**Port Ministral**
A troop ship was currently docked, carrying the banner of the Novoros Duchy. Soldiers disembarked, clad in their uniforms, while others moved vehicles as they arrived in the land of the Draconian Empire.
"Isn't it beautiful, sir?" an officer asked as he observed the bustling port city. They were in a section of the harbor accessible only to the military. Their troop carrier ships, loaned by the Draconian Empire, had been stripped of any advanced technology.
"Indeed it is, although not quite like our cities. It lacks a modern touch—no paved roads, and I see few cars. Most of the vehicles here are military, and some people are still using older versions of military hardware," the commander replied, taking in the scene as citizens went about their daily routines.
Soon, the disembarkation was complete. The first of many Novoros soldiers had arrived, bringing with them their equipment: Sherden main battle tanks (M60 Patton) and their AK1 standard-issue rifles (M1 Garand). The soldiers had a WWII German aesthetic but with camo to blend into the environment.
"Division Commander, I see your soldiers have arrived," said a Draconian officer.
"Yes, my first mechanized division is the first to arrive. Others will follow in the coming days. Which would you prefer—the long march or the air march?"
"The long march. I want to take in the scenery."
"Good. The train leaves in 10 hours, but all your soldiers must carry only 20 bullets. Relax, there's no enemy threat since you're riding the military train. Your division is fully protected. Have them enjoy the city first, and gather them at the military train station in 5 hours," the officer explained, and the commander nodded.
He then instructed the battalion and regimental commanders to let their men rest for a while and gather them in 5 hours.
"So, where's the nearest pub?" he asked the Draconian officer. After receiving directions, he thanked the officer and made his way to the pub. Upon arrival, he ordered a local beer called Shaparrino.
"This beer tastes great. Who founded this?" he asked the bartender.
"A man from a faraway nation. It's a nationwide favorite, and the Emperor co-founded the venture, funding the production. The owner was allowed to stay here and produce this beer, which has become highly demanded. Fortunately, it's easy to produce," the bartender replied, placing another bottle near the officer.
"Damn, this is a great beer. I better buy a few dozen before leaving," the officer exclaimed, enjoying his drink.
**A Few Hours Later**
The Novoros soldiers stood in formation, waiting for their turn to board the train.
"Alright, next company, form a single line and enter the coach. Make sure to find your seats, as those will be your beds for the next two days," said the vice commander, organizing the soldiers as they boarded. The train could accommodate an entire division, or two divisions at full capacity.
The division commander, chatting with some Empire officers, inquired, "So we have to be mindful of enemy stragglers who might attack us?"
"Yes, we're still clearing the area. This train ends at the forward operating base. When you continue your march north, be wary of enemy mercenaries—they're still an issue," the Draconian intel officer warned, pointing to a platoon of soldiers.
"They'll accompany you; they're part of the unit dealing with the insurgents," the officer added.
"I see. I better get going," the commander said, heading to the main coach where the temporary HQ was set up.
**Temporary HQ Coach**
After placing down maps and setting up the usual protocol, the officer felt the train start moving. A knock came at the door.
"Enter," he said.
"Sir, the train is moving, and everyone is accounted for," reported the vice commander.
"Alright, good. Have our men get the rest and hot food they need. A warm sleep will be crucial before we reach the north," the commander said, finishing his paperwork before heading to the dining hall. The dining area was decorated simply, as the Empire focused on normalcy rather than luxury, avoiding the encouragement of greed among officers.
"What would you like for dinner, sir?" asked the waiter.
"Anything that can fill me up," he responded, and the waiter left after a quick bow.
**A Few Minutes Later**
The butler returned with a few cuts of steak, some vegetables on the side, a pint of beer, and a glass of water.
"Enjoy your meal, sir," the butler said, bowing.
After a hearty meal, the commander returned to his cabin, completed his journal, and then decided to visit the other coaches where the soldiers were eating. They greeted their commander as some played songs and shared stories.
'Hey Janna, it's been a month since we last saw each other. I know you're waiting for your darling to return, but I'm afraid you'll have to wait a few more months. My leave was canceled, and we were mobilized to the Draconian Empire. The rumors were false—they don't feel superior, but they're kind to anyone with good intentions. The cities may be behind in technology, but they are very durable, and the lands feel secure despite the ongoing war.
