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Tales of the Europan War	By : JPR Category: +S through Z > Valkyria Chronicles Views: 19665 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: This a non-profit erotic fan parody, I do not own Valkyria Chronicles. All rights to Valkyria Chronicles are owned by SEGA and its corresponding subsidiaries.

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
- 15
[Author's Notes]: So not too much to say about this other than I'm sorry it took so long and I took some liberties with some stuffs. I did inculde an incest tag on acounf offuture plans for Welkin and Isara, but I definitely make their connection as siblings a little bit closer on accounts to some of the history I made for the family. I also start to develop a possible SelvariaxWelkin ending, but I still haven't decided if that's where I was going with the story. As it stands no one hase given the idea of possibly letting Isara live, so I guess I'll just kill her off.
Other than that, no real sex scenes in this one, but I did try something a little new with the war sequence. Initially I was trying to grab the whole battle from Alicia's perspective ( I tried to understand how I want her character to behave more since she's the big issue with most), but it somehow evolved into many peoples perspective, perhaps similar to a band of brothers war sequence. You'll have to let me know how y'all think about that because I'm kind of unsure about it. This bit has been done for a while, but I waited this long to post because of that.
Umm...I think that's all. No forum post for this one, I probably shouldn't have posted this drunk, I'm still worried I missed a bit because of that, how much words do I have left on this note? I don't know, might come back and edit later [been slightly edited since] since there is some lack of proofreading at the latter half. without further ado....The Battle st Barious part 2.
PS: Let's get some more Valkyra stories on here. Dying for some on VC4.
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May 20, 1935 – Morning, National War Cemetery
To My Dearest Friend,
My knowledge of the Gunther line only goes back so far, it was told to me that the Gunther’s had always resided in my hometown of Bruhl ever since the days of its founding when some hundred odd families settled here after being branded turncoats by the King. I have never been sure that this is the truth, in fact from my life experience I think it very likely that the truth, as many come to know it down the line, is skewed. There are too many players in the walks of life, and too many stories to keep track of as the minor details, which are often times the most important, are left out of the history books. Regardless of this reality I will speak as honestly as I can, but I cannot even begin to correct the lies that have been taught to me, but I think now at my age I can speculate some of the shortcomings and deliberate a mostly true story. An odd statement from a man who’s lived a lot of it, and still struggles to know what is true and what was lies.
Starting with my family line; my great-grandfather was gifted a large piece of land outside of Bruhl after his service in the War of Gallian Independence which was won early that century. This is the same piece of land where the Gunther house sits today, and although there have been many renovations to the home since, the original foundation was likely set around this time. Bruhl is a small village, and it has always been a very small village of hardy people that were willing to do a lot in order to survive, and as a result, my great-grandfather married his sister who then became my great-grandmother. I’m unsure as to whether or not this is the only instance of incest within my family tree, but due to the size of Bruhl, and lack of newcomers as opposed to people who have left, I would wager to say that it is a common occurrence for many families living out here. For reasons that don’t need explaining, it is just an occurrence not talked about between individuals outside Bruhl families. Eventually my great-grandparents’ eldest son, the only to live past adolescence, inherited the land and married my grandmother. Together they had a son, and two daughters. Their son of course was my father, and he was born in 1849. I don’t recall that there was a time I met my two aunts, but I was told they had married off to families living in the southern reaches of Gallia’s forests.
My dad married my mom in 1870, and for a long seventeen years they struggled to have any child until my mom died at childbirth with me, or so I was told by my father. It is around this time that the line between truth and lies starts to blur, but at least in my early childhood it had been a very real truth until whispers echoing like the sound of gunfire reached my ears that this had not been the case. The story goes that my mother did indeed die in childbirth, but so did the child, and that I was born from a surrogate around the same time from the Lipponen family, who are old friends of the Gunther’s. It was apparent even early on in my mother’s carriage period that there would be problems in delivering the baby, and my father had tried to covertly guarantee a son through a woman from the Lipponen family that he had already been seeing on account of a struggling relationship with my mother. After hearing of this news I confronted my father about it, and he chose to remain silent, only giving me a look that pleaded I never talk about it again. I never did, nor did I ever learn the truth of my biological mother. Needless to say my relationship with my father was very delicate beyond this point. I found refuge in the work I did on the ranch, as well as concentrate on my studies and the demanding focus of games like chess.
Outside of the small rural ranch I was growing up in, the world was changing rapidly in the forges of industrialization. It’s an amazing thing when I look back now and see just how much has changed during the duration of my short lifetime. I can still recall a period when, even in the cities, the roads were filled with carriages, and the powerful stench of smoke and sulfur when the black powder guns of the past were fired. Living in this isolated sphere I can recall the first time I saw an engine. When I was sixteen years-old money was extremely tight on the ranch, and my father and I settled for selling what remained of our livestock to a butcher for quick cash. Riding my horse, I guided the animals I had cared for to the train station, which at the time the nearest one was the next town over, and I had only ever read of them. As we loaded up all the livestock we had onto the train it began to start. The music of its whistle startled me to a jolt, the vibrations of its engine echoed in my chest, and the smell of the fumes gave me a high I would never forget. It was at this time I decided that I would leave the ranch, and follow in the footsteps of my great-grandfather in joining the Army, with hopes that I could experience the world grow, rather than hear or read about it throughout my quiet country life like my father. In my young mind it was the greatest idea I had conjured; it was not a notion that would last.
In 1908 I graduated from Lanseal with high marks and decided to continue my career into the Army. Before learning where I would be stationed I was put on leave while the paperwork was sorted out, and I decided to return home to see my aging father for the first time in five years. I was astonished when I found my old home to be filled with three girls who were ages eleven and younger, as well as the very woman that could be my biological mother, Julia Lipponen. It had seemed that my father had grown sickly since I had left, and at the ripe age of fifty-nine was beginning to feel too old to manage the ranch by himself. So his solution was to have this sect of the Lipponen Family move in, and probably to have his young lover be close to him as he passed on. It was at this time I had officially met Martha, my possible half-sister, and despite her young age we got along nicely. Julia hadn’t had a child for ten years after me, meaning that she was only seventeen when I had been born, and having her there was initially awkward, but in very short time I realized why the Lipponen’s and the Gunther’s had been friends for so many generations. So I decided not to ask Julia about her history with my father, after all, I had a silent agreement with the man to never talk about it again, and I had no issue with the past now that my future was looking great.
For the next four years I had worked diligently in the Gallian Army and had earned my way up the ranks to a respected Colonel. It was 1912, and all was well so long as I didn’t focus on the armies amassing on the horizon, or open my ears to the war drums echoing in the plains. This was the year that I had met my wife, Alyssa. On that fateful day I was doing little more than communing home after work when I saw her. In hindsight, I realize that the dramatic encounter that led us to talking for the first time was also an omen to how we would last see each other. I still wonder that if I had just chosen to walk away, would she have lived a full, healthy, and happy life, but if that had been in my character it is unlikely that I would be called a War Hero today. It is a title I would gladly sacrifice for her survival. Our relationship evolved quickly, and before I realized it I was pacing outside of the room while she was in labor. Julia and Martha were inside helping with the process when an angel’s cry brought a tear to my eye and I rushed into the room. My son Welkin was born, and in the arms of my beloved wife. We had little more than a year together before my father died and the first shots of The Great War roared across Europa. It was time for me to answer the call of House Randgriz and defend His Majesty’s keep. As I mounted my stallion outside our home, Alyssa held Welkin with teary eyes as I was about to ride off, and Martha, now seventeen and running the house without the aid of her mother or sisters, was beside her crying into a handkerchief. I rode away as quickly as I could, having trouble holding my own tears back. Ir was the last time I ever heard my wife say, “I love you,” with my own ears.
The rest of it is pretty much history. I met you, and you used your ties with the Nobility to fast-track me to the rank of General, then came the trenches, and the bombing, and the fighting; everything was too loud. I left for the Army to gain the chance to see the world grow in the forges of industry, but all I was awarded was the sight of the world shredding itself into oblivion in the fires of war. The night was growing darker, and one by one the stars were fading as more of our comrades fell, the trenches nothing more than their self-dug mass grave. It was late 1916 when I sustained that injury in my left eye, eventually leading to me loosing my vision in it, and why I grew the habit of putting a patch on it from time to time. I was in a hospital bed when I received the letter from Martha that the last offensive by the Empire, the one we fought to repel, was the offensive that took my Alyssa’s life. I discharged myself from the hospital and borrowed a ride to Bruhl. My son, only three, pouring dirt atop his mother’s cold grave. I stood above her throughout the night, guarding her resting place in the snow, losing all feeling from the cold night. I was given only a few weeks leave for mourning and recovery from my wound, the King still called for able-bodied men and women to fight, and he needed his generals.
There was only a couple of days left of my leave when New Years Eve had come, it was now three weeks since the passing of my beloved, and much too soon for the actions I committed that night. Martha, Welkin and I had just finished a special meal for the occasion and I sent Welkin to his room who was nodding off in his chair much before the grandfather clock stuck twelve. I sat alone at the table, basking in the heat of the kitchen furnace while the radio talked about the unusually small celebration in Randgriz, and couldn’t help but think aggressively about my plans for the Empire once returning to command. In the midst of those thoughts however, I watched Martha silently washing the dishes of our meal displaying her nineteen year-old body through the tight fitting maid uniform her mother used to wear around my dad, and the ever increasing aggressive thoughts spinning in my head began to turn towards her. I approached her silently from behind and embraced her. She did not move nor say anything at first, possibly thinking I needed the closure after my wife’s passing, but she did gasp as soon as she felt the erection in my pants and my lips on her neck. Now she was objecting verbally, but allowed me to play with her breasts still, then ultimately bend her over the counter and claim her virginity while in uniform. Martha; quite possibly my half-sister. I had her for the entire night, several times, from that kitchen and into the bed I shared with Alyssa. I had her the next night too, and the night before my leave was up as well. As you know, this aggressive stance towards women would last for the duration of the war. My failed attempt of filling a void that persists now on my deathbed.
It was upon my return to duty that I met Dr. Theimer and you in my office to discuss a revolutionary idea in an attempt to break the stalemate the continent had thrown itself in. It was a time when I finally thought that the industry of Gallia was going to present me with the resolution of this war, and it did. A steel behemoth, a battleship on legs, the very first tank was born. When I rode that steel mount for the first time I was taken back to my younger days, when the sound of a train gave birth to a new me, and so too did this new invention of warfare as I used it to take back every bit of land that was stolen from us. I don’t very much recall the conclusion of the war, my one good eye was always seeing red, up until the point I was told that it was over; just like that, no warning. I had failed. It was my intention to drive the Empire back to Schwartzgrad with nothing but the resources of Gallia, but my desire for revenge would never be met, and deep down I was sure I had already known that. Just like me conquering a new woman any time I could, would never fill the hole in my heart. So I stopped everything. I was convinced that my life as a rancher was the best life for me thirty-one years down the road, and if not for the enthusiasm of my new friend Theimer, I would’ve never accepted the request to help develop the Edelweiss.
Theimer had promised me two things; that together we would produce the best tank that this world had seen, and that I would do it in the comfort of my own home. I had a large barn built to accommodate the parts as they came in after providing Theimer with all the things I thought a perfect tank might need, I even joked saying that a flying one would be even better, not knowing he would come up to me with an entire design for something he claimed could fly the very next day. Needless to say, the two of us got to spend a lot of time together. His wife, Tanya, and him lived in a spare bedroom. I got to watch Welkin grow, and all of us enjoyed the cooking of Martha every day, who had also started working on the side as a surrogate and midwife. This time in my life was not without some concern though.
