(Please read the admiral's lines in the voice of Victor Saltzpyre)
"Kroniisiah, bless this boat, and all these boats, that they may row safely across these godless waters, surrounded by the harpoons of heathens, to their destination."
A shot from the port fired off, the sound like a thunderclap. The cannonball whizzed overhead and crashed loudly in the water behind the rowboat, water splashing out unto the soldiers. But the crew remained still, heads down in prayer.
"Bless these soldiers, and all your soldiers, that they may storm the beaches of heresy, and take back from these snakes that which they stole from Your loyal servants."
Gunfire rattled off in the distance, as the frigates behind the rowboats returned fire towards the port. A soldier tightened his grip around his musket. The admiral remained focused, eyes closed as he raised his sword before him.
"Bless these guns, these bayonets, this blade, that they may cut down the traitors and false prophets, and bring them to Your infinite justice."
An enemy cannon fired off again. Then another. The shots landed in the frigates providing covering fire, but they in turn continued to shoot at the enemy. A rebel cannon exploded into splinters and fragments of steel as it takes a direct hit. The faithful soldiers kept their heads down.
"Warden of All, deliver us from the clutches of Cortana. We ask this in Your perfect name. G-wak."
"G-wak," the soldiers repeated behind him, finishing the prayer.
"Men," the admiral said as he raised his head and addressed them, "the tyrants who once crushed rebellion under their heels have joined the ranks of the very same traitors, and it is up to us now to deliver justice unto them."
They were close now. Three cannons fired off, their shots landing all just to the sides of the boat. The other soldiers on the boats around them began to fire off their own muskets.
"Look how their shots miss their marks!" He yelled now, screaming over the sound of the shots going off all around them. "The Kroniisiah protects us from their attacks, both physical and spiritual! Who is to say we do not carry out Her will?!"
The enemy soldiers could be seen by the naked eye, now. They aimed their muskets down the walls of the fortress and began firing upon the invading ships, yet none of their targets fell.
"We are Her chosen soldiers! Affix your bayonets and raise your guns, and take aim for the enemy! Not just the men who betrayed our home, but the very idea of betrayal itself!"
The soldiers readied themselves as their boat hit on the beach. They flinched at the sudden shift of momentum, but began to jump off, led by their valiant admiral.
"We will retake Schizograd in Her name!" He yelled, raising his sword and pointing it at the occupied prison. "To victory, men! Charge!!"
Then, the landing party was blown away as a cannonball landed just inches from the admiral, the men sent flying in every direction in an explosion of gravel.
Deliverance
"We thank you for coming on short notice, Admiral," Senator Gearman said with a handshake before sitting down at his desk. His perfectly groomed mustache and fine jacket denoted his status "Please, take a seat." The well dressed politician motioned at a tray of fancy bottles of expensive alcohol on his desk. "Can we get you anything?"
"I'm not a drinking man, Senator," Admiral Timesworth responded, still standing. The tall, thin, and gaunt man was dressed in full officer regalia, the three gear-shaped pins on his lapel and the three rings on the face of his clock brooch signifying his rank as an admiral of the Holy Republic Navy. He held his hat in his arms, revealing his perfectly trimmed crew cut. "A matter as urgent as this hardly calls for drinks, I might add," he said, looking directly at the glass of brandy in the senator's hand.
"Right," Gearman replied. "Straight to business then. Pendulum?"
"Admiral Timesworth," General Pendulum said as he stood up. His manicured beard made him look sharp and serious. "We called you here because you know how to get things done when it comes to... rebels."
"Ouroboros? What have those heathens done now?" The admiral quickly commented.
"They've taken ahold of Schizograd."
The usually stone cold and unflinching expression of Timesworth grimaced with shock. "Taken? You mean those backwards schizos took ahold of the prison? That fortress of a prison?"
Both of the men who called for him paused, looking at each other regrettably before they could respond.
"There's no easy way to put this," the senator said with a quiet tone. "The remnants of the Blessed State of The One Infinitopia have armed Ouroboros and declared them the true church, and joined their ranks. Or, had them join theirs, as it so happens."
"The former government - your former superiors - are behind the uprising," Pendulum added. "They've taken control of one of our experimental ships, no less, and while it's been immobilized, it's firing upon anyone who comes near."
Timesworth grew pale. For all his career, he served the Blessed State against schizos and separatists, and now they have become the very thing they wanted to destroy? He was disgusted with them. To see such rigid authority fall from grace to join the likes of Ouroboros...
