The Military are the police; they are the guard, they are the navy. The military is the enforcer of laws, and the fury of the Empire. As such, they are expected to be disciplined and unwilling to give up till the very last man. Their quality and training must be grueling and harsh for the combat they expect to see.

They are forced to march kilometers, climb mountains, traverse rivers, swim in the cold, traverse through thick forest, hunt, camp, navigate, run, crawl, and endure hours of tests and drills day in and day out for the rest of their stay in the military. Selection process lasts four months, and when they have been selected, they move on to training. The selection process is made to weed out the weak.

Their training will be slow and grueling: sparring with makeshift bayonets and sabers, sparring without weapons, shooting, maintenance, shooting on horseback, melee on horseback, cavalry tactics, artillery, explosives, more drills, more exercises, formations in practice, and formations in mock combat, tactics, strategies, drum and trumpet signals. This turns the weak into the strong, the followers into leaders, the fire that forges the sharp sword of the empire. Those who can’t handle the yearlong course must be removed from the Military, and if they so wish, can come back to try again.

If they make it through all of this they then have to choose their respective Branch, Division, and Regiment.

(Pictures may be included at a later date)
Most, if not all regiments are equipped with a standard uniform color depending on their branch, and a head dress that include officers bicorn an tricorn, NCO Shako, and regular Shako with plumes.

Cavalry wear either a chest plate over their campaign uniform or none at all depending on their type of cavalry. Heavy cavalry usually wear the chest plate and are equipped with spears, lances, or sabers. Light cavalry such as skirmisher cavalry are equipped with a saber, carbine, and pistol.

Scouts and Skirmishers wear green campaign uniforms that are quite loose compared to that of the regular infantry and they have simple shakos with a green plume; they are equipped with bayonets, long rifles, and pistols.

Imperial Guards wear embellished grey uniforms, usually embellished with golden or bright yellow trim, their shakos adorned with a bright red plume. The design of the uniform closely resembles that of the regular line infantry.

Regular Line Infantry wear nothing fancy: maroon colored coats with Shakos and white plume.

Grenadiers wear something similar to the regulars, but wear Black with white trim and large pouches filled with grenades and munitions. Their shako plume color is yellow.

Artillery wear long trench grey trench coats during a drawn out siege laying in the dirt alongside the canons; they also wear a Shako with a green and white plume and are equipped with muskets if they so needed to fight.

The Emperors wear bright yellow, decorated with blue trimmings and their shako is decorated with the coat of arms in gold trim, their plume is cyan. They are the inquisitorial force of the emperor, it kept the military in line, though the Emperor’s own is large, they are not larger than the military as a whole, they have enough resources to police the military and bring corruption to the barrel of a musket.

The Marines and Navy men wear separate uniforms. The Marines have similar colors to the regular line infantry though they have blue trim, and their head dress is different, favoring bicorns for the lower ranks and Tricorns for higher ranking officials. Same goes for the navy, except they wear blue uniforms with gold or yellow trims.

All of these men have the first standard training of a year, and then the additional months training under a regiment on duty. They are all equipped with the ins and outs of the military, and through their training, will have been hardened through their drill instructors, a professional fighting force that is to be reckoned with.

They have proven themselves more than capable of defending their coastal regions. Raids from the north often occur from a nation that calls themselves Alba; because of this, the navy battle is constantly in melee, and at range, earning their worth at sea, and if they manage to land, the guards and garrisons defend to the best of their ability with the smoke and crack of gunpowder from muskets firing lead. One such battle occurred on the port city of Brenuin

The small force of naval ships spied the large Albian force approaching from the horizon. Bells rang as the large hulls of ships splashed across the blue burbling sea, the sound of unfolding sails and the shouts of men filling the air.
“Wait till they’re in range!” Captain Tarus commanded, lowering his spyglass for a moment. A sudden flash, then a pop, exploded out of nowhere as a cannon ball came whizzing through the air, followed shortly by a loud cry from the Albians.

“Return fire!” the voice of a strained officer echoed from man to man till it reached every gun deck the creaky boat had. He stood on the deck, flag signals waving behind him signaling to fire. One by one, each gun began to go off, rippling across the enemy’s horizon as a belt of smoke and cannon ball viciously ripped through their hulls.

