The Sniper's Gambit

"I see a thousand-plus foot mobiles charging the front gate," Cutter observed, his voice calm and steady. From our vantage point on a wooded hill overlooking the city, we remained unseen. They likely had no idea we were even here. Below us, a vast, grassy meadow separated our position from the city walls. "Hold on. I've got a visual on several cannons and two battery towers."

Snatching up my binoculars, I swiveled to face the battlefield. I watched as enemy cannons shelled the wall, which was already showing signs of severe distress. The damage was being compounded by the battery towers, whose relentless fire gave the musketeers and archers on the parapets no time to retaliate. To make matters worse, the bulk of the city's support troops were merely militia and unskilled irregulars.

"I also see two hundred cavalry charging the defenders' swordsmen, with pikemen in support," I remarked, witnessing friendly forces being trampled and cut down by the enemy horsemen. This was a massacre. If this continued, Maxton would inevitably fall into enemy hands.

"Your orders, Captain?"

"We have to take out those towers before they can push troops to the wall," Cutter decided after a quick survey of the field. "Then we'll eliminate the artillery, followed by the cavalry and pikemen. The garrison can handle the infantry on their own."

He turned to the rest of the team. "Listen up! The city is under siege, and if we do nothing, rebel forces will have it overrun in short order." He began to lay out the strategy. "We're ditching the cart and taking the two horses. Arc and I will take one; Elara and Brielle will take the other. As we move down the slope, I'll use my sniper rifle to take out their commanders from a distance. Arc, you'll then use Bard's LAW to destroy those towers before we engage the cavalry. Elara and Brielle, you'll attack the pikemen from their left flank before moving to assist the friendly forces with the remaining infantry and artillery." The two women gave him a firm nod.

He then turned to Cera. "Cera, you'll use your magic to disrupt their ability to mount another charge. Understood?"

She flashed a toothy grin at the captain. "As you wish, sir!"

His gaze shifted to Bard. "Bard, you stay here and protect the girls." Then, he addressed the group as a whole. "Any questions?"

"Sir, can you clarify the Rules of Engagement?" Bard asked. "Does 'don't fire unless fired upon' still apply?"

"We're changing the ROE. These bastards don't have modern equipment," he replied, his tone hardening. "If they display hostile intent—forming ranks, brandishing weapons, or even charging you—you are free to fuck them up. Does that make sense?"

"Hoo-yah!" Bard shouted, snapping a salute with his 'Sea Dragon phase' already activated.

"Alright then," Cutter said, his eyes sweeping over us one last time. "Let's move out, people. We have a job to do." His voice was commanding, imbued with a charisma that made you want to follow him into hell itself.

In unison, we yelled, "Yes, sir!" I had to admit, the man was a natural-born leader.

We prepared our gear with practiced speed. I took Bard's LAW and attached a bayonet to the muzzle of my own rifle. Cutter grabbed Bard's Romulus M25A3 sniper rifle and his personal AA-12 automatic shotgun. Against cavalry, a shotgun's close-quarters stopping power was superior to a rifle's, and the fully automatic AA-12 didn't need to be pumped to maintain a continuous rate of fire.

We unhitched the horses from the wagon. Cutter took the reins of one, and we mounted up. Riding a horse wasn't so different from handling an off-road motorcycle, and I found my balance easily enough.

"Hyaah!" Cutter shouted, slapping the horse's flank. The animal jolted and then broke into a gallop, carrying us from the cover of the treeline. On the second horse, Elara and Brielle followed close behind.

A few minutes down the slope, Cutter reined in the horse. We both dismounted, guiding the animal into the shadow of a massive boulder, easily the size of a contemporary main battle tank. We then took up our sniping positions beside the rock, the knee-high grass offering ideal cover. After un-slinging the suppressed sniper rifle, Cutter passed it to me. We lay prone on our stomachs, observing the battle below while Cutter raised his binoculars, scanning for our targets: the enemy commanders.

In modern warfare, distinguishing officers from their subordinates can be difficult, as uniforms are often identical save for small, inconspicuous rank insignia. Commanders give orders, but from a distance, they blend in. In medieval combat, however, it was as simple as telling salt from pepper. Commanders typically wore ornate, elegant armor and rode magnificent warhorses that stood in stark contrast to the plain gear and common mounts of the average soldier. It was a suicidal oversight in an era that lacked snipers, where most ranged weapons were ineffective beyond a hundred yards.

"I've got eyes on the objectives. Two o'clock," Cutter said. "They're at the rear of the enemy column, wearing the fancy clothes and riding the big horses."

I scanned the area he indicated. Finally, I spotted them: several figures in elaborate armor, mounted on powerful steeds, cutting down the last of some routed but loyal Albia Army soldiers. "Roger, I've got them."

"Copy that," he nodded. "Range is 800 meters. Make a slight adjustment for drop. Wind is negligible, so no need to compensate." He paused, then added, "I know you're a crack shot, but be careful. We have friendlies down there." I nodded silently in acknowledgment.

I took three minutes to calculate the shot, settling the crosshairs on one of the men in the ostentatious armor. I steadied my breathing, listening to the slow, steady rhythm of my own heartbeat as I prepared to squeeze the trigger.

"Tally," I said, waiting for his command.

"Fire."

I pulled the trigger.

My shot struck the man square in the chest, knocking him from his horse in a spray of red that misted over his nearest colleague. The other commanders looked shocked, but the chaos of the battlefield was all-consuming, and some simply continued fighting. At this distance, the suppressor rendered the rifle's report completely lost amidst the cacophony of battle. I worked the bolt, smoothly chambering a new round.

My next target was another commander, who was raising a spear to execute a badly wounded Albian soldier. Before he could deliver the killing blow, my round shattered his head like a watermelon. The soldier he'd been about to kill looked up, stunned, before one of his comrades on horseback scooped him up and pulled him from the fray.

"Engage targets at will."

Working the bolt again, I acquired a commander who was bellowing orders, directing his pikemen into another charge. I squeezed the trigger. The impact obliterated his leg, sending the severed limb spinning through the air. The round passed through him and into the horse, and both collapsed in a heap. The commander crawled out from under his dead mount and tried to stand, his face a mask of confusion. I doubt he even registered that his leg was gone; the shock must have been absolute.

The pikemen launched another charge, but this time it was disorganized and faltering. Their command structure was broken. An unorganized enemy is always easier to fight. Just then, Elara and Brielle attacked from the left flank with bow and rapier. History books taught me that pikemen, with their long spears, were devastating against frontal assaults but were acutely vulnerable to flanking maneuvers.

I turned my attention to the final two commanders. They had dismounted, attempting to blend in with the surrounding infantry. I put a round through one's temple, killing him instantly. The men around him recoiled, their mouths open in what I could only interpret as silent screams. Cycling the bolt one last time, I fired at the final commander. The bullet tore through his chest and dropped him, taking a foot soldier behind him down as well. A collateral kill. Two for one.

"That's the last of them," I said, ejecting the empty magazine.

"Okay," Cutter nodded. "Let's move." We scrambled to our feet and rushed to our horse. The moment I was mounted, Cutter spurred the animal, and we charged from our cover toward the heart of the battle.