First level, Wall 2, Site 9,

Region 4: Todenland, Protectorate of Drestburg

02/15/300 A.C.

0900hrs

First Lieutenant Jean D'Seelowe stood admiring the messy sight of yesterday's attack. The sight of rotting corpses made him feel uneasy. Though trained from childhood to bear the horrors that exists in the P.O.D. (Protectorate of Drestburg) his body still shakes, like a child guilt ridden from an innocent mistake as he see's the dead walk.

He used his binoculars to view the horizon from his comfy look-out in the wall. Nested in the midst of maps, orders, guns and .308 caliber rounds awaiting storage and use to his right was Private First Class Jill Margaery, the newcomer from Region 1, green but eager. To his left Sleeping in the sandbags was Second Lieutenant Oscar Königslowë, his second in command. Behind him was trusty Gunnery Sergeant Grigory Paulus, the best marksman in the Platoon so far.

The look-out looked like a pillbox from afar, with two machine guns for offensive capability. Site 9 had six walls, each had five look-outs, ten machine gun nests and four heavy gun implacements. It survived for eight years because of these defenses.

Jean took out a cigarette, he placed it in his lips but didn't light it. He searched for his feared enemy with his binoculars, the horizon was filled with nothing but the dead and endless stretches of rock and dirt.

"Found anything yet?" Grigory asked, weariness filled his voice.

"You'll have your target practice soon enough my friend. Just wait for a while."Oscar replied.

Grigory looked at Jean waiting for an answer, but he carried out his task silently. Grigory turned away as he slacked his back on some sandbags. Frustrated and restless he closed his eyes.

After nearly an hour of monotonous boredom, a sergeant arrived with a soldier in 18th century military dress. Complete with a dark blue tailed coat, tricorne and black tight fitting pants. His buttons are silver and carried two weapons: a saber and a revolver shaped in the form of a flintlock pistol.

'A second lieutenant from the Kingdom of Frankrike.' Jean thought. The sergeant gave him a three fingered salute and proceeded with the introductions. It appears that of the eight military attachés from Frankrike and of the twenty military attachés worldwide, most were assigned in combat roles rather than being attached to observation or command roles. The sergeant finished and after giving a salute, left before the Foreigner could raise a question.

The Frinker (as People from Drestburg or Drestmen call people from Frankrike) was having a moment of confusion or doubt at the moment. He looked at Jean, Oscar and Grigory, apparently confused as to which of the three was the C.O. of the platoon. Jill humored herself as the Frinker searched his pants and coat for something. "Merde!" The Frinker said in his breath as he stopped his search.

He looked at both Oscar and Grigory, Jill surmised that he must've thought their bright gold insignia meant superior rank. Trying to break the deadlock of oddness that filled the air, he approached and saluted the barely conscious Grigory! The least of the three. Jean, Oscar and Jill stole a glance and grinned at the event. Jean immediately returned to his current hobby, trying to appear oblivious to the current incident. The other two fixed their eyes awaiting the next move before opening a pack of nuts, and ate it in the same manner one would eat popcorn whilst watching a movie.

Noting that Grigory noticed his presence, he gave him another salute. Despite this, Grigory didn't seem to respond correctly. He turned his back and slacked on some sandbags.

"Psst, Grigory. Look to your right!" Jill said in a whisper Grigory could still hear.

Just as he turned his head, he jumped and gave a salute thinking it was Jean. Only to remark: "My, my! A Lieutenant saluting a Sergeant. This could be my lucky day!" The two smiled and ended up laughing their arses off.

"You are not the Commanding Officer? What about the insignia?" The Frinker asked.

"These aren't gold, they're Pyrite. And even gold isn't a sign of superiority." The man remarked.

Grigory was kind enough to point at Jean, hinting that he was the Commanding officer. The Frinker thanked him with a bow and the removal of headgear action. Though Grigory felt uneasy at the sight of the powdered wig.

He aproached Jean and saluted, jean himself just nodded. The other two at this juncture were debating whether to save the nuts or eat them. Then all of the sudden, Oscar just exclaimed:

" No way, no way!"

" What's going on out there?" Jean exclaimed.

" Nothing, just mature issues sir."

" Huh." Jean said before returning his attention towards the Frinker.

" I see that you have found our customs quite peculiar, I presume." Jean stated.

" Honestly sir, I found myself at home when I arrived in this look- out."

" What's your name and rank? May I ask Comrade."

" I am Second Lieutenant Pierre Arriendale of his majesty's 18th Guards regiment."

" Hmm. Second lieutenant, just as I thought" Jean replied, as he stole a glance at Pierre before scouring another look with his Binoculars.

Pierre looked left and right. He found a similar theme in the walls and the entire country in particular: Grim, dreary, hopelessness, dark. The atmosphere of this entire continent-spanning Protectorate felt sad, lonely and hopeless compared to the light hearted, jolly and bright feeling one can find in Frankrike.