Gearman nodded slowly. "We understand that fighting the Blessed State's men would be difficult for you, given your loya--"
"I am loyal to no government, no party, and no politician," Timesworth interrupted. Gearman visibly backed away for a moment before the admiral continued, "I am loyal only to the Kroniisiah. If the so called 'Blessed' State has become her enemies, then I will deal with them as I have dealt with all of the Kroniisiah's enemies."
"Excellent," the general said, nodding curtly. "I hate to admit it, but the rebels have taken control of the defenses we've established on Schizograd as well as the ship they've commandeered. Your task will not be easy."
"Blessed are those who must suffer to serve the Goddess," Timesworth recited. "My fleet will retake the stolen ship and the prison, with the Kroniisiah's grace."
"Oh, the stolen ship is being handled," Senator Gearman said with a wave of the hand. Instantly, the general beside him sighed deeply, as if what the senator said deeply upset him, but the senator ignored it. "One of our scribes - he went missing months ago, on a mission to archive the cultures of outsiders, but he's returned. He apparently made contact with some... foreign mercenaries."
"Ugh," Pendulum groaned. "I have no clue why the Senate approved of hiring Matiyotl to recover the ironclad."
"Matiyotl? Ironclad?! Are you trying to tell me that not only has Ouroboros stolen the Continuum, but we've left the task of recovering it in the hands of cannibals?!" The admiral asked incredulously. "We haven't even unveiled it to our own people, and you're inviting barbarians to get the first look?"
"Both of you simmer down," Gearman said before finishing his drink and setting the glass down. "Xenophobia and isolationism was the way of the Blessed State, and look what's become of them."
Pendulum grumbled. "Not this sanctimonious bullshit again, Gearman--"
"And," the senator continued, "the Matiyotl are experienced with raiding and capturing ships in one piece, a skill our own navy is lacking. You can't just blow the Continuum to smithereens like you're used to, Timesworth. Infinitum needs it captured, or we're back to square one with the project. Not to mention the iron plating would make sinking it near impossible."
Both military men kept quiet, silently accepting there was nothing to be done about this endeavor. "Fine," Timesworth said finally, breaking the silence. "But if this ends up with secrets leaking out to spear-chucking, man-eating tribals, don't say you weren't warned."
"Your disapproval is noted, Timesworth," Gearman shrugged. "As is your prejudice."
"Good." The general muttered, approving of Timesworth's distrust of outsiders.
"Shut it," the senator snapped. "Admiral, your duty is to lead a fleet to take back Schizograd once the mercenaries have neutralized the Continuum. When she flies the flag of our navy once more, that's your signal to begin the assault."
"Lovely," Timesworth scoffed. "The fate of my mission hinges on primitive savages taking on our most advanced ship, and winning. Why don't you just shoot me now and get it over with?"
"Trust me, they'll handle it. Pendulum?"
The general rolled out a map of island of Schizograd, and the waters surrounding it. Marked on it were the positions of the stolen ship, and various defenses installed on the fortress defending the prison. "Once the ironclad is captured, your fleet will get within firing distance, but no closer as the coast is full of mines. You'll offload rowboats with marines to get closer, as they're too light to trigger the mines. The frigates will provide covering fire as the marines get closer, until they land and the fighting on the ground starts. The marines capture the fort, we put the traitors to the sword, you get another medal, and we all go home to toast glasses of Kronii Sweat."
"And we can't use the Continuum's main gun to disable the fortress' gunnery from a safe distance, because?" Timesworth asked sarcastically, noting the immobilized ironclad was well within distance to shell the fortress.
"Because the main gun doesn't actually work," Gearman responded. "Not yet anyway. Captain Mobius and his crew have been performing drills on the ship for all of one week and already they've noted a number of imperfections with the construction of the ship, chief among them the fact the main gun is too heavy for the emplacement. So when the ship was docked back at Boros Harbor so maintainance could work on it, Ouroboros boarded and made off into the night."
"Wonderful," Timesworth said with a shrug of his own. "We'll be taking Schizograd, one of our most defended positions, back from heretics. And we're using rowboats."
"I know it sounds hopeless, Admiral," Pendulum said, "but you've been in countless hopeless situations before, against all manner of schizos, rebels, and traitors. It's why we picked you for the job."
"Now's not the time to be a doomeronie, I suppose," the admiral relented, straightening his posture. "I'll send word to my captains, and gather my men. Is there anything else, gentlemen?"