Every Friday night, after a long week of working, the four of us adults would drink after sending Welkin to bed. Naturally Martha would still go to bed early expecting an early rise for breakfast, leaving Theimer, Tanya and I to our own devices. I would always out drink Theimer, and Tanya would never try to keep keep up, so her and I would talk, and what started out as idle conversation transformed into her venting to me. Apparently during the war, Theimer was very promiscuous with his students in Fouzen and was eventually caught in an affair with a favorite of his named Sara Valt. This realization made Tanya and Theimer’s relationship very rocky in the years since, Tanya even claiming that Martha and him had spent nights together. I wasn’t sure if that last part was true, but it wasn’t long until Tanya’s venting turned into more suggestive advances, making comments about how endowed I was compared to Theimer and asking if she could see, not just feel. With the alcohol in my system I returned those advances and we made love in front of Theimer’s passed out form. Tanya’s face was so close to Theimer’s when I came the first time, that I was sure he was dreaming of taking a drunken woman home, a deduction I made from the erection in his pants. Sure enough, Tanya got pregnant, and assured me that she convinced Theimer he had gotten her pregnant on a Friday night when he blacked out like always. I am not proud of how these events turned out, nor am I convinced that Theimer didn’t suspect a thing, because we never spoke again after completing the Edelweiss.
The GNA had decided not to buy our bid for a tank design, despite the Edelweiss out performing the competition in every category, but we had not accounted for production cost. I said goodbye to Theimer for the last time, and later that day asked Martha if the first child she was pregnant with had in fact been mine. She denied it profusely, but I had my doubts, many truths people learned turned out to be lies. It would be hard to go the local orphanage now, after so many years had passed, and having no evidence but suspicion.
In the next couple years I had plenty of time to grow with my son, and see the world again through his eyes, like I too was experiencing it for the first time. I taught him about the ranching life I led in my younger days, and my love for the creatures I raised. Welkin liked the concept of nature as I taught it to him, and we stuck to that as something we could always talk about no matter what. It was while all this was going on in 1921, that I learned of Theimer’s and Tanya’s death. I began to realize that every life I touch meets an end, and I looked lovingly to my son while holding the phone, hoping he could live the peaceful life his mother and I never could. In a rare show of force from me (at least during these days) I pulled many strings in the government to assure that Theimer’s patents and books stayed his, and that all of his current assets be transferred to me immediately for safeguarding. His journals, his sketches, any paper towel he might have scribbled an idea on, and that his students would be guaranteed a completed education knowing most were Darcsen. With my false repertoire, had Theimer come to own the city of Fouzen, it would then be mine. I had lost too many friends in the war to not try and at least preserve one of the few left.
“A-and what of his daughter…Mr. Gunther?” The words struck me like a bullet.
“Mine…She will be mine as well. Give her my name if you can, and arrange to transport her here.”
“Yes, sir!” The nervous voice was a young man that had served under my Armored Corps during the war, and was probably willing to drive down to Bruhl himself to clean my shoes if I had asked. He accredited me with saving his life, but it was a claim I could not believe nor remember.
I told Welkin of his new sister, and that she would be arriving soon, he seemed excited. I thought back to the time that she could possibly have been born and realized that this girl would only be two upon her arrival. This girl was my daughter, and just like Welkin I would be able to grow with her for many more years. Or so I thought.
Five years down the road I was again called by House Randgriz to deal with some Imperial Soldiers that had been inching ever more closely to the border by some town called Hafen. Despite my initial misgivings about the nature of the mission I still went, Alyssa’s death is still not beyond me. It would seem though that an injury there has left me with a grave illness and I will be dying soon. Not even old enough to see my son or daughter grow into adults.
I’m telling you this, my friend, because someone had to know the truth as I have seen it. My legend is a lie and all that I have done was not for some noble Gallian cause, but because of a selfish desire to kill as many Imperials as possible in hopes that Alyssa’s death wasn’t in vain. It was all vain though, and I wanted someone to understand the real reasons why I have done what I have. You are my last friend to remain this close to me, and I have entrusted you to do what you wish with this information, but I fear what the truth will do to hinder the success of my kids, and to a lesser extant, what it’ll do to the people of this nation that have put faith in me. I hope, now that my final breath draws near, that the man who has only ever seen good in me, can forgive me for my sins. For I fear that when I see Alyssa again, she will not be able to look at me, like I have failed many times to look back at myself.
With Many Regrets,
[Signature]
Belgen Gunther (September 18, 1926)

An aged gentleman recalled the contents of the letter as he felt it inside his pocket through the fabric of his coat. It was an item he had often brought with him as he made his walks through the cemetery to visit all the men and women that had died beside him as sons and daughters of Gallia.
Belgen was always too critical of himself, the old man was relighting his pearwood pipe as he thought to himself, and what of all those lives you saved? Were they all in vain too? Being perfect…is not what makes a great man.
After waving out the flame on the match he used for his pipe, his hand shot down to grasp an old war wound on his leg. It had not caused him pain since the conclusion of the last war, and now it had started to ache more often than ever before. Because of this, he knew that somewhere in Gallia, many of Her children will be shedding blood on Her soil today. He then placed his hand atop his forehead to salute the greatest man he ever had the pleasure of knowing, written on the tombstone was, Savior of Gallia Belgen Gunther 1887 – 1926.
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May 20, 1935 – 11:00 Hours, Barious [Valkyrur Ruins National Preserve]
Natalie was sitting upon the simplistic Gallian design of a tank that went by the callsign of Honeydew. It was the exact same as every other Gallian tank in service and had no discernible custom features other than the pinup painting typical of tanks within the Militia. The pinup was of a very lusty brunette in a very, very tight officer’s uniform, and a considerable amount of leg that was easily exposed by the pleated skirts that were worn by female armored personnel. It was not an accessory that was typically worn with the officer’s uniform, but instead with NCO and enlisted members that worked inside the tanks to help fight the lack of air circulation that came with Gallian tanks. It was a cost saving measure made by the Gallian government during the interwar period with an agenda that prioritized a tight budget and high degrees of production over comfort. Men however, were allowed to take off the layers of their torso to help with this in the hotter months of the year, a liberty that Welkin never took advantage of. As a result, Natalie never took advantage of removing anything like her tank crews or Isara did, figuring that Welkin held his appearance as very important, and so should she. She was after all his very loyal subordinate, but that didn’t mean she didn’t take advantage of the skirt. And why shouldn’t she? A couple days ago proved that Welkin liked to take advantage of it too.
The sun was high, and the day was already getting very hot for those that were forced to move, but compared to the many days before it, the day was slow. Only Welkin and Faldio had taken a small detachment to the temple to complete whatever orders they had received from division, and no patrols were being conducted by Delta Battery. Natalie was snacking on a pack of crackers from a ration she had saved, when she was called by a crewman inside the Honeydew, “Hunter! Radio’s been crying for someone to respond for like twenty minutes!”
And of course you wait ‘til now to tell me, Natalie thought before going legs first inside the turret’s hatch on the tank, “All right, I’m coming.”
She was technically on a break of sorts, but as the acting CO of Delta Battery it seemed she couldn’t get any break at all. It made her wonder how Welkin was able to do it, but at the same time was able to socialize with his squad so frequently. Putting on her neck mic and overhead earphones she immediately confirmed that some poor pencil pusher from Division was really desperate for a response, and she grabbed a mouthpiece from the interior’s radio, but it seemed like an unofficial call.
“3-7 or 3-8, Division! What’s the status on your current mission? Over.”
What D Battery didn’t know was that some of the higher ups in the regular Army had convinced General Damon that 2^nd AIR had no purpose to be behind enemy lines, namely General Gassenarl of the Southern Forces. Had it been up to Damon, he would have kept the entire division running circles behind enemy lines to either succumb to their death or a loss of interest by the public, but with their exploits behind enemy lines somehow being broadcast by some very evasive journalists, the latter portion of his plan extremely backfired. So the order went out to have the Division pull back and return to their side of the lines. That was until GAIA got involved. While the rumor had yet to leave the staff of the Division’s mobile HQ on account of the secrecy behind the orders, it was concluded by many that the orders meant for Faldio and Welkin was what was keeping them from returning to Fort Amatriain. So like what very impatient lower members of an organization do, they delivered the orders with the false pretense that speed was of utmost importance.
Natalie didn’t recognize the voice on the radio, but the fact that Division was skipping ranks to contact Delta Battery directly without an emergency made her accurately guess that whoever was on the line was just a bored sergeant that worked under the Division’s G-6, making her less worried about taking the unofficial call seriously. But Natalie had no notion to the nature of the orders Welkin had received, so she could only deduce as much.
“3-8. Did your favorite radio program end early or something?” Natalie poked fun.
“Don’t nag me right now, woman. I’m hungry, tired, dirty, and thirsty as hell. I don’t need some junior from D Battery pretending she’s above me.”
“Sounds like your missing your mommy.”
“Mommy’s tit sounds a helluva lot better than Daddy Chevrette hounding my ass for results everyday. Look…I’m not supposed to tell you this, but I want to get back on the friendly side of things, but your unit is anchoring the Division here. So do you have a SitRep on your mission or not?”
“My mission was enjoying what lunch there is left around here, and that was going fine until you called.” Natalie took another bite from a cracker as she said so. She was enjoying herself teasing the man miles away.
“Lieutenant Gunther and Landzaat. Their mission!” It was hard to tell whether the man was genuinely frustrated or not through the radio.
“Sorry, but you got the wrong station, honey. I don’t know what’s going on in there, but they haven’t returned yet.”
The man gave an audible sigh while Natalie grabbed her binoculars and looked at the temple, but from her angle looking up at the ridge it sat upon, she wasn’t able to make out any evidence that there was anyone inside or not.
“Can’t imagine what’s going on in there, but it’s probably nothing worth mentioning…”

The trio stood there in silence and stricken by awe. Seconds ago, the three of them had been marveling at the discovery of this new inner chamber, but now, the only thing louder than the footsteps approaching them was the pulse drumming in their ears. All of them frozen for their own reasons.
Faldio had recognized the duo right away. Unlike the usual layman, he wasn’t satisfied with hearing about current events, but actively sought information that would make him able to identify what certain things were. Many hours talking to one of the head Intelligence Officer’s at HQ gave him the ability to spot these two from miles given his photographic memory. Prince Maximilian, and his subordinate, Brigadier General Selvaria Bles. His shock came naturally. As he was already quite ecstatic from the new discoveries taking place, and was beginning to put some pieces together as to why GAIA would send him inside the temple. Now his heart stopped at the sight of his enemy, causing his muscles to ache from the lack of oxygen reaching them.
Alicia was another story. Back at Vasel, she had experienced a pretty stunning chill while the regiment was pulling out. It was during the explosion of blue light, and the Naval artillery that came after it to subdue the strange weapon. Her frozen nature was due to some sixth sense. As if the two people in front of her protruded some powerful aura of death that kept sending chills her way, but time made her realize that the woman with the man was where this aura was originating, a woman that had Welkin’s undivided attention as well. Welkin was not aware of who these individuals were, only that their uniforms implied an Imperial affiliation, but it was not the first time in his life that he had been taken by their presence. It was the first time he had met them outside of the dream he experienced a couple days ago. A dream that was sending mixed messages to his loins and conjured a newfound infatuation with the woman before him. As if sensing his unusual vibe compared to the others around him, Selvaria subtly titled her head to ascertain his thoughts. Welkin’s expression had seemed like he had caught her emerging from his shower naked and uninvited.
