---

To say that Frederick felt nervous would have an a colossal understatement. He had been nervous when he proposed to his fiancee, or when he had asked her father for her hand in marriage. He had been nervous the first time he kissed a girl and the first time he had ridden a horse. No, this was not nervousness, this was fear.

For three days now the 6th Dragoons had been riding Northeast along the main coach road, all the world drowned out by the noise of thousands of steel shod hooves clattering on the flagstone. They could not see the enemy, nor smell him, but they could hear him. The occasional "boom" of a distant cannon told them all that the war was still on. Rumours circulating throughout the regiment had been confirmed by the Lieutenant that morning, Imperial troops were trying to force the bridge at Darmstadt. The town had a sizeable garrison, a narrow bridge, and steep river banks to protect it. It was no place for cavalry.

Instead, in a cloud of dust, a trooper from the 3rd Dragoons had arrived that morning with orders for the 6th to begin riding north. They were ordered to parallel the river, in an effort to find another crossing and perhaps turn the enemy flank, or the very least relieve the pressure on the garrison at Darmstadt.

"Sergeant Hecht!" He was startled out of his thought by the crashing bark of Captain Kraus who was cantering along the column toward them. Like the rest of the regiment he already looked woebegone, the green dye having run into his white pants, and the cheap metal helmet showed signs of damage already.

"Sir!" Hecht identified himself, raising a hand unnecessarily, almost like a school boy in class when the teacher called his name. He jerked his hand down quickly; the Captain ignored the motion.

"Take your Squadron and relieve Sergeant Paulsen, he has C Squadron scouting ahead of this mess." He gestured to the mismatched trail behind them. Mess was being generous, the two infantry regiments that had come with them were more a series of gaggles strung out along the roadway. The only two nine pounder guns that could be spared were being towed even further back by lame looking oxen that out likely not even make good eating. What a way to ride to war.

"Yes sir." It was all he could say as he turned his horse off the road and into the rolling green grass that made this particular part of the country an absolute cavalry paradise. In truth he was happy to be here, and even more so now that he was off the road. Yes, he was afraid, but a small part of him could not ignore the grand adventure he was now on. "D Squadron, with me!"

The men and women of his small command swung their own mounts off the road and followed him into the long grass. He could hear more than a few sighs of relief. Riding on flagstone tended to jar your back at the best of times.

They rode in silence for the next several minutes, two thin lines of horsemen on the massive expanse of green. Other squadrons watched them go with something akin to jealousy. The whole regiment wanted to be riding in search of the enemy but spare mounts were scarce and the Colonel had forbidden any free range riding. There was always some infantryman who would like to fill a saddle, but horses to mount them on were almost as rare as good cannon.

It did not take them long to reach the head of the column and Hecht quickly spotted Sergeant Paulsen, a dour looking older man with a head of grey hair, drooping moustache and runny nose. He commanded the current scouts and cast a disgusted eye over the troopers who rode behind Hecht.

"How the hell we're expected to win a war with this..." He jutted his chin toward the line of horsemen, Hecht strongly suspected Paulsen meant the female troopers who were quite evidently a woman beneath her helmet. "I will never know."

"Well, we can't all be possessed of the wisdom of old age, yet." Hecht retorted, blushing slightly as he heard someone snigger behind him. "You are relieved." He continued before the older Sergeant could reply.

Paulsen gave him a glare that could have killed before violently wrenching his horses around so violently that it squealed in pain, shouting at his own squadron to follow him. A few of them offered waves as they rode by, but the majority just looked tired.

"Right, up to us then. Welser, Schuster, Ulmer, you're up front. The rest of you fan out on either side of the roadway. Stay within eyesight of each other. We're looking for a ford, which means we need to get to the river. If you run into trouble, don't play hero, get back here and we'll deal with it."

There was a smattering of "Yes Sergeant" and the Squadron broke up, riding ahead of the column, hooves now sinking slightly into the fresh earth. This truly was the breadbasket of empire. There was little cover for anyone among the rolling hills, though dead ground was all around. Ahead, Hecht was not quite sure how far, was the river. Here the road would turn North and continue to match the river but at a distance to great to spot any useful ford. They would be forced to leave the roadway.

A thick band of trees, now only a dark green smear on the edge of the brighter green hills, marked the river itself. Smoke could be seen some ways further north, likely the sight of a village, and villages sometimes meant river crossings.

Hecht checked his sabre to make sure it was loose in the scabbard, tugged out his carbine and ensured it was loaded, and then rode forward along the verge of the roadway. Trooper Sperber, trumpet thumping into his thigh, rode close behind.

Teddy thought is was a beautiful day. The sun was up, the air was crisp, and he got to ride with two beautiful girls. Even though he had no courage to tell them so he still felt somehow masculinized in their company, so he sat up straighter in his saddle and puffed his chest up in the hopes it made him look more handsome. Trooper Ulmer, Simone, was to his left, with her neat uniform and straight back riding; and Trooper Welser, Anja, was to his right with her blond hair, blue eyes, and general badassery. They were moving at a hard cantor and so the noise of their horses prevented conversation, but even so Teddy felt like part of a unit with these girls. They were almost friends, or something like friends. They had been riding together for about a month under Sergeant Hecht and seemed to be able to communicate well as long as there were orders to follow. During this last month of training in basic soldiery the group showed real promise as a team, anyone watching could see it was true. However, the Squadron hadn't seen any real action yet, and real violence changes things. For Teddy it was still as if the war was some abstract idea off in the future, but now, as they were riding to engage the enemy, everyone was starting to get nervous. Teddy was well familiar the fact that anxiety did not make for easy friendships.

