[centre][hr][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/181005/fc898f921f53203bc3bc9106717c7c88.png[/img]

[sub][color=Silver][i]The Siege of Amone, September 28th - [b]Ignition[/b][/i][/color][/sub]

[hr][/centre]

[color=Silver]	As their conversation became nothing but strange exchanges of an informal manner. Lucia struck first, asking about the weather with a plainly innocent smile plastered onto her face. At first, Jean was unsure of how to answer, as they were stood outside in the rain already. To his surprise, it was a genuine question she'd asked, not a joke, and that she was more struggling to find ways to converse with her apparent newly-adopted older brother. That thought still felt weird to admit. Jean was never an older sibling, nor [i]was[/i] he Lucia's actual sibling. She'd taken it upon herself to claim him as her own out of a strange twist of fate that even confused the Francian. She was definitely a bizarre girl, one that wandered the streets of lacklustre freedom without a sense of direction. Her random rants of a childlike manner saddened Jean slightly, reminding him of her youthful innocence that was still lurking inside of her. Clearly Lucia hadn't ever truly grown up. Whether that was through shallow parenting or the influence of one aggressive Captain, that true naivety was yet to leave her frail and bruised body. Such knowledge pained Jean, knowing full well that she was either blissfully unaware of her own situation or had simply accepted who she'd become.

	Breaking his muse was the arrival of an Issac and Britta. Jean at first was quick to smile, knowing that these two were quite the wholesome pair indeed. Even without any sort of official announcement, Jean could tell that the two had more than just chemistry between them. It was a blooming spectrum of potential love and affection that had blossomed from either heavy drinking or wonderful conversation. Lucia seemed to be infatuated by their sudden sprouting of confessional binding that had taken a toll on their life together. Whether it was her thinking of implementing a certain confession of her own onto a certain small, yet handy Edinburgh, young man was up for debate, but Jean could see through her intentions rather easily. Perhaps she needed more time to herself to plan such a sporadic choice of words. And perhaps Michael himself needed the time to figure out his position in the foul war. Jean's smile slightly dipped away as he thought of Michael's situation, alongside Reyna. The two were being sent into the heart of the Imperial steel and mettle located in Amone, acting as a potential tide-turner in the Liberation that was soon to begin. The likelihood of them returning was as great as the chances of them never returning at all. For all that they'd been through, this could've been the last time they'd have ever seen one another, without any sort of goodbye or a final send off to go with it. Stories from Jean's childhood told him of great war heroes that would rekindle their bravery through speeches prior to their sacrifice. Here, Jean hadn't seen a single worthy sacrifice. Death lurked around every street corner, in every trench and in every field of Francia, Assen and Wessel.

	Lucia gently fumbled towards Isaac and Britta, who both shot a couple of quick questions towards her. At first, she prepared to answer her question quickly and flawlessly, but the mentioning of Middleton threw her off balance. A silence only stayed between them for a few seconds before Lucia eventually hid the staggering hesitation with that of another blissful glimmer in her own sparkling eyes.[/color]

[color=A9FF7D][b]"Fair morning, Lance Corporal and Mrs. Black!"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Unintentionally, she shot the switching of surnames to Britta with a mischievous smirk plastered onto her face. Lucia still hadn't forgotten about how Isaac had planted some form of cunning evidence within the letters on the train trip to Amone. Being one step ahead of her annoyed Lucia greatly, and thus she wanted to at least get some of her own ways back onto the pair.[/color] [color=A9FF7D][b]"Me and Jean were talking about the weather, and the stupid rain. Hate the rain. I'm doing okay, never been better maybe? Also we were arguing about who'd be the ring bearer at your weddi-"[/b][/color]