“Well… How surprising to find you here. We don’t get many visitors.” Maximilian’s voice was as chilling as the air around him, and to his right was the rigid beauty that barely seemed to notice the company in front of him after losing interest in Welkin, “I won’t ask how you were able to break in. It’s not really important, but you defile this sanctum with your presence.”
Maximilian was utterly ignorant to the fact that two mistresses of the house were present, including Selvaria, who had used a considerable amount of energy using her powers to discover the secrets of the deepest part of the temple. Unbarred, they continued their journey up the stairs and the Gallains moved aside from the sheer majesty of Maximilian’s natural swagger.
“Uh, guys…” It was all Faldio could form with his lips, fear began to settle in his heart as they walked past, not believing for a second that they were merely passing, “That’s Maximilian.”
“Maximilian?…” Faldio’s words suddenly began to dawn on Alicia, who had only ever heard of the enemy’s commander, but had never actually seen him. Pictures and footage of Imperial Royalty were extremely hard to come by, and she only knew him by name. Knowing Faldio had taken considerable measures to recognize such figures her fear of the woman settled and words slowly turned into action, “Wait. But he’s the enemy commander.”
Welkin still eyed Selvaria as she passed, the young woman not even paying him heed as she walked beside the only human worth acknowledging in her life. But as Alicia spoke, Welkin too was snapped back into reality and realized the gravity of Faldio’s words and he looked at Alicia, hoping she would go about this sensibly.
“Hold it right there!” She was not going about it sensibly, but felt justified in her actions by standing her ground against those that would intrude on her homeland. Pulling a 9mm Gallian pistol from=somewhere=she took aim and threatened the Prince, “You take one more step and I’ll shoot you down! I swear I will!”
Selvaria, who had remained very composed up until the threat, turned about and engulfed her self in the infamous blue flame. If you swear upon the ones that built this temple. Then you swear to me!
The virtuous flame lit the inner sanctum and forced the eyes of everyone present to dilate. Welkin took on a defensive stance, putting his hand on a revolver issued to tank commanders. Alicia was taken aback by the radiating flame. Faldio, on the other hand, retreated. Hiding behind the backs of this comrades in his disbelief, which had been growing exponentially since entering the temple. Being raised in the Yggdist church by his parents, Faldio was not oblivious to what was going on, but he certainly wished he was. His venture into archaeology was largely driven by this belief and was astounded to find that not only did many ancient texts seem to prove the existence of Valkyria, but his own eyes were as well. Lance. Shield. Azure flame and all. All of it; real.
“Uh… What?”
“Lower your weapon.” Maximilian was speaking to Selvaria as much as he was to Alicia, “Your lives are worthless to me, but I do not wish to stain this sacred place with blood. If you are determined to have this confrontation, why don’t we settle it outside.”
Welkin was captivated again by the Valkyria in front of him, now totally convinced that this person in front of him was indeed the woman of his dreams, and that he was in danger. The not so pleasant happenings of his dream beginning to haunt him once again as his brain processed everything that was going on around him at inhuman speeds. There is no way we’re getting out this unharmed. Not with that kind of power.
“Welkin…” Alicia naturally turned to the person that had saved her and the squad many times before from the clutches of death, and was hoping he had something to say now that they stood before it.
“…Welkin?”
Maximilian had hoped to crush the insect with this name after hearing that he would be in the region, but was not expecting the fly to wander into his own home. His eyes shot wide at the missed opportunity of killing him now, but Maximilian was not going to go back on his word. That was above nobility of his stature. Besides, killing Gallia’s hero would leave more of an impact if done in battle than within the confines of this temple.
“So you’re the brat who’s responsible. My compliments for the Vasel Bridge and the bases in Kloden. You’ve quite impressed Jaeger, he was singing your praises, boy.”
This time, it was Selvaria’s turn to react. She had also ingrained that name into her head after forcing her subordinates to stay awake for days trying to find who was responsible for Vasel bridge. But how did Jaeger find it out so easily? She blushed with fury as she pondered her failure versus the Fhiraldan General again, and directed that fury at the young officer before her.
Welkin did not falter though, his dad’s image mirrored in his own as the military blood in him began to echo through time. His face was that of determination and rage at how he was caught in this situation. As all this information continued to process, he feared the worst. That if Maximilian stood before him now, then the Imperial forces were not as far as he thought. An ambush lied in wait for him outside. There would be no choice but retreat as soon as the enemy began to storm the valley. Despite having no battle plan, his look was enough to make Selvaria second guess her strength and the strength of the Imperial legions behind her, a feat only ever accomplished by Maximilian.
“Selvaria… Come.” Maximilian ordered as he strode toward the exit, and like a good dog, Selvaria obeyed.
“Sir!”
The blue flame fluttered out like the waning moon, and she analyzed the resolve in Welkin’s eye’s one final time. Only one unfrightened Gallian probably meant it was a bluff, but even the slightest probability gave Selvaria her doubts. This Militia did force the escort division to retreat miles into Barious, but this time she had a force that would crush them under her heel, and her Master’s, who has never known defeat. She gracefully turned around to follow that lord, her hair mesmerizing the trio behind her.
The echo of their footsteps faded as quickly as they came, and the trio was once again left in silence. Welkin was ready to go, but saw that his friends were not quite done processing what had just happened. Even despite his composure, he was not quite sure how much time passed before Alicia turned to him with excitement.
“Now’s our chance to take out their commander!”
For Alicia and Welkin it was a golden opportunity. The war could end here and no more people had to die, but just like Selvaria, Welkin had his doubts. It was not arrogance that spoke for the two ahead of them, it was knowledge. There were too many unknowns for Welkin’s liking, and information was vital in a war. He had no choice but to try though. Seeing that Faldio had yet to snap out of his stupor, he spoke up to get moving.
“She’s right, Faldio. Let’s go!”
“Uh, right!”

Outside of the temple no one had gotten the memo of Imperial activity inside, and Ramal sat there leaning on the Gallian jeep that he had rode in with four others. He was watching Isara, who was sitting on the only other vehicle that was outside the temple, Faldio’s tank. Being completely opposite of him, he had something of a very good look at her legs, but the Darcsen was sitting in a fashion that would not allow him to look any further up her skirt. Ramal had already cursed himself a few times for catching himself staring, but most importantly because he had volunteered to stay behind just to learn more about the beauty. By this point though, every time he thought to start the conversation pertaining to how a Darcsen could be siblings with Welkin, he lost his nerve. The thought of the great General Gunther of the last war being someone who liked to bed Darcsens seemed ridiculous to him, and was making up stories in his head how one could fabricate a sibling relationship with the General’s true son. But there was also that doubt. A doubt he couldn’t stand having as one that looked up to the late General, like many other Gallians.
On the relatively short drive to the entrance of the temple, Ramal had the unique experience of sitting in the back in between Alicia and Isara, with both wearing an equally as short skirt. Initially Ramal viewed the situation as somewhere between heaven and hell. After all some of his greatest fantasies involved Alicia settling for him after not finding Faldio and discovering that he was a much better lover. Then, there was Isara. Her being a Darcsen was enough to get his mind to interpret the smell of a wet dog under that alluring musk of hers. Still, he couldn’t deny that the warmth of her bare leg radiating through the fabric of his militia issued trousers wasn’t a tempting bite. So he could see how the former General Gunther might take advantage of his Darcsen subordinates to create a daughter with his name. Given some of the perverse fantasies that Ramal came up with at times (which he always blamed on his teenage mind) he could understand how it would be easier to see them true by forcing that part of society to submit to them. Especially knowing that even if they said something, they wouldn’t be believed. Before the thoughts concerning Isara’s birth could turn the stirring in his loins into an erection, Ramal grabbed his SMG from the hood of the jeep and strapped it to his shoulder as he walked towards Isara.
“Isara, right?” Ramal found himself a comfortable place to lean on the tank beside her bare legs, “I’m surprised you gravitated toward it. It’s very unimpressive compared to the beast you manage.”
Ramal was referring to Faldio’s tank versus Welkin’s. Given how conversational his tone was Isara was a bit surprised. After all, the last time he greeted her was with spit and the underside of his boot, but Isara was not one to hold grudges. As long as there were individuals out there who were willing to treat Darcsen’s like humans and learn more about them, she was willing to comply. She just wished that Ramal had other expressions besides his usual scowl.
“That’s true…but size isn’t everything.” Isara pet the tank with her gloved hand, imagining the two crewman inside would appreciate her acknowledgment to how well-kept it was.
That sounds exactly like something a Darcsen would say, Ramal thought. Knowing full well that he wasn’t one to talk when it came to making fun of an other's size.
“The Edelweiss is large, and practically like a third sibling to Welkin and I, but the size of her leads to more maintenance hours, more ragnoline consumption, proneness to overheating and engine fires, and the necessity of a well-trained driver. Given the lack of interchangeable parts, since the Edelweiss is unique, every replacement also needs to be made from scratch.” Isara looked to the distance, probably in the direction she figured the Edelweiss was currently and smiled with shimmering eyes. “While small, the Gallian main battle tank is very versatile. Has better fuel economy. Is cheaper to maintain and produce, and even with it’s lack of traction can be driven by any Gallian who has never even driven a car before.”
Isara’s words were somehow comforting to Ramal, not only because of his double entendre, but it fired up the nationalistic side of him. His pride in his nation was something that many Gallians shared, and the reason why young and old were willing to fight, work, and die for their homeland.
“Sounds like it might not be worth keeping with our current fuel shortage then. Given your description of it I’m surprised it made it this far.”
The thought of abandoning the Edelweiss for something as trivial as fuel made Isara grow a little defensive.
“The Edelweiss has it’s quirks, but she’s more than once proved her usefulness as a vanguard for the armor column. Her thicker curved armor can deflect oncoming shells and her gun can pierce even the heavy variety of Imperial tanks. While the seventy-five on them is capable, it lacks the muzzle velocity of the Edelweiss’ eighty-eight.”
“So bigger is better then? I heard a monster of a tank briefly appeared in Kloden. What do you think your tank’s chances would be if faced against that? Or some other Imperial tank that is larger?”
Isara calmly shook her head and smiled, much to the annoyance of Ramal. Sitting on the tank and her confidence in her fathers engineering marvel seemed like arrogance to him. Something a Darcsen shouldn’t have given their place.
“It isn’t the size that matters, it’s how you use it. If the Edelweiss was assigned a crew with no knowledge on the mechanical limitations and specs, she would’ve never made it this far. Probably have lost all its tracks and a shredded transmission. Bigger vehicles would require more crew to maintain, more problems during field testing to solve, and be a massive drain on a nation’s resources.”
Ramal crossed his arms as he leaned on the Gallian tank beside where Isara was sitting, her calves crossed at his peripheral. He decided to prepare for what was turning out to be a long winded response.
“Many Imperial tanks have multiple guns on them, which is odd. If the tank is immobilized, then every gun on it is likely to prove useless since they also become immobilized. If all tanks on the front became immobilized, then it would effectively halt the Imperial line given their tactics and force the supply line to provide parts to get them moving. Even worse would be the demand on the war machine to make replacements for those that are lost.”