But nonetheless, the day was still beautiful, and Teddy couldn't ask for better company, or a better horse. Sir Briggs might not have been purchased with the best pedigree but the charger had quickly affirmed its quality in terms of speed, strength, and the strange affection he had quickly developed with his young rider. Together they rode towards the smoke billowing off in the distance. The smoke spoke of a village, and a village spoke of a possible river crossing. Finding an easy crossing for their troops would put them in position to flank a large force of Tallion soldiers, and if Teddy could take credit for the find he would. As scouts the other two were allowed to branch off and ride for themselves but Teddy was focused on that village and the hope it presented, even if it meant three or fours hours of hard riding both ways. Two thoughts prioritized themselves: First, would there be a crossing that could support over 1000 troops, horses, and their heavy guns; and Second, do the folks in the village support the Empire or the upstart Rebellion? If anyone from the village reports to the Empire the location of Rhaetian soldiers then any hope of surprise would be lost and the regiment would surely be slaughtered by the larger force, discretion and speed were key. The thought of impending death gave Teddy a painful, cold feeling in his gut.

---

After days of uneventful riding, Simone was glad for a task to occupy her attention. The excitement of her first deployment was already wearing thin under the constant grind of the march. It was certainly something the great bards of the stage had neglected to include in their performances. Still, the day itself was pleasant enough, and with some distance from the main body of the group the air had cleared of the worst of the dust such a large mass of men stirred up. Quickly patting her breast pocket to check for the umpteenth time she had her cigarette case with her, she rode ahead of the rest of the squadron.

With Wesler and Schuseter to her right, she kept her head on a swivel, looking for any sign of a path towards the river or danger. The smoke in the distance seemed like a promising place to find a village with a ford, or at least people to ask where to find one. On the other hand, this was the closest the group had been to Imperial forces, and it was entirely possible the village was already occupied. For all they knew, there were Imperial scouts in the woods near the river watching them. All she could do was keep her eyes open, and hope that any sharpshooters missed, and hope the knot of nerves in her belly didn't develop into anything worse.

Truly this day was a glorious one thought Anja to herself - everything from the very scent of the churned up earth around them, to the mingled sounds and noises of straining 'soldiers' and their equipment present on every side of the 6th Dragoons as they rode - the country-raised and lowborn rider even being somewhat able to ignore the ache in her lower back from both the poorly maintained road and her own relaxed posture atop her mount.

Deep in conversation with Trooper Yannik, she only started paying proper attention to her surroundings while watching Captain Kraus speak to their own Sergeant Hecht, a handsome man who she was told had been given his rank almost purely by mistake; both he and their Captain were people she personally believed she could rely on, one a former horse trader and the other, more reltably to her own situation, being previously a farmer in his civilian days.

Thoughts like this prompted Anja to give a curt excuse of silence to her townsman and glance across the dishevelled ranks to Trooper Ulmer - her uniform as well kept as ever even on campaign it seemed - the slender young lady from Neuben having given her many bouts of laughter during their initial training, although claiming to be as much of the soil as herself there was nevertheless something distinctly patrician about the dark-haired waif of a Rhaetian...

The shout of her immediate superior snapped Anja from her reverie, the entirety of D Squadron following him off the road (thank the Lord!) And into terrain much more beneficial to Anja, her mount, and to their role overall.

It was unfortunate therefore that they had to come across that old fossil Sergeant Paulsen, her lip peeling back beneath her brass helmet and its bedraggled crest as the two leaders exchanged words, but quickly relaxing again as Hecht made his verbal retort. This prompted a somewhat louder-than-helpful snigger and snort of air from Anja, the farmers daughter unable to hold it in, a smirk replacing her grimace as C Squadron rode past and disappeared back toward the main body.

Moments later and the order was given, the order that Anja in particular had been waiting for, an order that allowed somewhat of a degree of freedom to each Dragoon. Some feeling tried to make itself known in the pit of her stomach, it could have been fear, excitement, or something else, in any case she quickly squashed it into being as small as possible while concentrating on her orders.

A swift check of equipment, just as they had been shown not so long ago, made Anja feel a little better - her sabre was loose but no too loose, her helmet was secure on her head, and her carbine was within easy reach - the only thing that bothered her beside the entire situation of this war was that her jacket still fit quite snug aboyt her frame; it had obviously been made for a man, a young one, but not for a woman of her stature and she hated it.

In a rather odd turn of her mind she looked to Trooper Schuster, or 'Teddy' as he was affectionately known, and caught his eye before giving the shortest of their scouting party a full-toothed smile, her feelings for him and his general uneasy state a fraction motherly - though she would never admit to this - and a portion more... not so. Something about the way he acted around the female soldiers, the easy jibes and teasing that could be performed in such situations, never failing to make Anja smile.

"Good hunting," she said to her fellow scouts, perhaps a little more loudly than was prudent, digging her heels in and giving a click of her tongue to the dappled grey mare between her thighs, pulling on the reins strongly enough to direct the stubborn lass toward the thick band of trees marking the rivers course.

Halfway toward the trees and she paused, still as still could be, finally turning about in her saddle and looking back toward the others.

"I plan to follow this until we reach the village, into the woods and off we go," once more she was probably a lot louder than was safe, but she wasn't dead yet and that gave her a burst of possibly misplaced bravado, "I would feel much safer with a strong young man by my side.... and Simone can come too, if she wishes."

The last comment was clearly an afterthought, but it did not do to upset others too much.