[color=Aqua][b]"No we weren't! Lucia, don't spread false rumours amongst your friends and squadmates."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Jean couldn't help but let his smile loose upon the trio before him. Their glimmering fascination of humorous banter took him off-guard and left him slightly improper to his NCO responsibilities. In reality, Jean never saw himself as an NCO, only a young man people barely trusted in the field of combat. To that day, Jean was more than aware that there were many adversaries within his own ranks towards his leadership, or rather a lack of it. To many that would be acceptable, but it troubled Jean's confidence and forced him to wise up.[/color] [color=Aqua][b]"I beg your pardon, Isaac...and Britta. How are you two doing on this miserable morning? All stocked and ready?"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Jean cleared his throat and turned specifically towards Isaac, almost as if to pull him aside from the conversation. With Lucia around, he didn't want to raise too much alarm to their upcoming responsibilities, and the things they made be held accountable for.[/color] [color=Aqua][b]"We've got a lot on our plate, Isaac; I hope you realise that. This time it isn't just the squad, it's whoever needs guidance. You're leadership will be minimal here, as I know you'll be manning that machine gun, but be prepared to help any soldier you see in need of help once we hit that Cathedral. I know for the hell of it I'll be in the thick of the firefight, so I hope to maybe see you there too."[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	To Lucia's surprise, Diana came and joined the conversation not long after. Her small appraisal for assaulting the Cathedral was quite adorable at first, however the latter half of her sentence struck a sudden nerve in Lucia's personal intrigue. Her mentioning of making Michael smile seemed oddly [i]too[/i] specific for Lucia, and illogically she immediately aimed to pursue what she meant by that. Lucia sauntered closer to Diana, almost pulling her in for a friendly hug, before she started her interrogation.[/color]

[color=A9FF7D][b]"That better not be flirting with Mickey, I hear."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]At first, Lucia giggled, but soon the thought dwelt upon her further. A panic of losing someone she'd firstly grown to like was immensely scary to her. Her voice was one of distress and panic, despite her misreading Diana's intentions.[/color] [color=A9FF7D][b]"Don't tell me you have a crush on Mickey? That's unfair! You've done the lovey-dovey stuff with everyone, including Luke! Don't add Mickey to that list!"[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	Immediately, Jean guffawed at Lucia's silent outburst, listening in on the private discussion between Diana and the young Asseni girl. The innocently adorable conflict between the two was easily enough to start easing Jean's mind into the thick of what was to come. A much needed morale boost, so to speak. Some would find it irritating, of course, to see such tomfoolery plague the ranks of the 15th Atlantic Rifles, however Jean was less interested in all that formality in the moment that passed. Whilst his focus would be on sheer violence in the coming minutes and hours, their flaunting discussion at least gave him something to smile about. A short reminder of the purity of the world...well...Diana wasn't exactly pure herself, though.

	Jean nodded to Diana, giving her a sort of friendly, silent welcoming to the group before he picked up his rifle once more and checked its bolt. Operational and still reliable. The SM-Longfield was surely a reliable weapon in comparison to its competitive adversaries here on the frontline of the Great Europan War. Jean igniting the firing catch to empty the primed mode, taking out his stripper clips and loading the ten total rounds into the firearm. Ten shots before a full reload: surely, this was quite a deadly rifle in comparison to the breach-loaded designs of the pre-war era. Its smoother bolt action was comfortable to use as well, whilst designs from across the continent and international counterparts were still figuring out the best mechanism for quickly following up a multitude of rounds before the much needed reload was a requirement.

	As Jean concluded his loading of the rifle, he took a step out into the rain, hearing the familiar pitter-patter of droplets against his steel helmet as he called for the group to move with him. Not far from where they'd been talking, lines and ranks of drenched soldiers stood out in the rain near the barricading of the unofficial Federation frontline. Between them and the Imperial holdout zones laid an apparent no-man's land. Iconic, vapid landscapes that usually indicated the lacklustre of human stationary presence, Jean couldn't help but notice the irony of this battle's own being the previous habitat for many a thousand civilians, religious followers, bakers, smiths, accountants, attorneys and children. Market places were now graveyards for the fallen hundreds of the most recent incursion of Amone. Homes were now medical centres, basements were ammunition stockpile zones and bedrooms even acted as a machine gun nest form time to time. Churches were used by snipers and the streets were watched by squads of riflemen preparing to savagely blast away at anyone who dared to wander unsupervised. There were no crimes or any acts of petty thievery; instead these had been replaced by men and women eager to kill one another in order to survive. Truly, these streets had become something of an apocalypse. Jean and Lucia joined the line together, unaware of where those following them were going to fall in. Those directing their attention to other major objectives joined different formations of unfamiliar faces, knowing full well to move in full force towards their hopeful objective.