“Those are big guns though,” Ramal decided to interrupt despite the obvious fact that she wasn’t done, “and a stationary gun that can still fire is as deadly as a soldier firing from cover.”
“Yes, but Imperial tanks have a limited field of view already. So when it’s movement is compromised, so is it’s combat effectiveness. At this point even a squad of infantry can flank around to finish it off. It’s just a question of whether the reason the armor is stationary is because the last shell to hit it killed the crew, or merely the things needed to keep it moving. I hear the Federation has been employing tactics like that with a great degree of success.”
“That all still doesn’t answer my question though. Could you have taken the tank at Kloden?”
Isara frowned at him repeating the question. While she didn’t receive as much schooling as Welkin in armored warfare, she believed he thought it impossible too. Even with the amount of faith she had in Welkin and the Edelweiss, she couldn’t say with certainty that it could be done. She had seen the tank in question, and had seen the seemingly negligible damage a shell from the Edelweiss had caused it. It wasn’t just the specs of the Edelweiss that was outmatched by the mysterious tank, but the commander seemed smart too. It was as if her two fathers had shipped a patent off to the empire pertaining to the Edelweiss’ design, and the Empire improved on it considerably.
“…No.”Said Isara, making Ramal look up to Isara from the side, shocked by her frankness. It figured that a Darcsen’s faith could be shaken so easily. But his stare didn’t phase her. Instead she looked thoughtfully at the horizon, as if running thousands of calculations in her mind at once. “…Not without an advantage…”
Looking at Isara from Ramal’s perspective also meant looking towards the temple entrance. While he dropped his eyes from hers, and caught a glimpse of her very close legs, so too did he grab the glimpse of two people exiting the temple. He didn't know either of them, but he did recognize the Imperial uniform on the woman, and had enough common sense to figure that the man dressed like royalty leading her was not a lost thespian.
He pulled the SMG strapped to his shoulder into his hands and pulled the action slightly to verify that a round was already in the chamber. The noise of the action was enough to start Isara from her thoughts and looked at Ramal in bewilderment. The intent to kill on his face was not directed towards her, but beyond her legs and at the entrance of the temple. Seeing this, she whipped her head around to investigate what had prompted the young shocktrooper into action.
“HALT!” Ramal shouted at the duo leaving the temple with his gun aimed, “I order you to halt!”
Maximilian and Selvaria had no intention of following the kid’s orders. It was insulting to think that a commoner like him could even utter a word to a Prince of the Empire, but Maximilian did not halt his steps to the Batomys, so neither did Selvaria, not until her Valkyrian instincts were triggered and her reflexes answered in kind. Before Isara could pull her sidearm from under her shawl and jump down from the tank, the high strung sixteen year-old pulled the trigger and bullets flew toward the Imperial couple. A blue flash of light like lightning followed. Before the fifth bullet could leave the muzzle of his SMG, three reversed their trajectory from Selvaria’s holy shield and struck Ramal’s torso. Isara watched the scene unfold in what seemed like slow motion, as the hollow sounds of his body being struck were complemented with fountains of blood.
“Aarghh!”
Ramal fell back from the multiple impacts and dropped his gun on the floor. Isara meanwhile negated the idea of grabbing her sidearm and jumped down to help her fallen militiaman. The crew inside Faldio’s tank looked out their hatches and began to cold start the tank to help combat the sudden surge of hostilities. It would take a while for the tank to warm up however, and the gaping wounds in Ramal’s chest needed to be treated right away. Isara ran to the jeep in search of some ragnaid she knew was there, and the Imperial entourage continued their journey north of the temple unhindered.
After making a mess of of all the supplies inside the jeep, Isara found a small dosage of ragnaid and ran back to a writhing Ramal who was struggling to breath and curse the pain away.
“I need you stay still!”
“Fuck that!”
Ramal was putting pressure on the areas he the ricocheted bullets struck him, trying to stop the blood from erupting out of each impact site. Knowing his life was in danger, Isara did her best to pull his arms away and rip apart the buttons of this militia uniform to get a good look at his chest. The slower ricocheted bullets were stuck in his ribs and it would be dangerous to apply the ragnaid with the bullets still in his bones, but with no medic around, Isara had also grabbed a pair of needle nose pliers from the tool box. She looked sympathetically at the screaming teenager and stuffed one of her gloves in his mouth between his teeth. A puzzled look appeared under Ramal’s agonizing expression.
“I’m sorry…”
The boy’s eyes shot open and his muffled screaming grew in volume as Isara worked quickly to aid the dark-haired boy.

It wasn’t that much further a walk from the temple and the distant screams of a young boy that a squad of elite imperials stood by with with a couple of jeeps and a half dozen motorcycles for quick transport across the desert. Here was the rendezvous for the quick escape that Prince Maximilian may have needed should the Gallians have somehow picked up on his intentions of entering the temple. They were the best the that the Empire had to offer in way of infantry, and they were tasked with protecting the blood of his majesty as they transported him to and from his steed, the Batomys. With disciplined patience they waited in concealment for their commander’s return.
There was also a separate jeep belonging to the underlings of Selvaria exclusively, which had a short range radio on standby should the need for it be necessary. With Gallian troops having already been encountered both inside and outside the temple Selvaria had reasonably concluded that it was indeed necessary to use the radio to launch the ambush she had planned.
“Lieutenant!” Selvara shouted at her trusted aide manning the radio, “Have Colonel Whittmann begin his ranging shots for the pass south of the temple, and inform him that I will be the artillery east.”
“Yes, ma’am!”
In the most submissive posture and tone Selvaria could manage she turned to her liege in salute, “Your Grace, I highly suggest waiting until after I take out the rabble east before engaging the enemy.”
“Nonsense! I will remove this thorn at my side before he is given a chance to escape, and crush the will to fight from all Gallians alongside him.”
Selvaria was a cautious commander that did not see the need to put her love in harms way, but she was also loyal to a fault. Not having any legitimate excuse to forbid the prince from carrying out his offensive separate from her, she had no choice but to concede to his will. Going so far as to even ask his permission to aid him later, “Your Grace, I will eliminate the forces east of the temple, then return to provide support.”
“Very well,” Maximilian was seating himself on the back of his jeep as he replied, and the elite guard that came with him was starting their engines to depart with him, “though I doubt I shall require your assistance. The Batomys shall rest atop their riven camp before long. To the Batomys, Captain! And make haste!”
With those parting words the royal entourage sped off north, leaving only a single jeep and motorcycle. Not wanting to keep her prince waiting, Selvaria secured her Valkyrian buckler to her hip and mounted her motorcycle. With a few revs of the engine she sped northeast to the bulk of the ambush forces that lied in wait within a trench. It was a force that was four times the size of the local militia forces, and it was backed by an entire mechanized division that was moving to flank the Gallians from the south to prevent them retreating back to Kloden. It was her chance for revenge, to destroy those that threatened to harm her worth within Maximilian’s eyes. She had called for every last Imperial unit that stood idle in nearby areas to heed her summons. With them, she would cut off the hand that dared to strike her master. No mercy will be granted. No quarter. Just the might of the Empire’s iron fist falling on the Gallian Volunteer Corps’ 2^nd Division.
Upon her arrival, Selvaria dropped the military bike in the sand and stood in front of the forces that were waiting for her to come. Enough time had passed since exiting the temple that the Gallain forces across the horizon had begun to form what looked like a well thought out defense. With the sounds of the ranging artillery shots striking the only passage out of the valley to the south it was a wonder how all of Gallia didn’t know she was here. A Valkyria of Legend, trained by the finest military minds the Empire could offer, to be Maximilian’s sword. It was a duty she took seriously, and one she could not fail.
“Lord Maximilian…” Selvaria looked on at the feeble defenses that the Gallians were trying to thwart her with before conjuring the last flame they’ll ever see, “Cobalt Flames of the Valkyrur, smite our foes!”
A blue aura surrounded the beauty. It was the first time that many of the soldiers behind her had seen the legends come to life before their eyes, even if rumors of the great Brigadier General’s power had spread like wildfire throughout the ranks. Radiating from the light was the feeling of life, invigorating all the Imperials that stood behind her shield, while the ominous weight of death fell upon those that stood in front of her lance.
“All forces! There stands Gallia…” the light surrounding Selvaria’s lance grew in luminosity, almost blinding Faldio who had just arrived on scene through his binoculars. He had left his dying comrade in Welkin’s hands, regretfully admitting that he would have a better chance of survival being harbored inside the Edelweiss. His haste towards the east side of the temple was hurried in hopes that he could see to the survival of the rest of his squad. A hope that was shattered by what he saw next.
“Claim her!”
The bright light engulfing Selvaria’s lance forked out across the entire defensive and crashed down like falling stars upon its targets. The resulting blasts were like nothing the regiment had seen since the start of the war, and several bodies flew hundreds of feet into the air with the hull’s of tanks covering half that distance. In a grand charge reminiscent of rushing no man’s land in the last war, the Imperial division behind Selvaria ran past her to cover as much ground as possible before the shell-shocked Gallians could retaliate.

It had been more than three months since the full-scale invasion of Gallia had begun, and for many in Squad 7 it had been the longest three months of their lives. The small Principality proved to provide a very compact, and very intense warfare that both sides of the conflict felt. For Alicia, who had just driven back to Delta Battery with Welkin, Isara and a wounded Ramal after separating with Faldio, this warfare had been riddled with ominous aura’s, tragic nightmares, and feelings she failed to express honestly. But since Bruhl, Alicia had had the benefit of a knight appearing before her every time she had to conjure the courage to face Gallia’s enemies, a knight who continued to show up almost entirely by chance each time. It was chance that she attempted to arrest him outside of Bruhl before he helped stave off Imperial scouts, it was chance that Isara had gotten the finest piece of Gallian engineering running in time to help evacuate citizens from Bruhl, and it was chance that had them enlisted into the same squad. It was a coincidence that Alicia could never shake off, and it kept her interest in Welkin relevant even now. She still remembered the relief she felt when all hope was lost at Bruhl and the Edelweiss rode in to save many town watch lives. Every battle, every skirmish, every social conflict within the squad, Welkin was there to help her through. Before her now, was a behemoth that not even the Edelweiss could slay, and the sound of gunfire rattling the valley made it known that the Regiment had strutted confidently into a trap.
“Hey, Twintails!” Largo shouted for Alicia’s attention as the steel behemoth took every shot from the three tanks parked right next to the northernmost camp. Her and four crews worth of soldiers were ducked under sandbags with nothing else between them and the Batomys. It was practically her own squadron of infantry that consisted of the first two crews of Squads Seven and Eight. Given that the two commanders were within tanks, they couldn't give orders in real time, and Squad 8’s lead NCO seemed in worst shape than Alicia given the fearsome enemy before them. Largo of course knew that both the young Sergeants where experiencing some major pressure right now, but his reluctance to take a leadership position didn’t allow him to act either, so He was talking to Alicia in order to force her to act, “The Boss ain’t actually expectin’ us to fight that thing, is he?!”
“Order’s were to hold a perimeter around the Ruins until-”
“Dammit, girl!”It was Coby that erupted, “That was before the Imps proved they could compensate with guns the size of naval rifles!”
“The order stands, Gramps!” Alicia gave her head a subtle shake after realizing she was beginning to pick up Largo’s nicknames, but also because she never understood Coby’s beef with her, “In any case, we’re sitting ducks if those guns start to point here, and Welkin isn’t close to stopping that beast. Salinas!”
