The Siege of Maxton

By the following day, we were on the outskirts of Maxton. It was 0530 hours, but Cutter and I remained awake, keeping watch from the front of the wagon. We scanned the pre-dawn gloom through the NVGs mounted on our MICH-2000 helmets.

In the back, the rescued girls were asleep. Elara and Brielle dozed with their backs pressed against one another for warmth. Cera and Bard, however, were still awake, their quiet conversation drifting forward.

"So, you're a mage, huh?" the Sea Dragon operator asked the dog-eared youth.

"Yes! I am an Archmage!" Cera declared proudly.

"So, what can you do? Pull a rabbit out of a hat? Escape from a box full of swords?"

"That's a magician, you bloody Yank! He's a sorcerer," Cutter yelled back from the driver's seat.

"Archmage!" Cera corrected.

"Yeah, whatever..."

"You mean like that Harry Potter shit?" Bard asked, glancing toward Cutter. "Riding a broom? Turning someone into a frog and—" He paused, a thought suddenly striking him. "Wait, did you just say 'he'?"

"He's a boy, you dumarce."

"Say what?!" Bard exclaimed, while the boy himself tilted his head in confusion.

"Saw him go into the men's washroom back at the palace," Cutter said with a grin. "Quite a surprise, eh?"

Even I was taken aback. Damn. I’d forgotten this world was essentially a 3D anime. I had foolishly assumed 'traps' only existed in the 2D realm.

"I don't use black magic," Cera said with a smile. "My magic is focused on water and wind." He held out his hand, conjuring a sphere of water that spun in his palm before he compressed it into a solid cube of ice. "See?"

"What the—" Bard yelped, scrambling away from the mage.

Cera looked at Bard, bewildered, and the ice cube in his hand vanished. "Well? Why are you so surprised? Isn't your magic more amazing than mine?"

"Oh! Right." Bard composed himself. "Our 'magic' is different from yours."

Just then, Cutter's satellite phone rang. He pulled it from his pouch and held it to his ear. "Hello?" A smile spread across his face. "Oh, hey! How are you? I'm alright, sweetie. Just a bit busy right now."

"Why is he talking to that little box?" Cera inquired.

"That little box is a device we use to speak with someone far away," Bard explained quickly.

"Does it use magic?"

"No."

"How are the kids?" Cutter asked into the phone. "Are they sleeping?" A sad, melancholy smile twisted his lips. "I see. I feel bad for leaving them," he replied, his voice laced with sorrow. "Please, tell them I'll be home soon. Tell them their father loves them, too. I miss you all so much." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Yes, I love you, too. Goodbye." He slipped the phone back into its pouch.

"Was that your wife?" I asked.

"Yeah," he replied, his focus returning to the road ahead.

"Wait, you already have kids?" Bard asked this time.

"I do. Fraternal twins. And my wife's expecting again. I'm hoping for a boy." I understood the sentiment. Though I had no wife or child, I missed my mother and Nee-chan on every deployment. I often wondered if I'd ever make it home to play video games with my sister or help my mom in the kitchen again.

I'd seen enough war films and read enough books about soldiers leaving pregnant wives and unborn children behind to serve their country. Some of them never came back. It was the main reason I still had no desire to get married.

"I know you two, being a Sea Dragon and a YSOG, can pick up any girl on the streets of Kyoma or New York," Cutter said, "but I advise you not to get married just yet. I don't think they could handle the long deployments and would just end up dumping you." His advice was cynical, but you couldn't blame the old bastard; it was a lonely life. "I've made up my mind. This is my last deployment before I retire. If not, my wife will kill me herself," he chuckled.

"Yeah, being single is more fun anyway," I replied, my thoughts briefly wandering to a certain pink-haired musketeer. I shook my head to clear it just as our radio crackled to life.

"GAIA, this is Seraphim, how copy? Over," came a strong, familiar, and commanding voice.

Cutter keyed the radio. "This is GAIA Actual. Go ahead, Seraphim."

"Our satellite... is operational! You now have GPS access for ten minutes per week," remarked 'Seraphim'—General Thorne.

"Roger that, sir! This is Bard," he said, pulling a ruggedized tablet from his assault pack and tapping furiously at the virtual keyboard.

"Anything else, General?" I asked.

"Negative, just that. Good luck with your new toy, gentlemen... GAIA Two," the General called to the American.

"Sir?" Bard asked, one hand pressed to his earpiece.

"Iceberg sends a message. He says, 'Godspeed, Mohammed. Allah is with you,'" General Thorne relayed. "Seraphim out."

Bard chuckled and turned back to his tablet. "Huh, that old man," he muttered.

"How does General Thorne know your father?" I asked.

"My dad was the commander of Carrier Strike Group 10, assigned to ferry Thorne's OSC Marines. That's how they met," Bard explained.

"And who's Mohammed?" Cutter inquired.

"It's my middle name. It's what Pops calls me." After a few moments, a loading screen on the tablet gave way to a digital map. "Done," he said with a satisfied grin. Bard wasn't just a demolitions expert; he was a genius with engineering, technology, and even nuclear disarmament. The title 'demolitions specialist' didn't do him justice. He was a combat engineer, through and through, and far too valuable an asset to lose.

"How far to the city?" I asked him.

"About... uh... wait," Bard paused. He held the tablet out to Cera. "Can you confirm this is the city of Maxton?"

The young mage peered at the tablet curiously for a few seconds before answering. "Yes, that's definitely Maxton from above."

"Fuck," Bard swore.

"What is it, Bard?" Cutter demanded.

"The city is under attack!" he yelled, his voice sharp enough to jolt the sleeping girls awake.

"What?!" Cutter and I both snapped, turning to face him.

"I've got multiple unidentified contacts in front of the gate! I can even see artillery and a few siege engines."

"The city is being attacked?!" Brielle questioned from the back, her voice filled with alarm. Bard just nodded grimly.

"Damn it," Cutter hissed, biting his lip. "Bard! Location of the city?"

"Bearing 2-9-1! Distance, six klicks!" Bard yelled back.

"Roger..." Cutter said. I saw a sudden, manic grin flash across his face. "Hold on!" he roared, wrenching the wagon hard to the right.

"Whoa!" Bard yelled, thrown across the wagon like a ragdoll.

"Kyaaa!" the girls shrieked, clutching one another.

"Yahooo!" the young wizard shouted in delight, a stark contrast to the others.

I managed to hang on to the bench as Cutter laughed maniacally, whipping the horses to go faster. "Hahahaha!" He was insane! He was drifting the wagon like it was an AE86. Eurobeat intensifies, I thought wryly. Wait, not the time.

"DUDE, FOR GOD'S SAKE, SLOW DOWN!" Bard pleaded, but Cutter was lost in his own world. I saw a few of the girls lose their balance. "Son of a—" Bard grunted as they landed on top of him.

After a wild thirty seconds, Cutter screeched the wagon to a halt. He let out a low whistle. "Dude, that was awesome! I feel like Vin Diesel."

"Vin Diesel, my ass!" I half-screamed, rubbing my bruised backside.

"Please don't do that again!" I heard Brielle shout from inside. I glanced back and saw her and Elara panting. Cera, however, had a contented smile on his face, as if he'd enjoyed the ride. Bard was groaning on the wooden floor, pinned beneath a pile of girls. "Damn it, Cutter..."

"Lucky bastard," I muttered under my breath, then looked back at Cutter. He had removed his NVGs and was now peering into the distance through a pair of digital binoculars.