This is the first part of my Victorian fantasy setting, which I world build and am seeking...
The battle of Cúrmai (Victorian fantasy)
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This is the first part of my Victorian fantasy setting, which I world build and am seeking critic in this thread: Victorian fantasy world building criticism.
This first part is mainly setting up the conflict and focuses on military action. I should note up front that I've been writing this using a phone and writing program upon that.
Edit: I forgot to note something, the names within the short story or the world building thread--I haven't decided which--are placeholders for the moment.
Criticism welcome
The hour before dawn it had started to rain, the rain had started to fall shortly after the two thousand light infantry of line began to break up their camp. The dreary duty of exiting the camp and setting out ahead of the rest of the 43rd Couruln regiment was heaped onto the shoulders of lieutenant colonel Relaus Sirlun and his fourth battalion, among whom was captain Cedris Flinte of the Widowmakers company.
When they'd received the order to set out into the rain covered path leading deeper into the western edges of the mountains of Glaun, Flinte had been in the middle of preparing himself a morning brew. A brew which appeared as simple coffee, but within which he dropped a bit of whisky. Just to help him wake up and he certainly had no desire to drink his entire flask by the end of the day.
Despite his lack of early morning whisky, the hare captain found himself wide awake and attentive. Somewhere in this surrounding area or mountain, a Séndglaun force was making their way towards the Vendglaun fortress of Cirtorí two score kilometers to the north. Intelligence and scout reports told the 43rd of a village slightly farther ahead in the mountains, one whose primary contribution to Séndglaun seemed to be the excavation of stone from a pair of nearby quarries. Vendglaun was not remotely interested in a quarry village, but according to the maps of the area a force following the route the Séndglaunians were would have to pass either through or near enough the village that the villagers would know of their passing.
That was where the fourth battalion came in, the five hundred and ten--roughly--soldiers of the battalion were to advance to this village and secure it and wait for the rest of the army, if the Séndglaun force was there, they were to wait for reinforcements.
The Vendglaun force was already outnumbered about two to one, the commanding officer of the 43rd, Colonel Rewuir Animaer, had a strategy he was going to use to defeat the Séndglaunians when they caught up with them. For his strategy to work--whatever it was, he'd never shared it with his officers--he needed as many of his troops as he could. Thus, throwing away lives in an assault on an enemy held position was completely out of the option.
Flinte understood where the colonel was coming from, but in the mind of the thirty one year old captain he could break the Séndglaun fortified village,if it was fortified, whose name was Cúrmai. Between the sorcerer he had, and the druid Sirlun commanded, along with their artillery of three Modal 48 smoothbore four pounders, one pattern 49 .34 rotary repeater and their pair of pattern 45 rifled 3 pounders they had a fair chance of breaking the enemy village.
The captain knew better then to argue however, orders where orders, but in the hare's mind, the colonel was being needlessly cautious. Perhaps if the foes they were to do battle with were Phaúglaunians that caution would be well deserved. But the nation of Séndglaun was a primitive place, behind modern times in technology, with little modern artillery or equipment.
Ahead of Flint was Captain Alaruin Ritpker's company, it was her--a bit confusing Flinte thought since Alaruin was a male's name, the name Alerauin was the female equivalent--company suddenly stumbling to a halt that brought his attention back to the present.
"Widowmakers, halt!" Flinte called back over his shoulder and heard the call echoed by those behind him. Ritpker's company was the only one fifty troop company in the fourth battalion and for that reason they'd been placed in the front, the only issue from this was that one hundred and fifty soldiers moved slower then one hundred and twenty.
However, their superior numbers allowed them to weather an ambush better. It was a cold way of thinking, but no military spent overly long worrying about how cold they may seem.
A clatter of hover behind him caused the captain to look back, his three lieutenants--each commanding a forty trooper section--were approaching.
As soon as they were within speaking range, lieutenant Capuir Sanui of the second section said. "Sir, why has Captain Ritpker and her company halted?"
"I don't know lieutenant," Flinte said and locked eyes with Lieutenant Hassuir Wexlé of the first section and said. "Lieutenant Wexlé, you and the first section will follow me."
"Aye, sir," the young male lieutenant said and turned in his sale to face the Widowmakers. "First section, column March, follow the captain."
Without looking back, Flinte added, "Sanui, Asiferai; have your sections deploy into battle lines."
