustache in thought as he recalled the details of the map. “I’d say we’re about three, maybe four hours away Sir, why?”

“I’m thinking of giving the men a few moments of rest… Looking at them and their steeds tell me they’ll likely fall dead by overheating than a Prussian bullet.”

The Senior NCO shifted uncomfortably in his saddle at the mere thought of a charge with the unit being in the condition it was in. “Mhm… agreed. Shall I inform the Officers of your orders to rest?”

“If you’d be so kind Sergeant Moreau,” Luc replied warmly.

Pulling back the reins of his horse, Alexander manoeuvred around and began to relay the Colonel’s orders to the other officers. Demoulin watched his friend ride off a while longer before finally turning his attention once more to the front. As he did so, his sea-blue eyes noted the smoke far off in the distance, letting him know the fighting was still very much ongoing.

“Wonder how far the Prussian’s have pushed back the line?” Pondering the progress of the war, he couldn’t help but rub his otherwise clean-shaven face. “Hopefully it’s not as bad as before…”

Before he could really think any further on the matter, the Sergeant Major rode up beside him, giving him a quick salute. “Everyone’s been… or rather, will be brought up to speed. Major Jourdain seem to agree with the idea too, thinks it’ll help prepare the men for what’s to come.” Peering over his shoulder, he shrugged, “though, I think any sort of rest will help the Regiment. God knows how many riders appear ready to fall off their saddles.”

“Mhm…”

Snapping his head back to face the Colonel, Alex noted the direction in which his friend's eyes were aimed. “Ah…” Glancing back at Luc, he asked, “You still worried about the Seventh?”

Luc paused, shaking himself back to reality with a quick mental shake before turning to answer his Senior NCO, “That easy to tell?”

“Almost like it’s painted for all to see… if speaking honestly.”

Luc turned, eyes now on his friend, “It’s true… I can’t deny I still feel this is all too soon… way too soon.” Leaning his head back, he watched the clouds up above pass above, “I went from First Lieutenant to Colonel in just under a few days… thanks mainly to my father.” A bitter thought, and one he did his best to shake free from his head as he steered his Percheron towards a small clearing his Regiment was gathering in.

Throwing his left leg over the side, he climbed off his beloved horse with practiced ease, his long black boots crushing the green grass below the sole. Patting his crimson red trousers, he began to dig through his saddle bag, producing a small horse brush. Within moments, the young commander was caring for his trusted partner. While doing so, Luc took this moment of peace to collect his thoughts and think how he was going to lead all twelve-hundred into battle. Only about Seven-Hundred were regular cavalrymen with another two-hundred serving as a reserve squadron. The rest of the unit was made up of the administrative roles of the Regiment; men and the odd woman who handled the equipment and other such things required to keep a full Regiment of Heavy Cavalry battle ready.

Thankfully, the 14e Régiment de Cuirassiers were slightly different than their fellow Regiments in that they were trained to serve in two capacities… both Heavy Cavalry and as Dragoons; meaning they could act as a dismounted unit that could provide cover fire for the rest of the Division should the need arise. Given this type of training, all soldiers within the 14th were armed with the Tabatière breech loaded carbine. Effective weapons that removed the need for muzzleloading a rifle as was often required some Six or so years ago. With that in mind, however, Luc knew his command was likely to face the enemy first as they would likely be expected to clear any and all buildings within Wörth. That thought alone was enough to make him shutter.

As Luc was lost in thought, a voice came calling out behind him. “Colonel, Sir? A word.”

Looking over his shoulder, Luc noted the appearance of the Regimental XO, Commandant Joseph de Aignan who stood saluting. A man formerly from Quebec, much like Demoulin’s own mother –difference being Joseph was Métis however.

“Aignan.” Luc saluted briskly in reply, “What is it?”

“Just trying to figure out what you have planned now that we have a moment to actually talk.”

Luc returned his attention once more to the task of brushing. “True…”

Aignan stood in silence for a moment as if waiting for something else. *COUGH* “Right, well, if I might be so bold as to suggest something then?”

Luc glanced back at the Commandant, his eyes scanning the older man as if searching for something, “By all means Commandant, I’d actually be quite thankful for any suggestions you might have, more so since you’re by far the more experienced officer here.”

