[hider=The Serene Empire of Tara]

[i]The Counties Palatine, Jardin Defensive Lines, 3rd Colonial Rifles[/i]

“[color=Red]Fire, damn your eyes! All units, fire at will![/color]” Brigadier de Lacy, crouched with his men in hastily-dug (but effective; no-one could ever accuse the Royal Engineers of being less than effective) trenches around an unremarkable tor. 

Against the plucky Blackcoats (although all of them were in tropics kit, not a scrap of black or silver to be found) were arrayed a screaming horde of Mauwanti irregulars. De Lacy’s spyglass swept the horde as they charged towards his position, a detached portion of his brain calmly marking off the distances as they drew closer. 

Behind and above him, as the flashing tide of dark-skinned, warpainted native closed with the thin black line, half of his artillery opened up, the field guns enfiladed and anchored into the rich loam of the plains. 

The roars and stabs of actinic flame as the battery hurled shrapnel shell high into the air to rain down on the unfortunate enemy was an almost physical force, and de Lacy steeled himself against the shocks with the ease of long practice.

A high-pitched whistle was all the warning the Mauwanti got as they swept across the veldt; high above them, the shells detonated, hurling a deadly rain of glittering shrapnel down onto the foe.

From a distance, it was quite pretty, really, a shimmering silver rain that cut the enemy to red ribbons, and the war-cries became screams of agony as wicked fragments scythed through flesh and bone with contemptuous ease. Intestines boiled grotesquely from punctured stomachs, arterial blood jetted from severed limbs in fountains of bright red gore.

Closer to, as the remaining few charged, knowing they couldn’t retreat, not with the rain of shrapnel behind them – but de Lacy had nasty surprises galore up his sleeve, and even as his men opened up with a crack-crack-crack of rifles, the battery reloaded.

This time, the artillery belched silver-steel rain, a scything wave of thousands upon thousands of ball-bearings accelerated to killing speed, ripping through flesh and leather alike, straight into the teeth of the onrushing raiders. They were thrown back with terrible injuries, but the slaughter wasn’t done yet; the guns reloaded and the sergeants called for more fire, the artillery belching fury in answer.

[center][h2]~~X~~[/h2][/center]

[i]The Counties Palatine, White Haven Fortress[/i]

The hot air smelled of gunsmoke, fire and blood, the playful breezes wafting the melange of war up from the killing fields below. ‘[i]They were brave,[/i]’ James Harkins noted, with a curious sense of clinical detachment ‘[i]But bravery doesn’t mean much against a hail of shot and shell. Poor bastards.[/i]’

The Lieutenant-General leaned against the battlements of the star fortress, his eyes flicking over the surrounding landscape. Trenches dug meandering darker lines in vague rings around the central fort, gleaming with oil lamps as the night set in, and greater lights marked where the Medical Corps were methodically burning the dead, Mauwanti and Taran alike. The climate of the Counties demanded nothing less; infection and rot could set in quicker than conventional burials could be arranged – and for any army, infection was a disaster.
The close conditions necessitated by military camps, even given the almost-obsessive attention to hygiene, good food and sensible waste disposal of the modern era, made them hotbeds and breeding grounds for diseases of all kinds. Clean living and a stout heart could only do so much; the rest was in the hands of the medics.

Harkins turned at the sound of approaching boots – the trim form of his second, Colonel Oskar von Bittenburg, coming into view along the parapet.

“[color=Cyan]Good evening, sir,[/color]” the Colonel said, snapping to attention and saluting with a precision that would have made any drillmaster proud. 

“[b]Evening, Oskar. At ease, stand easy.[/b]” He nodded out across the darkling plain, across the invisible line dividing Tara from the Mauwanti Empire. “[b]Just thinking about today’s attack, and the one on de Lacy.[/b]” A pause. “[b]And where we go from here.[/b]”

Oskar allowed himself to relax from his perfectly-correct military bearing. He and James had served together before and were friends of old; a little informality, even had the Lieutenant-General not invited it, would not go awry. “[color=Cyan]Forwards, James, where else? I’ve read most of the same dispatches as you; our lords and masters plan to civilise the damn natives out there. Oh, they’re pleased with the victories we’ve won so far – in particular de Lacy over in Jardin – but they’re not going to forget Argentine quickly, either.[/color]” He looked at his superior and friend for a long moment.