Flinte stared straight ahead at the milling mass of the fourth company and listened to the sound of his first section following close behind. Within moments, Flinte was no longer alone and Wexlé beside him.
"Sir, if I may?"
"Go ahead, lieutenant."
"Why did you deploy the second and third sections Into battle lines? There is no sound of combat, no rifled musket fire or artillery boom of even screams or close combat."
"If you wish to have a long and prosperous career as a Vendglaun military officer, you must learn to take any situation, where there is the possibility of meeting the foe and treat it as though it where immediately hostile. Especially if it is not immediately dangerous, lest you grow complacent." Flinte looked across the backs of the infantry ahead of them, "do you know why the fourth company has halted?"
Wexlé shook his head, "no sir, I don't."
"Therefore lieutenant, we approach the situation assuming we are about to walk into hostility."
Flinte drove his horse forward closer to the rear of the milling fourth company, "clear away, troopers of the fourth." He called when he and his mount were a mere four meters away. Like flesh before a blade, the troopers split apart as he and the first section came through.
Within moments he found himself at the front of the fourth company and behold what had happened to the fourth's captain.
"Why are you crawling about in the dirt like a worm, captain Ritpker?"
Crouching in the dirt, a meter away from her waiting horse; the captain of the fourth looked over her shoulder and motioned him closer.
Sighing, Flinte swung one leg over the saddle and stepped down. Laying his left hand on his spadroons pommel plate, he approached the fourth's captain and crouched down. "What are you...." He stopped upon noticing a mark on the ground further ahead, a very familiar mark.
Nodding, Ritpker said, "you see it then?"
"If what you mean by 'it' is a very clear artillery impact, then yes."
"Keep looking captain Flinte, there is more."
Flinte did just that, he continued to look and found more signs: there was what appeared to be a broken bayonet among some shrubbery, to the right along a slight rise in the ground was a line of impacts of what was clearly rifle fire. That was not all, he could see a dozen little pieces of battle scattered across the slope, which rose into rocky terrain on the right and sloped down to a small grassy indentation, wherein all the grass and bush had been trampled.
Pointing at the indentation, Flinte said. "There stood a group of ambushers," passed the indentation the ground started to rise until it was almost in line with the path they were on, pointing at that area he said. "And there stood the second group of ambushers."
Ritpker nodded, "the artillery they had, nothing heavier then a three pounder judging by the indent in the ground, was up upon the higher section as well."
"And it was a smoothbore," Flinte added, "that impact doesn't match rifled round impacts, and judging by the end of the furrow, it also bounced."
Ritpker rose from her crouch and said "there's nothing much else we can do about this now, perhaps it was rebels from the Séndglaun revolution, or maybe it was some of ours that we weren't told about. Captain Flinte, you should return to your company and we'll get moving again; mayhap your lieutenant there would care to be the bearer of this information to the lieutenant colonel?"
"Wexlé, do as Captain Ritpker says and bring word of this to lieutenant colonel Sirlun."
Wexlé bowed his head and said, "aye sir, I will deliver what I've witnessed."
As the lieutenant galloped off, Flinte joined Ritpker in mounting his horse.
Ritpker, now upon her horse, watched lieutenant Wexlé's for dissappear down slope and lowering her voice, said. "A fine young officer if I've ever seen one, but I must ask for my curiosity will not cease, what is the meaning of that pin upon his tunic's left cuff?"
"The nine pointed star within a double circle?"
"Aye, that's the one. It's especially confusing for me for my family has always been closely linked with the church of the Ten and that has always been it's symbol."
"It's the mark of a possible latent, the conference of spellcasters--a collosal meeting of spellcasters from every nation--of -188 IE came up with the decree of Ritterlon; and this decree stated that all families wherein a spellcaster has been borne carry a modified symbol of the nine, the original circles and star of the nine included nine rings and a nine pointed star. The two ring design caught on much later, about -77 IE."
Ritpker raised a brow, "how do you know all this, captain Flinte?"
"My grandfather was an avid historian, he kept records of as many historic events, current events and even papers regarding possible future events, though the Nine know how inaccurate future sight is."
"I see," Ritpker said and looked behind her, to her company standing at attention. "You should be getting back to your company, captain."
"Aye," Flinte turned his horse around and guided it forward, back down the path toward his company. "First section fall in behind me."
