"Indecent acts done by people brainwashed by Germany." Betelion's worser half says.
It took a month for things to become shaky. There have been many reports regarding the rift that's been happening between Betelion and… Betelion. Yes, that's right; something's happening in the empire's inner circles. The rift's been there for quite some time now, even before the alliance. But after; the rift became bigger.
A telegram was sent; it was a message from King Apple (apparently he was in the embassy). It read;
"In regards to the kingdom of Betelion, we require your help. Betelion's Duke of the West has revolted against my better will. Because of Auferstehen, most of Betelion's garrisons have next to no knights stationed. We require the help of your army,
Regards,
King Apple."
( * )
Brushing in the bushes, winter's snow still drying up. Platoon A. The simple designation, yet the most deadliest group. "Hierd's Fifty Man Army."
The best of troops, the best of gear, the best of minds. Only the most elite of troops can join platoon A.
They moved silently in the shadows of the trees, under the warmth of the afternoon sun. Just a kilometer away was their target. But they weren't going to be shooting that close. "All we need to do, is shoot the duke from far away."
Matthaus readied his PTRS-41. Even from three kilometers away, his rifle can pierce any foe.
His spotter saddled along side him in the bushes, flaring his binoculars up along with Matthaus and his scope.
The serenity of silence. A beauty that was to pierced open by his rifle in a few moments. He took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh air around them, the flutter of the trees, the distant sounds of birds chirping. He took it all in.
"The wind's blowing lightly to the west," He factored in, "From a kilometer, wind is everything. I'm aiming a bit to the right."
"Matt." The spotter spoke, "A thousand three hundred meters, balcony window."
"Perfect." He slowly groped his way to his scope, feeling the turret, he slowly rotated his dial. Counting the elevation sights in his scope, he slowly began tilting his gun up.
"The hill won't make a difference. The chances I miss are near thirty percent, weak."
He flipped off his safety, calmly putting his finger on the trigger.
-
One,
Two,
Three,
"Four." Matthaus ended a life in mere four seconds.
A pat from the back, "Great as always, Matt. Now we let the Betelions do all the work."
"Yes, sir."
They disappeared in the foliage.
( * )
Betelion forces captured the duke's dun in the span of that day, the rebels lost that game. But they weren't out of the 'war.'
The duke died too early for any real progress to be made for the rebellion's cause. Too, too early. But early next morning, they prepared a naval assault onto the capital, they knew SMS Baden was docked on it's shores, and that Germany's embassy was being built there.
The duke's modus operandi was simple; "As time rages on, our traditional ways of making our gadgets shall be fleeting like wind with the rise of Germany's influence. 'Borrowing' technology and refining it is not Betelion's wants! We a people are meant to discover and create, not recreate!"
He died with those words stuck on papers, but his plans have yet to fade. Before his death, he anointed two 'generals' (one for the army and one for his navy) to lead three battalions (the third was to be in his care before his untimely death). And they weren't going to let his death be in vain.
Betelion had their minds too focused on technology and studying in that German university. "So, we will destroy the Baden, sink the ship, sink the newfound 'pride.' Along with that embassy." General Harp. A forgettable name, said.
He rallied his battalion, they were a ragtag pack of knights, wielding pikes and spears no magic, no nothing special. Their armor was supplied by a sieged Betelionic factory near the carved border of the rebellion.
Harp's footmen raced at dawn to the sea side capital, the barrage of wooden warships also. "Beware." Cautioned the Venit Ille reconeers. "Rebels coming in from land and sea."
The radio was warning enough. The king assembled his volunteer militia of footmen and some reserve knights, seven hundred in total. But the rebel foot battalion was reported to have at least a thousand.
There was a small force of German guardsmen (Ridge brown soldiers set to defend the embassy). A lot of twenty soldiers with optimal experience in a bit of everything. Only one tank and it's whole squad was there.
Immediately, the platoon of German soldiers made their way with the tank to the supposed gate where the rebels were to charge into. Under the command of the king's guard, the militia spent their time readying their arrows, set up on the city wall's battlements.
While that was happening, the embassy's director, and the engineers and sailors ran to the SMS Baden. Time was of the essence. Captain Jack, Adelheid, and Hierd were all jam packed in the radio call. Teaching the Betelionic sailors how to operate the ship.