"No, Admiral Timesworth," Gearman said as he stood up and shook the admiral's hand. "We thank you once again for your service."
"Time is of the essence," Pendulum said as he too shook the admiral's hand with a firm grip. "Be at Boros Harbor with your fleet by sundown. Kroniisiah be with you, Timesworth."
"I will fly to Her protection, and retake what is ours, sirs. You'll hear of our victory by sunrise."
Explosions. Gunfire. Yelling. Ringing in his ears. A lot of gravel on his face.
"Blast," Timesworth muttered as he came to. That cannonball knocked him out for at least a moment, long enough to get the landing force to scramble as the separatists suddenly remembered how to aim their cannons.
The admiral shook his head and dusted himself off as he double checked that all his limbs were where he left them. No wounds or dismemberments; all things considered he's lucky to have survived that unscathed. Picking his hat off the beach and putting it back on his head, and taking his sword in hand, he ran to the nearest cover, where he saw one of his men by his lonesome.
He recognized the captain, whose hat had gone missing in the assault. "Captain Jovial, when this is over, remind me to have you hanged for wearing an incomplete uniform during an engagement."
"Sir, yes, sir," the captain responded dutifully as he loaded his pistol. A shot landed on the other side of the cover he was using, forcing him to further hunker down.
"Explain to me your improper attire, Captain," Timesworth ordered, taking up position beside him and hiding from the shooters up in the fort.
"Enemy shot it right off of my head as we landed, sir," Jovial answered, before peeking over his cover and firing his gun. The lead ball went wide, missing completely and forcing him back down to load it once more.
"That was an awful shot, Captain," the admiral sneered. "Did they cut funding at the marksman academy, or do I have to have you hanged for failing to maintain your weaponry too?"
"My apologies, sir," Jovial answered as he began to put in powder down the barrel of his pistol. "I'm better with my fists, and my sword."
"Oh, I'm aware of your wrestling days, Captain. And your full marks in the fencing classes." He paused before musing, "Perhaps I'll let you off easy for both the uniform and the gun, with just a flogging. It's rare to see a naval officer actually fighting on his feet. Infinitum could use more captains like you." A cannonball crashed somewhere to their left, pelting both men with gravel.
"Thank you, sir," the captain replied with a nod. "I learned from the best, sir. The marines were emboldened to see you leading the charge, sir."
"What good is leading the ships if I can't lead the men on them?" Timesworth replied. "Give that to me when you're done."
"Sir, yes, sir." Captain Jovial continued loading his pistol. "Those Matiyotl are something else, eh, Admiral?"
"Don't remind me," Timesworth scoffed. He had watched in equal measures of disgust and awe through a monoscope, how the mercenaries literally tore apart the Ouroboros aboard the Continuum and raised up the bloodied flag of the Holy Republic Navy. "First, the degenerate nobles of the Kaiserreich, now, the man-eating pagans of the Matiyotl. The Kroniisiah has ordained that Infinitum make strange friends."
"Strange indeed, sir, but potentially powerful allies." The captain finished loading his pistol, then handed it over to his admiral.
"We shall see," the admiral responded with a skeptical tone, taking the gun. Timesworth stood up boldly and fired, only barely taking the time to aim. The sharp scream from some heretic in the distance let the men know the lead ball found its target. One less cannon being manned.
"After your flogging, I'll put in a good word for you with command," the admiral said as he handed the pistol back to its owner. "Kroniisiah be with you, Captain."
"Sir, thank you, sir," Jovial replied with a salute over his heart - the Kronie salute. "Kroniisiah be with you."
The superior officer nodded before looking at the beach. More marines were landing, having an easier time of it now that some of the enemy cannons had been neutralized. As they charged down the beach, they took cover nearby, all of them finding the admiral and waiting on his orders. Even their commanders waited on him.
"Men!" The admiral yelled, knowing all attention was on him. "We fight against the enemies of our perfect Goddess! They turn their backs on Her flawlessness and seek to betray Her holy church! Joining sides with Ouroboros? You can hardly count them as Kronies!"
The marines began to yell in agreement, disgusted with their enemy.
"Why, I hardly count them as people!!"
Again the marines yelled, getting riled up. Hatred of the enemy is open hell of a motivator. For so long has the Kronies dealt with traitors, and for so long have they suffered under the oppressive might of the Blessed State, so to find out that those forces were now one and the same made every single one of them ready to wipe them out for their Goddess.
"That's why we're here to fight them, these inhuman bastards! In the name of the Kroniisiah!"