Oh! There she goes!! Teddy thought and kicked his charger into a gallop catch up with Anja, man she's bold. He looked over his shoulder to see if Simone was coming too and he noticed that Trooper Bauer, who looked like he was quietly appreciating the beauty of the field they were on, had turned and was riding towards them as well. Wait.. did she call me handsome? Teddy blushed and felt ridiculous before telling himself he heard wrong; as he rode closer it looked like she was smiling, but he wasn't sure.

---

The four Troopers stopped near the edge of the forest and dismounted their horses. They had stopped on a hill and so had a good vantage point to see the village; Teddy silently gave a word of thanks for their green uniforms which blended nicely into the greenery around them. The village was small, little more than a grouping of farm houses situated along the river's edge. A little further along the river he could see some larger buildings on the opposite bank and there, sparkling with spray from the torrential river like an elephant covered in diamonds, was a gorgeous stone bridge, exactly what they were looking for.

Teddy felt giddy and couldn't help but smile big as he looked to his left and right at his companions. Then Trooper Ulmer pointed her perfectly straight finger at one of the houses northeast of their position, further inland from the river. Teddy looked and saw a group of three yellow uniforms talking to a man who looked like a farmer and pointing to the east and south. It was a stroke of tactical wisdom that the leadership of the Rhaetian troops had ordered no cook fires and quiet marching, so the Tallions didn't know their precise location, but it was strange they would know the regiment was traveling north at all.

He scanned the houses looking for more troops, he couldn't see any out in the open but that didn't mean there wasn't a whole squad hidden across the river. A few scary decisions had to be made, and they needed to be made quickly. Teddy tried to keep his face hard, but he suddenly had to poop.

The three Tallion soldiers in their yellow uniforms walked with the bent over farmer back trailing behind them towards the bridge and then disappeared from sight behind one of the rustic cottages.

Sergeant Hecht

---

"You saw only three?" Hecht questioned the scouts carefully, glancing down at the village below them. The street was empty now, no dogs, no people, nothing, it wasn't right at all. "Yellow jackets?"

The scouts nodded in exasperation. He'd asked the same questions three times now and gotten the same answer. Truth be told, he was nervous. He'd never fought a battle before or even fired his carbine at another living person for that matter. He'd sent a trooper back to fetch the Captain and there was little more they could do now than wait.

The group of them were dismounted and in the shadow of a thick copse of trees that crowned the top of the ridge. At least they had remembered that much of their training. Most of his squad had joined them now, a half dozen were still thrown out like a screen all around the village to keep an open eye in case enemy troops began to move out from an angle he couldn't see.

He glanced around as his troopers, all of them seemed as nervous as he was that made him feel somewhat better. He'd gotten to know them as much as man could over the past several months and done his best to make a decent leader but he figured the real crux of it would come to what he did under fire.

The thud of hooves made him turn and he almost smiled in relief as Captain Kraus rode up, stern faced beneath his helmet. He dismounted back of the ridgeline and came forward on foot. Behind him, walking their horses so as not to create the telltale thunder of hooves, came the remainder of D Troop.

"Where?" The Captain asked and Hecht pointed down at the spot where Ulmer had seen them. "Anything since?"

"No sir, not even a dog moving."

"Well that's bloody shit news." Kraus grumbled as he scanned the area himself. The bridge was currently empty and they could see very little beyond in the wood. "Nothing for it though, we've got orders to take the damn thing, so take it we shall." He paused and grinned suddenly at the nervous soldiers. "Mount up, follow my lead, and we'll get through this."

Hecht envied the ease of the older mans command as he swung himself into the saddle. The remainder of D Troop, nearly a hundred troopers minus the out-flung scouts, massed slowly in the trees. The village below remained quiet and Hecht was amazed no one heard them. The stamp of hooves, the "huff" of horses, the clink of spurs and jangle of the harness seemed unbearably loud to them.

Kraus was at the centre of the line, now four ranks deep, nearly twenty wide. He was proud of his soldiers. They had come from nothing to serve their country and though they were fresh to the fight, they were here. With volunteers such as this, he would ride to Tallia itself.

"Forward!" He called loudly enough for those close enough to hear him. The line lurched forward and into the sunlight. There was no shouts of alarm from the village and he dared hoped it was unoccupied. Sunlight flashed on bronzed helmets and the green jackets with their red facings were suddenly bright in the daylight. He was startled by a sudden scream that came from the village.

It was long and frantic, a womans scream. It rose and fell until it was suddenly silenced with a savage finality. He felt his gut tighten and anger flare through him. Someone had just suffered because he had taken to long to arrive.

"Order the charge!" He snarled to his trumpeter. The man nodded and raised his bugle.

The beautiful crisp notes challenged the bright morning air suddenly turned so dark by the pain of an unknown woman. The horses, as well trained as their masters, began to trot without hesitation and the slow plod turned into a rumble that did much to drown the sounds of those around him.

Yellow uniforms suddenly showed in the village as men stumbled from the largest building, likely an inn, their faces turned towards the approaching cavalry. Yellow with white facings. Infantry. They were dead and they didn't even know it. He drew his sword and the rest of the Troop followed suit, a ripple of steel that flashed down the line.

"CHARGE!" So much fury poured into that single word. The trumpet screamed its challenge to the sky and the entire mass of horses and their humans riders began to pick up speed. The sight was something that was always breath taking to him as he glanced quickly around. The big horses, their muscles bunched beneath shimmering fur, manes streaming in the wind, heads straining forward as hooves hammered the ground like pistons. Their riders likewise singularly focused, eyes bulging, swords held at parade ground angles, their own war cries mingling with the tremendous noise of their mounts.

