Drill Camp Part II

Just as Lt. Colonel Moriyama raised his hand to signal his archers, his voice rang out, sharp and cold:

"Archers, fire—"

But before the arrows could leave their bows—

Thud!

One of Moriyama’s archers dropped, an arrow lodged cleanly through his throat.

Thwip! Thud!

Another fell. Then another. Confusion rippled through the Suragato ranks.

"What?!" Moriyama's eyes darted to the rooftops, the shadows, the edges of the courtyard.

From the eastern ridgeline overlooking the castle, arrows rained down with precision, cutting through the enemy’s backline. Blurs of movement streaked across the high ground, and figures in Brickvia military armor began pouring in.

“Enemy attack—no, Brickvia troops!” a Suragato officer shouted.

The quick response unit had arrived.

With practiced formation, the unit fanned out—fast, focused, deadly. Some rushed to reinforce the castle’s defenders; others provided cover fire from the shadows. Their leader, Lieutenant Saito, led the charge with sharp commands, directing squads to cut off the eastern side of Moriyama’s encirclement.

Kurosuke’s eyes widened slightly—not with surprise, but with renewed fire. He turned to his men, voice booming:

“Reinforcements have arrived! Hold your ground—we will not fall today!”

Moriyama grit his teeth, glaring toward the eastern ridge where the Brickvian banner now fluttered.

With the eastern flank breaking, Kurosuke didn’t hesitate.

“Infantry—forward! Push through the gap!”

The courtyard erupted into full-scale combat. Brickvia’s infantry, shields raised and weapons drawn, surged forward from their defensive formation. Their momentum was fierce—not desperate, but burning with new purpose.

Archers and crossbowmen behind them unleashed volleys, targeting the weakened edge of the encirclement where the quick response unit had struck. The once-confident Suragato troops now scrambled to adjust.

Lieutenant Saito, charging in alongside his men, met Kurosuke at the center. He gave a brief nod.

“We came as fast as we could. Northern reinforcements will follow!”

Kurosuke nodded in return, sweat dripping down his temple. “Good. We just need to hold the heart of this place—don’t let them crush us in.”

Meanwhile, in the northern tower, Ren and the engineering unit had finally broken the enemy's demolition line. The battering ram lay in ruins, its front splintered by axe, fire, and sabotage. Ren's chest rose and fell with exhaustion, but he didn't stop.

From above, he could see the clash in the courtyard—his comrades refusing to fall, the battlefield turning chaotic but hopeful.

Below, Moriyama’s expression tightened. His plan to bury Kurosuke inside the ruined castle was unraveling.

He clenched his fist.

“Pull the southern unit forward! Don’t let them regroup!” he barked.

But his voice no longer carried dominance—it carried urgency.

The tide was shifting.

From his position on the north tower, Ren scanned the battlefield below, catching a sudden glint in the distance—up in the hills beyond the northern ridge.

Then it happened.

A sudden downpour of arrows rained from above, darkening the sky with precision and force. The crack of bowstrings echoed like thunder rolling through the hills.

Ren's eyes lit up.

“Major General Tabrizu…” he whispered, realizing the elite archer unit had arrived.

From the high ridge, Brickvia’s main reinforcement unit had taken formation. Clad in swift, light armor, the archers unleashed relentless volleys into the exposed Suragato troops who had filled the courtyard below.

Caught in the open, Moriyama’s soldiers had no cover—their advance stalled, their ranks thrown into chaos.

Kurosuke looked up from the courtyard, watching arrows rain past him into the enemy ranks.

A breath of relief escaped his lips.

“Tabrizu… right on time.”

Moriyama’s face twisted in disbelief, eyes darting up toward the northern ridge. His voice cracked through the confusion,

“Retreat! Take cover! Pull back!”

But there was no escape.

The courtyard had become a killing ground—a trap now reversed. Moriyama's troops fell in waves, pierced before they could respond, trampled by their own in the panic.

The night air was filled with chaos, but above it all, from the tower, Ren watched silently, gripping the rail.

The tide had turned.

Meanwhile at the southern border post, the morning haze lingered as Brigadier General Miyamoto Natoe faced the approaching Suragato force. At its head stood the imposing figure of General Arakawa, the supreme commander of Suragato's military.

Arakawa halted a few paces ahead, his eyes locking with Natoe’s. He showed no sign of retreat.

“So you’re the famed youngest general of Brickvia,” Arakawa said with a faint smile. “It is an honor to meet you. But I did not march all this way to turn back empty-handed. I will not falter.”

Natoe replied steadily, “The reinforcement path has already been severed. Lieutenant Colonel Moriyama’s force is surrounded. You’ll find no opening here.”