They were slower than German sailors. Severely slow. They did not understand how the engines worked at all yet. But that was understandable, usually someone not from Germany should take about one to two years training on the ship to fully understand it, not in two hours.
"Control the guns instead, their ships are coming from the sea aren't they? Ready the main guns atleast." Hierd said.
The immediate workforce, engineers, sailors and all, were on their way to fuel the ship's turrets.
"The rebel's are here!" Shouted the knights and footmen, indeed they were here, from the land; coming fast to the city with their steads, spears trained to the gate.
The tanks and bowmen wasted no time shooting at the approaching battalion. The battalion was hasty enough to hide behind their shields, however unwieldy such shield were.
The first barrage of bullet fire rained down onto the battalion's vanguard. Breaking it almost instantly. The rebels fell back, bringing on their own lines of fire. Arrows switched the clouds at that moment, dulling the light of the moon, darkening the plains below.
The tiger approached forth, cupola closed and turret firing. Three were fired in the span of a minute. Devasting blows met at the gate, no rebel daring to step a single foot forward. The militia's enthusiasm got higher by the minute, and charged forth, abandoning their arrow positions.
Pikes and spears in hand, they charged forth hiding behind the tank for protecting against any stray arrows.
But battle wasn't happening only at that front, to the capital's port; only Baden's two front turrets were ready to be fired, the aft turrets were still being reloaded. But, approaching from yonder view. The embassy director and the engineers saw; "the rebels are approaching!"
A bell rang across the whole ship, the wooden warships of the rebels were coming seaward. Their cannons weren't pointed forth towards the city, they were frankly still not set in direction, but it doesn't take long for the winds to start favoring the other side.
The officers at the bridge didn't know how elevations and rotations worked. With that, the engineers eventually figured out how after a VERY detailed explanation from Adelheid. But it took too long, there were four sloops, one larger one they were slowly making their way forward to the sea infront of the Baden.
While making their way, already their cannons shoot at the city. The grapeshot multiplied the damage like does the shotgun. The building walls were rubbled the windows shattered. Remaining citizens at the port ran for their lives inward the city.
Baden's turrets invigorated to life. The sloops ran at three knots, varying as the speed and current slowed down a little. A live target sitting on a pond like a duck, it took a lot of back and forwards to get the accuracy just right. When, finally; the engineers at the bridge yelled; "Fire!"
The large wooden ship at the very front of the formation went shining down to the waters down below. Sighting in with their binoculars, they watched as the ship drowned in fire, sailors jumping off the wooden railing, and the canvases scorched by the same blaze that terrorized the bottom wooden hull.
The biggest wooden warship the rebels had in their arsenal was gone as easily as that, a fire that sank the ship in ten minutes.
A gale picked up, air pushed the sloops forward. Almost as if God ordained it so. Whish, whish; the canvases on the four remaining sloops went away faster, yet still the current was not on their side as did the winds.
Baden's upper bow turret sprung into action, taking as much time as they could getting the angles just right for the firing. Then a bell wrung, the two barrels fired onto their target, hitting one fatally, another at it's mast.
While the sinking sloop drowned in the water, it did not go down dying in vain; cannons, many of them, began firing. Now with normal cannon balls that focused more on penetration than the grapeshot's small numerous balls.
One hit the hull, causing no dent, and one hit the bow's wooden floor, splinting the wood panels into pieces, hitting nothing vital to speak of.
The first turret was now primed to fire, with the sloops now retreating a little seaward to 'get away from the turret's effective firing distance.' They'd yet to consider that what they were looking at was no ordinary ship. It was a battleship!
The wooden rudders turned slowly to the sea, the canvases facing windward to stop all movement, letting the sea's current guide them. The sloops captain retorted his reasoning; "We need accuracy! And distance! This'll be as if we're fighting in the storm!"
A round of cannon barrage threatened the port, doing damage to numerous buildings as well as the wooden panels that secured the port's hold onto the shore. Baden remained unfazed.
Elevation increased a little. Now, with the assistance of Hierd, he helped the engineers prime the AA guns into action. It took awhile but they got the gist of it. Now these weren't the normal 'small' AA guns, these were naval guns with eight-eight centimeter barrel openings. Big, cumbersome, and took a crew to fire a bullet. But big was exactly what was needed to take down these medieval ships.
Stationed directly below the bridge's gang ways. There was small margin wherein it could straight at the ships, and the sailors who were using her could not miss a single shot.
