Chapter 16:

Amazonias

Convergence of the Three Empires


The carrier group floated 40 kilometers away from the port city of Haytham, a port city captured by the Black Division during the beginning parts of the skirmish. From this distance they could see the clouds of smoke that surrounded the desecrated continent.

Caius, Agrippa, and Angelica sat together at the end of the flight deck, their legs dangling on the side of the carrier. The waters below had a subtle shade of green as if to signify that they were close to a swampland. There was no more time for another exercise so they may as well take a much needed break. They stared in awe at the massive fires that engulfed the jungles of the Amazonias, knowing full well that this may be their most dangerous time yet.

“Caius.” Agrippa looked over to his friend.

“Yes?” Caius answered back.

“Have you ever killed a man before?” These were words that Caius never expected to hear from Agrippa.

“Yes, many times.” Caius referred to the numerous times that he shot down pilots.

“Not those times, have you ever held a knife in your hands, stabbed it on a man and witnessed his final moments. Held a gun and shot someone, and you can see in their eyes the many emotions one must feel knowing they’re at death’s door. Have you done that before?”

“No. Not really.” Caius admitted, “I don’t think I’d be able to stomach doing such a thing, I’ve figured out this before, how it’s different to destroy a man in a hunk of metal than it is to actually willingly take their lives with your own hands.”

Angelica sat in the corner, she sipped and ate and sipped and ate, all the while listening in on the conversation of the two, they seemed to be locked in a heart to heart question about the morality of survival. That perhaps one does not really survive a life or death situation, but rather, “Either you die physically, or spiritually.” Agrippa said.

Agrippa continued as he stared into the burning inferno, “To die physically is to have your last breath in someone’s hands, to die spiritually is to have someone’s last breath in your hands. And that will stay with you,” He looked at his hands and contemplated, “I’ve been stained for a long time, and the blood stays with me.”

Agrippa fell silent, and Caius understood. Though he doesn’t know whether or not he would kill a man in the coming days, he knew that whatever he did here would stay with him. It made him afraid, but in the end, as he also stared into the burning jungles, he knew he had to go through it.

*

Karl Strauss, Colonel of the 18th Holy Regiment, found himself in the midst of battle. Sunlight pierced through the thick foliage of the jungle, lighting what little he could see amidst the blinding glow of firearms and bullets that whizzed past his head ever so narrowly.

As he took cover behind the relentless fire of machine guns and a surprisingly bulletproof fridge, he held a radio in his hand. Frantically, he called for help, air support, artillery support, anything. Yet there was nothing but silence. An assault like this was something he never expected. Typically, even in asymmetric warfare, you wouldn’t expect people you called allies, your own friends, suddenly breaking everything in the camp before opening fire at you.

He was scared. But he could not show, he would not show it, even in the faith of God, he felt lost. But no, his God would save him from such an event, he slapped himself back to form and looked over to the shaking private beside him. He shook the private back into form and yelled, “GOD WILL SAVE YOU! AS WILL I! FIGHT WITH ME! FIGHT WITH ME!”

He fired his pistol at the air to get the attention of his men or what little they could focus upon, “THE ENEMY ARE HEATHENS WHO DESECRATE THE NAME OF OUR LORD. FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT FOR YOUR GOD! FIGHT FOR YOUR SPOT IN THE ETERNAL SUPPER IN HEAVEN!”

His soldiers rallied to his cry, may it be out of fear, or from a genuine sense of religious nationalism, not even Karl Strauss knows. Though if you ask him, he may say that it doesn’t matter. It is, after all, what got his men to fire. And fire they did, they shot into the dark jungles, hitting whatever they could. They fired and they fired until the counter fire stopped. As it did, so did they, and Karl’s squad found themselves in a solemn silence.

Karl stood out of cover and walked to the middle of the camp where the battlefield once was. He kneeled to pray for the souls of his fallen comrades, as they may go to heaven. He prayed, as well, for the souls of his enemies, that their betrayal may find them a seat in hell. He muttered under his breath, “Holy father, I offer these souls, that in thy eternal wisdom be judge them fairly. Amen.”

“Amen.” His men muttered behind him. It was silent in this camp, but from a distance they could still hear the rampant firing of high and low caliber rounds. The sound of artillery firing upon ground, the sound of men’s screams.

He turned towards his men and said, “Our communication lines are cut off, we are blind in fighting whatever we are dealing with. This may be a minor skirmish, or a major assault, no matter the case, we must fight as if God is with us. We must not disappoint him and his works, we must be his perfect soldiers. THAT HIS WILL BE DONE!”

“HIS WILL BE DONE!” His soldiers chanted as they charged towards the other camps with the sheer vitriol of men blinded by faith.

*

Decimus observed a carnage. In his long years of working with Julius this was the first time he witnessed such a terrible sight, but even then, he isn’t moved. During the fighting, he made a decision to retreat to a better position. Thus, they occupied a hill overlooking a valley. Some of his men fired continuous shots of machine guns straight towards the position of the Sakilo-Jawani soldiers. Their tanks were annihilated by Decimus’ better equipped soldiers, the artillery barrage being repelled by superior anti-barrage radar. The significance of this valley is due to the fact that it headed straight for Haytham.

They had it all, they had it all to defend their position and to defend Haytham. They only lacked one thing, and Decimus really felt that lackness as he saw a squadron of 12 enemy fighters that danced around the air, in their tail was an insignia. It was the cross of the Eternal Kingdom. Its golden frame is noticeable from kilometers below.

Decimus sat down with his binoculars, beside him sat his adopted son. A man by the name of Labienus, no less younger than Caius was, but certainly a lot more experienced in the field of warfare. As he was grown into it from a young age, he originated similar to Angelica and Agrippa in that they were both born in Concursus. The difference was that he remembered his time in Romulus.

“Those are the 12 Angels, yeah? You think we can shove them off?” Asked Labienus. He knew firsthand the capabilities of the 12 Angels. Most of them were Caspian extremists that are loyal to the Sakilo-Jawani belief, who knows why they converted over to their side. Not even Labienus or Decimus knows. Perhaps Julius, but Julius has always been mute on the issue of the 12 angels.

“Julius said that the carrier fleet would arrive by now. He put real praise on their lead fighter, but whether or not he could handle the twelve. We wouldn’t know.”

“And the rex?” Labienus referred to the 13th angel, their flight leader. A man of unknown nature, unknown name, only that his flying prowess is unmatched in such a way that he could go toe to toe with every other pilot alive all at once. The King of the Twelve Angels.

“Who knows if he would appear.” But his flights are infrequent, he knew well of his capabilities, and in his eternal ego, he would not fly a sortie that he knew he would, without a bit of doubt, win. The twelve angels do not match to him, they barely do, but they’re strong enough on their own to take down a single Caspian squadron.

But the squadron they’d be facing is anything but fully Caspian.

Cora
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