	Atop of the barricades, two heavily dressed individuals rose to the top of the orderly formations. One of them was rightfully familiar, the other not so much. Besides the disdain of Captain Alexander-John Middleton, who silently stood with his own rifle in hand, beneath a large long-coat of wool and other itchy materials, an elder man with a great and twirling moustache stood proudly. To himself, he didn't hold any weapon. Why would he? The rank of Major laid his gloved hands across his parade staff's helm. He had no intention of joining the fight, only watching it from afar with the regular changes to how the plan would formulate. It was likely that the two stood before them were responsible for concurring formulation of the Amone Liberation. Usually a General or Colonel of their stance would be responsible for such a highly responsible task, but with Captain Middleton in the mix they seemed more than fine with letting him have another crack at the preposition of troops.[/color]

[color=0AB100][b]"Regiment, regiment...'SHUN!"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]The simultaneous clamp of boots against the cold, moist pavement below shot through the air as Captain Middleton called out the beginning of the briefing, keeping them all at attention for a few seconds before the Major interjected as per the formalities of war.[/color]

[color=93D806][b]"Stand at ease, soldiers!"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Whilst the soldiers about relaxed their stances, they were by no means relaxed at all. Jean found himself tightly clasping the rifle strap around his shoulder, his fingers trembling in the cold of the morning dew. A few more quiet seconds passed as the Major whispered something to the Captain, only to return to his commanding, booming tone to address the masses before him.[/color] [color=93D806][b]"What we are about to do today may not shape the war, but it will shape the year, my fellow men and women. If we are to take Amone today, we will open the opportunities that our entire Army will be proud of. Taking Amone today [i]will[/i] scramble the Imperial army. It will force a panicked redeployment, and it will allow us to deliver a great blow to the Northern Frontier. Taking Amone today doesn't just allow us to enter the lost fields, villages and cities of Assen, but it will also grant us, the Army of the Federation, the means to break the stalemate in Gallia up north, and ridicule the Imperial trenchlines that have so awfully slaughtered our friends. Let this day be one of great pride, my soldiers, as we will break this stalemate for a while longer! [/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	From the right of Jean, a large group of youthful and elder lads cheered, raising their arms up to congratulate the speech. Of course, it wasn't exactly the most thrilling. The Major had essentially admitted to only breaking the frontline momentarily. Many of those still around weren't likely very compassionate about Gallia itself, finding it to be just another nation hopelessly outside of the Federation. Jean felt his eyes roll slightly. It wasn't that much of an achievement in the grand scale of all things considered. However, compared to the sluggish and downright embarrassing pacing of the continental conflict, perhaps the little individual victories were all that these faltered soldiers had left to clench onto. Jean sure knew that the smallest things seemed ever larger than before.

	Middleton cleared his throat and scanned the group, raising his own hand to try and silence them. The speech of the Major was short and bittersweet, hoping to detail the less logical and pragmatic concepts the battle had to delve into. Inspiration was the Major's game, meanwhile for Middleton it was about heading straight into the briefing, allowing them to keep on schedule and instigate their assault right on cue.[/color]