Alicia shouted as loud as she could to beckon the known tank fanatic from wherever he was on the line. It wasn’t long before the red-haired shocktrooper came running at a crouch and rested close to the sandbags next to Alicia, “You called?”
“What can you guess we’re dealing with here?”
Despite already getting a good look at the tank earlier, Salinas still peeked his head over the sandbags to observe the vehicle as he spoke, “I can only speculate, but – I’m guessing two-hundred fifty to three-hundred tons depending on the thickness of the armor. Those forward facing guns seem to be repurposed naval cannons probably within nine to ten inches wide. Only typical armament is the 122mm at the rear and the nines on the sides.”
“Any weaknesses?”
Salinas shook his head.
“None that I can see. Whatever radiators they’re using for the engine are well hidden. Other than that, armor is usually weakest for tanks on the sides and rear.”
All Alicia could do was sigh. She already knew armor was weaker on a tank if not on the front, but she was hoping Salinas would be the one to spot a weakness right away.
“Sorry,” said Salinas. Feeling that her drawn out sigh was because he failed to meet her expectations, “But it’s not exactly conventional in terms of tanks.”
“That’s fine, you helped a lot. Return to your crew.” As Salinas nodded his head and followed orders Alicia got a good look at those around her. With her counterpart in Squad 8 all but shitting his pants, the eyes of all crew chiefs rested on her, even Rosie. This is what she hated. All of their lives were in her hands, and she never knew the best thing to do in these situations. It seemed Welkin always did though. “We’ll end up burnt loaves if those main guns start firing here. We need to split up. Squad 8 will divide their forces evenly to each tank and provide support in any way they can. Use their armor as cover and if they fall – retreat! Largo!”
“What you need me to do?” Largo’s grin was growing now that things were getting moving. At least moving away from the Batomys’ main armament.
“If the Edelweiss’ AP is struggling to pierce from the front, then maybe your HEAT can work from the side. Take cover in the trench east and shoot everything you got. Make those machine guns priority. Rosie, your crew is on me. Move!”
Swinging her rifle from her shoulder, Alicia was the first over the top before enough time passed to echo the orders to everyone. Each crew was heading to their position, and from the periscope of the Batomys Maximilian watched what looked like ants under a log scattering.
“I do hope your crew has manned our anti-infantry defenses, Captain.” Maximilian knew the call for action stations was already given, and his tone was one of apathy.
“Of course, Your Grace. The Gallians will learn quickly that the Batomys is your mobile fortress!”
“An ignorant statement,” Muttered the prince, moving the periscope up out of his way, “Have B company send in a platoon for good measure. What is the status on those Gallian…tanks?”
“Fleeing, Your Grace. Like the mice they are. Order me to a halt, and I can take out all three in a single salvo if it pleases Your Grace.” The Captain bowed and saluted to assure his monarch that he was not making demands, but asking for permission to finish off the tanks scratching their paint.
“It will please me to squash them under my heel. Direct all power to the engines and make for their nearest camp.”
“Yes, Your Grace!” The Captain turned to those manning the bridge and yelled at the helm. “I want her in top gear, Corporal! Head for that clutter they call a camp. Have engineering overheat the engines.”
As the orders were carried out through the Batomys the sound of the engines delivering every ounce of power they could offer radiated from the walls. It was the fantastic hum of twelve-hundred mechanical horses going to work, each one constructed by the hands of Imperial Loyalists for the specific purpose of carrying their Prince into battle. And perhaps most importantly, make him victorious in battle.
“Medic!” Largo was screaming at the top of his lungs while reloading his Lance to return fire at the multiple machine guns firing into their trench. It was extraordinary that any man could protrude his voice over gunfire and distant artillery explosions loud enough for the surrounding people to hear. But Largo had lived his life as a soldier, he practically yelled all the time without meaning to. He was about to cry out again, unsure if Gina had heard his call, but sure enough she ran to Coby with he large Medpac.
At some point during their assault Coby had taken a 9mm rifle round through his chest and was wriggling on the floor. It was a miracle that the bullet didn’t originate from the flanking fire of Imperials coming over the ridge that the Ruins were situated on, but Rosie and Alicia worked quickly to redirect their fire. Still, the chances for Coby seemed slim, at least to Gina’s eyes. The Gallian Field Ragnaid Pack, and medical technology on account of ragnite, was almost a miracle machine that had a one time use for near death situations such as this. But Gina knew that he would need to be taken to a field surgeon right away in order to even have that slim chance. Given the low medical supplies, due to having no connection to the Gallian supply chain, this miracle of medical science would probably be better used on someone else. There was no convincing Largo of that though, and with only the slightest hesitation, Gina got the pack ready for use while hostile bullets flew just inches over her head.
“Fleet! Go!” Largo shouted at Montley, who without hesitation launched himself over the top of the trench and attracted the attention of the machine guns of the Batomys. It was slightly unnerving just how used he was to being the bait of Largo’s crew, but it’s because he was fast. Just fast enough to let Jann, Walter and Largo take aim and disable three turrets on the behemoth. As usual, when Montley finally made back into the cover of the trenches he grasped at his heart through the fabric of his uniform as Musaad gave him a pat on the back. It was about that time that Alicia returned to the trench with Rosie’s crew.
“That’s it, Twintails!” Largo was still shouting, “That’s all my lancers can do. That damn beast has a hymen more than a foot thick, and our HEAT ain’t strong enough!”
“That’s more than enough. Where are the tanks?”
“Retreating!” Spat back Largo, “And so should we before the Imps run over the camp.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Alicia nodded at the suggestion and then ran over the edge of the trench straight to the Batomys, “Get your crews to the second camp!”
“Wait! Where the hell are you going?!”
“I need to talk to Welkin!”
“Use a goddamn engineer! Agh, fuck it! Let’s get outta here.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Agreed Rosie, “Crazy broad.”
Largo muttered so Rosie wouldn’t hear his rebuke, “Yeah, you’re one to talk.”
With no machine gun fire to worry about, and the slow moving rear turret unable to keep up with her movements, Alicia ran across the Batomys and up to the front of the Edelweiss which she jumped on. As she did, the main gun fired and a ringing begun in her right ear. It was a minor injury that Alicia was used to seeing heal quite quickly, and just as suspected, it stopped as soon as it came. Welkin was inside the tank, and the hatch of it was locked. To get the lieutenants attention Alicia knocked on the hatch with the butt of her rifle. There was a phone piece at the rear of the tank to communicate with him, but the steady reverse speed they kept up to retreat and the infantry around it would make using it a hassle. It wasn’t long before the hatch opened to reveal a frustrated looking Welkin. It was an emotion that Alicia wasn’t used to seeing on Welkin and didn’t speak as quickly as she intended to. So Welkin was the first to do so.
“Grr… He’s just gonna mow our camps down!” Welkin slammed his fist on the turret of the Edelweiss wot exert his frustration even more, “He’s not even shooting at us!”
“Do you want him to, Welkin!?” Deep in the recesses of the tank Alicia could hear Ramal groaning a complaint to Isara’s driving, which seemed to be agitating his wounds, “I for one don’t want to see–“
Welkin held up a finger and placed his palm on one of the speakers of his headset, informing Alicia that a radio transmission was likely coming from above. Alicia could only hear Welkin’s half of the conversation.
“Roger that… I’ll give it a try.” A little time passed before Welkin spoke more, “I understand. We’ll try to hold our ground here.”
That was the last thing Alicia wanted to hear from Welkin’s mouth. What was the Captain thinking keeping them here? Is there at least going to be reinforcements? Tanks and lances aren’t doing shit! The only thing Alicia could think of is that the rest of the regiment was somehow in worse condition. It was then that the blood drained from her face as that ominous feeling and images of the woman accompanying the Prince in the ruins returned to her. It had to be her. Alicia just couldn’t figure out why. All she could was hope that Faldio would be alright.
“We may have to cover the retreat of the rest of the regiment,” Welkin’s words brought Alicia back to her own situation. Calming was how she would describe his voice – despite the circumstances, “Which means we don’t have to kill it. We just have to slow that behemoth down with as much rubble as we can throw in front of it!”
“How, exactly?”
“The armor will fire HE at the base of that wall after you get the infantry to the next camp. After that we wait and hope the rubble will buy us time and cover.”
“What if it doesn’t slow it down?” Alicia wasn’t sure anything could after the Batomys just ran over a camp.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”
“Fine,” Alicia wasn’t one to doubt Welkin’s planning after all the success it had brought the squad, “give us some cover when we start to run.”
“All right! Go!” Welkin slammed the hatch of the turret down. He preferred to stay in the relative silence of the tank during battle, in contrast to Natalie who always had her upper body outside.
Alicia directly told the Squad 8 infantry behind the Edelweiss to follow her, and used a combination of Hand signals and Engineer radios to get the attention of the other portions of the Squad and get them onboard with the plan. Of course, it wasn’t until all the infantry exposed themselves that the forward machine gun of the Batomys started firing. The gunner had seen Alicia on the tank, but knowing most of the infantry was in cover, thought it better to save his ammo until it counted. Now, from his perspective, a ton of infantry was fleeing and he pulled the trigger releasing a deadly volley of flanking fire. The three Gallian tanks fired their coaxial guns with tracers to try and blind him, which was effective, but it didn’t stop a few members from Squad 8 to fall.
Alicia was at the front of the pack, and she could hear the constant buzzing of near misses erupting around her. She was even sure she felt a bullet pass between the threads of her hair as it trailed behind her in a full sprint. It was another thing she hated. Since Vasel she was constantly having to run between crews of the squad. And this balancing act of life and death she had to endure as some uncanny luck kept her alive and killed others was not something she appreciated. The hail of bullets was cut short when the Edelweiss fired a well placed AP round into the machine gun turret. It seemed like these were some of the weakest points of the Batomys, but shooting them offline wasn’t doing anything to the behemoth itself. Like a few insect bites to a person, it was of little effect. The little effect it did have was beneficial to the boots on the ground, so long as they avoided the starboard side of the Batomys.
The distance the infantry had to run was quite long and the sprint they maintained during it allowed the Edelweiss and the others to retreat at a faster speed alongside them. It wasn’t long before three shots from the tanks roared in Alicia’s ears and the cracking of a thousand ton wall resonated within her chest as the weight of it shook the ground beneath her. It was a miracle she kept her footing at all running at that speed, at least long enough to vault herself over the sandbag perimeter of the second camp.
“Woah!” Hannes was sitting against the wall and grabbed Alicia’s side adjust her position. She had landed directly on his lap and she felt the large package in his pants, “That’s a tender spot Twintails.”
So the rumors are true. Alicia didn’t let the thought stick. She hastily removed herself from Hannes’ lap and turned around to see if the plan had worked. The dust was still clearing from the fall of the rubble, but it was just clear enough to make out that the wall had fallen in the path of the Batomys. Welkin didn’t wait to see if the plan had worked to put another volley of HE into the next wall. It was a danger close situation with just how close the rubble landed to the second camp. With six crews of D Battery alongside her, they watched in anticipation as the Batomys came to a halt. “You’re move, Maximilian.”
Inside the bridge of the Batomys, Maximilian looked at the roadblock through a periscope. It was a feeble attempt to trip a giant, by a race of worms, but they’ll soon know better when the club comes down. After all, the Gallians made him spill his tea.