“[color=Cyan]That…[i]shaman[/i]…said it was tribal leaders causing all our troubles. Do you believe him?[/color]”

James shrugged. “[b]I don’t know. I think it’s unlikely, given how deep they got and how many there are, but. Even if they were doing it off their own bat, that’s not going to fly back home, not with how late they’ve left it to [i]talk[/i] to us.[/b]”

Oskar snorted. “[color=Cyan]Yes, left it until we’ve bloodied their noses and marched a hefty force up to the border.[/color]”

James raised an eyebrow. “[b]If you were their emperor, would you have done aught else? If your deniable ‘raiders’ managed to sack Argentine, well, obviously we Tarans aren’t as strong and powerful as everyone says, so the Mauwanti gain prestige and land. If they [i]fail[/i]…ah, well, rogue elements, tribal leaders, not acknowledging the orders of the throne, so sorry, but there’s nothing we can do. It’s the sad dance of greed and politics, Oskar.[/b]”

Oskar grinned. “[color=Cyan]And we’re the ones sent in to do [i]our[/i] throne’s dirty work.[/color]” He shrugged with a crackle of bone. “[color=Cyan]There are worse professions than soldier.[/color]” He nodded out past the defensive rings and funeral pyres, into enemy territory.

“[color=Cyan]Got a plan yet?[/color]”

James sighed and pinched his nose, feeling the unfamiliar tug of the new scar tissue on his left cheek as he did so. “[b]Inklings. Whatever we do, though, we’re going to have to keep the men on a tight leash. No murder, rape and pillage – we’re [i]better[/i] than that, or we ought to be, and besides, these people are a short war away from being imperial citizens.[/b]”

Oskar blinked. “[color=Cyan]You think that’s where the Chancellery’s headed?[/color]”

“[b]You don’t? More land for the empire, more subjects for the empress, more resources for the industries Back Home? More recruits for the Army and Navy, in time, too.[/b]”

The blond cavalryman shook his head. “[color=Cyan]They’ll hate us,[/color]” he pointed out. James shrugged. 

“[b]Not our problem, until we get called in to put a rebellion down. Besides, the bureaucrats are very good at their jobs; it’s how we got the empire, in a way. Divide and rule, sweetening the pot with honey as needed, sending the important people’s children away to be educated in Tara at the state’s expense…they know how to use sweet reason and thumbscrews both.[/b]”

James shook himself, and blinked with renewed intensity. His voice was a little more formal, a little more clipped, when next he spoke. “[b]Assemble your staff, Colonel. We’ll have a strategy meeting in two hours, and dinner. I’ve got the beginnings of a plan, but I want you and your people to bring some ideas to the table as well.[/b]” A pause. “[b]Good work today, Colonel.[/b]”

Oskar saluted. “[color=Cyan]For the good order of the Empire and the safety of her citizens, sir.[/color]”

James returned the salute, and then went back to his pensive gaze out over the landscape. 

‘[i]Now, what do we know about Mauwanti? There’s a lot of land over there, most of it not that well-developed, certainly not by Imperial standards. They like quick attacks, striking targets of opportunity where they can and then fading back into the jungle or charging away across the plains. We need to secure Feonti, at least, and I’d prefer to have Madkwa as well. Making a lightning pass for their capital – which I [b]know[/b] Oskar will champion – would leave us dangerously overextended otherwise.[/i]’ A frown creased his tanned face as he thought his way through the difficulties ahead. ‘[i]We have the advantage in discipline, technology and artillery, but they’ve got the land and the numbers; we’re going to have to fight smartly if I want to avoid turning this into a bloodbath for our side as well as theirs.[/i]’

Heavy lies the head that wears the crown, indeed, and whilst Lieutenant-General James Harkins hadn’t even a coronet to his name, his cap and epaulettes bore the insignia of a general, and on his head there rested the lives of everyone in the Expeditionary Force.

The next few days saw little ostensible movement from Tara, the troops drilling in White Haven and remaining close to the Fortress. [i]Ostensible[/i] was the key, however; groups of scouts and light forward units, numbering a thousand in total, were sent forwards into Mauwanti territory, mapping and scouting and feeding their information back to command, ready for fast forward deployment of Imperial forces against the locals.

[/hider]