[color=0AB100][b]"Simmer down, soldiers!"[/b][/color] [color=silver]Middleton began to silence them quickly, fiercely interrupting the nationalised cheers of the regimental's lowest ranking officials. Once again, the Asseni Captain cleared his throat and moved towards the front of the duo, a strong and pointed fist behind him.[/color] [color=0AB100][b]"Out there is going to be one hell of a fight, ladies and gentlemen. Their numbers may be less than ours physically but in spirit they are just as powerful. Through plans a scouting party obtained yesterday by luck, we've managed to pinpoint a few estimated locations of where they will be garrisoning machine guns, sniper nests and rifleman squads. All these locations aren't confirmed, so we ask that you watch the rooftops, windows and open streets. The main forces will assault the Cathedral and City Market in full force, all whilst we spread smaller support teams across the frontline to hit all their defences at once. The more bullets we throw at them, the further spread out they'll be. Those assaulting potential Officer's Quarters will be lower in numbers but are instructed to capture any officers you may find. If they don't come quietly, and we have reasons to believe they won't, then you have your orders to engage with extreme prejudice in mind."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]For once, Jean felt relieved that he wasn't entrusted with the far closer environment of the headquarters. He'd had enough of close engagements since his first day in Amone, where the brutal anguish of his enemy's perish came face to face with himself. Jean hated that more than anything else he'd been through in the war: having to watch his enemies die, eye to eye.[/color] [color=0AB100][b]"As for everyone, I ask that you not only be vicious, but also careful. I won't lead you into a slaughter here, and we need to ensure that most of us get out alive. Stick to the rubble, push when you have openings and flush out Imperial defences until they raise their hands in mercy. Now, brace yourselves! Last minute checks!"[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	When given the order, Jean heard the synchronised effort of the Federation infantry checking their gear. Many bolted their rifles and loaded their magazines in if they'd hadn't already. Those with machine guns loaded their belts and prepared their melee weapons for bludgeoning their foes. Sappers who weren't assigned to demolition tasks prepped their entrenching tools and clasped onto their ammunition magazines. The marksmen zeroed their sights in closely and braced for separating from the pack, moving ahead to secure spots of importance. Jean took a deep breath as the sounds of sachets of grenades were hooked onto the webbing of shocktroopers. Everyone was eager to get into the fight, or rather eager to finish the bloodbath of Amone. No one wanted to be there anymore. If anything, the sheer waiting was the worst part. It took Jean back to the fields of Garnia for a moment.

[hr]
	Jean's face dropped as he heard the distant machine gun rattle away, waiting to execute all of those rummaging up Hill 58. Something about those screams four hundred miles away sent shivers down his spine. Never before had any sort of training failed to prepare a single man for the agony that was to ensue ahead. Millions were being told of the trade of glory to combat, and yet here he was, six or seven feet buried in the bottom of a muddy, soaking wet trench. The duckboards beneath his very boots were doused in blood, disease and piss. A smell of foul intent showered and stained the familiar brown uniforms of all the Federation soldiers. The whistle was about to blow. He could feel it. He could hear it. The fear in the soldiers around him kept him on his knees. He'd just finished his attempts to calm the nerves of a seemingly experienced soldier in that form of combat. Charging was always going to be the worst part of the day. In the books, they always spoke about how it was going to be glorious, about how the sun of the Valkyrur and other gods blessed upon them eagerly without a moment to spare. Unfortunately, all they received was the sickly taste of blood; and soon, the sour sense of steel would be upon them too, like the devil incarnate.

[hr]
	As Jean snapped back into the present, he found himself surrounded by even more soldiers, awaiting their destiny beyond the shoddy wooden barricades and sandbags used to fend off Imperial scouting parties. Sappers and medical officers expended their energy removing the barricades one by one, tearing them down and setting them aside like the passing of a red sea. Mandates of violence were approaching fast. Jean took his breaths of peace, hoping to conceal them within his lungs throughout the entirety of the brutal objective before them. He had to put his trust not only in his comrades, but himself. There was no room for error. Error was going to cost lives, and a lot of them. Every single imperfection was a chance for another man to fire his weapon into his heart. If it weren't for the fact that someone was out to kill him and his friends, maybe caution and mercy could be expressed on this terrible field of war. However, prejudice would prevail. And in that agonising, fleeting second, Jean sighed the biggest he'd done in a while. He unslung his rifle and tightened the chin strap on his helmet, before Middleton's voice flooded the alleyways once more. All the heads of the fumbling soldiers, fiddling away with their gear, rifles and clothing directed themselves towards him.[/color]