The XO shook his head, “Ah, well, you’ll forgive me for being so blunt, but like you, I’m fairly inexperienced and new to my role, all I can offer is the wisdom of an armchair general than that of a combat veteran.” He admitted with a smirk. “But, I’ll do what I can to help change our current level of inexperience.”

“Haha, my thanks. Now, what is it you have to suggest?”

“Well, for starters…” Quickly digging under his uniform, the Commandant produced a map and began to unfold it before straightening it on the back leg of Luc’s horse. “I’d recommend taking this road here. If we follow up this route at the quick, we should be able to be able to shave off two hours.”

Raising his brow as the XO used his horse as a sort of billboard, Luc quickly dismissed any thoughts of annoyance from taking root as he returned his attention to the second-in-command’s finger gloved finger.

“I see… well, I’m all for a faster route, but wouldn’t this open up the possibility of a possible ambush?”

With an impish smirk, the Commandant replied, “Ha! As if the Prussian’s would be so bold. These roads are still very much under French control.”

“Really now, last I heard, we’re technically behind enemy lines?” Alexander chimed in as he pulled his white gloves free from his hands.

Both senior officers turned around to face the Sergeant Major.

“Hello to you too Mr. Moreau.” Greeted Joseph half-heartedly.

Luc nodded, “So, I take it you’re of the mind to keep going the way we were then Chief?”

Alex grinned, “Quite the opposite actually. I’m actually with the Commandant, but… I’m in agreement for a different reason. I think having something for the men to focus on rather than the heat will ease our current predicament.”

“Oh?” Luc hummed tapping his chin lightly. “Well, I suppose we could… I just don’t want to put the Regiment in undue risk due to the presence of so many non-combatants.”

Turning his attention towards the group of men and women going to and fro as they tried to enjoy the small reprieve from marching by keeping to the shade. “I can’t very well put them in danger if I can help it.” Fixating his gaze upon Alex and Joseph once more, “I’ll have to recommend keeping to the road we currently travel, sorry gentlemen.”

“Nothing to be sorry for Sir, final decision falls to you sir, we can only make suggestions,” Alexander replied warmly, as he began to pull his gloves back on, while Joseph started to put away the map.

“Indeed, if anything, it’s our job to offer you different options. But, if you’re really keen on taking this route, we’ll get the regiment ready to move out then.” Both men snapped off a quick salute before making their way back to their own mounts.

Saluting the men before they walked off, Luc watched awhile longer before returning to care for his mount, but just as he turned to begin brushing, he noticed a strange grey like cloud come blowing in overhead.

“Odd? I didn’t think there was still fighting going on.”

Puzzled, Luc stood there, listening for any sounds of battle. “None… Rain then? Odd looking rain cloud then.”

Shrugging it off, he turned around to face his Regiment, “Alright, breaks over, remount and move out. I want us back on the road in ten minutes!”

After giving the order to march, the Sergeants began to bark orders at the men to hurry up, their faces glowing red as they mustered their units to action.

The officers, on the other hand, went about at their own pace, letting their footmen pack up their folding chairs and tables.

The sight alone was enough to make Luc grimace with disdain. He disliked the notion of having others do work for him, but, such was to be expected as an officer. Luc knew some men actually liked the role as it gave them fewer duties and also higher pay, but still, it just felt awkward to him to be waited on, Luc himself had opted to refrain from the tradition. Instead, he tried his best to handle what he could, but he would often get the odd NCO who would come to help out from time to time. Letting out a small sigh, he pulled on the reigns, before veering back towards the road.

Within a matter of minutes, the Regiment was once more on the move again. Once on the road, Luc looked up, spotting how the grey cloud was getting closer… and fast. Puzzled and shocked by the sight, Demoulin pulled back on the reigns to slow his horse.

“Moreau! Seems a fog is blowing in… quite fast as well.” Tilting his head up toward the cloud, he frowned, “Thought it was rain at first.”

Moreau rode up beside Luc, his eyes fixated on the same weird cloud that began to cover the road ahead of them. “What an odd cloud to see… it’s too late in the Afternoon for this. Must be one of those weird weather things you hear some much about?”

“Hopefully it doesn’t rain then, wet powder will likely spell the death of us if the Prussian’s hole up in the town.”