The thunder of the modal 48 smoothbore 4 pounder right beside sergeant Kertwual Yassunil's ear caused him to flinch away. Despite being such a small gun, the modal 48, a Verdglaun gun, made a rather loud boom upon firing. One which the rebel--the term he and all his fellow rebels preferred was monarchist--sergeant had at first been surprised by, but now he simply welcomed the extra firepower the little cannon brought. At least when it wasn't firing right beside his ear, what made it worse was the fact the monarchists were within a cave at the moment; causing the explosive boom of the little cannon to be multiplied by the close walls.
With his ears still ringing, he shouted "first line, make ready!" Across the monarchist's front line, every Frontline light line infantryhare brought their rifles up into the ready position. "Aim," the thirty monarchist soldiers making up the front line brought their rifles up to their shoulders and cocked their rifles. "Fire!"
The sound of thirty rifled muskets going off inside a cave was colossal and the amount of black powder smoke that was thrown out completely blocked Yassunil vision. All his senses could make sense of was the ringing in his ears, the acrid stench of black powder, the stinging in his eyes and the sharp taste of black powder in his mouth.
Without thinking he barked out, "first line retreat and load, second line advance and make ready!"
The monarchist infantry, though they were not professional--many were militia who'd supported the monarchist side during the Séndglaun civil war--performed their orders with admirable speed and efficiency and within a few heartbeats he had another front line of soldiers with loaded rifles. After the second line had sent off their volley and retreated for the third line to make ready, he had the hold their fire.
Holding up a single paw, he motioned for his troopers to crouch, which they did even in the midst of reloading. Even the cannon crew crouched by their gun, ninety five eyes fixed on were they knew the cave's entrance to be, trying to pierce the smoke of battle with their eyes.
A pawfull of times a trooper started to raise their rifle, believing they'd seen something and Yassunil had had to wave them down, his own rifle pointed toward the cave mouth, but not readied.
After waiting through another minute of tense silence, Yassunil nudged the corporal to his left, "run further into the caverns, find Colonel Âbrif and tell him the remnants of the third company second battalion are holding the east cavern entrance, all senior officers are dead and command is in Sergeant Yassunil's paws, and he's requesting a relief force. Do you understand what I've said," when the corporal nodded, Yassunil said. "Repeat it to me then."
When he did, Yassunil nodded and said. "Off with you then."
As the corporal sped away, one of Yassunil's fellow sergeants approached at a crouch, trying to keep as silent as possible.
Sergeant Tryfallu Caeruil nodded to the cave's entrance, where the smoke was starting to clear and the corpses of hare's where becoming visible. "I'd like to scout out the mouth of the cave, sergeant, so as to gain information on the enemies movements. If they bring their guns up we must know and clear out, else the roof collapse upon us."
"Permission granted," Yassunil said, "with one variation, I will accompany you."
The two hare sergeant set out after Yassunil had given a series of orders in the event of republican markshares waiting and watching the cave mouth. They kept low as they approached, stepping gingerly over the corpses of both monarchists who had died during the retreat further back to the defence positions and republicans that had attempted a charge, and which through such tight corridors as the cave had failed.
Though it felt like hours to get to the cave mouth, with Yassunil imagining a Republican markshare drawing a bead on him, it was actually only a few minutes from their position twenty four or so meters away from the cave's mouth.
At the left side of the cave mouth was a pile of boulders that must have been knocked down by the Modal 48 and it was this boulder pile Yassunil made for. Fighting the urge to sprint the last pawfull of meters, he crept up upon the boulder pile and crouched down, peeking around the rocks to see beyond.
The first thing he noticed was that it was bright, his eyes--used to the darkness of the cave--were blinded when he looked out onto sun covered mountains, in fact the sun was directly in front of them; dawn had seemingly just arrived. Almost like it were here to free them of their night long skirmish with the republican forces.
For nearly the entire night the republicans had been hammering them here, definitely in payback for their ambush upon the republicans in the mountain pass.
When Yassunil looked out he was amazed to see the area close to the cave was clear of republican forces, at least living ones. He noticed how the republicans had retreated nearly two hundred meters back and were gathering into battle lines back there. Across their lines he could see the glistening points of bayonets, to their rear was a battery of artillery--it was too far to identify and more alarming was a section of combat engineers who stood ahead of the lines.
Axes and picks were slung on their back, alongside the heavy backpack they wore and at their hips rested a number of heavy leather pouches.