The marines yelled once again, their morale through the roof now. Some shifted from kneeling to squatting, some just barely crouching, all of them raring to go run and fight the enemy.
Timesworth stood up, raising his sword and pulling out his pistol with his other hand. "We have the Goddess on our side! Now charge!!"
With an excited roar, the army of marines jumped into action, all of them running up the beach. The frigates behind them continued to blast the fort's cannons with their own, keeping the enemy artillery pre-occupied, and leaving only the outnumbered musketmen to fend off the advancing wall of loyal Kronies. The marines would drop to their knees, take aim, and fire at the defending schizos, doing this twelve at a time, picking off the defenders or forcing them to take cover, while ensuring the charge never stopped.
Finally, at the walls of Schizograd's compound itself, Timesworth cut down two men with his sword and shot another with his pistol, holstering it and drawing another. Captain Jovial performed a spear lunge on one of them, cracking the rebel's head open on the wall, before suplexing another and breaking the enemy's neck. The marines began exchanging melee with the soldiers loyal to the Blessed State, and even if the latter had been rigourously trained by the regime, it would seem their skills were simply not up to par - the marines were winning, and handily. The enemy was beginning to scatter.
"They run in the face of our piety!" Timesworth yelled. "Bring out the explosives!"
Having cleared out most of the defenders outside the walls, the marines now had the time and space to place down mining charges under the sewer gates of the fortress wall. They ran back out, having lit the fuses.
"Take cover!" One of the yelled. "Fire in the hole!"
The admiral, captain, and marines got to safety, just as the defenders up in the walls trained their muskets down on them and began to fire. The marines took some losses, and Timesworth said a prayer for the dead just as the charges under the walls exploded. A huge section of the wall crumpled and collapsed, killing a majority of the soldiers firing at them and incapacitating the rest.
"Our path is clear!" Jovial shouted. "Victory is upon us!"
"Well said, Captain," Timesworth commended. "Everyone get in there and send these snakes to the gates of Cortan!"
Up on the walls, Jovial clotheslined an enemy down the parapet, sending him falling and screaming down unto the prison courtyard where he died on impact with the ground. Marines were engaging the enemy there in the courtyard with their bayonets, but they were evenly matched by the enemy. It became clear the defenders outside and on the walls - the ones who were actually vulnerable - were merely prisoners of Schizograd, conscripted by the Blessed State. The actual trained soldiers of the regime were behind the walls, safe for the most part, and now their training under the iron fist of the Blessed State revealed itself.
"Cowards, the lot of you!" Timesworth yelled with disgust. "Sending prisoners to fight your battles while you hole up in this fortress!"
The rebels did not respond, instead holding their ground well as they pushed back the marine forces. The admiral cut down one man, stabbed another through the heart, before he crossed blades with an enemy with a sword. He recognized the man immediately - one of his comrades before the dissolution of the Blessed State's government.
"Major Montre," Timesworth greeted with a poisonous tone.
"It's Colonel now, Timesworth," the rebel corrected. "I heard you got a promotion too. You were always the best of us." Suddenly, Montre sidestepped to his left and swiped his sword to his right. Timesworth parried the attack and stepped away, keeping his blade pointed in a defensive position.
"You sicken me," said Timesworth, scowling. "When the crimes of the State were laid bare, how could you remain loyal?" He stabbed forward, but Montre pushed the blade away with his own and kept his distance.
"It was to maintain order!" Montre barked. "Everything we did, we did to ensure the regime had the control necessary to keep us all alive!"
"Culling the Leon-deoners too?" There was a quiver in his voice, most unexpected from a man like Timesworth. "Do you call that order?"
"Don't tell me you care about the natives now, Timesworth," scoffed the enemy colonel. "Do you feel guilty about how enthusiastically you set their reservation ablaze, now that you know it was for nothing?"
"You bastard!" Timesworth snapped as he lunged forward and exchanged slashes with Montre. The rival officers were fencing in earnest, the two men a match for each other. They take turns pressing forward and stepping back, neither giving way to the other. "You admit it was for nothing then!" The sound of clashing of swords was as sharp as the blades themselves. "They lied to us for nothing! Not for your order!"
"I thought you stood for a cause, but you're just a lapdog for whoever has power!" Montre snapped back, parrying the strikes and attempting his own. "You served the State unquestioningly because it was in charge, now you serve the Republic unquestioningly because it's in charge! You stand for nothing!"