Loaded,
"Fire!"
It hit the already damaged sloop's captain's cabin. But not the hull! It needs to sink not be damaged. "Again!" The sailors reloaded it to the best of their ability, it took slow but it got there. It'd be one more minute before the main turret could fire again; "Fire!"
Now it hit deep, the ship's keel? Or the ship's belly? They didn't know, but the crewmen of the ship with the missing mast began panicking, and it seemed to be that the ship's sheer was elevating in one direction and sinking in another.
The main turrets fired up again; this time the engineers were to shoot one barrel at a time (as they had found they could do it singularly). She fired once more, hitting now the sloops at the back of the line.
Effectively.
The naval threats were extinguished of their flames. The last of the ships still afloat scurried away, but they sunk from the turret's fire before they could've done so.
Back at the fight at the plains; because of the guns and the tanks, the rebel knights fled the scene, a decisive retreat.
News of the victory reached Hierd's ears. The capital was damaged, but not harmed. No casualties. Ten civilians were injured light to moderate, too some dangerously courageous militant knights.
The next morning; the militia had to move west, where the dukedom lived. The villages were freed from the rebels, some cities too. Nobles were killed during the rebellion, and king apple did not take that lightly. After he received news that some of his nobles died; he wanted revenge immediately. It would've took them three days to reach the duke's dun, but Germany helped out in the process. With trucks and one tank, they carried a company of knights towards the dun in a matter of a day.
It was night when the forces came, they looked at the city. Scouting for the routes where they could go and charge at. The city was lit-up bright, and the gates were protected with companies of knights. It was twelve in the morning when they reached; most of the knights looked to have been drowsy.
"It's simple." The German lieutenant said; "we will assist by firing at the main gate with our tank. At the moment we fire; your company of knights then charge to the gate and storm inside."
"Indeed," agreed the Betelionic commander.
The company inched closer, still inside the forest they were hiding inside in. It was invisible; the tank that was above a little the company. The barrel's tip the only distinction from the dark greenery that surrounded it.
"We're firing in three seconds." The radio cut.
As explosions lined the stone walls, the gate and rebel knights. The militia charged forth with their spears pointed towards the screaming rebels.
The approaching militia was seen by the rebels too late and Betelion got their hits on in first. Attacking the already frightened with burnt rebels, impaling them deeper with every plunge.
With the main gate gone, the suspected four hundred or so garrisoned in the city (which had dropped to about three hundred sixty from the gate bombardment) ran on their horses, racing towards the front to respond to the sudden attack.
They dismounted their horses and joined the crowds of rebels as the rubble that covered the gate was too mountainous for their horses to jump over with.
"Pssh!" The striking of spears, seemingly all happening in one fell swoop. As the rebels climed the wall of rubble, spears met them and death chased them. The milita's commander yelled out; "they've fallen! Rush inside!"
The rebels quickly encountered the rushing Betelion forces, overwhelmed, they retreat further in the city. The citizens hiding inside the houses, boarding up their windows and awaiting.
"How many!?" Screamed the rebel General at his knights.
"W-we don't know sir, and judging from the German tanks, or… T-tanks…?"
"Oh! For dang!" He slapped the man's helmet, the pang recoiled his hand back. "Y-you don't even know how many there are!"
He calmed down a bit, when 'a bit' means chihuahua to cat. "The cannon volley is already moving, yes?" Looking at the man, he took it as a yes. "Germany's tank… Or tanks… Can't enter through the main gate cause of the ruckus they made, all's be the knights and footmen from Betelion. Then--pull the drawbridge close."
"B-but, sir?"
"What!"
"What about our forces inside the city?" His expression was grave, did he have a comrade out there?
The commander did not say anything. His silent, yet, angry expression was enough to convey the answer he didn't want.
---
"Cannons!" Yelled the militia. "Hide! They have cannons!"
"We have zero counters for their cannons!" Thought then the Betelionic commander. "And there's only so few of my men who actually know the drills to evade these things. I need the Germans!"
Betelion had already taken over almost the entirety of the city's gate-side. And within the militia were some German scouts that were documenting it all. But they didn't have any rectangular, iron boxes that could be used to 'wirelessly communicate' with the forces the commander wanted to talk to.
He looked away, "improbable!"
