Planište, Hessunland-Occupied Ducrijecka
Stiglitz swore irritably as he struggled to get the ageing lighter to produce so much as a spark, he should have replaced it years ago, but the sentiment was a hard emotion to shake. His grandfather had brought the novelty lighter back from Syrixia in the spring of 42’ a souvenir from a successful business trip. The brass coating on the elephants and palms had long since worn away but Stiglitz kept the lighter in memory of his jovial old Opa Fritz.
He wondered what the old man would have made of the world today, he suspected the old man would have the lines of refugees and armed men painfully familiar, the Dachsi’s were gone at least. He finally succeeded in getting a light and held it to his cigarette with a hand covering the flickering flame, the warm inhalation of nicotine was a welcome counter against the bone-cold winds blowing across the checkpoint. Lines of weary, ragged and dirty-faced refugees crowded the checkpoint, many had likely walked and hitched rides from as far away as Kosada.
“Poor Bastards” Stiglitz muttered as he tried to follow the lines of brutalized humanity, refugee columns seemed to stretch over the hills endlessly
“Please line up in an orderly fashion, priority processing will be given to the sick, elderly and any with dependent children” A loudspeaker boomed out first in Mittelgotik and then in Ducrijeckan
Crowds of people were shouting and surrounding the cluster of registration desks, the clerks were hopelessly outnumbered. Stiglitz estimated some hundreds would be passing through this checkpoint alone each day. Thousands more were likely to follow as Andrenne’s offensive drove deeper into Ducrijecka, it had all the makings of a humanitarian crisis for the ages. A tsunami of sick, starving and wounded would soon flood the hospitals and camps of the safe zone.
Medics flanked by armed soldiers scanned the crowds for elderly or sick, whenever someone was located, they would assist them on to stretchers and quickly spirit them to waiting ambulances and helicopters for casevac to nearby field hospitals. Most were not so lucky and as the lines grew ever longer many would not be processed today or likely for days to come. Already small rows of makeshift shelters were forming around the walled checkpoint.
Stiglitz shook his head and took a last drag on his cigarette before stamping it out, overhead a row of attack helicopters buzzed as they flew over the border in low formation. Hessunland was taking no chances, a few miles back batteries of artillery stood ready to fire 24/7 and an entire wing of the aviation corps had been committed to protecting the skies. If Ducrijecka or Andrenne wanted to disrupt operations, they would have to fight for every inch of the protected region.
“Filthy habit” General Schulz said with a gentle smile as he approached
The general was as usual deceptively unthreatening, his neatly trimmed moustache and diminutive stature making him appear almost comical in his flacktarn battle dress. He reminded Stiglitz of a doting grandfather out for a spot of gardening more than he did a seasoned military leader. All the same, Stiglitz suppressed any amusement and saluted sincerely.
“you don’t smoke sir?” Stiglitz asked in a curious voice
“Health scare in 95’ haven't since” the general replied shaking his head
The two men watched as crowds of refugees continued to flow towards the checkpoint, at times it felt as though all Ducrijecka was moving west. There was something terrible about that sea of humanity, it spoke to forces unleashed that made dust of cities and uprooted entire populations. This war had spiralled beyond logic and far past any moral justification, the participants had long since forsaken morals.
“Do you think the Andrennian’s realize the consequences of all this?” Stiglitz asked after a long silence
“I imagine some of them are as shocked as we are Major, but what does that matter? They still went through with it” Schulz replied sadly
“murderous bastards didn’t even give this sorry lot time to evacuate, half an hour, maybe they really have gone fascist again,” Stiglitz said spitting in disgust
“I wouldn’t be so quick to judge, it was not that long ago we were on the wrong side of history, do you remember much of the Gotmark war?” Schulz said giving the major a curious look
“I would have been five, sir, father was spared the draft because of his work as a farmer, uncles all got send to the front, one came back mostly intact, never heard from the others again” Stiglitz replied trying to remember the hazy images of his uncles in their dress browns
“I commanded an artillery battery, I would have been 29, we all got swept up by the tides of war, didn’t matter if we thought it was right or wrong, we just fought to survive by the end. Anyone can find themselves on the wrong side Stiglitz, remember that” Schulz said in a slow and calm voice after a pause
“Yes sir,” Stiglitz said taken aback by the Generals sudden admission
“We have a chance to do better, that’s why we are here, Andrenne will do what Andrenne will do Major, it is our role to see that their madness does not kill thousands, but enough philosophy, our new allies are waiting,” Schulz said motioning for Stiglitz to follow.
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The ride in the staff car was a short one, a few minutes of comfort before they reached the outskirts of the safe zone. A small muddy road marked the last border of the safe zone before the warzones beyond, a convoy of armoured vehicles with a barbed cross emblazoned on their sides signalled the arrival of the allies that Schulz had mentioned. Rows of mud-splattered vehicles, motorcycles and even horses of all things stretched out in front of the staff car, tired men gave them weary glares, they had been travelling for days.
“Prydanians” Stiglitz said surprised
“Indeed, they recently left the Andrennian front, they have journeyed along long and hostile roads to reach us,” Schulz said as he stepped out of the car, his boots squelching in the glue-like mud
Stiglitz followed his superior as they made their way down the muddy road, general Schulz would occasionally stop and converse with Prydanian’s in fluent Makari, they seemed to like that. Stiglitz knew of course that the general had spent time in Prydansk, the man had a damned hunting lodge there for god's sake. What he had not expected was for the good general to be so gregarious and easy-going with the common soldier, the man had a charm about him that was for certain.