Arakawa’s eyes narrowed slightly, then glanced at the sky where faint trails of white rockets still shimmered. He didn’t answer right away, but the tension in the air told everything.

Neither side raised weapons.

It was a deadlock, both generals standing firm in silent understanding—one defending a nation, the other refusing to yield.

Back at the abandoned castle, the smoke had begun to thin. The echoes of clashing steel and shouts had faded into the distance, leaving only the sound of the wind brushing across the scorched courtyard and the labored breaths of tired soldiers.

Lt. General Kurosuke stood amidst the aftermath, his armor dented and cloak torn, yet his spirit unbroken. As the dust settled, he saw Major General Tabrizu approaching. The archer commander, still alert but calm, halted before Kurosuke. Without a word, Kurosuke stepped forward and embraced him firmly.

“I owe you our lives,” Kurosuke muttered, his voice low but sincere.

Tabrizu patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t thank me yet, old friend. This is just a short breath in a long campaign.”

Kurosuke gave a tired nod. Around them, medics moved swiftly between the wounded, engineers checked what remained of the battlements, and soldiers began gathering the Suragato prisoners. The atmosphere remained tense, but for now, the fighting had ceased.

Tabrizu turned his gaze to the horizon. “I’ve already prepared a diplomatic attempt,” he said. “I plan to send a formal proposal to the southern front. If Suragato agrees to a full retreat, we’ll return their captured officers unharmed.”

Kurosuke raised an eyebrow. “That’s risky.”

“It’s a crack in their wall we can push through without more blood,” Tabrizu replied. “And if they reject it, we’ll be ready.”

Kurosuke nodded again, his tone softening. “Then let’s make sure every survivor here gets a proper rest. They’ve earned it.”

And for the first time in hours, there was a fragile moment of calm behind the battered castle walls.

As the first light of morning warmed the ruins of the abandoned castle, the engineering recruits gathered together, their faces glowing with a hard-earned joy. Cheers and laughter echoed across the courtyard as they celebrated the successful defense.

“We did it! I never thought we’d hold them off like this!” one recruit shouted, raising his fist.

“Ha! Those battering rams didn’t stand a chance against our traps!” another laughed, slapping a comrade on the back.

Ren stood apart from the crowd, his chest rising and falling heavily with fatigue. He watched his comrades cheer, a small, tired smile breaking through his weariness.

One of the recruits noticed and called out, “Hey, Ren! You okay? You look beat.”

Ren nodded slowly. “Just glad we made it. Seeing you all like this… makes it worth it.”

“Don’t get soft on us now! We’ll need that energy for what’s next,” another teased.

Ren chuckled softly. “I’m not done yet. Just taking a moment.”

Around him, the air buzzed with renewed spirit. Despite exhaustion and scars, they had held the line — together.

As the sun climbed higher over the quiet remnants of battle, orders were calmly relayed throughout the courtyard. The celebration softened into focused determination. Engineering recruits began gathering their tools, while infantry and scouts helped form marching columns. Prisoners of war, wounded and weary, were assembled under careful guard, their weapons already surrendered.

Ren adjusted the strap of his pack and looked ahead as the convoy began to move.

“The generals are planning to negotiate, huh?” one recruit muttered beside him. “Return the POWs if Suragato agrees to pull back?”

“Better than more bloodshed,” another said. “We’ve seen enough.”

Ren remained silent, his eyes fixed on the road stretching southward. He wasn’t sure what awaited them at the border, but after everything they’d survived, he trusted their leaders to make the right move.

Scouts rode ahead to secure the path, while cavalry flanked the convoy. The long column of soldiers and prisoners slowly marched forward—toward the southern border, toward what everyone hoped would be the end of this fight.

Under the rising sun at the southern border, the atmosphere was tense yet disciplined. Flags bearing the sigil of Brickvia stood proudly beside those of Suragato, fluttering in the early wind.

General Arakawa stood tall at the front of his formation, his eyes sharp as ever. Across the border line, three Brickvia generals stepped forward—Major General Tabrizu, Lieutenant General Kurosuke, and Brigadier General Natoe. The Suragato soldiers tensed, but Arakawa raised his hand to keep them steady.

Tabrizu took a step ahead. “General Arakawa,” he began firmly, “we’ve come not to continue bloodshed—but to return your men alive.”

He glanced behind him briefly, where the Brickvia column stood ready, with guarded yet unharmed Suragato prisoners in tow.