Using the off-time offered by the cannons, the militia moved as quickly as possible forward whilst still finding cover. It was difficult and ultimately there were many injuries. The rebels managed to take ahold of some branches of street once controlled by the militia during the cannon fire.
"Bowmen!" He shouted in a scolding tone; "find high ground or retreat to high ground, why even are you in the midst of battle you twacks!" The commander ran towards his line of infantry men further in.
"They've retracted the drawbridge sir," grimly stated by the knight.
"Which means these guys have nothing els' to do but fire to survive, shame. It's bloody but their cannonballs'll be running out now."
"What about the drawbridge, sir?" The man questioned. "How are we going to cross to the castle?"
He peeked up from their cover to see the cannons still firing, observing the castle in the near distance with it's windows still shining. He formulated a plan; "We won't be going in. We'll be staying out till they eat themselves!"
( * )
It was the next day. The Betelions won with countless losses, but atleast they won? They won over the mass of cannon last night, now they're safekeeping the city the following morning.
"Sir." A Venit-Ille soldier represented himself to the commander, "quite the approach you've put together, indeed they'll stay locked up in here, but this plan'll backfire seeing as your forces are too weak."
"I figure," he sat and sighed deeply out of exhaustion. "But you Germans are here, and that's enough to scare them, their General's waitin' and so will we." -The commander looked now, straight in his eyes- "a favor. We need just un' of your tanks somewhere long' the hill. Like that tank you used last night."
"To scare them."
"Yes."
"I shall inform my superiors."
"Thank you, good sir."
The soldier exited the commander's tent with a pile of papers tucked between his shoulders (presumably writings of the happenstance that happened here at the duke's city).
The remaining citizens there were escorted out of their houses and were given ample reasons to leave. The Germans took them to Betelion's capital just two days later.
---
In King Apple's castle; nobles began lining up to claim heritage. It came to no surprise that after the death of the duke and most other nobles inside the then rebel's range that other nobles were now climbing up to the stairs to claim land.
"Till it has come to my attention that those unfortunate nobles have still their successors, I shall not name anyone to govern those lands. For the betterment of all, these lands shall be ruled under one name; tis I." King Apple's announcement sounded over the halls of the castle, the nobles all sighed in defeat.
There happened two major events in that castle that day. The other was King Apple's message and the other one was better kept in their minds; some hundred German sailors rowed theirselfs into port under a certain Captain Farday.
It started with a far away signature, the only men who noticed it were the sailors sitting, resting on their wooden merchant ships. By the next moment; it became clear what was approaching. A German ship!
"All eyes to the sea! It a ship from dee' Germans!" Yelled the coxswains!
The SMS Baden docked on the shore suddenly wasn't the height of curiosity now, it was the approaching Germans! Even from far away, the guns, the white-looking metal reflecting off the sun; and the distinctive black smoke.
A machine barreling towards them.
It slowed, and slowed as it reached nearer and nearer a vacant spot of the dock; the sailors prepping her already to dock. Phish and phish went the ropes grappling onto the metal bollards; soon then the ship's massive iron anchor at the bow was lowered into the water.
All manner of people gathered to the German ship. The cold iron so worn from the months it's been at sea. The K-3 sloop, used-and-abused. Her crew, a tough, battle hardened crew of experienced seamen. Their captain, though a little late, fit like a glove.
Sailors, merchants, and military personnel (all whom has ridden the same rough seas) looked at the ship, astonished it even floats. 'How does it float?' Like the first time the K-3 came to Krimvald; questions floated round and circulated like a heart, the brain neither answering.
Standing on the bow drawing up to the stern; white-claddened sailors, their distinct blue strips and the captain in a suit of navy blue; standing with posture so obidient and unmoving that even through looking at them; the crowd was almost forced to obey the same.
The plank was lowered and the captain was the first to step off. Immidiately, Betelion's Admiral bowed to the captain. "Admiral, I am a captain."
The man couldn't tell under the guise of a naval suit, so sharp and so expensive looking that there had to be no way he was merely a captain. "No matter, your unexpected visit… 'Frightened' us, some would say."
"It seems the information had yet to cascade the echelon." Farway replied, giving a folded piece of paper; he promptly picked it up.
Reading it, he felt relieved it wasn't something regarding the rebels. "You are here to train our sailors?"
Farday's eyes went for the Baden, seemingly awaiting him to enter on her deck. He smiled; "That's exactly right."