Hecht lips were peeled back from his teeth in a formless scream as he pounded down the slope at the head of his squadron; sword pointed toward the enemy as he had been taught. The infantry, he could see the white facings of their jackets now, were running through the streets toward the bridge. but it was far to late for them.

The cavalry crossed the space between the trees and the village in a matter of seconds and streamed in among the houses. Two infantrymen, pulling trousers up around their waists, were ridden under the heavy hooves as they stumbled from a house. Another turned and fired his musket, the sound lost among the noise, and then screamed as the Captain crushed the mans face with his sword. The Tallian reeled away, his face a bloody mask, and then went down as Hechts horse slammed into him.

Another musket cracked nearby and Hecht had a brief vision of a green uniform and brown horse tumbling down in the street but then they were among the houses and more yellow uniforms began to appear at windows and doorways. An ambush!

"Get them out Sergeant!" Kraus roared the order at Hecht as he stabbed his sword into the face of a wide eyed Tallian who had lost his shako. "Get them out!"

Hecht managed to swing down from his horse, sword quickly shoved back in his scabbard as he yanked his carbine from the saddle. "A squadron! A squadron!" He shouted as he knelt, firing his carbine at a terrified face that appeared in a nearby window. The face was yanked back as his bullet smashed a chunk of wood from the frame. He cursed and drew his sword, running toward the house. Others joined him and he cannoned into the door which exploded under his weight.

The force carried him further into the house than he'd expected and he crashed into an over turned table that served as protection for two Tallian soldiers. One stabbed at him with a bayonet while the other frantically loaded his musket. Hecht didn't think, he just reacted, batting away the bayonet and then plunging his blade into his enemies chest. The man gave a gurgling whimper and sagged backward. Hecht had killed for the first time.

He didn't have time to think about it as the second man aimed his weapon and pulled the trigger. The hammer struck the pan but nothing happened. He had forgotten to prime it. Hecht gave a savage yell and whipped his sword back so that blood spattered the mans face. The Tallian stumbled back and Hecht followed quickly, stabbing forward again, the sharp point driving into the mans gut so that he folded over with a scream.

Hecht ripped the blade free and turned look for more enemies. He found one yellow other uniform down and a green coated trooper throwing up by the door. It didn't take him long to see why. Even this small dwelling was a slaughterhouse. Two children had been brutally killed, an older man had been shot in one corner, and it didn't take any imagination to know what had happened to the naked woman spread eagle on the floor with her throat cut.

Rage as he had never known it filled Hecht and he turned on the dying Tallian soldier and stomped hard on the mans throat so that he began to choke. Hecht stomped again and again until the sound stopped. He felt like weeping and would likely have begun doing so had the whole world been drowned out by the roar of a cannon.

The bugle sounded, and the world became a haze of movement.

Moments before Teddy was sitting atop Sir Briggs talking to his friend Willie about finding the bridge and seeing the yellow-coated Tallions. "Them Canaries ain't nothin'" said Willie, feigning hubris. "I bet we can take this whole place an' ain't lose a man!" The two boys had been debating as to whether there were more soldiers on the other side of the bridge or if the Tallions had just stopped by to tell the villagers to watch for any sign of an enemy. It made sense to Teddy they'd be watching their backs in case the rebels tried to inch up on the main army which was still supposed to be further north fighting hard against the Rhaetian garrison at Darmstadt. He refused to believe there'd be a concentrated force this far south, and he told his friend that all this hubbub about a charge down the hill was mostly for show. Willie, picking up on the need to make things seem less frightening, had taken to calling the Tallions "Canaries" after Teddy told him their coats were yellow, and the boys had one of those nervous laughs meant to break the tension and help everyone feel more relaxed. Catching the sign from their Sergeant they began the march downhill with the rest of the soldiers.

Then the woman screamed like she was being murdered, then stopped as if she had, and the world became deadly silent.

Teddy heard himself swallow. The bugle sounded, and it was as if the unit was a single mind moving fast at a target. Sergeant Hecht was off to Teddy's right, brandishing his sword and screaming the charge! Teddy looked forward, his own sword had found its way to his hand and was pointing threateningly forward. Up ahead he saw half naked Canaries begin to pour out of a large building, some of them started running towards the bridge. "Yeah Run ya' Cowards!" Someone screamed near him.

CRASH!!! he barreled into a wide eyed Tallion who was pulling up his pants; Sir Briggs took an extra moment to trample the soldier's face. Too fast! Teddy thought wildly, How did we get here so Fast!? Something wet splashed his face, his hand went to wipe it off and he saw red on his fingers. He glanced down and saw the bloody mess of lump and hair that was the soldier's head; Sir Briggs reared up in challenge and triumph at his kill.

A musket cracked next to him and he was suddenly yanked sideways, Sir Briggs went with him and they both fell on the hard, trampled ground. Teddy got up, sword still in his hand somehow, just as a Tallion soldier was running at him with a bayonet pointed to kill. My Horse! was Teddy's thought as he side stepped, grabbed the hot barrel of the musket with his left hand and swung down with the saber in his right onto the neck of the surprised soldier. It felt like cutting into the pigs he slaughtered back at home. Teddy watched the soldier fall limp with a splattering of blood, at this point musket fire was everywhere. He stooped over to check his horse and grab his rifle.

