The two roaring ententes were just as vulnerable to lead and wounds. The forest thundered from their rifle fire. As one rank completed their volley, they stepped back and allowed the next row to discharge their round. Reloading as bullets whizzed by, the troops did not flinch. Their cartridges did not fall from their hands, and their aim was steady, fuelled by seemingly infinite adrenaline. All they could think about was battle and nothing more, but as the skirmish dragged on, the Confederates began to realise that, despite their higher ground and greater numbers of far more experienced men, they did not inflict the damage that they had expected to do. They felt as though they were trapped in a stalemate which the enemy would not flee from. Their wounded did not wither, fighting at full capacity. Scores of Rus fell, and both sides soon understood that it was those unimposing logs forming low walls which had absorbed nine of ten rounds.
The smoke accumulated and thickened in the mist, like the smog of an industrial city. Soldiers coughed, and their eyes watered from the gunpowder and blood, which sabotaged their senses. Worried, a captain broke from formation, marching out of his regiment that had lost half a dozen more in the time he had moved. Before they could all perish, he climbed the mound where the general’s staff had positioned themselves. They noticed him in the background, but the snobbish officers did not inform their commander. From afar, the captain tried to gain an audience with the third general, but learning that he would pay him no heed, he fought his way through the sea of snow on his own accord. His seniors withdrew only when a girl, despite being a humble lieutenant, gestured for them to behave.
Despite his commander being ununiformed, unarmoured, and improperly dressed for the military occasion, the captain saluted him. “Ženerjalkungs, jes vajadz dzjngotayu mash tsїngjau. (Sir General, I find myself needing to report on our skirmish.)” He informed him in his native tongue, a language that most commoners could only speak.
The third general spectated the battle as if he were a war tourist, detached from the world needing his command. “Kos? (What of it?)” Aurelius spoke, his voice eerily soft.
Stepping forward, the captain kept his eyes on the general. “Mash sčělněkh, jesavkungs, notjktau ně’ědarbїža kas saoyle koyštasau. (Our rifles, sir. We seem to be making less and less progress by the minute.)" He reported on the situation.
“Er tis jaoytjajumsa av ěrotsisa vili něspěja? (Is this an issue of our equipment, or is it a matter of inability?)” Aurelius quickly deduced why that was the case.
Pausing, the captain looked around and saw his seniors biting on their cigars. Their expressions judgemental. After a thought, he hesitantly answered his general. “Něspěja… jesavkungs… (Inability… sir…)” The captain widened his eyes. Rarely has he ever been forced to say the truth he was unwilling to tell, and he lowered his head in shame. “Mě ěsjtjau dzemei uni kokha bo ně’ěsjtjau měsai. (We are hitting soil and bark more than we are hitting flesh.)” His hands itched behind his back as he grew quieter with each word.
“Er tu ěrosjnjatau tas mě er kłjutayu oydzbroyktvěš? (Are you suggesting that we should take to the offensive?)” Aurelius latched on to his implication.
The captain was left stunned, but he had never doubted his general’s wit. It seemed like his explanation was meaningless if Aurelius knew what he wanted to suggest from the beginning. As if they were on leave, the colonels brined their lungs in smoke, leaving the issue for their commander to solve alone. For him, it was not a problem of capability but of his lack of strength to wake up from inaction.
Lazily leaning against his spear, which was the last thing preventing him from tipping over, Aurelius let off a childish sigh. “I guess waiting around won’t do us any good anyways, or else that wager with Rex…” He mumbled, annoyed by the thought.
His aides rudely dismissed the captain, flapping their hands. The regiment commander did not mind them and saluted the third general before he withdrew to his unit, which had since shrunk by another hundred men. Aurelius stood upright and brought his hand up as his officers awaited his command.
Bitten by the cold, he felt a gust pushing him on coming from the forest deep, with the air finally penetrating his clothes. But his mind was at home, reminded by the snow and the clouds beneath and above. He looked up and made a half-open smile. While the last volley of gunfire rang out, the captains shouted their orders. Their men slung their rifles onto their shoulders and undressed their swords from their sheaths. Their blades pointed ahead and were ready on standby when the first columns of the encircling army advanced. Their comrades prepared their rifles behind them, and all units were soon in position. The third general lowered his gaze from the heavens and received a nod from his lieutenant, who stood faithfully beside him. His arm swung down, and then came the charge.300Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFNKzdHy0nG
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