Yassunil scowled as he stared at the engineers, those hares could wreck absolute havoc in the monarchist's position, from charges and bombs to grenades and whatever other devilish strange science weaponry they had with them. They would have to go first, though the question of how to kill the combat engineers was a mystery.
This first part is mainly setting up the conflict and focuses on military action. I should note up front that I've been writing this using a phone and writing program upon that.
Edit: I forgot to note something, the names within the short story or the world building thread--I haven't decided which--are placeholders for the moment.
Criticism welcome
The hour before dawn it had started to rain, the rain had started to fall shortly after the two thousand light infantry of line began to break up their camp. The dreary duty of exiting the camp and setting out ahead of the rest of the 43rd Couruln regiment was heaped onto the shoulders of lieutenant colonel Relaus Sirlun and his fourth battalion, among whom was captain Cedris Flinte of the Widowmakers company.
When they'd received the order to set out into the rain covered path leading deeper into the western edges of the mountains of Glaun, Flinte had been in the middle of preparing himself a morning brew. A brew which appeared as simple coffee, but within which he dropped a bit of whisky. Just to help him wake up and he certainly had no desire to drink his entire flask by the end of the day.
Despite his lack of early morning whisky, the hare captain found himself wide awake and attentive. Somewhere in this surrounding area or mountain, a Séndglaun force was making their way towards the Vendglaun fortress of Cirtorí two score kilometers to the north. Intelligence and scout reports told the 43rd of a village slightly farther ahead in the mountains, one whose primary contribution to Séndglaun seemed to be the excavation of stone from a pair of nearby quarries. Vendglaun was not remotely interested in a quarry village, but according to the maps of the area a force following the route the Séndglaunians were would have to pass either through or near enough the village that the villagers would know of their passing.
That was where the fourth battalion came in, the five hundred and ten--roughly--soldiers of the battalion were to advance to this village and secure it and wait for the rest of the army, if the Séndglaun force was there, they were to wait for reinforcements.
The Vendglaun force was already outnumbered about two to one, the commanding officer of the 43rd, Colonel Rewuir Animaer, had a strategy he was going to use to defeat the Séndglaunians when they caught up with them. For his strategy to work--whatever it was, he'd never shared it with his officers--he needed as many of his troops as he could. Thus, throwing away lives in an assault on an enemy held position was completely out of the option.
Flinte understood where the colonel was coming from, but in the mind of the thirty one year old captain he could break the Séndglaun fortified village,if it was fortified, whose name was Cúrmai. Between the sorcerer he had, and the druid Sirlun commanded, along with their artillery of three Modal 48 smoothbore four pounders, one pattern 49 .34 rotary repeater and their pair of pattern 45 rifled 3 pounders they had a fair chance of breaking the enemy village.
The captain knew better then to argue however, orders where orders, but in the hare's mind, the colonel was being needlessly cautious. Perhaps if the foes they were to do battle with were Phaúglaunians that caution would be well deserved. But the nation of Séndglaun was a primitive place, behind modern times in technology, with little modern artillery or equipment.
Ahead of Flint was Captain Alaruin Ritpker's company, it was her--a bit confusing Flinte thought since Alaruin was a male's name, the name Alerauin was the female equivalent--company suddenly stumbling to a halt that brought his attention back to the present.
"Widowmakers, halt!" Flinte called back over his shoulder and heard the call echoed by those behind him. Ritpker's company was the only one fifty troop company in the fourth battalion and for that reason they'd been placed in the front, the only issue from this was that one hundred and fifty soldiers moved slower then one hundred and twenty.
However, their superior numbers allowed them to weather an ambush better. It was a cold way of thinking, but no military spent overly long worrying about how cold they may seem.
A clatter of hover behind him caused the captain to look back, his three lieutenants--each commanding a forty trooper section--were approaching.
As soon as they were within speaking range, lieutenant Capuir Sanui of the second section said. "Sir, why has Captain Ritpker and her company halted?"
"I don't know lieutenant," Flinte said and locked eyes with Lieutenant Hassuir Wexlé of the first section and said. "Lieutenant Wexlé, you and the first section will follow me."
"Aye, sir," the young male lieutenant said and turned in his sale to face the Widowmakers. "First section, column March, follow the captain."
Without looking back, Flinte added, "Sanui, Asiferai; have your sections deploy into battle lines."
Flinte stared straight ahead at the milling mass of the fourth company and listened to the sound of his first section following close behind. Within moments, Flinte was no longer alone and Wexlé beside him.
"Sir, if I may?"