"I stand for the Kroniisiah! But it's still better to stand for nothing than with schizos!" Timesworth hissed, locking blades with his adversary. "Do you even realize what company you keep now?"
"Do you?" Bit back Montre, the rebel bringing himself closer as he grinded his sword against Timesworth's own. "Cannibal pirates? Are you sure the Kroniisiah is proud you, old friend?"
With grit teeth, Timesworth winded his left fist back and drove it into Montre's right side, just under the ribs, sending waves of pain across his enemy and setting his nerves alight. With a sharp gasp, Montre fell to his knees as Timesworth raised his sword.
"You can ask Her yourself when She passes judgement unto your wretched soul!"
With a yell of anger, Timesworth brought down his blade with force. Montre only managed to bring his own sword up to defend himself at the last moment, but Timesworth had put so much strength behind his strike that his blade slid down Montre's and slashed his hand badly, severing the muscles on his fingers.
Montre cried out in pain, dropping his weapon and falling back first unto the ground. Holding his bloodied hand and looking at it with disbelief, he grit his teeth and stifled his pained howling.
He cursed under his breath. "You've beat me in a fair duel," Montre hissed out. "I concede."
"Concede to the Goddess' judgement!" Timesworth draw his sword back, pointed at Montre as he sit defeated before him. "No quarter for schizos!" The rebel admiral gasped and doubled back, instinctively raising his one good hand to defend himself, as it it would've helped.
And then the screaming started.
Screaming that drowned out the sounds of fighting, the clangs of steel on steel, the yelling of soldiers in combat. It was unnatural, shrill and echoing like a ghost. Every soldier down to the man immediately stopped fighting each other, clutching their heads. Jovial up on the wall with his unit dropped to his knees and covered his ears, as did their enemies. Down in the courtyard, every soldier was cowering at the noise, even the wounded Montre. A second scream joined it, then another, and one more. Every Kronie, be they loyal or rebel, dropped down and covered their ears if fear.
Except for Admiral Timesworth, who was distracted but still standing, a grimace on his gaunt features. The sound seemed to annoy him more than anything, even as the men around him quivered in terror.
"What in Boros' fangs is that noise?!" The screaming stopped, and it became clear how quiet everything was all of a sudden.
"Ma esmeyatsan!" A voice cried out in some foreign language, in a warlike tone and volume. To everyone else, it would've been another assault on their minds following that deathly screaming. The Admiral meanwhile was more focused on how uncouth that tongue was, scowling at these foreign and alien words that sounded to him like little more than a barbaric hodgepodge of noises.
The remaining enemies on the wall all dropped dead or dying with the sounds of stones flung by slings cracking their heads open. Some hit the ground shaking and convulsing as their brains took the sudden force, and Jovial and his men were transfixed by the morbid sight. Then, warriors in strange attire and terrifying masks, tiny skulls hanging from their necks and glowing tattoos on their arms, wielding axes and edged clubs; they ran out from the hole Timesworth's men had created in the defenses, pouring out like blood from an open wound, screaming and whooping as they closed in.
"Matiyotl," Timesworth muttered under his breath, a little surprised and a little disgusted. "This wasn't part of the plan." A rebel had his head knocked clean off by a club. Another was gutted and split open by an axe, his screams cut off by his own gurgles as he drowned in his own blood. The marines under Timesworth's command could only draw back, rattled out of their minds, as the men who made short work of Ouroboros on the Continuum made equally short work of the Blessed State. The screaming was now all natural, echoing into the night sky.
Jovial watched with as much curiosity as he did trepidation at the slaughter down below. "They really are something," he commented with a nod, ignoring how the marine beside him vomited from stress and disgust.
Timesworth finally drew his hateful stare away from the massacre before him, turning back to Montre, just as the traitor was turning tail and running into the prison complex itself. Some of the rebels managed to retreat inside as well, narrowly escaping the savage assault. "The cowards flee at the sight of a little barbaric bloodshed," the admiral called out before now turning to his terrified men.
"Soldiers!" He called out, forcing their attentions away from the Matiyotl and their craft. "The enemy retreats into the prison! Fitting for traitor scum like them!"
Where such a speech might've roused them before, many were still shaken out of their minds because of what they've just experienced - and we're still experiencing just a few feet ahead of them. The rebels in the prison barred the main door, leaving some of their own in the courtyard to do nothing but beg for mercy, and cry when they found none, the sounds of their agony deeply unsettling to the troops.