“Captain, begin main firing sequence.”
“Yes, Your Grace!” The Captain began shouting into voicepipes to order the gunnery officer, “Begin main guns firing sequence!”
Immediately upon hearing the orders, the gunnery officer started a timer and echoed the orders, “Aye, sir! PAFS is underway!”
With drilled precision, all the crewmen around the gunnery officer started loading the gun. Below him two more guns were undergoing the same procedures for loading with almost machine like proficiency.
“Range; one-hundred eighty-three meters. Depress Rifle one negative four degrees. Rifles two and three at zero degrees.” This was the range finder communicating to all those orienting the guns.
Then the confirmation came from all three guns.
“Rifle two; loaded and ready.”
“Rifle one; loaded and ready.”
“Rifle three; loaded and ready.”
The gunnery officer stopped the timer, and was impressed with the results, “PAFS complete, Captain. Awaiting orders.”
“Your Grace, the Batomys is ready to fire at your command.” The Captain was bowing and facing towards Maximilian.
“…Fire”
“Fire!” Echoed the Captain.
Alicia watched. Alicia waited. But she was not expecting the sight she saw. All three forward facing guns erupted with a ground shattering blast that rippled across the sands, only to be followed by an explosion that kicked up the pile of blue bricks from the recently destroyed wall. They were flying towards the camp as if launched from a trebuchet. Alicia saw one of the bricks land directly on a member of Squad 8 as others fell in in random directions to kick up hundreds of pounds of sand. Everyone was running about or crouching in cover while Alicia sat awestruck. It wasn’t long before a decent number of soldiers were scattering, with an explosion like that many were probably making their way to the pass south in order to retreat. That wasn’t good.
Welkin! Alicia hugged her rifle as she tried to catch her breath. Welkin, think of something!
Maximilian watched the carnage through his periscope. It was a spectacular result. Even for someone who had seen the guns in testing during their developmental stage.
“Our first roadblock has been cleared, Your Grace. Ragna-cannon cooldown is now commencing.”
“Spectacular work, Captain. Keep our speed low so that we may use our main gun with accuracy.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” The Captain turned to the helm, “Low Gear, Corporal! Engineering, monitor our heat very closely!”

Welkin had to open the hatch of the Edelweiss to see more clearly. He had never seen such a display of firepower ever in his life. But he was not as awestruck as the members of D Battery braving the storm with him. He was still frustrated over his power to do nothing. He had to defend his newfound family, his squad. The emotion burned in him as hotly as the blue heat escaping the Batomys’ radiators.
“Augh… That main cannon is lethal!” Welkin shook his head to wave the emotions off. Searching for a detail he had already seen, but not noticed, “There must be a way to stop that thing…”
“Welks, look at that!” Isara’s shouting gave Ramal more pain to complain about in the seat next to her, “Their radiators! They must be using them to cool the cannon after firing it. Welks, if we destroy them, it could greatly upset the tank’s function and stability.”
She’s right! Welkin, like his father before him, began running many calculations through his mind about the potential outcomes of the battle. The best case scenario, they rundown this tank and help the rest of the regiment with what sounded like the battle of their lives. Radio transmissions that screamed into his headset was only making his mind more clouded from the situation in front of him.
Welkin knew from the start that this valley was a bad idea. If not for the trust he had in Captain Varrot he wouldn’t have ever thought to make camp here no matter how much of the regiment was present to defend it. There was hope though. Hope that the Imperials had abandoned Barious soon after getting pushed back, but there was something important to this location if Maximilian himself had come. And that woman. Welkin had to shake his head again to get her out of his mind. She was the one causing mayhem for his comrades out east, and this wasn’t the time to be fantasizing about her. She was another cause to his cloudy mind. But he still had time left before the next shot at the second pile of rubble. If things went right, he wouldn’t have to shoot down another wall. It was time to rally what was left of D Battery.
Shouting into his comms, Welkin screamed for an engineer, “Anyone! Get me Alicia on the line!”

Alicia didn't even have time to calm her own fears about the situation. Helplessness was not a feeling she wanted to experience anymore than she had to, but her decision to join the Militia had only increased the times she felt it. If she had the power that the Batomys wielded she wouldn’t even need to rely on Welkin. Or lust for him either. She called it lust, but there was definitely more feelings to it than that. None of that mattered as she worked diligently to try and rally the fleeing members of the Squads, Shouting that they were to hold the line, or the whole regiment could potentially be wiped out.
“Miss Alicia…” Dallas was doing her best to try and get the young sergeants attention.
“All right!” Alicia was happy to get most of the leadership around her and prevent half her original forces at the camp from retreating prematurely. “We can’t permanently stop it, but we need to slow it down long enough to allow the regiment to withdraw in an orderly fashion.”
“M-Miss Alicia…” Dallas tried again.
“We keep the crews in pairs! Largo you take yours and eight’s first crew to the front and lay down all the anti-tank fire you can. Rosie will run her pair to the trench across from us and Juno’s pair will stay to the behemoths right. Having it surrounded will-”
“MISS ALICIA!” This time Dallas screamed, and caught the attention of every Crew Chief from both squads. Alicia looked vexedly at Dallas, forcing the young engineer to smile and drop the initial insult she had planned for Welkin as she held out the phone piece to her radio pack. “It’s the lieutenant.”
Say so sooner! Alicia swiped the phone from Dallas and began speaking. All the crew chiefs listened anxiously. It was about that time that Welkin would finally put together a flawless plan to victory, or at least one that would minimize anymore losses than they had taken. Coby was probably already on a jeep heading towards the FOB. It was hard to tell what the conversation was truly about, all they heard was incomplete questions from Alicia’s side. It was one word that caught their attention. “Radiators?”
Alicia turned toward the Batomys as she muttered that question and the crew chiefs followed her gaze to see the weakness they were all looking for. Three radiators sinking slowly back into the bowels of the behemoth they were fighting. An easy detail to miss when you’re only concerned with the size of the machine.
“Roger that!” Alicia said into the radio, “We’ll handle it.”
Alicia returned the phone piece to Dallas and returned to her conversation with the crew chiefs. “Plan’s the same, but all but Largo’s team will lie in wait for the next shot and we storm the radiators. Ramona will take left, Susie will take right…and I’ll get the rear. Go!”
Maximilian was again monitoring the progress of the battle, but something that caught his eyes was not pleasant to them. The Gallians had stopped retreating. They were planning something. And the timing of such a counter-offensive was not something to be taking lightly. They shouldn’t even have been able to approach this quickly.
“Insolent vermin. Captain, what is the status on the arrival of B Company’s platoon?”
“It seems the platoon from B company has yet to arrive, Your Grace.”
Or they were taken out, thought the Prince. He had underestimated his enemy. A mistake he would not make again. “Tell Selvaria to make haste here at once, lest we fall to these swarming insects!”
“Your Grace?” The Captain was confused. They were winning the battle.
“Now, Captain!”
“My most sincere apologies. Right away, Your Grace.” After a deep bow the captain nodded to his equally as confused communications officer.

Welkin was monitoring his troops movements from the relative safety og the Edelweiss when more news reached him from the radio of his headset. It was Varrot, “Lieutenant, Squads 1 and 3 have suffered heavy losses out east. I’m pulling them out.”
Squads 1 and 3 had been the last of the squads to try and hold the ambush back while a disorderly retreat was rushing across the pass with concentrated artillery fire exploding like hellfire all around them. Welkin and Faldio were aware that something had to be done assure that as many of the fleeing infantry and tanks were able to exit from the pass before the regiment was utterly annihilated by the ceaseless wave of Imperials. It seemed Faldio’s meager defense to the east was the first to fall. Welkin cursed under his breath uncharacteristically, causing Isara to flash a look of concern towards him.
“Welkin… It’s me, Faldio. I’m sorry, but we couldn’t do a thing against her.” Faldio’s radio transmission was failing to come in clearly under the man’s heavy panting, “She had a spiral lance and shield. They… They were the arms of a Valkyria, Welkin–”
Faldio’s transmission abruptly cut off. It was all Welkin could do to hope that his friend suddenly became busy, and was not killed.
“Her forces have ceased moving south and are heading west.” Behind Varrot’s transmission from the pass was yelling and artillery fire, “It’s likely her unit will be arriving there soon, as backup. Do not, I repeat, do not engage her! Our only chance is that you stop that tank!”
“Understood!” Welkin took a deep breath and considered his options. There was no way to make Alicia move faster to execute the plans that he had laid out for her, but he would need more boots on the ground to defend from new forces if that beautiful woman was heading this way. Welkin shook his head again and tried to focus, it would do no good if his loins continued to boil every time he thought of her. It was time to call in the last of his reserves, there was no telling how many Imperials would storm the west valley now that defenses crumbled in the east. “Catherine, do you copy!?”
“How may I assist you, sir?” Catherine’s usual accent came in calm and clear for Welkin. She was definitely a woman beyond her years, and was not phased by the panic of the rest of the regiment so long as duty called.
“I need you on the ridge housing the ruins to defend for as long as you can against a coming wave of Imperials. Stop everything that comes our way, but do not engage the witch!”
“My crew is on it, sir.” Catherine turned to her young crew, who were restless given what was unfolding around them. Behind them was every last person in the regiment running for their lives and in front of them everyone they knew was likely facing certain death. Their orders until that second were to hold.
Catherine returned the phone piece of the radio to Karl who held the cumbersome equipment on his back. Then she tilted her slightly in wonder as to whether or not Welkin meant for her to take the fourth crew of 8^th Squadron that was also currently in her charge. She had ultimately decided to leave them behind when an agitated Vyse finally approached her.
“Look chief! I don’t care what the boss says anymore! We can’t just sit here and do nothing while they risk their lives to stop that...that thing!”
Behind Vyse stood Aika, Alex, Ted, Nadine, and even Fina with weapons in hand. Catherine was proud of those under her, and she would do anything to see them walk out of this war alive. She did wish they were just a little less high-strung though, it was a trait she wished she lacked in the last war. A war that still haunted her until this day. But before the memories came back she looked to the daring adventurer, who’s face was an inch from hers as he challenged her natural submission to orders.
“You won’t have to,” Catherine smiled, creating a look of confusion of the young shocktrooper’s face before her own face took a more serious look, “grab only weapons and ammo. We’re moving out. Squad 8 is staying here.”
Catherine grabbed her sniper rifle and jumped the sandbags. Vyse watched her ass sway for a moment before cocking his own weapon, “Fuck yeah!”
The rest of the crew followed in excitement.

Standing behind a ruined wall of what was likely an ancient home thousands of years ago, Susie waited for the Batomys to stroll up into position as it took aim for the second roadblock that Welkin had shot down with the other tanks. Her legs were trembling, and the rifle that she had neglected to fire a single shot from shook in her hands. She felt she had to pee and the vibrations that shook her bones from the ground as the Batomys was happening by did not help the sensation. Why of all the sides that Alicia chose for her to rush would she choose the side with the most guns still active!? This question plagued Susie’s thoughts, that, and the morbid realization that if she failed her entire squad would likely die from her inaction.
“Breathe, just breathe, Susie…” Susie was whispering silently to herself. With no one else around it was up to herself to motivate her to strike the giant with the lone grenade hanging around her waist. It was then that it struck her why Alicia had chosen her. No supply chain meant no one had been able to replenish their grenades, except those who had no need for them up until now. In Susie’s case, she just never wanted to use it.