I know we'll meet soon, but I'm sending this letter now with some of my salary and a souvenir from the Empire.
Love, Balen'
A soldier named Balen finished writing his letter, folded it, and placed it in a box. Inside were a few items bought from the Draconian gift shop and some canned food. He planned to ship it once they arrived at one of the cities they would stop by.
"Hey Balen, gonna ship it to your fiancée?" asked a soldier above his bunk bed.
"Yeah, we planned to travel to the Draconian Empire on a vacation promo, but it was canceled since we had to mobilize," Balen responded, pulling a blanket over himself as he prepared to nap.
**A Few Days Later**
As the military train continued, the soldiers grew bored. Some tried to fire at cows in the agricultural sector, only to be met with the MPs' hard batons and had their weapons confiscated.
"Like I said, soldiers—don't fire your weapons in allied territory! Do you want to get court-martialed?" shouted their commanding officer, furious. The offending soldiers were forced to sleep without blankets as punishment and were assigned extra trench work upon arrival at the frontline.
**Sean's POV**
That night…
Though he had arrived in time, Sean knew that casualties were already high for the special forces battalion.
"Have our men form groups of arrows and intercept enemy reinforcements. Commit to hit-and-run tactics—just a few slashes and fall back!" he shouted command after command, and the men quickly relayed the orders.
Soon, a forbidden cavalryman thrust his spear forward, grazing the rear of the enemy formation and killing a few as they were punctured through the head. He weaved past arrows, his black cloth whipping in the wind.
"Let's go!" he shouted, changing targets unpredictably.
Swish. Boom. Boom.
Explosions rang out as some cavalrymen threw grenades into the crowds. A group of titans was met with a huge greatsword, cleaving through them as the blood knights smashed some against trees and swiftly cut down others.
"Have our men open a retreat path for the soldiers!" Sean ordered, moving forward toward the trapped cavalrymen. As he increased speed, he drew more power, and as they charged at 50 miles per hour, he drew his sword, which emitted a blue light. He shouted a war cry lost to history.
BOOOOOOOM
The opposition was torn to shreds or blown away as Sean swung his sword at incredible speed, followed by his soldiers, who tore through the enemy formation, heading toward the trapped allied headquarters.
"On me!" Graves, seeing the opportunity, rallied the others who weren't busy, shouting at the crumbling enemy formation. They poured the remaining ammo into the enemy soldiers as the Chronos Horde collapsed like an old wooden support, trying to flee in all directions.
"1st Battalion soldiers, gather around me!" Sean shouted from atop a hill.
"You heard the orders, let's go!" Graves shouted. His elven companion also followed, leaping from tall tree branches and drawing her sword, thrusting and slashing anyone who got near. Graves equipped his bayonet, cutting down the remaining stragglers as they swung their maces. He thrust at their chests, smashed their heads with the butt of his gun, and fired the remaining rounds in his magazine. Before reloading, he saw seven more soldiers charging toward him.
BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.
In quick succession, he drew his pistol and fired seven rounds, hitting each target squarely in the head. The enemy soldiers dropped dead. He holstered his pistol and replaced the magazine with his last one.
"Haaah," he sighed, noticing a deep cut wound on his left hip. He wasn't sure when he'd gotten it—perhaps during the allies' arrival.
"Sir, we're saved," one of the operators said, hopeful as he saw the enemy forces retreating. Sean gave chase, leaving the enemy with no option but to run or face extermination.
"Don't worry now, we have arrived. Count your wounded and dead, we will transport them back," Sean said, emotionless, as he wiped his sword clean of enemy blood and sheathed it.
**The Aftermath**
Over 30 soldiers were dead in each company, with 20 dead in Graves' company. The entire battalion was shaken; this was the highest casualty count
in the Special Operations Division. Half the company's manpower was wounded, and only a quarter was still able to fight.
"Have them placed in carriages since that's the only transportation we brought. Treat the wounded first, and send riders out to request trucks when we exit the forest."
"Yes, sir."
This rescue operation would likely lead to changes in the Special Operations Corps, as officers and other parties studied the event to correct their mistakes and improve their doctrine.
**To be continued…**