"Go ahead, lieutenant."
"Why did you deploy the second and third sections Into battle lines? There is no sound of combat, no rifled musket fire or artillery boom of even screams or close combat."
"If you wish to have a long and prosperous career as a Vendglaun military officer, you must learn to take any situation, where there is the possibility of meeting the foe and treat it as though it where immediately hostile. Especially if it is not immediately dangerous, lest you grow complacent." Flinte looked across the backs of the infantry ahead of them, "do you know why the fourth company has halted?"
Wexlé shook his head, "no sir, I don't."
"Therefore lieutenant, we approach the situation assuming we are about to walk into hostility."
Flinte drove his horse forward closer to the rear of the milling fourth company, "clear away, troopers of the fourth." He called when he and his mount were a mere four meters away. Like flesh before a blade, the troopers split apart as he and the first section came through.
Within moments he found himself at the front of the fourth company and behold what had happened to the fourth's captain.
"Why are you crawling about in the dirt like a worm, captain Ritpker?"
Crouching in the dirt, a meter away from her waiting horse; the captain of the fourth looked over her shoulder and motioned him closer.
Sighing, Flinte swung one leg over the saddle and stepped down. Laying his left hand on his spadroons pommel plate, he approached the fourth's captain and crouched down. "What are you...." He stopped upon noticing a mark on the ground further ahead, a very familiar mark.
Nodding, Ritpker said, "you see it then?"
"If what you mean by 'it' is a very clear artillery impact, then yes."
"Keep looking captain Flinte, there is more."
Flinte did just that, he continued to look and found more signs: there was what appeared to be a broken bayonet among some shrubbery, to the right along a slight rise in the ground was a line of impacts of what was clearly rifle fire. That was not all, he could see a dozen little pieces of battle scattered across the slope, which rose into rocky terrain on the right and sloped down to a small grassy indentation, wherein all the grass and bush had been trampled.
Pointing at the indentation, Flinte said. "There stood a group of ambushers," passed the indentation the ground started to rise until it was almost in line with the path they were on, pointing at that area he said. "And there stood the second group of ambushers."
Ritpker nodded, "the artillery they had, nothing heavier then a three pounder judging by the indent in the ground, was up upon the higher section as well."
"And it was a smoothbore," Flinte added, "that impact doesn't match rifled round impacts, and judging by the end of the furrow, it also bounced."
Ritpker rose from her crouch and said "there's nothing much else we can do about this now, perhaps it was rebels from the Séndglaun revolution, or maybe it was some of ours that we weren't told about. Captain Flinte, you should return to your company and we'll get moving again; mayhap your lieutenant there would care to be the bearer of this information to the lieutenant colonel?"
"Wexlé, do as Captain Ritpker says and bring word of this to lieutenant colonel Sirlun."
Wexlé bowed his head and said, "aye sir, I will deliver what I've witnessed."
As the lieutenant galloped off, Flinte joined Ritpker in mounting his horse.
Ritpker, now upon her horse, watched lieutenant Wexlé's for dissappear down slope and lowering her voice, said. "A fine young officer if I've ever seen one, but I must ask for my curiosity will not cease, what is the meaning of that pin upon his tunic's left cuff?"
"The nine pointed star within a double circle?"
"Aye, that's the one. It's especially confusing for me for my family has always been closely linked with the church of the Ten and that has always been it's symbol."
"It's the mark of a possible latent, the conference of spellcasters--a collosal meeting of spellcasters from every nation--of -188 IE came up with the decree of Ritterlon; and this decree stated that all families wherein a spellcaster has been borne carry a modified symbol of the nine, the original circles and star of the nine included nine rings and a nine pointed star. The two ring design caught on much later, about -77 IE."
Ritpker raised a brow, "how do you know all this, captain Flinte?"
"My grandfather was an avid historian, he kept records of as many historic events, current events and even papers regarding possible future events, though the Nine know how inaccurate future sight is."
"I see," Ritpker said and looked behind her, to her company standing at attention. "You should be getting back to your company, captain."
"Aye," Flinte turned his horse around and guided it forward, back down the path toward his company. "First section fall in behind me."