Finally, the two of them reached the spot where they were to meet the Prydanian command, two weathered-looking officers greeted their arrival. Schulz and Stiglitz both saluted. Their gesture was returned by the Prydanians, these men seemed like they had just travelled through hell, then again, they had been at Kosada and that might even have been worse.
“Gentlemen, I am General Wilhelm Schulz commander of the 10th Dussel Fusiliers and acting commander of the safe zone, this is my second Major Dieter Stiglitz,” He said motioning to Stiglitz who nodded respectfully
“General Krummedike I shall spare you extensive pleasantries and be blunt, we are facing nothing less than a humanitarian catastrophe, your men are therefore most welcome and more importantly, in great demand, we are going to need all the help we can get to stem this country's bleeding,” Schulz said his tone calm but ominous
Stiglitz stared around at the convoy, battle-hardened soldiers sat on the various tanks and trucks, they looked dirty, tired and most importantly very dangerous. Stiglitz had heard of the civil war in Prydania, it had been long and bloody, these men were clearly the result of that decade long struggle. They would be no strangers to refugees or death and though their original mission was now abandoned, their experience would be a great boon to their new objective. It was as the general had said, they had a chance to do better, they all did.
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Near Planište, Hessunland-Ducrijecka border
Lieutenant Milo Becker watched the sunset on the horizon with a lazy gaze, it had been a long and draining day. In the last few weeks, more traffic had passed through Planište then had likely done so in the last few years. An endless roster of troops, contractors, aid workers and supply convoys had all passed through Becker’s checkpoint, keeping up with it all had been nothing short of a logistical nightmare.
From his vantage point in the watchtower, Milo could see for miles in any direction, not that he had any great need to. There was no chance of a duckie attack on the Hessunlander side of the border, instead, Becker’s role was to process the endless stream of personnel and supplies heading toward Planište. It was an important job to be sure, not particularly glamourous perhaps, but someone had to keep tabs on the new arrivals.
At least for now, things were quiet, another hour and Becker would be relieved to go back to his dorm. The radio was stuck on some Duckie station, the wild sounding noise of wailing voices and crazed instruments too lively for a slow night on watch. Becker frowned and walked over to the coffee pot before emptying a cup's worth of lukewarm caffeine into his mug.
“I thought Hans said he was going to fix the damn radio,” Becker asked his subordinate as he sipped his cup of coffee, he pursed his lips as the vile taste of reheated caffeine hit him
“He’s been swamped trying to do maintenance on half the vehicles coming past, besides Ducrijeckan music isn't that terrible, they are very earnest about it sir” Corporal Haneke replied in a placating tone
“If this nonsense is the product of earnestness corporal, I think we need to send instruments and music teachers along with the tanks and nurses,” Becker said with a dismissive wave of his hand
Though he would never admit it openly, he got along very well with Haneke, they were an effective team and the latter's affable manner made him relatively easy to tolerate during long shifts. Becker wondered how much longer the two would work together before he was inevitably reassigned to another area of the safe zone. There would be many more border crossings to guard soon, for now, though they continued to process the vast traffic coming through the Franktorf valley.
A rumbling filled the evening air, it sounded like giants stomping, the hairs on Becker’s arms stood on end in response. He walked over to the window and pulled out his binoculars, the green haze of night vision filling his view as he scanned the horizon. A line of armoured vehicles was moving up the road, Becker signalled for the spotlights to be turned on.
Illumination filled the night sky as the large searchlights were pointed in the direction of the advancing convoy. Becker began to make out the shapes of trucks and armoured carriers, to his surprise they were painted in snow coloured white. He scanned the carriers for insignia, quickly noticing a snarling wolf bearing a winged staff.
“Do we have any allies with wolves on their tanks?” Becker asked confused
“Their Norsian sir” Haneke replied bluntly
“As in Norsos, in Craviter!?” Becker said surprised
Norsos was as distant to Becker as Astragon or Ulsthome, names of far off places that he occasionally read about in the Franktorf Enquirer. He had heard stories of a resurgent power across the ocean, something about a warrior queen, but it had never seemed particularly relevant. They were harder to ignore when their troops were approaching your doorstep, the snow-white column seemed very relevant currently.
“Yes sir, they were deployed a few days ago, it was big news,” Haneke said in an excited voice
“Which I would have heard if Hans had fixed the damn radio!” Becker replied irritably
The two men watched as the Norsian convoy moved closer into view, there must have been thousands of them approaching. Despite knowing that these were allied forces, Becker found himself suddenly feeling afraid despite himself. There was something menacing about that disciplined line of snow-white vehicles, something a little too methodical and efficient. He began to hear a noise, a sonorous tone that filled the air, they were singing.
"From the north, the frigid north, from Pylae to the mother peaks."
“The formidable storm of Remata, and the Norsian snow”
“Norsos will rise again, by our sorrowly faith, this song will be heard inside the halls of the Gods!”
Becker chuckled, a sudden unexpected grin filled his face, the song boomed across the highlands as the Norsians approached. It was a proud, fierce song to stir even the dullest of hearts, it reminded Becker of the stories of the Mittelgotiks driving out Adrienna, it had the same mythic quality to it.
“By Arvin they are magnificent!” Becker exclaimed in an awe-struck voice
“Aye sir, what should I tell command in Planište?”Haneke asked
“Tell them we have made contact with the Norsians, tell them the blue helmets are coming” Becker replied with a broad smile
He lingered for a while watching the columns and listening to their proud song, it was a hopeful tune and it seemed to have infected Becker with its spirit.