November 12, 1639

Le Brias

Explosions tore through the already ravaged streets of Zone Four as a firefight between Altaran units and Parpaldian stragglers ensued. The Americans, after helping clear out most of the Imperial Army, returned to their embassy with no losses. Some Altarans noticed this, feeling abandoned and forced to bear the burden of urban combat, but realized it was relatively justified. It was only fair that the Americans leave the dirty infantry combat to the Altarans; after all, they had eliminated the Parpaldian land dragons. After all, this was the Altarans’ own city.

Captain Rial was among those who felt betrayed by this course of action. Although he recognized the honor in allowing the Altarans to take back their own city after the Americans had done most of the work, this also meant more Altaran casualties. Without American equipment, more soldiers had to be deployed, including magicians.

He was assigned to secure a crossroad with a contingent of his Elite Guard along with a few mages. At first, he was more than eager to demonstrate the abilities of his men and of his proud nation, but all feelings of pride and honor were cast aside when he noticed a familiar green-eyed brunette. Standing tall with her staff, she seemed ready for the upcoming battle, but also nervous.

“Alina?”

“Captain Rial,” she said, her eyes lighting up.

Rial gave a comforting smile, although his internal feelings were in turmoil. “You ready?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Alright. Just stay close to me,” he said.

He pushed away the doubt and worry from his mind as he pushed up to a building, clearing it. Shamefully, he ordered his men to go ahead, fearing that he could lose Alina if he had gone first. His men cleared the building with no issues then moved on as Rial set up a sniper nest. Using his binoculars, he scanned the area and found a musket barrel peeking through a window in a building across the street.

“Alina, hit that building with a flare, then a smokescreen.”

He marked the location and in seconds, a bright light flashed in front of the windows. Groans of pain shouted from the building, prompting Rial to order his unit to push it. As the Altarans sprinted across the street, a smokescreen enveloped them, obscuring them from any potential gunfire.

Sounds of combat then erupted as his Elite Guard dispatched the incapacitated and confused Parpaldians holed up in the building. Alerted by gunfire, a fresh platoon of Parpaldian infantry rushed out from the library to support their comrades.

“Wait for them to get to the middle of the road…”

Rial tossed a satchel of magic gems at the center of the Parpaldian crowd. “Alina, now!”

Alina pointed her staff at the satchel, sending a fireball flying toward it.

A devastating explosion took out most of the Parpaldians, granting them a quick and painless, but overall gory death. Those who survived found themselves on the floor desperately trying to return fire, but unable to find their assailants hiding within the buildings. It became every man for himself as the survivors scrambled toward any cover they could find, leaving behind comrades missing limbs and covered in blood. They were executed mercilessly by the Altarans, who saw the opportunity to exact revenge against Parpaldian injustices perpetrated upon them in the past.

“Jaanos, take your squad and make sure that group we bombed is completely eliminated. Everyone else, prepare to clear the library,” Rial said, getting up from his position and making his way toward the building’s exit.

As soon as he left the front door, he noticed something across the street. “Wait — CANNON!”

Before the cannon’s operators were eliminated, they were able to fire the weapon, sending a cannonball crashing into the building that Rial and Alina just exited. Instinctively, Rial pushed Alina away from the collapsing building.

“AAGH!” Rial felt a striking pain in his left leg, lasting a few moments before all feeling in his leg went numb. He looked at it, discovering that it was trapped under a pile of rubble, with a sharp piece of wood embedded within. “Fuck!”

“Captain!!” Alina rushed over to help. Using her final reserves of magic gems, Alina cast a small gravity spell to lift the debris from Captain Rial’s leg. The pile of wood levitated, allowing Rial to crawl away before the pile came crashing down again. Alina fell to her knees, exhausted but glad that she was able to help Rial.

Rial brushed sweat and dirt off his face as he crawled to a wall and leaned on it, breathing heavily. “Shit…” he grimaced, looking down at his injured leg. Bent at an unsettling angle, it was bloodied and mangled. “Hah,” he said abruptly. “I told you I’d get you out of here alive.”

“Oh gods…” Alina moved toward Rial, a faint glow emanating from her hands. Her hands hovered above Rial’s leg as she channeled enough mana to cast a healing spell, but before she could even begin her incantations, she was interrupted by Rial.

“No,” Rial said, putting his hand on hers and pushing them down. “I don’t want you passing out from mana exhaustion. I can — ugh” he groaned, “call for support.” He raised his hand up to his helmet to activate his manacomm. “Captain Rial requesting medical assistance. I’m by the Lumiess Library,” he managed to sputter out before collapsing from the pain.

Alina sat next to him, leaning on his shoulder and holding his hand before passing out as well.

——

November 14, 1639

Captain Rial awoke with a start, surrounded by an unfamiliar white. His leg was wrapped and covered in something, and a wire of sorts was attached to his arm. He reached for it to take it out, but was stopped by a sound.