Sir Briggs kicked himself to his feet and then, with a roaring neigh, charged at a close by window where a soldier was preparing a musket to fire again; chunks of plaster and wood broke free under the onslaught of the stallion's murderous hooves. Teddy ran into the doorway, somehow swinging his loaded carbine as he ran and with a smooth motion and fired at the face of the man at the window. The man's head snapped back violently, then Teddy was rammed by something hard from his front side and he was lying on his back on the ground outside of the cottage again.

A Canary with with a heavy sword in his hand ran out the door to finish Teddy and was trampled immediately by Sir Briggs who was possessed by some bloodlust Teddy had never seen before in a horse. Suddenly Teddy felt numb, scared, and overwhelmed by the chaos around him. The adrenaline had begun to where off and he felt very small. He had to get out of there, he had to go somewhere and hide. He clambered to his feet and jumped over the broken pile of human flesh his horse had created to get back into the house. He crawled into a corner, sat down, and pulled his legs up to his chest. He began to rock, and then he began to weep uncontrollably.

Outside the walls he heard loud noises of screams and musket fire. He knew his people were dying, he knew he had to get back out there, but he couldn't catch his breath. He heard a horse whinny in furious victory, and he knew it was Sir Briggs. What in the hell is going on with that horse? He thought, and somehow that brought him back. He blinked away his tears, wiped his face with his sleeve, and he gave himself a moment to reload his weapon.

With weak knees he stood up, then the world exploded with the unexpected roar of a canon.

Simone did not like the quiet. The silence of the woods as a bear or wolves stalked about popped to mind, and the accuracy of the comparison did nothing to calm her nerves. Mandel, her horse, picked up on her nerves and had a hard time standing still. However, she was confident Kraus and Hecht knew what they were doing, at least enough to let some of Teddy's infectious bravado sink in as she stroked Mandel's mane. For all she knew they would catch the enemy stuffing their faces with some ill gotten bread, relieving themselves with their pants down. She was going to chime in when the woman screamed, and her blood turned to ice.

The bugle blared, and the world blurred. Before they had entered the village proper, she had her saber in hand. Her horse , barely trained to take a rider let alone combat, barely followed the rest of the group in it's barely controlled state. Following Hecht into the frey, her saber felt heavy in her hand, the long blade's momentum doing much of the work as she swung. She wasn't sure if she had made proper cuts or just clubbing her foes. Within the first few minutes of combat her blade was bloodied, her pants covered with the splatter of someone else's gore.

Gunfire rang in her ears and she spotted the soldiers taking aim from the windows. Without thinking she jerked Mandel's reigns to the side, sending her down someone's yard just moments before lead rained onto the street with the cries of more wounded. Heart pounding, she took quick stock of herself and Mandel, thankful to find no wounds yet. Another set of troopers joined her in taking cover, including Dorothy's familiar face. "You know what the plan is?" Dorothy shouted.

Simone looked around and saw Hecht dismounting, pulling out his carbine. The Sergent shouted something but she couldn't make it out over the din, but it was clear he was trying to give some orders. Before she could even get off her own horse, she pointed at him. "I'm following the Seargent," she said, hanging her carbine over her shoulder, and drawing her pistol. Hecht was already advancing into a nearby building, Trooper Jager hunched over as if hit in the gut. With Dorothy behind her, the duo dashed across the open street, ready to aid their two comrades in clearing the building.

Simone barreled through the door in her haste to get out of the open. Letting out a battle cry she thrust her pistol forward, her eyes were wide for any sign of yellow to shoot, but Hecht was the only one in the room. Dorothy came in a moment later, carbine at the ready. It took them a moment to register the scene in the room. Simone blanched, and felt her blood drain. She stood there, feet planted as Hecht finished pulping the soldier at his feet. Dorothy, moved first, having the sense of mind to move to push Simone out of the doorway. Sense knocked back into her, Simone moved to cover one of the interior doors as Dorothy dragged Jager off the street. Simone turned to call to Hecht, but her voice was drowned out as a cannon went off, loud enough to make the room shake.

What the old veterans, even her own father (especially her own father), had never thought to tell the swiftly moving farm girl was just how fast was; one minute she and her fellow scouts had been questioned multiple times by their Sergeant, then what seemed to be only mere moments later they were mounted up and taking part in a cavalry charge encompassing the entire strength of D Troop.

How, Anja repeated in her own head, even as the wind whipped her flesh and her thighs tightened around the flanks of her mount, did everything move so very fast and yet at the same time slow down so that one could see everthing - the twisted faces of ones comrades-in-arms, the shimmering glitter of drizzle and cold air on the curved blades of drawn sabres, glinting brass helmets and drooping plumes, and the very breath of man and beast leaving their bodies and dissipating into the ether.

Truth be told she couldn't even remember the screams of the violated woman, returning to Hecht and their Captain with all they had seen, or even the note of the bugle that shattered the silence and sent them forward on this crazed endeavour... but here she was, here and now, her carbine remaining inside its holster on her saddle while her sabre felt like a lead weight in her hand.

Trying to show some sense of proper form - though her back remained somewhat bent - Anja thrust her sword forward with one outstretched arm, retaining control of her steed with the other hand, her mind telling her that Hecht, boyish Teddy and straight-laced Simone were supposed to be around her; it was more than a surprise then when she peered about as she entered the village proper, powder and dirt rising to obscure her vision even further, and found only the swirl and crush of bodies and her closest friends nowhere to be seen.

"To the guns!" Came a shout from somewhere nearby, uniforms of Rhaetian green gathering around a focal point in front of her, Anja urging her horse toward the gap, "the gun! Halt the cannon! For Rhaetia!"

