Tale of The Broken Sword

Chapter Three : The Front Line

21st June, AD 1656

Cordia Line, Aurelian border

It was definitely the worst time to start a day in the Cordia Line for Sgt. Everent. The sounds of artillery shells hitting the now hardened ground of the no-man’s land between his nation and the Ansteig Empire, now served as an alarm call for him and his fellow soldiers. Braving thousands of falling soil and mud, he trudged through the human-filled trench and walked towards the bunker where he had spent time arguing with his CO, Lieutenant Krom about abandoning the Line. He wishes for the lieutenant to change his mind back then, but now, he would have second thoughts himself.

“Get up! Get up!” He yelled to the top of his lungs as he slapped every soldier he can find to their senses. “On your feet, you bastards,”

Yesterday’s battle was strong enough to devour all of their energy and wits to fight once more, and the sergeant wouldn’t want his men to walked half-heartedly across the battlefield with the Empires Grenadiers preying on them like sitting ducks.

Upon reaching the bunker, the sergeant found out that it had been abandoned, with its wooden doors wide open. He looked around for any signs of his CO before a soldier showed and flung an answer to his non-vocal question:

“They relocated to the rear echelon, up 100 meters from here,” He motioned his head towards the direction of the south. “The Lieutenant is there waiting for something, I suppose.”

Everent worked his way along the trench while the soldier had gone back to the front lines, rendezvousing with the rest of his own against the Empire’s war machine. The skies were still gloomy and it displayed a little sign of possibly rain, but gloomy skies were an omen of death in the tradition of the Shock Army. Everent chuckled. Soldiers’ tradition.

The sergeant had never been a true loyal soldier to the nation’s cause. Partly because, he was a part of the royal family and thanks to his father, a prominent figure in the administration of the military forces of the nation, he rose up the ranks at such a young age.

Everent was just over the age of eighteen years old and had come into the world when true peace, not the ‘peace’ that staggers like the past few years, existed between both of the nations. He wasn’t as thin and pale as the others who were born on the slums or even among the skilled families that consisted mainly of traders and merchants. He didn’t remember his mother at all; she died when she gave birth to his brother, when he was just a one year old child.

But with his brother presumed dead in a military operation, all he had was his father. But now, the retired army general was delusional at the loss of his wife and his second child, Everent knew that his father’s time is near and approaching fast.

The sergeant arrived at the makeshift bunker and he gave a few loud knocks on the door, signalling whoever was inside to open it. Seconds later, a soldier on duty opened the wooden door with pride and stood there, with his arms behind his back, upon seeing the sergeant’s bars.

“Good morning, sir,” He said in a well-mannered tone.

Everent chuckled. There was no such thing as ‘morning’ here. Time doesn’t exist in the battlefield; the soldier wouldn’t even have a moment to look at his watch in the middle of a fight. Unless he wanted a one-way ticket to hell or heaven, he would take his chances.

Nevertheless, Everent respected him and gave his officer salute to the man.

“Good morning,” the sergeant said while he entered into the bunker, looking around in search for his Commanding Officer.

“Sergeant Clauvis, is your men all ready?” Krom approached from behind, holding a stack of papers with the both of his hands. The sergeant took a good look at the papers and he knew all of it contains the names of the soldiers who’d perished in the fight against their Ansteig foes.