“Captain?”

He looked over, finding Alina’s big green eyes staring right at him. They began to tear up as he spoke, “Alina…”

“You did it, Captain. And you came back alive as well!”

Rial smiled, resting his head back on the pillow. “I did it… So what happened?”

Alina squeezed his hand while she explained, “Your men answered your request. I had passed out as well, but when I came to they were carrying us on a flat bed. They then gave us to the Americans, who brought us to the infirmary in their embassy. The healers here did the best they could, and they said you will live. The only issue is your leg… They contacted their superiors for something called a ‘medevac’. Once this ‘medevac’ arrives, it’ll take us to a hospital ship where the American healers can properly tend to you. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more…”

Rial gave a concerned look. He was grateful that both he and Alina survived, but was worried about the overall war effort. “That’s okay. But, how long will I be out of action?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. We’ve already chased the Imperial Army out of the city. Your Elite Guard will handle the capture of their fleeing officers and as for the Parpaldian Navy, I heard they’re fighting the Americans right now.”

——

15 Miles from Le Brias Port

USS Barry, Destroyer Squadron 15

“Captain, multiple contacts moving ahead of the main fleet! I think they’re decoys!”

Captain Winslow looked at the ships forming a shield in front of the Parpaldian fleet. “Looks like the transport ships. They’re trying to take some fire for their allies, it looks like. Let’s give ‘em what they want, folks.”

Eight shots from the Arleigh Burkes’ Mk 45 guns were immediately followed by eight destroyed ships. Boasting a rate of fire of 20 rounds per minute, the guns were more than enough to eliminate all of the approaching transports and supply ships before they could even get close to the American destroyers. The ships of the line trailing close behind traveled a laughable distance when factoring in the hundred ships that were sacrificed.

“Alright, let’s put another mile between us. I don’t want to risk any shots from these guys; those cannonballs are still a threat.”

The eight American destroyers backed up, toward the open ocean. With a speed faster than anything the Parpaldians could muster outside of a dozen Tears strapped to a small, light ship, the American vessels moved out of range from the Parpaldian fleet. With 5 miles between the destroyers and the ships of the line, the battle’s victor was already decided. The fate of the Parpaldian Imperial Army was sealed once the chorus of precise American cannon fire began.

The Mark 45 guns swiveled and danced as they orchestrated the deaths of ship after ship. Cold, calculating shots were coordinated by artificial intelligence, preventing overlap as the American destroyers eliminated eight ships at a time simultaneously and in quick succession. During the few seconds between each volley, the surviving Parpaldian warships traveled a bit more, getting closer to their targets, but still remaining too far away.

Some of the ships were simply disabled, a large hole in their hulls condemning them to a slow death as they sank. A few of the smaller warships were obliterated completely, their ammunition stores ignited. The larger ships fared better, with some of them requiring two and on occasion, three shots to take down. Although Parpaldian anti-magic plating wasn’t effective against the American rounds, it also wasn’t particularly useless.

After losing the larger man-o-wars, the Parpaldians fell into disarray. If their capital ships couldn’t even reach the Americans, how could the smaller 60-gun warships stand a chance, much less the 40-gun warships? Trapped in a ruthless cycle and realizing the nightmarish power of the Americans, the Parpaldians finally raised white flags.

“I’m surprised we didn’t have to kill all of them. Took like what, 75% losses just to get them to see reason?” Winslow scoffed at the ships off in the distance, floating amongst the debris of their allies.

Master Chief Barnes shrugged. “Well, at least a lot of them were smart enough to abandon ship.”

Winslow watched rescue operations through his binoculars. “Yeah, sucks to be that guy though.” He offered his binoculars to Barnes.

Barnes found the scene Winslow referenced, grimacing in pity and disgust. “Good God… How’s that poor fellow still alive? That piece of wood is just… inside of him!”

“Man, I just wish these guys would just give up, yknow? It’s so crazy how stubborn these guys are.”

“They haven’t got a clue who they’re messing with.”

“Yeap. Say, wanna make a bet?”

“Sure.”

“How long you think it’ll be before these folks finally surrender? I’m betting next month, or whenever we reach their capital.”

“With how stubborn these guys are, we could be seeing another Afghanistan or Vietnam. Let’s just hope destroying their entire Navy and Air Force will convince them to stop.”

Winslow shook his head, sighing. “Gee let’s hope so. But if you really think about it, the people in this world are very uhh… structured. It’s like there are no democracies or anything here, so we could probably take Parpaldia as long as we have nobles or royalty who support our side, right? Kinda similar to Louria.”

“Maybe. But man, this stuff makes my head spin. This is way above our pay grade.”

“Yeah. Say, you hear about that love story going on with the Altaran King’s Elite Guard Captain? Pretty heartwarming…”