[color=0AB100][b]"Remember everyone,"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]shouted Middleton, who's back now faced the rest of the infantry behind him. His body was ready to scale down the barricade that he and the Major had positioned themselves onto.[/color] [color=0AB100][b]"Expect those armoured vehicles, amongst other things. If you see any of their special toys, you better get rid of them. And watch out for whatever blew the fuck out of our medical compartment. I'm sure you're more than happy to give them a bruise back."[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	Jean's mind had almost pushed out the vivid memory of the explosion the day Thomas died. What's worse was that it was simply the previous day. There wasn't any real time to grieve over the incomprehensible flame and fury that had been unearthed onto the Federation defensive lines. Whatever shot the blast was likely preparing another round, only then could it try and have a chance at diminishing the Federation advance. As long as they were spread out enough however, it was unlikely that the behemoth's gunshot would've been able to wipe out the entire Federation advance on its own.

	Slowly, Middleton began to raise his hand upwards, preparing the other to blow the whistle that would ring out for a hundred years. This was going to be the moment the 15th Atlantic Rifles had been waiting for. Their goals beforehand were nothing compared to the Liberation of a Religious Capital. Many were eager to get their names plastered in history amidst the great peers they served alongside. Others were just hoping to get through the campaign alive, or at least with an injury enough to send them home to their mothers and fathers. Those who'd accepted the possibility of death were the most prepared, hoping to truly set aside their aspirations for either their Gods, Kings, Queens, Presidents, Ministers, families or nations entirely. For a slight second, everyone continuously held their breath, preparing to let out the battle cry that had so easily become a tradition for those wartime charges. Jean prepared his legs for the struggle. Lucia pushed herself slightly closer to her Corporal and finally realised what was to happen. Compared to Hill 58, she seemed slightly more prepared for the incursion, at least only a little bit.

	The seconds began to tick down. A slightly ambience of trembling shudders of metallic gear clattering against one another in dampened webbing began to echo through the quiet streets. Captain Middleton kept his hand raised up and slowly moved the whistle towards his mouth. Jean closed his eyes, whispering something obscure to himself. He didn't want it to end here. With Lucia by his side, he hoped to never see this end. The faces of those he had survived alongside were to be tested, and in all things considered they could be lost from here onward. The friends he'd made along the way were at a threat. Jean wasn't going to let that happen. It was the only thing keeping the poor fool alive.

	From above, the sound of a cannonade once again blasted overhead. Jean looked up, seeing the whistle of shells from behind AMone soar over, heading to pepper the foreground they were heading to reclaim. He clasped his hands around the straps of his uniform, whispering to himself more. The darkest of times was upon them. Jean was no religious man; yet here he was, praying to a god that perhaps he might see it through to the end of this day with his friends still there to smile upon him. With only seconds left until the zero hour was upon them, Middleton turned his head and opened his mouth, unleashing his lungpower to its full extent.

[color=0AB100][b]"Two years ago, your brothers and sisters died near these lands! Fight in their name, and do not let their honour be a burden to your victory. Make ready your arms, for today we shall have ourselves a leap forward. [i]GLORIFICA![/i][/b][/color]

[centre][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gkPwO1ZY1ig[/youtube][/centre][/color]

[color=0AB100][b]"Onwards and charge!"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Even with such a notorious reputation, his words kindled a fury unlike anything seen before. Even compared to the rags of the poverty ridden Garnian Trenches, the booming roar of four thousands lions screamed throughout the streets of Amone. With the artillery barrage continuing to pepper the Imperial frontlines ahead, the warcry began to fly through the morning sky. Jean didn't shout, only grab Lucia and nod at her, as the crowd lunged their way forwards. Jean felt his feet begin to move with the crowd as they funnelled their bodies out of the barricaded exits, instantly spreading out as soon as they were free in the open streets. Throughout the sky, a display of fireworks rained down upon their enemy's positions ahead, and the unending thump of heavy boots clattering against the pavements, street roads and wooden porches rose up.