"For Rhaetia!" Screamed Anja, her mouth caught in an elongated scream as the group streamed toward the bridge aross the river and the Canary cannon, but unable to see and almost deafened by the noise all around her she could not have realised what was about to happen. None of them could. Until it did.



The world exploded and for the longest time Anja thought she was dead, her clothing torn to tatters, the bodily matter of a dozen of her Rhaetian brethren covering her, and her hearing no more than constant high-pitched whistling.

This was until she hit the freezing cold water of the river - having been pitched over the side of the bridge when anothers horse hammered into her own - her body numbing with the cold and the impact, water causing her throat to constrict as she swallowed blood and liquid, her flailing arms dragging her up the surface.

Ultimately, and with her mind rattling inside her skull and her entire body shaking, Anja pulled herself onto the riverbank and rolled onto her back, blankly staring up at the sky even as others continued to die around her.

Hecht ducked involuntarily as the cannon roared, the screams of dying horses suddenly tremendously loud over those of humans. Smoke filled the air and drifted slowly through the village. He could make out Ulmer standing in the doorway staring out into the street even as Blum, blood leaking from a cut on her forehead, was frantically reloading a carbine. Another green coated body, he couldn't see the face, lay crumpled inside the door curled around a gut wound that had hopefully killed them quickly.

Hecht half stumbled on the dead villager as he hurried over to Ulmer, pushing his sword home in the scabbard as he unslung his carbine. Training kicked in as rammed the powder and ball swiftly down the barrel while his gaze swept the street outside. A tangled mass of horseflesh and humanity was spread across the bridge. The closeness of the Tallian cannon had actually served to clear the bridge, the sheer force and mass of the grapeshot had simply swept aside the charging cavalry like a scythe through fresh wheat. Hecht could see the gunners frantically spiking the gun back into position, beyond them in the trees he could yellow uniforms, but none on horseback.

"Ulmer, Blum, with me!" He shouted, his voice seemed strangely loud in the silence following the cannon blast. He ran from the house toward the bridge. More dragoons were streaming toward the ancient stone bridge from the village, most of them dismounted, and carbines cracked as bullets spun through the air. He saw the branches above the cannon shiver and leaves began to flutter as down as more dragoons added their fire. Instead of going for the bridge he ran for the edge of the river, it was no more than twenty yards across, and knelt. He aimed slightly high, at this range a direct hit was almost impossible, and pulled the trigger. Smoke blotted his vision but he imagined he hard a "clang" as the ball struck the cannon barrel. The Tallians were to close and they were starting to realize it.

More dragoons hurried to the bank and the snap of carbines sent the gunners diving for cover as more and more bullets slapped off the cannon barrel and the high wheels. Several of the yellow jackets could be seen crawling back, trying to hook the long gun traces to mules who were barely visible in the trees. A trumpet screamed at the sky and he turned to see Captain Kraus, his helmet gone, leading an ad-hoc charge across the bridge. Hooves sounded loud on the stone decking and one horse, slipping on the gore that sheeted much of the stone, gave a piteous neigh and went down with a crash. But a dozen others made it and the riders gave a yells of triumph as they bore down on the gunners who, having abandoned their gun, tried to run. It was far too late and the dragoons slaughtered them beneath the trees.

More trumpets sounded and suddenly the village was filled with horsemen as the rest of the regiment arrived. They rode through the village, eyes agape, for many of them this was their first sight of battlefield dead. Some vomited from their mounts, others made religious gestures, but the majority rode grimly onward as they clattered across the bridge to exploit the crossing.

For Hecht, and those around him, the battle was over. They could hear the trumpet calls and sounds of gunfire in the distance but orders came from an exhausted Kraus for them to rest their mounts and check their own injuries. Stretcher parties were dispatched to comb the riverbank and village for any injured, Rhaetian and Tallian like.

Hecht was standing shirtless, just having managed to find a moment to pour a bucket of water over his head, when Corporal Heine found him. The burly man cleared his throat and waited for Hecht to look at him.

"Two dead and three injured, one of whom likely won't make it." He had a slip of paper in his hand but Hecht made no effort to take it.

"That seems light."

"That's just A Troop." Heine responded quietly and Hecht swore.

"Who did we loose?"

"Troopers Jager and Muller. Jager some time during the fight in the village, Muller on the bridge," He glanced down at his blood spattered boots and then back up again. "Trooper Welser is in a bad way. Tolman and Wilhelm got off with minor scratches."

"Alright, I'll go see Welser. Make sure the rest of the squadron gets some food and rest, as best we can. We'll have to ride in a day or two, tops."

The Corporal nodded and hurried off to see to the squadron while Hecht went to find Welser.

Teddy heard the canon explosion and then heard the screams after. Then came the smell, a sweet smell of Sulphur and copper. Teddy took a step towards the door and flinched, he looked down at his should and saw a small, round spot of dark blood on his green uniform. Huh! it's like... Christmas. he thought. The shock of his adrenaline rush hadn't worn off yet and so he didn't feel any pain when he had reloaded his rifle, but the pain was going to come soon, very soon.

When He walked out the door he was greeted by a blood spattered Sir Briggs, whinnying happily as if being surrounded by guns firing was the most natural state of the world. The horse came over and nuzzled Teddy's face. Teddy reflexively raised his hand and patted the horse, his eyes wide with surprise. Across the street he saw the Sarge had run down the hill next to the bridge and was firing at the Tallions who were trying to reload the big gun. Big guns draw fire. Teddy said in his head like some sort of school lesson.