The thunder of the modal 48 smoothbore 4 pounder right beside sergeant Kertwual Yassunil's ear caused him to flinch away. Despite being such a small gun, the modal 48, a Verdglaun gun, made a rather loud boom upon firing. One which the rebel--the term he and all his fellow rebels preferred was monarchist--sergeant had at first been surprised by, but now he simply welcomed the extra firepower the little cannon brought. At least when it wasn't firing right beside his ear, what made it worse was the fact the monarchists were within a cave at the moment; causing the explosive boom of the little cannon to be multiplied by the close walls.
With his ears still ringing, he shouted "first line, make ready!" Across the monarchist's front line, every Frontline light line infantryhare brought their rifles up into the ready position. "Aim," the thirty monarchist soldiers making up the front line brought their rifles up to their shoulders and cocked their rifles. "Fire!"
The sound of thirty rifled muskets going off inside a cave was colossal and the amount of black powder smoke that was thrown out completely blocked Yassunil vision. All his senses could make sense of was the ringing in his ears, the acrid stench of black powder, the stinging in his eyes and the sharp taste of black powder in his mouth.
Without thinking he barked out, "first line retreat and load, second line advance and make ready!"
The monarchist infantry, though they were not professional--many were militia who'd supported the monarchist side during the Séndglaun civil war--performed their orders with admirable speed and efficiency and within a few heartbeats he had another front line of soldiers with loaded rifles. After the second line had sent off their volley and retreated for the third line to make ready, he had the hold their fire.
Holding up a single paw, he motioned for his troopers to crouch, which they did even in the midst of reloading. Even the cannon crew crouched by their gun, ninety five eyes fixed on were they knew the cave's entrance to be, trying to pierce the smoke of battle with their eyes.
A pawfull of times a trooper started to raise their rifle, believing they'd seen something and Yassunil had had to wave them down, his own rifle pointed toward the cave mouth, but not readied.
After waiting through another minute of tense silence, Yassunil nudged the corporal to his left, "run further into the caverns, find Colonel Âbrif and tell him the remnants of the third company second battalion are holding the east cavern entrance, all senior officers are dead and command is in Sergeant Yassunil's paws, and he's requesting a relief force. Do you understand what I've said," when the corporal nodded, Yassunil said. "Repeat it to me then."
When he did, Yassunil nodded and said. "Off with you then."
As the corporal sped away, one of Yassunil's fellow sergeants approached at a crouch, trying to keep as silent as possible.
Sergeant Tryfallu Caeruil nodded to the cave's entrance, where the smoke was starting to clear and the corpses of hare's where becoming visible. "I'd like to scout out the mouth of the cave, sergeant, so as to gain information on the enemies movements. If they bring their guns up we must know and clear out, else the roof collapse upon us."
"Permission granted," Yassunil said, "with one variation, I will accompany you."
The two hare sergeant set out after Yassunil had given a series of orders in the event of republican markshares waiting and watching the cave mouth. They kept low as they approached, stepping gingerly over the corpses of both monarchists who had died during the retreat further back to the defence positions and republicans that had attempted a charge, and which through such tight corridors as the cave had failed.
Though it felt like hours to get to the cave mouth, with Yassunil imagining a Republican markshare drawing a bead on him, it was actually only a few minutes from their position twenty four or so meters away from the cave's mouth.
At the left side of the cave mouth was a pile of boulders that must have been knocked down by the Modal 48 and it was this boulder pile Yassunil made for. Fighting the urge to sprint the last pawfull of meters, he crept up upon the boulder pile and crouched down, peeking around the rocks to see beyond.
The first thing he noticed was that it was bright, his eyes--used to the darkness of the cave--were blinded when he looked out onto sun covered mountains, in fact the sun was directly in front of them; dawn had seemingly just arrived. Almost like it were here to free them of their night long skirmish with the republican forces.
For nearly the entire night the republicans had been hammering them here, definitely in payback for their ambush upon the republicans in the mountain pass.
When Yassunil looked out he was amazed to see the area close to the cave was clear of republican forces, at least living ones. He noticed how the republicans had retreated nearly two hundred meters back and were gathering into battle lines back there. Across their lines he could see the glistening points of bayonets, to their rear was a battery of artillery--it was too far to identify and more alarming was a section of combat engineers who stood ahead of the lines.
Axes and picks were slung on their back, alongside the heavy backpack they wore and at their hips rested a number of heavy leather pouches.
Yassunil scowled as he stared at the engineers, those hares could wreck absolute havoc in the monarchist's position, from charges and bombs to grenades and whatever other devilish strange science weaponry they had with them. They would have to go first, though the question of how to kill the combat engineers was a mystery.
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