"Listen to me, men!" Timesworth continued. "We do not cower before outsiders and their ways! We harden the walls of our hearts and strengthen the fortresses of our minds, and work with them to destroy our enemies!" Saying that last bit left a bad taste in the admiral's mouth, it seemed to be working as the marines started to calm down. "Watch as they slaughter the Kroniisiah's blasphemers; watch as the heretics had ran from their might!"
The men were all paying attention now, but so were the Matiyotl. Timesworth had to wonder if they spoke the Krony tongue, but these words weren't for the savages anyway. "Work together now! Enter the prison and fire upon their defenders, then set loose these warriors to cut apart the broken lines of rebel scum! Onward now!"
The marines finally yelled in high spirits once more, raising their weapons as they got up and started to march to the doors of the prison. Jovial and the men on the walls came down to join them. The Matiyotl raised their own weapons, understanding their actions if not their words, and followed behind the clock men. The Kronies began to shoulder slam the door in unison, and soon the Matiyotl were joining them. Some of the warriors had with them larger axes, held in both hands, and began chopping at the wooden door at the hinges.
"Keep at it, it's almost down!" Timesworth yelled. Keep your muskets ready!" The marines pulled back, each taking a knee and aiming their muskets at the door, while the mercenaries continued to hack and bash at the door, ready to fire as soon as the obstacle gave way.
Slam. One of the marines swallowed his spit.
Slam. A Matiyotl warrior bellowed a loud war cry.
Slam. A bead of sweat fell from Timesworth's brow.
Slam.
Slam.
Crash!
"Fire!"
Gunfire echoed in and out of the entrance to the prison, the door having fallen down from the forces exerted on it. But the Kronies got the first volley before the defenders could return fire. A Kronie fell, then another, then a Matiyotl took a hit and fell back to cover his wounded side, but the marines kept firing in lines, and the mercenaries used their slings or threw their handaxes into the enemy formation.
"They're falling back further inside" One of the marines called out.
"Onward!!" Cried Timesworth, to the cheers and whoops of Kronies and Matiyotl alike.
Down below in the first level of the prison, the Kronies and the Matiyotl worked in tandem, beating back the rebels. But in the upper level were only a few stragglers fending off the marines and mercenaries. One Matiyotl in particular, with a two handed axe etched with runes on the axehead, cleaved through one enemy after another, a seemingly unstoppable force. But he was pushed back by a man in full steel plate armor and a blue skirt bearing the coat of arms of the Church of Kroniism, a clock brooch hanging from his neck, and wielding a decorated pollax.
"A clock knight?!" One of the marines cried in confusion, trying to put distance between him and the armored foe so he could shoot him. With a grunt, the knight charged forward and speared the man through the heart with the end of his pollax, and the soldier dropped dead. The mercenary there lunged with an overhead strike, but the axe bounced off the thick and fanged plate of steel the knight wore.
With his longer polearm, the knight forced the Matiyotl back with thrusts of the spearhead and swings of the axehead on his weapon. "Filthy barbarian!" He spat out. "The true will of the Kroniisiah will wipe your heathen off of Vitubia!"
"Ég ríf ykkur í bita!" The warrior replied in how own tongue - though, it sounded different from the one earlier - stepping forward and landing a good hit on his opponent's shoulder, sending him reeling. But the knight recovered quickly, puncturing the warrior's arm with his polearm in retaliation. The Matiyotl grunted in pain, moving back and swinging his axe for the knight's head. But the knight parried it with the steel haft of his pollax, pushing the warrior back and disorienting him.
Pressing his advantage, the knight slammed the butt of his polearm into the warrior, and the strike hit square between the eyes. The Matiyotl cursed in his language and stumbled back, landing on his ass on the floor. The triumphant knight raised his weapon high, aiming the hammerhead for his opponent's head. "Ad mortem!" He cried in Old Krony, readying his strike.
A shot rang out through the hallway, and white smoke billowed out from behind the knight. He groaned before dropping his weapon and falling to his knees. Behind him was Timesworth, holstering his spent pistol and drawing yet another. It would seem the point blank shot effortlessly pierced through the armor. "A clock knight serving Ouroboros," he muttered with palpable disdain. "How the mighty have fallen."
"Traitor..." sputtered the knight, head only slightly turned to the admiral. The Matiyotl got back up on his feet, taking his axe and turning to his fallen foe with gleeful eyes.
"Tidbúin að deyja?" With a roar, the mercenary took his axe to the knights helmeted head, dropping him like a sack of bricks, then bringing it down again. And again, and again, until the knight stopped moving. The admiral wordlessly continued walking down the hall, but was stopped as the warrior called out to him in Holodhennet, the common tongue of the continent.
