August 8, 1640

Alue, Mu

Storm-gray eyes stared outside a glass window from within a small mountainside complex. They focused on the group of Black Hawk and Chinook helicopters that sat on an airfield connected to the complex itself. Pairs of yellow-coated workers moved about the field, conducting maintenance on the helicopters and clearing evacuation routes.

The eyes then refocused, staring at the reflection in the glass. They met with another pair of eyes, hiding behind sunglasses sitting atop the face of an experienced CIA officer. The mouth below then moved, releasing a sigh, before the reflection faded completely.

Officer Moore turned away from the window, knowing that it was only a matter of time before Alue was hit by the Gra Valkans. Unlike the other major Muan cities, Alue was not fortunate enough to receive the protection offered by layered defensive lines or geography. It, and the equally unfortunate region surrounding it, was situated right outside of the Malmund Mountains.

Conquering the Alue region was considered to be a necessary prerequisite for launching an assault through the Malmund Mountains. Although the Gra Valkans wouldn’t be stupid enough for a charge into a death trap, they also wouldn’t leave behind a major city that was ripe for the taking. With nigh-guaranteed invasion around the corner, evacuation of civilian personnel commenced.

A long, winding caravan of Alue residents crowded the highway toward the mainland, creating an immense traffic jam the magnitude of which rivaled Californian jams. Horse-drawn carriages traversed the wilderness that flanked the main road. Although they trotted slowly to maintain utmost care in handling their cargo, they still traveled faster than the motionless, honking vehicles trapped on the narrow, 6-lane highway.

The other three lanes were relatively empty, save for a handful of vehicles racing to pick up relatives stuck in Alue or a convoy of Muan trucks containing much-needed men and supplies. Sometimes, American-made trailers and flatbed trucks made an appearance, carrying supplies straight from Mykal. These shipments contained everything from machine guns and other light arms to MANPADs, mortars, and howitzers.

To the Muans on the roads below, it was an uplifting sight. To Moore, it was futile. At the very least, he found solace in the fact that most of the civilians of Alue would be exiting this future battlefield.

——

Near the Alue Suburbs

Located between the suburbs and downtown, a solitary base stood guard to defend the city. The position of the base itself formed a triangle with the suburbs and city it was established to protect, while also facing outward toward the border. Although not as significant as the beefy border defenses that have been recently established, it still served an important role as a support base, where troops and supplies could be stationed.

Because it was situated well behind the front lines, it had few defenses; most of the soldiers there were transferred to the border to protect against the inevitable Gra Valkan invasion. Still, a large crew remained to help facilitate the movement of much-needed supplies and expensive weapons. The transportation of these goods was crucial to the Muans, making this base a perfect target for the Gra Valkas Empire.

Although the base was separated from the city and suburbs themselves, some civilization did spring up along the way. In an abandoned store in the commercial district near the center of the triangular formation, ten silhouetted figures gathered around a table. A single lightbulb provided luminescence in absence of natural sunlight, which was shooed away by closed curtains.

The men inched closer to the bulb ahead, ready to convene and discuss their plans. As they approached the table, their figures were revealed. Most wore clothing typical of a Muan civilian; a couple wore dirty overalls matching with a laborer’s outfit while others wore business attire. The outfits varied, although together they constituted what one might normally see in a Muan environment — all except for one.

Standing over a head above his comrades, one man distinguished himself from the entire group. Wearing the sleek black uniform of a Gra Valkan Intelligence Bureau officer, it was clear that he was the leader of the group. He even carried himself with a pompous demeanor and his face appeared to be contorted permanently into a disdainful sneer.

“Well then,” he said, his voice sounding as cold as his heart, “The next Muan convoy should be arriving soon.” The officer’s words cut through the air like forks scraping on plates, but the other men didn’t care. Where a sane man would’ve shied away from the sinister officer, these Gra Valkans instead grinned evilly.

The officer reciprocated their emotions, amplifying the murderous atmosphere of the room. His seemingly permanent sneer disappeared, giving way to an uncanny smile. “It’s time we show these primitive fucks what we learned.”

——

The Gra Valkan team split up as they took both sides of the street, positioning themselves on rooftops and by windows. Patiently, they waited for the convoy to reach the explosives that they had planted last night, which currently lined a relatively busy market. Despite the blatant immorality of their procedure, they cared less for the collateral damage and ignored the families walking below.

The only things they paid heed to were the eastern side of the main road — from which the convoy would be approaching from — and a group of guards that stood watch over a checkpoint located west, toward the supply depot. For the Gra Valkans, everything seemed to be going according to plan until the guard began to move, opening a gate. Muan trucks came into view, rolling in from the direction of the western base.

“Captain Jaeger,” a Gra Valkan sniper whispered into his small, handheld radio, “Three Muan trucks approaching from the guard post to the west. Distance: 300 meters. Cargo unknown.”

The Gra Valkan officer grumbled under his breath, cursing the misfortune that had appeared to disrupt his well-planned ambush. Wondering what these trucks could possibly be doing, he ordered the sniper to continue monitoring the vehicles. He hoped that they were an escort for the convoy, or perhaps going back inland to retrieve more supplies.

His hopes were dashed in the most unexpected fashion as the next update came in. “Sir, I see thirty men exiting the trucks, all Muan soldiers. They’re mostly armed with American M16s and American body armor.”

