WintreathBoard

Ouagu, Qurai, Atrifi
Date: August 8, 1855

"Men, tomorrow 6:00am is our final push to conquering Qurai. You will be advancing forward, pushing through and forcing the enemy musketeers into the range our machine guns. The cavalry will then pin the enemy's sides once the forward attacking force has been pushed enough. When they start firing, you join up with the machine gun crews and continue pelting hot lead at our foes. Understood?" Louis I announced to his men. His soldiers gave him a collection of dazed and bored looks.

"Hey!" The king took out his flintlock pistol and discharged it. A hole was soon blasted through the roof of the large tent. The soldiers were startled to readiness.

"You understand the plan?" Louis asked. "Yes, Your Majesty." The soldiers saluted.

The next day came.

"I'm glad you're up early, Max." Sergeant James Alvery commented with a smile. "As usual. I'll be getting my rifle and sabre." Max muttered under his breath.

"Ahem. Hello?!" James yelled to the rest of his unit, who were still on their beds half-asleep. The rest of the soldiers were given a rude awakening. "Get your weapons ready! It's nearly 6:00am!" He exclaims.

James and his unit rushed to form the right cavalry flank of the attacking force.

The wardrums sounded.

"March forth! If we die this day, then it was because God intended so!"

The row of Sakirian line infantry held their Hervery rifles and obliged.

"FIRE!"

An order was yelled from one of the Qurai officers. The Qurai musketeers, in their bright green and yellow uniforms, kneeled and took aim. The muskets roared and bullets flied. Smoke covered the battlefield.

A few thuds were heard. It cleared a few moments later, showing most of the Sakirian infantry ​still sallying forth unflinchingly and unbothered.

The Qurai musketeers are frozen in fear.

"Aaaahh!!!"
"What do we do?!"

Suddenly, one of the musketeers fixes his bayonets and makes a brazen charge at the enemy. It doesn't take long for the rest of the infantry to follow suit.

"What the?!-"

Some of the Sakirian line infantry are startled by such a sudden and aggressive move, giving a few seconds of pause to what would be spent drawing their sabres.

Carnage unfolds on the battlefield as the two once neat battle-lines break up in a frantic and messy brawl. Steel clashes against steel, orders strike across the battlefield, and blood stains the desert sand.

Meanwhile Louis was dressed in his wartime uniform, riding atop his white horse with his spyglass in hand. "I'm going there." He says. "What?! Are you insane?! The Littgard's back at home, and no doubt you'll be shredded by gunfire!" Field Marshal Franz Alpin replies in shock. "Someone has to keep our troops together." Louis rolls his eyes in a huff and rides away. The king feels the weight of the armor beneath his ornate clothing as he draws his Sword of Hildn. "Well then, I'm going with you!" Franz grabs a nearby Hervery rifle, mounts his black stallion, and trails Louis.

"I believe we need to do something about this." James reacts in horror to the bloody battle. "But His Majesty---" Max gets interrupted by James.

"Dragoons, follow me and charge!!"

It wasn't long till James stirs his horse and sends them both at the scattered enemy formation. The rest of his unit quickly catch up to him. Max sighs. "If you say so...Hyaa!!" He kicks his steed, and rides forth into the chaos of battle.

The dragoons brazenly charge at the fractured Qurai musketeers with seeming supernatural agility and ferocity. Many are pumped with holes by the terrifyingly accurate Hervery rifles, or skewered by the razor-sharp tips of Sakirian bayonets.

The Sakirian line infantry watch in awe as the dragoons ran wild across the battlefield. One of them sees the glare of the sun reflected into his eye.

"Huh?" He turns around, seeing His Majesty and Alpin riding into battle with rifles in hand, the light of the shining sun glinting off the marshal's gold epaulettes.

"The king is here!! The king is here!!"
"He's here?"
"Yes, with Sir Alpin too!"

"Gott mit uns!"

A resounding battle-cry sounds from the Sakirian soldiers.

The simple presence of His Majesty and Alpin galvanizes the Sakirian line infantry. It doesn't take long for them to regain formation and begin pelting the enemy with round after round of air-pressured lead.

One of the Qurai musketeers watches in horror as her comrades get slaughtered, and vengefully takes aim at Louis I. She pulls the trigger of her musket. The bullet that would change history flies right into the oblivious Louis' chest...only to bounce off from the cuirass the king wore under his blouse.

What was left of the Qurai musketeers reroute in the sheer terror of Sakirian might, leaving the capital city of Ouagu undefended. All except for that lone woman and her musket.

She spits in the king's face as he prepares to enter the city gates. The Sakirian soldiers clustering around Louis give her fierce glares, with some even readying their weapons. Max prepares to blow her head clean off with his Hervery rifle.

Louis raises his hand, as if telling them to halt their fire. They oblige. "You, dare I say, look like a lovely war prize." Franz lewdly smiles. The king slaps the marshal. "You, dare I say, see this woman as an object?" Louis calmly retorts to a shocked Franz. "Whatever, we're still taking her. But do not violate her." Louis orders to his soldiers.

They quickly restrain the exhausted woman, despite her frantic attempts to fight back.

"Now, we shall negotiate the sovereignty of Qurai and how it shall be handed over to us." Louis says to Franz. One of the soldiers raises his hand.

"No, we are not going to be barbarians and violate this place." The king sighs.