[center][h1]Kingdom of Plebina[/h1]
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[i]Spring of 1803[/i]
Outskirts of Tarantina...[/center]

"Fire!"

The roar of the cannons echoed through the air, only to be cut short by the responding sound of gunfire, screams of men in pain and the ever-going tune of a regimantal horn-blower. The cannons reloaded, though they arsenal of cannon balls were rapidly shrinking for every shot fired at the enemy. And further down the fields outside of the city, things weren't looking any brighter. King Alfonso saw this, clear as day, and yet he was somewhat accepting his fate. 

Ever since the revolutionary uproar over a decade ago, he and his council had been growing concerned about the prosect of an invasion. The Civitian Republic, now led by the Great tyrant himself called for the "Need to spread the Revolution to all peoples of the continent. King Alfonso and everyone else knew better, and the invasion didn't come a surprise. 

It was the very scale of it and the clearly visible success of the Revolutionary Army that frightened them. 

Four weeks had passed since the first skirmish began, and now the forces of the Civitian Republic was knocking the capital, while King Alfonso was doing his outmost to repel the invasion. He had ordered his generals, advisors, admirals, clerks, [b]everyone[/b] to ready as many troops as possible in the last-ditch attempt at stopping the Tranian juggernaut. And it all came to a grand finale there, outside the city where King Alfonso had been born, grown up and reigned his country as he thought best. 

"General Halfi! How is the situation at the southern flank?" King Alfonso put down his telescope and turned to the gentleman riding up to him, blood running from his forehead. "My God, you're hurt!"

-"Your Highness, I am afraid the situation is rapidly deteriorating; 1st and 6th Royal Guards have lost most of their men, 5th and 31st have retreated against my orders, and the remaining regiments are desperatly fighting to hold the mill and bakery..."

"How much longer can you hold then, General Halfi?"

The bloodied gentleman didn't answer, simply staring blankly into the eyes of his King and taking a last deep breath before falling of his horse. The King rushed off his own horse, grabbing his general and trying to shake him awake. Nothing. 

"Ave Maria....May God have mercy on your soul, Silvio Halfi. You served your country well." 

The sound of distant gunfire had by now been replaced by the visible silluetes of soldiers wearing the enemy's uniforms. King Alfonso stood up, taking one last look at battlefield in front of him, thinking hard on his next move. His forces were bloodied, close to routing in the face of such overwhelming force; on the other hand the capital would pose the last point of resistance to the invading Revolutionary Army, and thus effectivly announcing the Plebian defeat: His defeat. 

"General Bergamon, I order you to take General Halfi's horse and give the order of retreat to the southern flank."

-"...My liege?"

"You heard me, Marsi. Retreat the men into the city alongside the rest of the army, we cannot seriously hope to beat them in open combat like this. It's a massacre already, and I will not tolerate it."

-"...Even if it means we concede defeat?"

"Yes, even that. If, and when Tarantia falls into enemy hands, we will have already evacuated the government, my family, the treasury and everything else not bolted to the floor. The Civitian Republic might have won the battle of Plebina, but the war shall continue until we've been granted victory by God's hand! Maybe not tomorrow, or next spring, but someday we shall march home as victors. Now follow my order, or I will be forced to do it myself!"

[hr][hr]

The Kingdom of Plebina was officially defeated by the Civitian Republic a few months later, before being integrated into a larger Lavarotti Union. The Royal Family, alongside the government, General Staff and many others managed to flee the country and continue the fight against the "godless revolutionaries" until peace once again returned to the continent. But the ideals of the revoltion had left its ideals behind, and so the seeds for future troubles were planted.