Alicia and Susie suffered from the same nightmares since Bruhl had been under siege. But unlike Alicia, it was never Susie’s choice to join the militia, nor was she courageous enough to face the fears that war often brought like Alicia. Susie wiped the tears from her face–tears?! She hadn’t even realized she’d been crying, she could only hope that her crew was not in a position to see her doing it. She cursed her dad for forcing her through this torture, but not even with him would she be willing to commit violence against. Damn war. One more year and daddy would’ve approached the Gunther household to propose Welkin marry her after he completed college just like she had asked him. But she was sure that would never happen now. Then her worst fears came true. The Batomys stopped.
Susie forgot to breathe again as she forced her feet to start moving at a sprint toward the vehicle. The machine guns on this side of the Batomys had yet to open fire. The people manning them had no doubt been anticipating the titanic roar of the main armament and had not even been paying attention to any approaching infantry. Especially a lone blonde scout with a pink bow and the curls in her hair flailing with the wind like a doll in a bicycle basket. A wind that seemed to be picking up quite a bit since the morning hours.
Just feet away from the Batomys is when the main armament finally fired, and at that distance Susie tripped under herself onto the hard dirt. With the fall knocking the wind out her she remembered that she had forgotten to breathe again as she got on all fours with fragile limbs that refused to move the way she wanted them to. She had lost her rifle from all the dust being kicked up and spent a moment to feel around for it as her eyes stung from fine particles of sand returning to the ground. It didn’t take long before she decided that she didn’t need her rifle and crawled for the ladder just a few feet from her. The steel was expectantly hot and on her way up the sound of the radiator egressing from the hull caught her ears. Her eyes, still struggled to remain open and were no good to her yet. She was panting for every breath she could find upon reaching the top and the hot wind circulating in Barious was sending a refreshing breeze up her skirt. With the sleeve of her uniform she wiped away a mixture of tears and sand that had held her eyes closed before grabbing the grenade on her waist and pulling the safety from it. She was about to throw the explosive into the exposed radiator when explosions from the other two knocked her off her feet and she let go of the grenade. The explosive mass attached to a long shaft landed beside her on the steel of the hull–there wasn’t much time. Susie flipped her self to reach for the grenade, and after a hail mary toss she rolled off the hull of the Batomys just in time to avoid the debris with only the heat of the explosion basking he face. At least until she hit the ground.
For the second time in seconds, Susie had the wind knocked out of her and pain in her ankle. She struggled for breath and to run back to her hiding spot with the pain in her left leg. The Batomys had to be destroyed know, right? Why was she trying to run? Therw was no way in her mind she could see that machinery survive what they just put it through, so instead of going into the cover of her hiding spot, she turned around. To her surprise, the Batomys seemed untouched. And the machine guns that gave her no notice earlier were now pointing at her.
“Susie! Run!”
The voice came from afar. It was a desperate cry for a friend that came from all directions and Susie’s mind could not recognize it given the dire situation she was in. Susie leapt for a four foot wall not far from her for cover, her back against it by the time the buzzing bullets erupted around her.
“Aaaagh!” Susie was screaming and covering her ears to try and stop the sound of bullets impacting just inches from her body. Each bullet left a crater on both the wall and the dirt, sending small particles of brick and rock flailing in random directions. Each and every soft or hard impact made Susie flail just the same in response as if she was being beat with a switch by her old maid. A butterfly could’ve have landed on her hand, and her reaction would be the same. Every breath she took was answered with another scream until the Imperials manning the machine guns got bored of their target and fired at more alluring prey.
Susie’s throat was so raw it could’ve been been bleeding. Her breath more uncontrollable than she could ever remember in her lifetime, and her heart ready to explode. Her knees were to her chest and her hands were still pressed against her ears by the time Alicia jumped over the wall to check on the well-being of her friend. It had been her voice that cried to Susie. A quick inspection by Alicia made it clear that Susie was not all right. Although miraculously unharmed by the fire her and the wall just sustained, Susie’s wide teary eyes, shaking body and the stench of urine emanating from the wet dirt beneath her skirt said otherwise.
“Susie…?”Alicia breathed to a near whisper. She too was out of breath from the speed she came to check up on Susie. If Susie did hear her, she did not show it. Alicia attempted to touch Susie’s shoulder, but again the young blonde flinched with a mewling whine like a switch had struck her. Alicia tried again more softly, this time with success. Susie looked at her friend without any change of her expression, “You’re going to be okay.”
Susie only nodded, and a fresh stream of tears began rolling down her face.
“Can you come with me?”
Susie nodded again, but made no effort to move.
“Okay.” Alicia began to help her up, noticing the swollen ankle she kept her arm around her, “C’mon, I got you. I got you.”

“Captain, report.” Maximilian’s voice was impatient and temperamental as he demanded answers from the awestruck captain. Smoke slowly began to fill the bridge.
“I–uh…We, um…” The captain struggled for words as dozens of reports flooded the voicepipes.
“Did I choose an ape to command this vessel?! Speak! Or fall with this Empire’s enemies!”
“Y-Your Grace. Our Radiators have been hit. We can’t risk running the engine for much longer, and fires have broken out.” The captain grabbed a handkerchief to wipe the accumulating sweat from his brow, but it was not from the heat.
“Rragh! Presumptuous little vermin!” Maximilian had suspected this would happen after he had underestimated his enemy enough to not call for more than just a platoon of infantry support.
“Captain!” The comms officer spoke, “Transmission from General Bles!”
The captain turned away from Maximilian to respond, “Tell her this fortress stands without aid moving or stationary–”
A gunshot ended the captain’s life, and Maximilian returned the gold accented revolver into his cloak, “Put her through.”
“Y-yes, Your Grace!”
“Your Grace! Are you all right!” Selvaria had arrived just in time to see the explosions rock the hull of the Batomys.
“Fine.” Maximilian tried not to sound annoyed by a drop of blood from the captain on his boot, “The tank itself is perfectly intact, though not for long at this rate.”
“Understood.” Selvaria’s voice was pleading for his safety, “I’ll be there momentarily, sir.”
“See that you are…” Maximilian hated to admit it, but he should have relied on her more during this engagement. He did not have the power he needed to dispose of her yet. But he will.
Selvaria’s Azure flame surrounded her like a shield, and while countless men fell beside her from the nuisance of snipers raining down on her advancing forces, not a single bullet penetrated her flame–each dissolving like sugar in hot tea. When a daring Gallian shocktrooper left cover momentarily Selvaria shot her down with her lance, as well as the Engineer that tried to pull her back to cover. Since then the squad that was proving meddlesome on her march towards Maximilian kept to just well-hidden snipers. Whatever hopeless measures they pulled, it would not halt her advance.
Meanwhile, orders from Welkin had echoed throughout the crews, ‘concentrate all firepower on the behemoth.’ Inside of a roofless hut was Oscar, Jane and Elysse. While Elysse was firing the last of her lance ammunition at the Batomys, Jane and Oscar were doing their best to keep the oncoming imperials at bay. Imperials that were rushing from the east like bats out of hell. From all side the Batomys was being hit, while incoming artillery fire that Welkin had called in was trying to zero in on the position as Welkin continued to call the the shots. Danger close at this range, nut all of Squad 7 and 8 understood that this beast needed to be taken out before they could run. It wouldn’t buy them a lot of time, but the little it did would be precious.
From Oscars point of view it had seemed that Jane was piling dozens of imps that got a certain distance from the hut, while he kept a count of this own kills.
“Twenty-seven,” Oscar pulled the bolt back to chamber another round without his eye leaving the sight of his sniper rifle, then fired. “Twenty-eight.”
“Last mag! Are you done yet, Fencer?! Or you gonna leave us hear like bait for the imps to munch down on!?” Jane was pissed. It really was her last mag. There was no more ammunition to be passed around by the regiment, and she was too trigger happy to get any sympathy from the others.
“Almost!” Elysse was trying to load another rocket at the tip of her lance without burning herself even through her gloves. The weapon was peeling paint from the heat of firing so many rounds in such a short time.
Knowing the issue, Oscar jumped down from his elevated perch and passed Jane his rifle, “Use this!”
Without warning Elysse of his intentions, he unzipped his trousers and pulled his dick out, “This is the last of the water now too.”
Oscar’s urine steamed into a putrid smelling steam that wafted its way toward Elysse who didn’t even have time to move before she realized what the fifteen year-old was doing. She certainly thought he was big for his age though.
“That should do it,” Oscar covered himself up again and took his rifle back from Jane after seeing that she was starting to drain his reserves of ammunition too. Elysse grabbed her lance without it burning, and put her last rocket on the tip. This would be it and then they would run.
The shot flew true to its target, and the HEAT round did what it could at what she thought was the weakest part of the frontal armor. Whatever the rocket did, it did not stop the main cannon of the Batomys from moving towards her. “Get down!”
After shouting at her two comrades she leapt from the hut they were in into a trench not too far away. It was enough to keep her safe from the resulting explosion that lit the back of her militia issued coat on fire. Rolling to put it out she caught a glimpse of Hannes running into the running building to pull his friends out from the wreckage. Over his right shoulder was Jane, who’s back was covered in blood as she cursed the Valkyria of legend for ever bringing ragnite into the minds of people. Oscar, in Hannes right arm, was bleeding from the head and was unconscious. He ran back the way he came, which had him right next to Elysse, where he stopped before carrying on.
“Can you run!” He waited for confirmation from Elysse, a nod, before he ran on ahead of her.
Elysse, was now unarmed except for a 9mm pistol she had holstered to her back. She didn’t bother to pull it out as she ran knowing that it would do nothing to defeat the smoking behemoth behind her, and it was a fat chance that she could hit anyone with it while running back to the last camp in the valley. It wasn’t long before she witnessed a bullet fly into Hannes’ right buttock, causing the giant of a man to fall forward and dropping Jane onto her back.
“Aagh!!!!” Jane screamed louder than Hannes could complain that something hit him, “Can’t you do a rescue right you grizzly fucktard!?”
Trying to hurry from lany more bullets that might be coming towards them he grabbed Jane by the arm and committed to dragging her the rest of the way. Elysse grabbed her other arm to prevent her from dragging on her already wounded back. It was easy for the short lancer to keep up now that Hannes was suffering from a major limp.

Inside the Batomys, Maximilian was dealing with his own problems. Every hit threatening to knock him down–one form the Edelweiss did knock him down into the captain’s pool of blood–and every explosion creating fires that were beginning to thicken the air with smoke. The loss of the engine meant that the air wouldn’t circulate or eject the smoke as it should. One by one the voices from the voicepipes stopped coming and the crew of the bridge were suggesting they abandon the Batomys and did their best to protect him from any shrapnel the onslaught of Gallian fire produced. Fools! He thought, knowing they were actually safer inside the Batomys than outside at the moment. He thought himkself a fool too though. Blinded too much by the possibility of ridding his enemy of morale to consider what little military training he had. That’s what Selvaria was supposed to be for. He had already accepted his own defeat. Welkin Gunther. He would see to it that every Europan bearing any similar name dead at the end of the war. “Rgh…The Batomys, lost to this rabble.”
It wasn’t long before a concerned looking Selvaria stormed into the bridge, her azure flame working a magic that somehow cleansed the air of its smoke. Upon seeing the blood on his white royal uniform she grew even more concerned, if that was possible, “Your Grace, are you injured?!”