	Everyone had been told of Middleton's change in the regular movement. Once first contact was made, a progressive movement of cover-to-cover, suppressive aggression was to be employed quickly and decisively. Within minutes, each position was predicted to be swarmed with rifle fire from a 180 degree curvature before the Imperial's very eyes, forcing them into cover. It was a glorious combination of the mass charge combined with the more cautious split of supportive fire from both artillery and fellow soldier alike. Jean, now running alongside Lucia and splitting off into the left, yet greater, group of soldiers, started to make his way towards the Cathedral. All around the pair, men and women of all walks of life, experience and views tried to yell words of encouragement to ensure that the soldiers they stood by were ready to defend their sides as they were for them.[/color]

[color=Orange][b]"Move fast! We'll bloody murder the first Imp' we see!"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]An Edinburgh Sergeant yelled, Longfield in arm and spirits as high as the remaining patriots that followed in his footsteps. Jean closely followed by, trying to ensure Lucia didn't fall behind with the crowd of support companies and Machine Guns setting up small fallback nests in the event of a retreat. Another part of Middleton's recent doctrine, the progressive placement of temporary shelters behind the main charge was necessary for the chance of a failed assault, in which a counter-attack was expected to follow suit from its powerful defenders.[/color] [color=Orange][b]"Maintain your course, we're heading for the Cathedral, lads and lasses! Let's clear the scum out of the buildings!"[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	In the distant fogginess of the rainy, morning weather, the silhouette of a giant spire could be made out in the thickness of morn. Jean held his breath, only having seen the Cathedral itself from an even further distance. Never before had such a beauty of architecture been so close to his eyes. It felt wrong to assault it, to go forth and prepare for an all around engagement against such a beautifully crafted homestead of religious value. If only-

[centre][i][b]CRACK![/b][/i][/centre]

	Jean slipped and scurried to the right, taking himself to the lightest piece of cover he could as the soldiers around them split apart. The street was flooded with an explosive noise of early gunfire, far earlier than they'd anticipated. A rifleman's nest had been set up before them, and Jean immediately saw the Sergeant and three of his closest allies drop down into the street. A few more Federation soldiers were clipped by bullets as they searched for a quick getaway from the sudden volley that fired into their direction. Immediately, the return fire came, and the charging units launched their aggression back, quickly unloading round after round into the now identified windows that housed their adversaries. Jean hesitated for a second, but soon promised himself to keep focused if he were to try and keep Lucia and the others alive. Keeping Lucia crouched, Jean stood up and aimed towards the windows he suspected his enemy was slumbered up inside, firing a round and quickly following it up with two more, before the rapid familiarity of a unnamed soldier's machine gun rattled the remaining windows, blasting and suppressing the remaining streets ahead.

	Jean looked to the Sergeant, seeing another forty or so men and women crowded around him. All of them held onto their helmets as the exasperating belittlement of the artillery continued to soar overhead, only to go behind the early-interception parties of Imperial soldiers housed in the streets. They still had a ways go to the Cathedral, and expecting only this many more soldiers to be laying inw wait for then, Jean flipped in initiative on. It was more of a panicked surge of confidence than anything brave, but as the Corporal sitting towards the front, he knew that for once he'd had to take some form of responsibility for the others around him.[/color]

[color=Aqua][b]"The machine guns will keep them down! Keep moving, don't let them stop us. Take to the buildings if you have to to advance safer, but keep yourself moving if the enemy permits it. Don't get shot, we'll...we'll make it!"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Lucia noticed a new surge in Jean's core, seeing him stand up and begin shuffling himself and several other confident soldiers out into the open streets to continue the charge. Soon enough, soldier after soldier began to follow, and the street had once again become a running track. Lucia found herself smiling, though only slightly, and tagged along behind them. With Jean leading one of the many groups heading to the Cathedral, they expected nothing less than a secure entryway to their objective, where the real battle was going to take place.[/color]

[centre][sub][@Jacky][@Conscripts][@Yam I Am][@Proxy][@dwyer austin][@FalloutJack][@SMS][@Bushman501][@Landaus Five-One][@Smike][/sub][/centre]