Several ships began to sink to the bottom of the sea, yet it was clear that men from the wreckage of the first salvo would survive. Another few flashes from the horizon signaled the arrival of the round iron ball that smashed through the hull in a splintering, cracking mess. The Albian gun boats immediately responded as the thunderous sound of canons filled the air, leaving massive holes in the hull and dozens of men injured by the shrapnel that scattered from the impact and threatened to puncture those nearby.

“Continue firing!” Tarus held the line in a brave attempt to maintain his calm. The captains of the other ships followed suit they watched the Albians plow onwards; their number was large, their battle cry deafening, and the air now thick with gunpowder smelled of sweat and anxious frenzy. Suddenly, the man next to Tarus put a hand on his shoulder and gripped tightly.

It was the Lieutenant of the marines, Aaron Smith.
“Marines, Open fire!” he bellowed, and the marines heard it echo throughout the ship. The crack of muskets pierced the air, however, the Albians returned the salvo with their own, their shots landing everywhere. The purpose of their fires served only to frighten the Marines, out of which only four were hit and injured, yet their discipline kept them in line.

Anger bubbled up in them, for the Albians who called themselves Svedning had come to conquer new lands seeking fame and glory and had done nothing but provoke them endlessly. Furthermore, none of them seemed to be hit.

At this point, the Albians had successfully managed to reach the ships and were now starting to board it, however the tall decks made it harder for them to clamber on, thus the boarders were met with fire and musket volley. The Marines then proceeded to drop their muskets and draw their sabers, while a loud ruckus started from below as people began firing their muskets at the ascending Albians. The now entangled crews were unable to stall the rest from reaching the docks.


It had bought enough time for Morrison Heugh and James Mot, the Commanding officers of the garrison at Brenuin, to hustle the people to the garrison fort. They took up positions and started firing at the oncoming Albians who were now within range of the skirmishers. Volley after volley descended upon them as they came in closer towards the line infantry, the smoke of the gunpowder becoming a rolling fog downwind into the town as the firing continued from both sides. The raiders finally made land fall and the Sverdening tribesmen fired their last volley, after which the invaders drew their swords and shields and charged forward to meet the lines of the Emruenians in a clash of metal and muscle.

They stood their ground with their equipped bayonets, and gave way for a gap in the lines revealing canons between the infantry. Inside the buildings, the skirmishers continued to fire as their vantage point allowed them to shoot, free from obstruction, at the charging Albians; the canons bellowed fire, causing the horses that were there to whinny and neigh in frightened protest, surprised from the thundering blast of smoke and iron being spread out from the canon like the flames from the mouth of a dragon.

The Guard artillery sergeants yelled “Load the powder!”, as the Albians at the front were battered and sent scattered, the remainder still charging, yelling at the top of their lungs.

James, the Commanding officer of the Army who was stationed there, ordered a man from the front to tell the grenadiers to position themselves. With a quick nod, the runner made off and proceeded to go into the town in order to pass along the orders.

James yelled “Heugh, order the final volley then get the artillery and men into the town!”

Heugh looked back, and with a slash of his saber, he barked “Fire, you dogs!”

With that, the guard and army regiments fired their musket the canons roared as the guns exploded to life once again, unleashing a massive hail of lead and iron onto the invaders, smashing through wooden shield, dismembering attackers, and blowing down the front row, as the second and third waves made land fall.

The long beach grew shorter as the Sverdening Albians charged into the town, the onslaught would not stop once they reached the line; the last boat would make land fall, and in the distance, canon fire and men onboard ships fought for dominance at sea. Heugh and James took a final glance at Tarus and Smith fighting for their lives on The Resilient and turned back to join their men.

They ran into the ghost town as the shouts and gunfire grew closer, echoing into the empty buildings and streets, hollow and abandoned; grenadiers waited on the rooves ready to fire and toss their grenades on hand. The Albians passed down the streets, and with a spark and toss, the small balls of gun powder exploded into shrapnel between the raiders, the grenadiers began to rain lead heavily onto them as the skirmishers and line infantry started to line up to fire volleys at them at the farther end of the streets, yet with absolute ferocity they still charged through, now with an apparent plan to get up to rooves of buildings and fight the grenadiers.