Jaeger grew pale at his subordinate’s words. Including the guards already present, the Muans had 36 men at their disposal. Just what did they need so many men for? Wanting to analyze the situation for himself, he climbed up the stairs of his building and approached the sniper, who sat next to a machine gunner on the rooftop.

“Have they moved at all?” Jaeger asked the man, who kept his rifle scope trained on the mass of Muan soldiers.

“No, sir. Have a look for yourself,” he said, giving a pair of binoculars to Jaeger.

Jaeger accepted the equipment and focused on the guard post in the distance. Sure enough, the Muans were still maintaining their position, appearing to gather around a group of lieutenants who were giving orders. He tried to watch the movement of the Muans’ mouths, but found it too difficult and gave up. Instead, he turned his attention to their next actions.

By the hectic body language of the enemy officers, it was easy to tell that they were in some sort of a hurry. Jaeger interpreted this as an implication that somehow, the Muan had caught a whiff of Gra Valkan activity in the area. What other urgent matter would require the presence of so many men?

Assuming that it was only a matter of time before his plot was discovered, Jaeger considered the mission objective. His squad was to destroy the incoming convoy, which was still two hours away from the ambush point. However, it would be impossible to stay hidden for that long, especially if the Muans were indeed actively seeking his squad. Moving the explosives further east was also impossible, since retrieval would have to occur in broad daylight and in a populated marketplace.

Thus, Jaeger was left with only one, desperate option: to fight.

“Kaisers two through ten, reposition under Contingency Plan Beta. Be advised, we are not up against six Muan guards, but thirty-six!” Jaeger ordered.

No acknowledgement of the orders returned to him. He heard only the sounds of static on his radio. He looked down at the men beside him and asked, “Are your radios working?”

The men inspected their radios. “No, sir,” they replied, confused about the strange malfunction.

Jaeger’s eyes widened. “No… It can’t be!” He gasped in shock.

“What is it?” The machine gunner questioned.

Jaeger had seen this phenomena before while operating in Hinomawari and Sonal. Every time before disaster struck, their communications would be rendered useless. He even heard tales from acquaintances in the Navy that radar would go offline as well, leading to a detrimental fog of war that obscured enemy positions. With great anguish, he realized that his squad was marked for termination by none other than the Americans. “It… is an American tactic. They jam our equipment before an attack. They’ve used it before, in Hinomawari, when the presumed ‘Leiforians’ rescued the king and his family.”

“An imminent attack, huh? Damn it, how do we contact the others?” The sniper asked.

Everyone knew there wasn’t enough time to run around and convey orders to each team. Thus, Jaeger settled with the next best thing. “We don’t,” he said, garnering confused looks in response. “We fire on the enemy.”

The sniper nodded, “Understood.” He returned his attention back to his scope, finger resting beside the trigger. “What’s my target?”

Jaeger looked through the binoculars, sweeping from left to right. He mulled over the thought for a bit, then his lips curled up after finding his target. “Hit their commanding officer.”

The sniper adjusted his rifle, aligning the reticle with the head of the Muan lieutenant giving orders. He moved his finger from the side of the rifle, positioning it next to the trigger before he gave it a light press. A loud crack emanated from the gun, and almost simultaneously, the Muan’s head exploded into bloody bits.

The bullet left nothing but a stump attached to a profusely bleeding neck and tumbled into the kneecap of a man standing in the line of fire behind the Muan commander.

“Aggh!” The unfortunate soldier clutched his leg as he fell, hitting the ground at the same time as his commanding officer’s twitching body.

The surrounding men, shocked by the sudden assassination, cowered in fear. Some were gripped by so much fear that they stood still, having to be dragged into cover by their comrades.

Another crack rang out, followed by the heavy repeating sound of machine gun fire. Bullets tore through the guard post in the distance, dropping more bodies.

Jaeger grinned as he witnessed several bodies collapse from behind the trucks and some crates. He had no remorse for ordering the deaths of these men, only laughing at the fact that they were foolish enough to take cover behind such flimsy barriers. Before long, gunfire erupted from the other positions held by his squad.

By Jaeger’s estimation, they had killed 12 Muans so far. A few may have been injured, but there was no telling how debilitating their injuries were since they were wearing American body armor. Armed with American rifles and sighting gear, the Muans were also able to fight back effectively. An underestimation of their abilities had already led to the death of one valuable member of his team and the injuries of two others.

“All Kaiser members, move to defensive position gamma!” He declared, yelling as loudly as possible.

While the men nearby followed his orders and moved downstairs to engage the enemy on the ground, Jaeger rushed over to his separated comrades to relay the orders. Slinking behind buildings and around panicking civilians, he made it to the other side without sustaining any damage.

After hurriedly directing the rest of his team to participate in the gunfight on the street and in the alleys, he looked outside of a window to analyze the battlefield once more. Nearby, he saw nothing, although he knew that the enemy was already attempting to flank them. In the distance, he caught a glimpse of a much more pressing concern.

He pulled out his binoculars to verify what he just saw and there it was: another convoy approaching from the west, carrying Muan reinforcements. Seeing no way out of his predicament, he resolved to deal as much possible damage to the Muans with his dying breaths.