“There are three Brickvia generals standing before you—myself, Kurosuke, and Natoe,” Tabrizu said clearly. “Make no mistake—we could have buried your men under rubble, under arrows, under flame. But instead, we offer them back.”

He let the silence linger, his gaze unwavering.

“This is your chance. Pull your forces back peacefully. Take your men. Or prepare to lose more.”

General Arakawa stood motionless for a long moment, the early sunlight catching the edges of his armor. His soldiers waited tensely behind him, unsure of what their commander would choose.

At last, he exhaled through his nose and stepped forward, planting his hand on the hilt of his sword—not to draw it, but as a gesture of firm presence.

“You show restraint, and that is strength,” Arakawa said. “I see now that Brickvia is not held together by numbers, but by discipline.”

His eyes met Tabrizu’s, then shifted to Kurosuke and finally to Natoe.

“To see three of your highest generals standing here, offering peace when you have the upper hand—it humbles even me.”

He raised his chin. “But do not mistake my words for weakness. We will not forget this loss. However... I will take back my men.”

He looked to his aide and nodded. The Suragato standard bearer lowered their banner slightly—a silent signal of withdrawal.

Arakawa turned back to the generals. “We will retreat. And this war… is not yet over. But today, you’ve earned something far more lasting than fear.”

With that, he extended his hand to receive the prisoners.

One by one, the prisoners of war were released from their bindings and returned to the ranks of the Suragato army. Some limped, others supported one another, but each wore an expression of disbelief that they would see their homeland again.

Brickvia's troops watched in silence, standing in orderly formation. There was no jeering, no insult—only quiet respect for the end of a bloody chapter.

Ren stood among the engineering recruits, still dusted with the dirt of battle. His eyes followed a young Suragato soldier who paused mid-step and turned, offering a low bow before rejoining his column.

“...Feels strange,” one recruit whispered beside Ren. “All that chaos… and now we’re sending them home.”

Ren gave a small nod. “Better strange than more graves.”

As the last POW crossed the line, Arakawa gave a curt nod to the Brickvia generals.

“We will remember this,” he said simply, before turning away with his troops.

Tabrizu watched them go, then exhaled deeply. “Let’s move out. We’re bringing our people home.”

The Brickvia army turned north, the morning wind at their backs, marching not in triumph—but in relief.

After a long march home, the southern gates of Brickvia slowly opened as the army returned under the golden afternoon sun. Civilians, soldiers, and support staff gathered along the road, watching the marching lines approach—mud-streaked, weary, but alive.

Cheers erupted when the first units crossed into the city. Children waved, some running beside the lines calling for their older siblings. Medics rushed forward to assist the wounded. Clerks and officers stepped in to help with gear. The sight of prisoners of war being absent from the Brickvian ranks raised murmurs—followed by hushed respect when word spread they had been returned peacefully.

Ren walked quietly behind the engineering squad, his gait slow but steady. Around him, his comrades from the abandoned castle grinned, exchanged handshakes, or simply sighed in relief. Someone clapped him on the shoulder.

“You walk like you carried that castle on your back,” the recruit joked.

Ren gave a small smile. “Felt like it.”

At the courtyard, Lt. General Futaba Watari, Major General Tabrizu, Brigadier General Natoe, and the other high-ranking officers awaited their return. Kurosuke stood front and center, eyes scanning the approaching ranks.

Futaba raised his voice, calm but firm. “You held the line. You defended your own. You returned alive. Brickvia will not forget.”

A beat of silence—and then the courtyard erupted with applause and salutes.

Ren stepped back, lowering his head slightly. The noise washed over him like a distant tide. He didn’t need the praise. Just seeing everyone here, together, was enough.

They were home.

As the sun dipped lower into the horizon, Brickvia began to quiet. The clang of armor faded into the hum of evening wind, and the scent of cooked meals drifted through narrow alleyways and open courtyards.

Ren sat alone on the old stone steps outside the Engineering Division barracks, now wearing a sky blue scarf draped loosely around his neck. It fluttered lightly in the breeze—faded and worn, but clean.

He leaned back, arms stretched behind him, watching the orange-pink hue of the sky. His boots were scuffed, fingers still wrapped in old bandages, but for once, his shoulders felt light.

A couple of recruits from the engineering squad passed by, one tossing a joke over his shoulder.

“Oi, Ren! Finally resting? Thought you’d start rebuilding the whole castle yourself!”

Ren gave a tired chuckle. “Maybe tomorrow.”

They laughed and walked on.

He let his gaze wander upward, where the clouds floated like sails above Brickvia. The scarf brushed softly against his jaw.

“This one’s for you, Mom,” he whispered. “I’m still standing.”

For now… that was enough.