"Clock man!" Timesworth turned to face the blood soaked man, half surprised the mercenary knew a 'civilized language'. The Matiyotl raised his fist up with vigour, a look of respect on his face. Some kind of salute? The confusion and mild offense on Timesworth's face might've been noticable, given how the Matiyotl chuckled at his ignorance. But, after a moment, the admiral silently lowered his head and crossed his right arm over his chest, in the salute of Infinitum. The two men nodded at each other, one more apprehensively than the other, before they parted ways.
Timesworth found his way to his destination - the Warden's Office. If there was one place the arrogant Montre would hole up, it would be here. The admiral stepped back and readied himself, before sending his boot right into the door. With two more kicks, the door burst open...
... right as Montre fired his pistol at the intruding Admiral. The shot only barely missed, hitting the doorframe in a burst of dust and raining splinters on Timesworth as he instinctively stepped away.
"Augh!" The admiral grunted with disbelief as he got pelted with smoking bits of wood. "I didn't think you could be such a coward! But I didn't think you could be a traitor either..."
"It's you who is the traitor, Timesworth!" Montre cried out, frustrated as he threw his spent pistol across the room. The gun smacked the admiral in the arm painfully, but didn't do much else. "You and all your men!"
The wounded rebel pointed outside with his good hand. "Look at what your allegiances has wrought!" Timesworth didn't follow where he was pointing, but he knew what he was pointing at regardless. "Barbarian savages, butchering Kronie men, men you served with! Like goats to the slaughter!!"
The admiral paused, lowering his pistol somewhat, quiet as his rival continued. "And it's not enough to kill them so savagely, no! They're going to round up anyone who surrenders and actually butcher them! For food!! Deny them their final rites and eat them like livestock, for Kroniisiah's sake!"
Timesworth remained silent still, his eyes focused, but almost like there was... hesitation. "How could you allow this to happen to your countrymen?" Montre asked, exhausted, on the verge of tears. This wasn't just an act to get the admiral on his side; this was the colonel's genuine feelings. "Your own fellow believers in the Goddess--"
"You all betrayed the Goddess when you declared the church illegitimate!" Timesworth interrupted, tightening his grip on his sword.
"The church is illegitimate!" Montre replied, voice cracking. "They said it's time to open up, to see the rest of the world, now look what that has brought us!" He gestured wildly again in the direction of the courtyard where dozens of massacred rebels lay. "Do you honestly believe this is the Goddess' will, Timesworth?!"
Neither said said anything, for a moment. The silence was only broken up by the sound of fighting outside, of gunfire and steel and blood curdling screams.
"We can make this right, Timesworth," Montre said, calming down. "The State needs you, as it always has. You always were the best of us." He paused, catching his breath. "Order your men to fire upon the savages, and we'll recuperate our losses. Strike at the Republic. Cut our country off from this sinful world! But we can't do it without men like you."
Timesworth was stone faced for a moment, as if considering his options. Then, he began to sheathe his sword.
"Yes, Timesworth," the colonel said, smiling and looking relieved. "Thank you..."
"You aren't worth wetting my blade, apostate."
Before Montre could react, the admiral raised his pistol to eye level and fired. The shot reverberated through the office, filling the room with smoke. When it cleared, Montre lay dead in a crumpled heap, a hole between his eyes and a massive exit wound in the back of his head. Blood, bone, and brain were splattered all over the desk and the wall behind the dead rebel, and pooled beneath the dead man's cratered head.
Timesworth observed the corpse a little longer, lip twitching in mild disappointment. "Warden of All, deliver the lost and faithless into Your arms," he prayed softly.
The clink of glasses and the congratulatory, hearty laughs of victorious men filled the opulent foyer. Senator Gearman, dressed even more finely than usual, was entertaining military donors, which meant distracting them from actual work with drinks and idle chatter. General Pendulum was wearing his full uniform, discussing with his fellow military officials the ingenuity of the strategy used to retake Schizograd. And of course, his part in coming up with such a perfect plan.
The man of the hour, however, was not joining the celebration this evening. No, he was writing a report in his office, all the way in Boros' Harbor, far from the grating socializing of nobles and grifters in Infinity City. He had much more important things to do than drink and stand around when his country needed him. A knock came at the door, taking his attention away from his writing.
"Enter."