Luc nodded in agreement, eyes still locked on the fog that now enveloped the road ahead of them. “That’s not the only thing we have to worry about… should there be any scouts nearby, they could use that thick fog as cover.”

Alexander grumbled at the thought, “Shit… we’re likely to suffer heavy losses if that’s the case.”

“Mhm, best give the order for the men to ready up for anything.”

Twisted his torso around, Alexander gave the signal for one of the nearby Corporals to ride up.

“Sir?”

“Corporal, send my regards to the Squadron commanders and share with them my recommendation to have everyone ready. The fog is thick and heavy, so I don’t want us to be caught with our pants down around our legs.” Luc relayed to the mustached Corporal, who quickly threw his hand up in a salute.

“Sir!”

Just, then, as the Corporal began to alert the others, Luc and the other officers and Senior NCO’s rode through the thick grey mist. Slowly, Luc moved his hand towards his blade, his fingers grasping around the leather hilt. The further he rode into the fog, the dark and thicker it became to the point he felt as though he would somehow ride off the road. The hairs on the back of his neck began to stiffen as the fear of riding into an enemy ambush began to grow, with the sword now fully drawn from its sheath, all he could do now was pray to God the worst would not become a reality. But… then, suddenly… a blinding light flashed causing the man to shield his eyes.

“What the-?!”

Suddenly, as quickly as he had marched into the mist, he suddenly came riding out again, this time, however, he was somewhere else… somewhere completely different. The dirt road he had been on was now gone and instead replaced by a lush green pasture that stretched well up until his eyes spotted a forest off in the distance.

“Where are we?” Alexander said aloud as he scanned his surroundings before coming up beside Luc once more.

“I- I don’t know… Was this place on the map?”

“Impossible! I checked and re-checked that damn map time and time again to make sure we were on the right path.” Came the shocked tone of Aignan as he and a young Captain came riding up beside Luc and Alex.

“I don’t doubt you did Commandant, but I doubt even our own Scouts could find their way through that thick fog,” Luc replied. “But!... Best not to worry about this stuff for right not, instead, let’s focus on trying to figure out where we are.”

All the men who began to surround the Colonel nodded in agreement. Having been taken somewhere obviously far away, the primary objective for all would be too.

Just as the huddle of NCO’s and Officers began to discuss and suggest plans, a young Private shouted out. “Smoke! There’s smoke over in the distance!”

Almost as a reflex the nine-hundred cavalrymen quickly began to take formation in case anything hostile came from the dense forest ahead.

“How far Private?” Asked Luc, approaching from the rear.

Shaking his head the Private made a guess, “I’d bet just a thirty-minute ride from our current position if we ride at the trot, fifteen on the gallop.”

Nodding, Luc’s sea blue eyes began to take account of the landscape, his mind trying to think up the safest route in this different terrain. “Right… thank you Private, regroup with your troop.”

With a quick salute, the Cuirassier peeled off back to the formation.

Eyes now focusing on the smoke rising up from behind the woods, Luc closed his eyes as he let out a small sigh. “Shit…”

This was not what he had envisioned his first taste of Regimental command going. Marching through a strange fog and into a whole new world –of which he like the rest were not yet entirely over the shock of- and now about to lead all combat ready Cuirassiers into a battle with an unknown force. He wondered what the other more experienced officers would do if they were in his boots. Shaking his head, he removed all such traces from his mind as he cantered forward, bringing his sword up as if to signal the unit to march.

“Forward… MARCH! At the Trot!”

Within moments of giving the order, red-faced sergeants were barking the same order back to their respective Squadrons. Within moments the entire formation was on the move in an orderly fashion before Luc let out another order.

“Regiment! At the Gallop!”

The sound of thundering hooves began to rock the landscape as the tightly packed formation of Heavy Cavalry rode through the grassy plain, following their Commander who was closely flanked by the Regimental Colours that fluttered proudly in the wind.

As the unit drew closer towards the source of the smoke, the led elements quickly spotted a town engulfed in flame and ash. The smell of charred flesh permeating the air… yet the Regiment of Horse continued on, undaunted. Riding past the burning town at full gallop, Luc was first to spot what appeared to be those responsible for the destruction. Creatures, demonic in appearance to those who came from a world dominated by humanity, the sight of green-skinned brutes marching off with what appeared like humans bound in chains and rope set a flame in the hearts of the Cavalrymen.