Captain Krauss rode by with a mass of Rhaetians yelling and firing at the Tallions on the other side of the bridge. Sir Briggs neighed and bolted after them in full sprint. "No! Wait!!" Teddy yelled, but the mad horse had a mind of its own, Teddy took off running after. The horse got to the stone of the bridge which was covered with blood and viscera, and slipped... the horse fell right over the side into the river!

"BRIGGSS!!!" Teddy screamed and ran to the edge of the bridge. Gun fire was dinging off of surfaces all around him, he could see the retreating yellow jackets running into the woods beyond the houses close to the bridge. The Captain was swinging his sword and conducting the slaughter like a maestro directs an orchestra. Teddy looked into the water, "Briggs!" he said weepily. He couldn't see his horse, the water couldn't be that deep. He scanned the water and there, closer to the other bank, Sir Briggs had swum across the river and made it to the other bank, then, it laid down.

Teddy's eyes went wide and he ran across the bridge and down the opposite bank to his horse, who was breathing heavily. "OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod!! You g#ddam stupid f#cking horse! What the hell is wrong with you?" His hands were gliding over the horse's body, pushing on muscles, tenderly checking joints, looking at his shoes, as if by a miracle nothing was broken, but the horse was covered in nicks, scrapes, and one stab wound that didn't look too deep. The horse let out a raspberry, "Was that a laugh?" Teddy asked, the horse whinnied and nodded his big head. "Jesus Effing Fudge sickle! Where did you come from?" Teddy had put his leg under the horses head and cradled it in his lap.

Captain Kraus came over, covered in blood and breathing hard but otherwise unmolested. "You need a room Trooper?" He said grittily, but Teddy say he was smiling under his mustache. The Captain didn't wait for a response, "Get over to your Sargent, and get your shoulder looked after. Tell Hecht we saw a couple Dragoons make it into the woods on horse, he'll know what that means. Go. NOW!" He commanded.

"mah.. my horse though?" as if on cue Sir Briggs got himself up, not briskly but steadily, and began walking towards the bridge. The Captain was smiling, "I swear that horse is a better soldier than you Trooper. Now get!" Teddy didn't have to be told twice, he got up and ran after his horse.

Simone flinched at the cannon shot, shoulders drawing up for a moment as she tried to cover her ears with her occupied hands. Bits of plaster fell onto her and Dorothy, bouncing harmlessly off them. Chancing a peak out of the window, Simone gasped. Even with the haze rolling through the battlefield the carnage was clear. Hecht's orders got the pair moving again, and after a quick prayer for Herman, she and Dorothy followed behind their sergeant.

Switching to her carbine like the rest of the dragoons, she rushed to the bridge. The scent of gunpowder and viscera filled her nose as they neared, the Rhaetians already returning fire against the cannon crew. Simone took cover behind a low wall, resting her barrel on it as she scanned the treeline for where to shoot. Spotting a short man with a broad mustache scrambling for cover, she took her shot. With the movement, range, and sheer nerves she couldn't tell if she hit home, but the soldier fell a few steps later.

Ducking back into cover to reload, adrenaline made reloading difficult, especially as a bullet ricocheted off a stone a foot from her head. Powder, wadding, ball, a simple order but by the time she got the pan filled with powder again, Kraus had started his charge, and she couldn't rightly risk firing back into the melee. Keeping an eye out on their flanks, both girls let out a cheer as the gun crew was wiped from the battlefield and reinforcements filled the town. After less than half an hour of combat, their first battle was over.

Minutes later, once it was clear the fighting had ended. Before the blood had cool in the streets, the two girls had found their horses again. They walked them upstream of the bridge to wash them of the muck of the battle and inspect them for injury. "You know, I feel like one of us shouldve spotted the cannon," Dorothy said, bringing over a bucket of riverwater to scrub with.

"Yeah we walked right into that," Simone replied, doing her best to remove some poor soldier's skill fragments from Mandel's back without actually touching them. She glances downstream. "Thanks for having my back."

Dorothy nodded. "Same to you." She got to work scrubbing down her own horse, a dappled mare named Ingwer. "Too bad about Herman. I liked him."

Simone sighed and reflexively placed a hand on her own belly. "Yeah, he used to go easy on me back home. Certainly deserved more than to be taken out like that."

"At least it was quick. From what I saw they are still dragging dying Canaries from the water. Certainly deserve it for what they did to that family."

Simone took a deep breath, turning back to Mandel to hide her twinge of knotted emotions. "Fuck the Canaries," she says. Scrubbing Mandel's flank, she adds "May our jaws clench around their necks, and make us heroes worthy of an aria by Materna." With that she rinses her horse off with the bucket of water and heads back to the river to refill it. "Now if we could find some soap for my breeches," she grumbles.

Captain Peter Limbourg was already done with Trooper Welser by the time Sergeant Hecht arrived, wiping a pair of bloodied hands upon his apron as the NCO entered what little ‘clean’ interior of the bridgeside inn could be found following the recent skirmish with the enemy; the balding army surgeon, what lank black hair he had slicked back over his head, gave a quick glance and grimace to the Sergeant, barely taking his eyes from a young lad shivering thoroughly on the table before him.

“Sergeant Hecht… I assume you are here to see your wounded soldier, yes?” The tall man, taller even than Hecht himself, swept one free hand toward the staircase of the tavern leading up and to the establishments former ‘residential’ rooms, “I have taken what shrapnel out of her that I could, luckily it seems that other bodies took the main force of the gun, but although she is in a stable condition she remains somewhat feverish.”

Hecht, doing his level best to not retch at the smell of the small space, managed a weak nod. “Thank you sir.”