The door opened to reveal a hooded figure in a blue robe, the marks on the fine fabric denoting that this was an archvist. The figure entered, closing the door behind them, and stood by the seat across the admiral's desk.
"Good evening, Admiral," the archivist greeted. The voice was light, and somewhat feminine, but it was hard to tell with such thick robes, and that all concealing hood.
"Good evening," Timesworth responded, putting his papers down. "And you are...?"
"A humble scribe," the person said, as though that answered anything. The scribe took a seat now, not waiting to be offered one.
"... Huh." Timesworth understood the intelligentsia of Infinitum to be... strange, and figured this was just one of their eccentricities. "I'm sorry to say I've already sent my report on the events at Schizograd."
"Oh, I'm not here for that, Admiral," the scribe said with a wave of their hand. "The Archive has your report, but I'm here on a different matter. Admiral, your bravery and skill had made you one of the most trusted officials in the Republic's ranks. We may have found a new position for you, that better makes use of what you have to offer to Infinitum."
Timesworth shook his head already. He had been offered promotios before. "I want no office job, spending my days entertaining donors and sipping on Kronii Sweat" he said. "I serve the Kroniisiah's will on my feet, that is the best use of my skills."
"Oh, but we agree, Admiral," the scribe replied. "This job is perfectly suited to that. You see, the Republic recently acquired something of a... territory."
The admiral did a double take. "A territory?"
"The lands of Risuners, to our southwest, are under our protection now. We're constructing a road there, and overseeing the construction of ports and checkpoints. The natives, you see, had nothing of the sort before our arrival."
"Risuners," he mused. "I know little of them, I'm afraid, but they sound like backwards people. I don't see the use I may be over there, nor do I know how I feel about our country expanding beyond its borders."
"They are simply differently cultured," the scribe commented, raising their hand. "Though, there is surprising middle ground with their love of erotica. Why, some even theorize a shared ancestor in the Takeshis. But, I digress. The Risuners are under our protection, and have allowed us to build on their territory in exchange for the knowledge of ship building.
Timesworth's eyes immediately shot wide open, but the scribe raised both hands to calm him down. "Simple sailing vessels, and nothing more. We're not giving them steamboats or galleons, or anything of the sort."
The admiral settled back in his seat. "Continue."
"The Republic sees fit to make something of the land there, for trade and development, but that can attract... unwanted attention."
"Criminals," Timesworth concluded.
"Terrorists," corrected the scribe. "Heretics, foreign hostiles, and any number of people who would see fit to halt progress."
"Foreign hostiles," Timesworth repeated, leaning forward. "Our first ventures out of our shores in centuries, and we've already made enemies?"
The scribe shrugged and chuckled. "Some of the diplomats sent to meet the union of nations in the south have been, well, difficult."
The admiral sighed and leaned back in his seat once more. He was never one for politics beyond knowing who he needed to kill. "So, you want me to lead the guard in this foreign land."
"Not the guard. The Officia Tribunal Infinitum," the scribe recited. "A newly formed division of our military, tasked with countering insurrectionists, terrorists, and guerilla combatants." The scribe pointed at the officer, saying, "It's no question that you're the most fit for the job, Admiral."
Timesworth visibly pondered over this for a few moments. "And the navy?"
"The position you currently hold would be given to a captain worthy of the rank and distinction, sir."
"Captain Jovial," the admiral said right away. "He fought valiantly at Schizograd, and is a fine leader. I believe he's exactly the man Infinitum would need as admiral."
The archivist gestured affably. "Excellent, we've been keeping an eye on Jovial's career for some time now. We agree with your assessment and will take your commendation into account."
"Alright," Timesworth said, standing. "I'll see the offer on paper and consider it then."
"We can discuss the specifics in the land of Risuners, sir," the scribe said helpfully. "We hope to see you in the port of Demeter in three days. You can't miss it, it's the only port in all the land you'll find this side of the Risuners."
"You expect me to sail for that strange land before I can even see the text of the contract?"
"Yes."
There was a pause, Timesworth's offended face morphing into own of mild respect for such directness.
"Fine. I'll be there by then."
"Thank you kindly, Inquisitor General. Infinitum thanks you for your continued service." The scribe turned and made for the doorway.
"Inquisitor Gen--" Timesworth started, cutting himself off. "I haven't agreed to the position yet, just so we're clear...!"
"Oh, but you will, Timesworth," the scribe said, nodding to him as he exited the office. "Have a good night, sir."
The admiral - the inquisitor general, was left stunned in silence for a moment, before shaking his head. "Damn archivists."