He found the structures here to be too gloomy. He's been to region 2 and 3, and has in fact spent time in the Fortress cities and underground Habitation before being shipped to the frontlines. Looking at the distance, he took note of the spires protruding in the horizon. As far as he's read, these are structures. Sky scrapers to be exact, of the first city in this Continent, and the first to fall.

The texture and feel of the buildings gave him the impression of a nightmare. Like a hopeless dream left by its creator. He expected the entirety of Drestburg to be as gloomy as the Fortress Cities. Yet he found the latter far better for what lies beyond him was worse.

" Sir, can I ask a question?" Pierre asked.

" What is it?" Jean replied, albeit coldly.

" Why is this part of the wall, different from the rest?"

" Oh that? You weren't informed after all!"

' Sacré bleu! This man can read minds!' Pierre thought.

" Welcome to wall no.4 of site 9, the first to be constructed and most assaulted portion of the entire Kickfest you are a currently a part of."

Pierre paused with a blank face and said: " That's not what I meant sir."

" Oh, well welcome to the 15th Light infantry Regiment. Also known as the third misfits regiment. If that's what you mean."

" Misfit regiment you say sir?" Pierre said confused.

" Indeed my friend, we had promiscuous, reckless, and overall undesirable members of society in our regiment. So the name fits."

" Does that include the officers sir?"

" God no! Only the enlisted for God's sake!" Jean exclaimed.

" Oh, sorry."

Pierre sighed and said: "So that's why she kept looking at me like that."

Jean turned and saw Jill gazing at Pierre with a lust that could barely be quenched.

"Just make sure that you won't wake up tied up and molested."

Just as Pierre was about to raise a word, Jean asserted: "Let's avoid the subject and try to view what's bothering our countries in this dire hour."

"Where do we start?" Pierre asked.

"With yours. What's up with Frankrike? Why the Spike in Military attachés?"

Pierre paused for a moment before continuing.

" A few months ago, an incident occurred in the southern province of Baie Perle. A very embarrassing incident. A zombie outbreak as you people call it or an undead plague as it is referred to occurred.

It started innocently in a sense, until the dead rose from the grave. Hundreds upon hundreds of peasants joined the undead in the opening days. The local militia and garrison mounted a defense, but found themselves overwhelmed and losing ground.

Despite the destructive capability of the local militia's Muskets, the breach loading and lever action rifles of the King's regiments, they were ineffective against the undead hordes. I was a part of the first relief force, and my command was among those who fell back in the ensuing chaos. We lost a hundred hectares of land in the first encounter.

We later found out that the muskets can only be used in short range, the far more "modern" weaponry in volleys and decapitation as the best way to rid of those miserable pests.

We held them in the walled city of Everville for two weeks until the food ran out. The people were in a panic. Anarchists sabotaged the last remaining food stores, defeatists preached the total embrace of the "plague of redemption", and miscreants took the opportunity to cause more mayhem in the midst of chaos.

Luckily we caught and rounded the bastards in just a week. The people were loyal and the banisters were fools to show themselves in the first place. The people hanged and guillotined them in the streets. Their bodies shamed and marked, though a few innocents were placed as well.

The next day, a former soldier turned craftsman approached our commander and offered a solution to the deadlock. "The people were bitter, hungry and willing to kill for the next meal" he said. A relief force was promised weeks ago but never came, the man just brought an odd solution. Everville had numerous storage units of Old plate and mail armor. Almost every house had at least a suit and corresponding axe or sword. So the plan might really work. But the our commanding officer won't be having any of it, that is until his entire stock of biscuits ran out that he allowed the implementation of the plan.

The plan was simple: Those armed with Ranged weapons are to support the troops with melee weapons. Step one involved opening the main gate and wiping out the horde with head shots. Step two was to unleash the blades and wipe all who entered the perimeter. Step three was to utilize improvised cannons to blow holes in the undead ranks. Step four was for shielded units to form a phalanx as gunners took shots to divert concentrations. It also included clearing the entire wall of undead. Step five was to locate the convoy and carve a path to secure it.

The plan was a success with minimal casualties sustained. Most were from the improvised cannons the gunners in the phalanx.

But the fighting didn't stop there. It took another two weeks and a thousand lives before the fighting stopped. The king wasn't pleased after learning that most of the fallen were his prized regiments, and so he created four new regiments for the plague. And executed the most disruptive noble in the line. The "salaud" responsible for our disgraceful retreat.

And that is why you see me here. I am a part of the new regiments and my king expects a veteran out of me by the time I return home." The man stated with pride.

After hearing the man's words, his heart felt like it is filled with light. His body softer and his mind lighter. But a question lingered in his mind: the king.

"So the king just pointed at his most hated rival, he made an escape goat for his mismanagement!" Jean's voice rumbled like a lion's.

"In actuality, undead plague or not. He was still scheduled for execution. You see our king was the former spy master in the kingdom. Being a descendant of the Decatur line, he was bound for spy duty.