Selvaria is here, he though, now I am safer outside, “Selvaria, plans for the Marmota must be adjusted to account for these failures.”
“In due time, Grace! You’re in danger here. My men will see you to safety.”
Maximilian stared at Selvaria in silence. He was thinking about the way the Gunther boy was looking at her earlier, maybe–just maybe–he could lure the young lieutenant to his side of the conflict if he could get Selvaria to seduce the boy. That would surely be a bigger blow to Gallian morale than him simply dying. Maximilian thought about the headlines, ‘Hero’s Son Betrays Gallia for Pussy.’ That would certainly rile these proud Gallians up. The lieutenant’s military capabilities already seemed to surpass Selvaria’s and his, even Jaeger’s. After all, it wasn’t fair to think of Selvaria as just a military asset, her womanly assets could very well seduce–
“Your Grace!” Selvaria spoke with urgency. There was another brief silence before Maximilian replied.
“Very well. Lead the way, Selvaria.”

“Yes! We managed to beat that thing back!” Welkin was practically leaping for joy inside the Edelweiss. Isara was also smiling in celebration, and even Ramal couldn’t hide the grin on his face. I can kill them both, right now! This was Welkin’s thoughts. Though he did not want to kill the woman. The prince would be enough to end the war and make up for the casualties they claimed today, “Captain! Send the remainder of the eastern force my way. We can still–“
“That’s a negative, Lieutenant.”
“But, Captain!”
“There isn’t much left to send, and we weren’t the only regiment ambushed today, they all were. HQ is under threat of enemy advance, and we are heavily outnumbered.” Varrot was being a little more harsh with her voice. It was unusual for Welkin of all people to question orders. “If we don’t pull out now we’ll never make it out of Barious alive, and this is our only chance to get ahead. Have you seen the horizon?”
Welkin looked out to see a familiar sight that had not plagued them for some time. A dust storm approaching fast, same could be said for the Imperial advance too. There was too many. But he could still do something, he still had one chance. The azure flame was brighter than the sun itself even at this distance. The Edelweiss took its aim and he gave the command as his squad retreated out of the pass, “Ready. Fire!”
This would do it. There was no doubt in Welkin’s mind that the Prince was close to her. He hated to bring her death as well, but…it didn’t work. The dust storm was going to hit the Imperials first, and as it did, even at this range, he saw what Faldio was talking about. The witch was Valkyria, and she deflected the 88mm shot like a fly that got too close to her face. Then the dust came...
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May 20, 1935 – 22:16 Hours, Barious
Welkin had been sitting against the turret of the Edelweiss drawing inside the journal that he kept handy on him at all times. As usual, Isara was inside the tank–practically living inside of it–likely trying to keep Ramal from trying to leave the tank on account of medical personnel saying he was not in the condition to do so. Welkin had a lot of things on his mind since the last battle. It was already made certain that Coby was going to die, and several of the members of his squad were already put on the first vehicle speeding out of Barious while the rest of the regiment was setting up defensive positions against what looked like a complete pincer movement by the Imperials. It was a race, and the sandstorm, and the moonless night, had bought the entire regiment a lot of vital time to get ahead. But that being the case, Squad 7s usual luck meant getting the best of the war, which in turn also meant getting the worst of it. The regiment was assigned to cover the rear of the retreating Gallians, because it was the least devastated regiment despite the staggering losses of walking into an ambush.
Welkin just kept drawing. Almost half of Squad 8 had been lost fighting alongside his squad, some believed to have just deserted, and all but a single tank and a few boots was what remained of Faldio’s. 1^st Squadron had recently been ordered to consolidate with Welkin’s given the lack of numbers they had, which benefited all of D Battery, allowing them to have the extra tank that they had been lacking up until now. It did mean A Battery was operating at only forty percent capacity, but the order was handed down by Varrot, who had concluded that the shell-shocked Faldio could use some closure with his best friend after losing almost every life in his squad. Before all of the communication equipment was moved or scrapped at HQ, Varrot had sent a message to Amatriain to muster enough troops to make up for the losses of all squads. It was a somber business, counting the deaths and unrecoverable, then ordering replacements like they were meager objects, but a business that had to be done.
Faldio had holed himself inside his tank, Black Rose, not bothering to give instructions to the few people of his squad that remained; they too, slumped on whatever rock or tread they could find in silence. The night seemed darker on their side of the camp, a complete contrast to the usual attitude that once radiated the once proficient and feared 1^st Squadron. It was all Welkin could do to keep an eye on that corner of the camp to see if any of them would be willing to talk before the night’s end, but he had doubts that they would come around that quickly. Welkin’s own squad was an issue of its own. Largo’s crew had somehow managed to conjure a collection of strong spirits that they sipped to honor Coby, and to wish the best of Hannes, who had courageously ran to the rescue of his friends with the Batomys in his way. Rosie was cursing herself for ever letting Jane out of her sight, with half her crew supporting her decisions and the other half questioning them in her crew’s usual dysfunctional family vibe. Juno’s crew kept it’s natural distance from each other, but the holes seemed deeper with two of their own missing, and Catherine’s crew was in a deep state of mourning while the vet circled around sharing words of wisdom and comfort.
Welkin finally stopped drawing in his journal to observe the surprising image he had put together that took up an entire page. It was the Brigadier General, Selvaria Bles, in the nude. Or at least how Welkin imagined her nude. Welkin had put hundreds of observations inside his journal pertaining to the world of biology, including the research he was conducting into the reproductive habits and rituals of many species including humans. What he looked at now was an ideal specimen of beauty that had kept his dick hard since meeting her. It was not easy to admit that his mind had been deep in thought about her while the rest of the squad was dealing with it’s first real blow to the luck that had followed them since Vasel. All luck ran out eventually though, and they were not some invincible squad would get through the war unscathed like some children’s fantasy book. Or maybe after the days events it could be a fairy tale. After seeing her deflect a tank shell directly from the Edelweiss, it was clear that Selvaria was not human, but a Valkyria. It was a species that had been all but deleted from the face of the Earth for thousands of years, and the only question that plagued Welkin’s mind was; how do they breed? Or could they? With a human of all things. Given that Selvaria was the only known being of her kind outside of House Randgriz, a family that had carefully chosen spouses to remain pure, the answer could be yes or no. No, meaning that House Randgriz and Selvaria probably had a family line that endured from incestuous acts. Yes, meaning Welkin could do exactly what he wanted to and–
“Lieutenant Gunther, sir.”
Welkin snapped his journal shut to hide the pornographic imagery within and flinched at the sudden calling of his name. The person hailing him was Montley, or Fleet by those in the squad, and was the designated runner of Squad 7 for the night, “What’s the news, Montley?”
“The medical staff would like to speak with you.”
Welkin was waiting for more to be said as Montley stood awkwardly in the silence, “Is that all?”
“Umm,” Montley shifted uncomfortably, “Another group is coming in, from the 2^nd Regiment by the looks of it.
“All right, thanks Montley.” Welkin put his journal back into his breast pocket and sheathed his pen. “Tell everyone to take their ammo like the last group.”
“Yes, sir!”
Montley was fast, and practically disappeared in the darkness within a few yards. Welkin stood up and opened the hatch of the Edelweiss just enough to announce to Isara that he was heading for the medical tent. With Ramal moaning as loud as he was Welkin didn’t wait for a response and left, figuring that his sister was busy trying to calm the young boy down as she tended his wounds.
Truth is, that’s exactly what Isara had been doing moments before, but even she was left wondering how it got to the point of Ramal’s dick being in her mouth. She was no expert at fellatio, Ramal was learning that quickly, the only time he had gotten his dick sucked previously was when he had forced Rosie to suck on his while most of the late 1^st Squadron gave her a cum bath. And Rosie was really good at sucking cock. Isara movements were all awkward and her teeth were really getting in the way of his pleasure. But he was no fool, getting his dick sucked–even by a Darcsen–was not something he would pass up. With his lack of size Isara was still able to swallow his small penis whole, whether she would’ve done that on her own was a mystery since Ramal used what little strength he had left to force her to take the entirety of his cock.
This had all started when Isara was switching out the bandages on his torso with fresh ones. His bare scrawny chest did little for her in way of arousal, especially when she had gotten more than an eyeful of men like Salinas and her brother. Both of them were built in a way that would get Isara’s heart pumping and her pussy itching more than she’d like to admit, especially when it came to her brother. But as she was cleaning the wounds, Ramal had started getting hard because she lacked any proper clothing inside the Edelweiss save for her shawl and skirt, and all that extra skin was more than enough for Ramal to act on his urges and pull his little dick out. Of course there was no point rubbing one out on his own, he wasn’t much into animals, but Isara had a soft pair of hands and a wet mouth. He pulled her hands away from his chest and forced her hands to please his hard cock. Eventually those hands became her mouth and with one hand grasping her oily hair and the other playing with her small breasts, It got Ramal thinking that perhaps all sexual assets of a Darcsen were small, ignoring his own lack of endowment. Regardless, he felt the spunk in his balls begin to boil even despite her bad blowjob. As it was her submission to his dominance that got him going more.
“You’re a dirty little Darcsen fuck! You know that?!” Ramal grasped her hair harder, earning him a groan from Isara, “You’re not even good for blowjob. I’ve seen children suck a lollipop with more skill than your worthless mouth-pussy can.”
Ramal stopped using his other hand to squeeze her beasts and wet a finger with his spit, “I can smell your crusty asshole from here.”
Ramal shoved his wet finger in her asshole and wriggled it like a worm. The sudden invasion made Isara gasp around his cock and bite down ever so slightly. Ramal was not a fan of her teeth scrapping the surface of his sensitive cock, but for whatever reason the light bite was enough to get a jerking reaction out of him. Thrusting his dick as far as it would go was still not enough to make the Darcsen choke, but the benefit of a small cock is that it didn’t take much effort to get it into her mouth all the way to the hilt. He played with her ass more roughly, earning him more small bites from the oily Darcsen as he fucked her mouth with all the force that his weakened body could allow, and released a torrent of cum Into Isara’s mouth without warning.
The young Darcsen was overwhelmed from the unfamiliar sensation and was unsure whether to swallow or spit out, but she had grown an appreciation for the taste of cum by licking clean the cumshots that Salinas had often left on the Edelweiss. There was no saying whether the hot liquicd would damage the paint or armor of the steel behemoth, or at least that’s how she justified the act. So without being told, she swallowed down every ejaculation as it happened. The thrill of her first real sexual experience was making her blush as the hot fluid tickled its way down her throat like honey. She was almost ready to go further, but the sudden force that Ramal had conjured to fuck the Darcsen mouth-pussy was gone and when she pulled away from his softening dick she saw his eyelids were heavy and that Ramal was fading quickly to sleep.
Her hard breathing did not subside so quickly though. Isara sat back down on the drivers seat of the Edelweiss and started to work her way towards a climax she could enjoy. Her mind fantasizing on her brother of all people. Choking on his dick the same way Rosie had claimed to. Suddenly, Isara did not blame the redheaded crew chief for fantasizing about her brothers cock as badly as she did when she was getting bullied. Her fantasy was not of the redhead harlot or any false pretenses of blonde preference, but of a sibling love that would continue the Gunther line in the isolation of their humble home. Isara was not typically a squirter, but by the time she was done, the driver’s seat of the Edelweiss was a pool of her pussy’s fluid.
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That concludes the Battle of Barious pt.2. And as always, thanks for reading. -JPR
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Tales of the Europan War