Tale of The Broken Sword

Chapter Eight : Battle of Esmerelda - The Observation

27th June, AD 1656

Southern Cordon, Esmerelda

Everent had not seen the worst of this war yet. He had seen many lives come and go, each taking one after another with their own weapon. Once his father told him that humans are always excelled at killing one after another and there is no substitute to His own desire for power and wealth. Everent thought that the fall of man would be brought about by his own egoism. The War was actually triggered by the greed of the Empire to take on new lands to call its own.

It made sense. In this neglected land, each of the nations could set up its own protected enclaves, from which it could wage its side of their extended proxy war, battling and protecting over bits of turf that some would not give a damn about.

Like right here, right now.

Everent picked up a periscope out of a fallen soldier and wiped off its lenses. Then, he slapped it up against the trench’s upper edge and peered through it. The viewfinder showed him a number of ATC’s –more than the ten which Heimman had said and pointed to– rolling their direction.

“They’re coming!” Everent put down the periscope and glance along the both sides of the trench. None of the soldiers sat huddled on the ground any longer. The time for hunkering down to wait was over. They stood ready, lined up before the iron ladder that would take them over to the top and face the Empire’s fearsome Grenadiers once more.

They bore their rifles before them; each of them having stopped to give a final cleaning before the battle had began. They’d waited so long for it, killed so much time, and now that it was here, every second seemed precious.

Heimman knelt down and grabbed the dead soldier who’d been left to lie where he’d fallen, most of his head taken off by the Grenadiers snipers. He patted the corpse down, then slipped his hand into the pocket of the dead soldier’s jacket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes from it.

“Never stops to smoke, can’t you?” Everent said.

“Well, it keeps me awake and within my sanity. I guess it’s my companion now.” Heimman replied before extending his hand to Everent. “Want some?”

Everent waved his hands in refusal and the private placed the cigarette pack into his pocket. To his left, a soldier prayed loudly for his safety. The man’s holy symbol glittered from where it hung around his neck. Moments later, he began to loosen his grip on both of his hands, raising his head up to the both of them. Noticing a long chain of the holy symbol hung onto Everent neck, he knew that the sergeant puts a strong faith to God. But the man beside the sergeant, Heimman, was a different story.

“Private,” The man had asked, “Would you receive grace?”

“If that man is up there, I wouldn’t be in this fucking hell.” Heimman snorted.

Everent rolled his eyes, but the soldier gave a resigned sigh and shifted his attention towards the sergeant. With a long rifle slung over his shoulder, the soldier seemed hoping to have some good time on the battlefield before he would face death and ultimately joined the rest of the souls up in heaven.

“You’ll never reach a man like this guy here,” Everent patted Heimman shoulder. “He’s too far gone.”

“God is patient, my friend. In the long run, faith will outlast all.”

“In the long run, my friend,” Heimman frowned. “We’re all dead.” He stared out towards the raging battlefield between the trench and the incoming Empire’s ATC’s.

“For us, well... maybe in the short run too.” He continued.

The private quickly walked away from the other soldier, and Everent followed meekly from behind. When the sergeant stumbled onto another dead soldier lying on the bottom of the trench, he noticed another periscope lay on the side of the wet iron ladder. He decides to give it another round of looking at the incoming Empire’s soldiers.

Picking up the periscope, he wiped the lens off with his dirty hands. It was covered in blood –the soldier probably peered to far from the trench and his impatience finally paid the price with his own life–.

The armoured troop carriers were closer now, and the sergeant and feel the tremors brought about by the Aurelian Army’s G70 artillery guns hammering the borders of the city, softening the advancement of their Empire foes.

“They’re nearly onto us,” He whispered to Heimman. The private just nodded.

Moments later, the figure stepped into the corner leading the trench where the rest of them were in. Everent squinted his eyes in order to get a closer look at the silhouetted figure approaching him. Only seconds later, a bright flash of the artillery guns burned through the air and it illuminated the figure with its light.

“Sir,” Heimman gave a salute to the man.

Everent looked at the officer and called the name he’d already called any times in the battlefield. “Lieutenant Krom, always in the battlefield when your military position clearly states that there’s no need to.”

“Looked up there,” the lieutenant pointed to the destroyed bunker up at the peak of the hill overlooking across the battlefield. “It was damn well intact a few moments ago.”

“Well?” Everent asked. “What about it?”

“I’ve just lost a reason to stay behind the front lines, that’s all.” The lieutenant lifted his long distinct rifle against his chest. “Been a long time since I’ve held onto one of these shits.”

Liuetenant Krom was about two decades older than Everent, Generally speaking, he was an officer, and was given the best position in overlooking the entire field. Given with the best cover from enemy fire, he was posted as one of the army’s operation supervisor, but all the same, he felt the urge to head closer to the front lines.

He loved danger and always unafraid even being in the face of his enemies, but he felt uncomfortable being a few hundred metres away from where his men had braved the constant ringing of artillery fire. That’s why, many officers and councillors alike doesn’t seem to like him very much, mainly to the fact that he’d broke the first clause of an officer’s duty: being behind the front lines, not on. Why not?

“Now that the planning was pretty well fucked-up, and the observation was pretty clear: those Grenadiers are gonna slaughter us with utter cruelty, I guess waiting is all we have to do now...” Krom said, wiping the surface of his rifle and forced a clip into the receiver.

Heimman choked. “Like the old times.” He was referring to the time when the Line was still in Aurelia’s hands, before it had fallen into the Empire’s grasp. Like now, he’d once waited for death to come and appear before him along with the rest of his friends.

But death could not overcome him, and he survived the battle of the Line, others were not so lucky. Now that he’s a battle-hardened veteran –probably the only one who’d still retained the title of a private– most soldiers would look out for him to talk about surviving each and every battle he’d fought.

Everent gazed up towards the skies again. Flying dirt and mud covered the air around the sergeant, and he was having a hard time breathing on it before his lungs got used to the filthy air. He’d know that the only plan was to:

Fight the enemy with all you’ve got and death is not an option...

The only thing that kept him working his mind out was when the planned action will have to come, the execution of the plan that now was engraved into the minds of many soldiers along the trench.