WintreathBoard

"In the shade of morning mist,
advancing on their foe.
Bullets break the silent air.
Wasted battle plan."

Date: November 11, 1856

"What in the heavens' name was that?" Antonius was stuck in his chamber, wondering what happened in the Battle for the Northern Coast. The roar of engines, the light of fuses, the scent of gunpowder...all coming back to him. What he most remembered in the midst of chaos was that man...that man who stood with his men. That man who would bravely lead his troops. That man whose simple appearnce could turn the tide of battle? Who was that man?

"Excuse me, Your Majesty. Your forces await your leadership." An aide walks into the room.
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Meanwhile, Louis I and his forces claim a Ceylonese city as their own after their most recent victory. "What should we name this city of Bahmak can...this city that I pried from Ceylon's hands." Louis paces. "It's Brahmat-khan, Your Majesty." Franz corrects. Louis continues pacing.

"St. Adalbertberg?" A soldier innocently comments. "Wonderful name. I assume it is named for the saint, yes?" Louis chirps. "Ye-yeah. The saint." Adalbert nervously answers.

"I hereby name the city of Bakmat kan-----" The king declares.

"Brahmat-khan..." Franz mutters.

"St. Adalbertberg!" Louis finishes.

"While I reorganize the city for Sakiria, can you think of a battle plan, Franz?" He asks.

"Yes, Your Majesty. I promise you, our forces will be ready by tomorrow." Franz bows.
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Tomorrow had come. "We've been marching for 12 straight hours...can you give us a break??" One of the soldiers ask. Franz, atop his horse, looks at his exhausted troops. Many of their uniforms are drenched in sweat, and their hands dragging their equipment along.

"We need the element of surprise on the enemy. Keep going until we reach Begoniaputra." Franz stoically orders.
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"Your Majesty, I'm surprised you're here yet again." A soldier comments on Antonius' arrival on the battlefield as Ceylonese forces arrive at Begoniaptura. "We all have to do our part to defend our kingdom. I suspect the Sakirians will attack Begoniaputra on this day, since it is the closest to Ramaputra. If I was him, I would do the same." Antonius replies.

A sandstorm begins to descend onto the battlefield. Dust, dirt, grit, and gravel swirl around.

"Put on your balaclavas, men. This will not stop our march to victory. Cavaliers, put the blinders on your warhorses. Light artillery, position yourselves at the flanks. Infantry, form battle lines and prepare to attack the enemy." Antonius orders. "Glad I brought proper desert wear for my soldiers this time." He sighs in relief.
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"Darn, we can't see!!" A sizable number of Sakirian soldiers were rubbing their eyes from all the sand. "I should've asked Louis to make the goggles standard for all the armed forces. Now we're both blind and lame. How can things get any worse?" Franz sighs. "Wait a minute..." A realization crosses his mind as he makes out a pair of birds flying around.
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A Ceylonese cavalier returns from a scouting mission. "The Sakirians are effectively immobilized from the sandstorm, Your Majesty. The infantry are at the centerline while the machine gunners are at the flanks. *cough*" He reports to Antonius. "The heavy artillery is probably coming later." Antonius thinks. "Good. Cavalry, stay back. You'll finish off the remnants. Infantry, charge!!" The king orders.

"Gotovo!!!"

The seemingly fearless Ceylonese charged through the harsh sandstorm, no worse for wear.
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"What the---" Franz and the Sakirians were taken by the utter brazenness of their adversaries. The Ceylonese cavalry looked as if they emerged from nowhere and swept across the battlefield, wrecking every single machine gun and cannon their lances could get to. The disciplined Ceylonese infantry broke up the confused Sakirian formations with ease and brutality.

Men dropped like flies from the heat of the blistering sun, a bullet to the face, or a lance to the chest. Something had to be done. Anything.

From a Type 54F Swallow above, a message falls onto the unusually calm Franz's head. He opens the letter. A wary look crosses his face.

"Sir, what do we do?!"
"We're dying!"
"Aaah!!"

"Left cannons, fire 200 paces ahead." He orders with hesitation in his voice. "But sir, we can't see anything there!" An artillery officer objects frantically. "Do it now!" Franz exclaims on impulse.

"Fire at the highest elevation!!"

The cannons roar shortly after the artillerymen light the fuses. A loud thud is heard. Then another. Then another. One thud becomes two. Two becomes three. Three becomes four. Soon enough, the Ceylonese attacks lose their ferocity.

"Dragoons, give 'em hell!" Franz yells. The rifle-wielding cavaliers split from the rear of the Sakirian formation.

"Gott mit uns!"

They yell as they brave the vicious sandstorm .

"I can't believe my temper saved the day. Oh well." Franz thinks.

"Right cannons, fire 100 paces ahead!" Franz orders. Another roar strikes. The shells rise high into the air before plunging onto their hapless targets.
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Another unit of Ceylonese cavalry explodes into a rain of gore and clothing yet again. "Why..." Antonius sighs, watching his troops getting massacred by Sakirian artillery. A single tear rolls down his cheek.

"Retreat." He gave the order.

The soldiers with him give him a mixture of surprised and confused looks.

"Retreat. There's no use wasting time, effort, and lives on a losing battle." Antonius repeats.