Raising his hand in the air, Demoulin brought the entire formation to a slow halt, some 500 meters away from their new hated foes. Turning over his shoulder, Luc waved to Alexander who quickly rode up beside his commander.

“Sir?”

“Have First squadron peel off to the left, dismount and open a volley into those savages should they form ranks.”

A sicking slash of a grin formed on the dark-skinned Senior NCO’s face, before he replied, “Right away!”

Within moments the bugle from the first squadron could be heard as the hundred man unit veered off towards the woods. Once they vanished from view, Luc turned his attention back to the green-skinned people. They wore and carried a mismatched assortment of armour and weapons, with those clad in more exceptional plate seemingly the ones leading the force of slavers. From his horse, Luc estimated about two-thousand enemies stood before them. While usually, this would be cause for worry, the state of their equipment removed such notions from any of the soldier's minds. Instead, it only served to spur the barely contained excitement of the Cavalry. This was what they were trained for, this is what they sought when facing a foe. Even as the slavers began to take formation, quickly forming a wall of spears, the first to laugh at the ramshackle composition was Luc.

“MEN! Draw Carbines!”

The sound of rifles being cocked and loaded soon replaced the sound of hushed laughter, followed closely by the disciplined silence of a Regiment about to charge into battle. Turning to the signaller, the Colonel gave the nod for the unit to ride at the trot, his own black steed trotting forward ahead of the collection of flesh.

Riding closer, they could hear the sound of foreign jeers and howls from the Slaver’s own wall of spears. Luc noted the lack of ranged weaponry in the enemy formation which drew a grin across his own handsome features.

CRACK!

From within the woods came the sound of thunder, followed closely by the body of a Slaver who crumpled to the dirt, his chest a bloody wreck.

The formally smug looking formation of spearmen began to look around puzzled before the forest suddenly erupted in the same hellish sound of thunder. Body after body started to fall in bloody wrecks, soaking the grass in the deep crimson of blood. Panic began to take hold in the ranks as the sight of eight-hundred armoured men came trotting towards them. Then… as Luc brought up his Carbine, the world froze for a second as his gloved finger squeezed the trigger.

Hundreds of breech loaded carbines went off in disciplined order. The spear wall fell apart as the front and second ranks crumbled under volley from the left and front. Screams soon began to fill the air as the bodies of armoured greens started to break ranks and run. Panic had set in…

Spotting the opening he desired, Luc quickly slipped his Tabatière back into its saddle holster before he re-drew his heavy straight blade unique to French Cuirassiers. Adjusting his position atop his saddle, he raised his sword high into the air and gave the signaller the order for the Regiment to charge. Within moments the ground shook as the hooves of the tightly packed Cavalry drew closer. Luc leaned forward, his butt raising slightly from the saddle, arm and blade stretched out ahead of him as he let out a war cry that rang louder than any other as his steed smashed into the first of his enemies. Waves of enemies were killed under steel hooves before each man lashed and swung out their long heavy blades, cleaving any and all foes in sight. Merely seconds had passed, and already an unstoppable slaughter had begun, before ending as quickly as it had started the moment the First Squadron came riding out in time to catch the enemy in a pincer.

With the last of their foes slain, Luc –as with the other officers- began to take account of their own situation.

“What’s… our own situation Sergeant?” Luc asked as he tried to collect his thoughts and reason.

Alex, covered head to toe in the blood of their new enemies shook his head, “Don’t rightly know Sir! Though, as far as I’ve seen, heard and can report…” Pausing he let the Colonel take in the sight of his entire regiment appearing unscathed. “We’re all still at one-hundred percent.” Almost in disbelief, he whispered aloud, “Amazingly.”

Nodding his agreement, Luc Demoulin couldn’t help but feel the pride and joy well up within him at the news.

Sure enough, the prediction of the Sergeant Major had been an accurate one, as not a single man had been wounded or killed in the small battle… rather… it seemed as though the only ones who had suffered the worst were the enemy… all died to the last man; unintentionally. As the scene began to calm down around them, Luc gave the order to set up camp in and around what remained of the ruined town… For now at least… the first of many challenges had been cleared in Luc Demoulin’s mind, what came next was finding out who it was they saved…