In truth he knew the weakened state of the Army a few months ago, thanks to his spies. Multiple dossiers were produced, some leaked to the public. Especially the 50% percent budget cut in the army which was embezzled.

In truth, every soldier carried only five bullets with his rifle. The militia fired more shots than we did, the reason for our higher casualties.

The plague in truth justified the execution and helped the king rid of a thorn on his side."

Jean paused for a moment and said: "I presume that these new regiments are armored to the bone, yet I found none in you." As he stared at the Frinker's eye with a stare, only a soulless abomination could make. Another presence made his hair stand and goosebumps pop. He cranked his neck, It was Jill. Again with a sinister smile!

"Private! Really? You're starting to creep me out!" Pierre said as Jill rested her head on his hand. As if dreaming of a lover's embrace.

In the midst of an awkward silence a few minutes later. Jean noticed something strange with his Binoculars. It was flying and was bigger than a bird, heading towards the fort.

"Lieutenant! Do you have a binocular?" Jean inquired.

"No sir, but I do have a telescope with a range of five kilometers with me." He said as he drew it.

"I need you to confirm something for me. Eleven o'clock near the clouds. Did you see it?"

" Yes, there's one. No three objects in the air, and they're fast. These are aeroplanes I presume. My brother flies one, are they yours?" He asked but found Jean without an answer.

Jean looked closer and found a skull and cross insignia. His stomach was in curls, his hands were shaking. His mouth moved left and right like a spasm. He knew history well. He knew the Grey order/Talhavitans, the rift and origins of Drestburg. As a matter of fact the spires in the distance were from a city. Known as Drestburg itself.

"Scramble!!!!!!!" Jean shouted and the entire look-out sprang into action. The two manned their guns, Jill cranked the siren making a "WOOOOOWOOOOW! sound.

It only took a few seconds for the entire wall to come alive. Men rushed to their posts, gunners searched for targets, officers scoured the ground and skies for hostiles.

A lance corporal was having forbidden pleasure with a sister in his quarters when the wail arrived. With haste he wore his pants without underwear and slung the ammo belt on his back, forgetting his shirt and his coat.

Jean took the radio and changed the Frequency to HQ. Sweat and heat dissipated from his face as he waited for a reply. What he heard was a scream, followed by what seems like "turn that racket down". He motioned Jill to stop cranking, and asked again for confirmation. The General's reply was to hold their fire at all cost.

He ordered Jill to inform the platoon of the order. Jill ran like a bull, stopping only to relay or rest. She came back panting, the look in her eyes wants to tell the group of something she found out.

" Anything private?" He said as she gasped for breath.

" Corporal Wilkins forgot to wear his underwear, his shirt and coat this morning." She said with a smile.

" I find no humor in your words private." Pierre said.

" That lascivious sonuvabitch! This is the second time he's done that! I'm breaking his neck!" Jean ranted

" I'd recommend you to roast him later, the hotdog's half cooked." Jill suggested with a laugh.

The three middle aged men stretched the edges of their mouth and started to laugh hysterically in the midst of a confused Pierre.

Pierre scratched his forehead, his eyes slightly slanted.

"He still hasn't got it!" Oscar said before bursting into laughter. Adding only to Pierre's bewilderment.

"Shush now, it approaches!" Grigory remarks as he looked at the flying objects overhead. The three rushed towards the large horizontal fire-port to see the sight. Pierre looked back and saw Oskar, Yawning in the distance. He continued to look with his telescope and noticed that the lead aircraft was doing evasive maneuvers as the rest of the planes laid horribly inaccurate fire upon it. The pursuers managed to damage the lead aircraft's tail, forcing it to climb and dive. Crash landing near wall 6 as the rest followed.

"Blast! No action for today." Grigory exclaimed as the frinker looked at him with an antagonistic look. Meanwhile Jean cupped his Jaw before deciding whether to make a roll- call or just see what happens.

"Jean? What's up with Wilkins again?" Oskar said still lying on the ground. Jean took his time trying to breathe deeply. He closed his eyes before inhaling; as he hoped, he heard air rushing towards his lungs and the eery ambience. He opened his eyes to the sight of Oskar juggling a pair of crab apples in great detail: the apples fell slowly and steadily. He felt himself chuckle silently before time went normal again. 'Humour, Ha!you bastard .' he thought after cracking a smile and returned to a grim and uncompromising stance.

" Why do you ask?" Jean said, although he knew himself the answer. 'Once more, humour us laddie.'

"You see this skull-faced apple? I want to bite it before throwing it right in his balls."

"Oskar, you're a bleedin' genius! Now I won't be accused of flogging thanks to you!" He said quickly with a smile.

"Honestly, that is still flogging." Oskar replied, untouched and unmoved.

"Haha, let's go and check for sitrep. Bring me another apple, perhaps I might have the chance to throw one at the bastard. Gregory, Jill, Oskar and lieutenant Arriendale, get your masks, weapons, and armor. We're going on fifteen meter field trip!"