The garrison retreated once again towards the Garrison fort, while the Grenadiers, now stuck on the rooves, still fought in melee as the relentless raiders found a way to their position. The lunges of bayonets proved ineffective as they bluntly hit the thick fur coats and shields, yielding little to no damage. Amidst the great chaos, they began to try a different approach and bottle necked them through the roof stairwell. A few desperate ones, in their last bid, collapsed the stairwell onto them using a cluster of grenades; in melee, they started to aim for the legs and fought the raiders two to one in the bottlenecks and choke points.

Meanwhile at the Garrison fort, the fort guns started to fire onto the raiders, coming through the streets, mowing them down like bowling pins. The Svedning raiders used the alley ways as cover and leapfrogged their way to the front; they’d been reduced to a third of the fighting size as the others were busy either tangling with the grenadiers in a deadly dance of swords and explosives, or were dealing with the Navy and Marine forces.

Still, they outnumbered the garrison, three to one, and they fired out from the forts battlements and various towers. The gate was closed off, and the canons continued to fire. The Albians lost hope of conquest and switched their focus to taking what they could and sail away; however, as they made their retreat, the Garrison followed. The Grenadiers noticed that they were leaving, and the remainder of the grenadiers that weren’t holding choke points started to fire, they were beaten back block by block. Eventually the town was quiet with only the rumbling of boots and the crunch of rock and gravel, then a shout issued from the Garrison.

“For the Emperor and his people!”

This was the cry that echoed throughout the streets that they dashed to clear the city, and the smell of imminent victory engulfed them as the confused Albians began to surrender or fight till the last man as they were surrounded by Emruenian troops, yet this was all in vain for they would soon be humiliatingly vanquished.

As the remaining Albians reached the shoreline, they saw with sinking realization that the Emruenian navy which survived the initial attacks had blockaded their escape and their ships in the distance a sinking and as the ruined vessels keeled over. The Emruenian armed garrison rushed to fight them on the beach, scattering Albian blood onto the sand dunes.

Nothing could break the high spirits of the Emruenian Garrison as this fortunate turn of events pushed them to fight harder. As the battle came to a close with one side soon to emerge victorious, the final clash of saber, steel, and gun powder ended the battle of Brenuin at the break of noon.

The streets were littered with dead Albians and Emruenians, yet the enemy had been crushed. Despite this, the battle had been won at the cost of three heavily damaged ships with broken masts, torn sails, and a riddled hull along with a heavily reduced crew count as they had either fallen overboard and drowned or had been killed in action.
 
Many of the Grenadiers had also fallen under the pressure of the Albian assault, the tally of dead and injured were extremely high, and many had been put out of action as amputations were carried out on the heavily injured. Very few Albians surrendered, and they were released to tell the story of their defeat despite the Emruenians not having fully understood what they were trying to tell them as their language was rough and foreign a garbled transmission of gibberish received by unfamiliar ears.

“Our people will never listen to the weak, we will just attack another.” They whispered under their breath and with that they sailed off.
James and Heugh survived the battle, though Smith fought valiantly he succumbed to the enemy onslaught. His death was not in vain nor was it a sad waste; he brought down with him many Albians that had boarded The Resilient. Surely he was a noble fighter, and Tarus Moore grieves the loss of a good friend.

The tally that day…was indeed high.

The military divides its men from Liego downwards to Cieko, a standard squad. This is to help organize their formations and training, from large formations down to small infantry tactics. Cieko can bring down a Brieko through a standard harass of supply lines and smart maneuvers. A war philosophy thought of by a young general in Emruen’s history

“Even a full plated knight can die of a small knife even if the knife makes a mere scratch, it takes time, but it will bring him down as the wound starts to fester and the flesh around it starts to blacken and puss ooze from the wound left untreated.”

– General 2nd Class Fox Christiansen

Liego 50,000 men
Striedo 10,000 men
Riedo 1,000 men
Meto 500 men
Brieko 100 men
Griedo 50 men
Cieko 10 men