Like his soldiers, this was his first taste of real combat. No stranger to death by circumstance of location and an extended family, he was nonetheless nauseated by the sight of the wounded. He took the stairs quickly, thankful that someone had opened the upper windows to let in the sunshine and fresh air from outside.

He found the small loft rooms occupied, two to a room, and Welser was quartered with a young lad Hecht did not recognize. The boy had his head wrapped in blood stained bandages and Hecht didn’t need to be a doctor to know the rattling breath was a bad sign.

Stepping carefully past the boy, Hecht knelt next to Welser and looked down at her. She was facing away from him so he could not see her face but he was relieved to see very little blood on her bandages.

Kneeling next to the small figure he spoke quietly. “Welser, Sergeant Hecht here. How are you feeling?”

At first Anja thought her feverish mind was playing tricks on her, turning her head enough to see that it was indeed her Sergeant kneeling beside her pallett, “handsome Sergeant Hecht,” she managed to croak as a small smile formed on her sweat-stained features.

When she did turn over to get a better look at him, her smile swiftly shifting to a half-grimace of aching pain, it was fortunate for them both that Captain Limbourg - while he had removed the remains of her shredded and blood stained uniform upon her entry into his care - had let her bind her more personal attributes with what long strips of material he could spare.

“It is good to see you, sir,” came her voice in the same weakened tone, “the Captain s-says that he removed several balls from my t-torso, and a piece of shrapnel to boot, but that nothing serious was damaged. Assures me I’ll have some nice scars to go with those I already own though.” For a moment she went into a coughing fit, convulsing somewhat, putting a hand on the floor to steady herself, “he did say I should be alright to travel with my troop… just no… no f-fighting until my fever had broken and I’m on the mend.”

To her credit Anja seemed particularly downhearted by these instructions but knew that, had it not been for those in front of her who took the blast of the cannon, and for her tumble into the river, that she would be dead.

“Sir,” she leant a little closer, glancing about conspiratorially, “I’ll need a new uniform though, and a new horse. A uniform that fits this time, if it isn’t too much trouble?”

Hecht ignored being called sir, it was something to tease her about later. Part of him was worried he might catch the fever being inside with her but a quick glance at the window assured him it was open and a breeze wafting in.

“A uniform that fits? We’d all love one of those.” He chuckled. Indeed he himself was wearing boots a size too small, pants made for a taller man, and a jacket that squeezed his shoulders. “I’ll see to it that it’s mended by the time you are.”

He glanced at the other wounded soldier and then back at Anja. She looked terribly small and fragile lying on the ragged bedding and he felt a lump in his gut.

“I’ll see if we can have you moved to join our people. You’ve got two days at most to recover before we have to get moving. Get some sleep and I’ll be back.”

He wasn’t sure she even heard the last part as he quietly slipped out of the room.

Sergeant Hecht

---

"Carefully now." Hecht spoke quietly as Welsers litter was maneuvered into the yard of the large house they'd been quartered in. It was filled with troopers in various stages of relaxation, most of them sound asleep in the warm sunlight that filtered through the trees surrounding the yard. The sound of wind in the leaves melded nicely with the rumble of the river, almost concealing the tramp of boots and jingle of supply wagons as the main army marched through.

A company of infantry had been detached to bury the village dead, they were Rhaetians afterall, and they moved throughout the smaller houses to do their horrid task. A few of them cast resentful looks toward the cavalry but the majority toiled away in relative silence, they had seen the dead horses in the streets and no one could ignore the pile of dead that had been dragged from the bridge.

"Here we are." Hecht, carrying the front end of the litter, arrived at the small space they had cleared for Welser in a corner of the yard. It was near the stables and bore the strong earthy smell of horses. She groaned as they set her down and opened her eyes slightly to look at him. He smiled. Her blonde hair was twisted about her face but her blue eyes were clear and alert.

"There you are, out of the Inn. Sleep if you can, I'll see to it you get some food." He stood and turned away, eyes scanning the yard until he caught sight of a face he hoped Welser wanted to see.

"Trooper Hielscher." The young man hurried over and stopped, his face wreathed with concern as he looked from the Sergeant to his friend on the ground. "Make sure Welser is comfortable and gets what she needs. We're due to ride out in two days time and we need her to be ready."

Hielscher nodded and quickly stepped past Hecht, kneeling down next to Welser and taking her hand, talking quietly and earnestly to her. Hecht left the pair, his boots pushing up little tufts of dust as he strode across the yard toward the main house.

Trooper Toman stood sentry on the door and he nodded to the sergeant as he stepped over the black rock threshold. The house itself was of a generous size, white washed and trimmed about the door and windows with black. Part of him wondered if he could come back someday and buy the place. The owners were dead. They had been found shot in the yard along with their servants and dogs. Burying them had been an unpleasant task. The women had been raped and the men likely made to watch before the end came. He shuddered.

The short hallway had a door to the left that opened into a sitting room and another to the right that would take him into a substantial kitchen. He followed the smell of cooking into this room and smiled at the sight of a huge cauldron bubbling in the massive fireplace. The smell of wood smoke and cooking meat made him feel homesick for the first time in a long time. He nodded to Wilhelm, a bakers son turned squadron cook, and Schuster who had been pressed into service as his assistant.

Corporal Heine sat in a corner of the kitchen munching on a apple that he waved at Hecht. There was an orchard outside that had more fruit than men and horses could eat. "Frederick, how're you now?"

Hecht smiled and sat with his friend, his sword banging against the stool. He plucked an apple from the basket on the small table and bit into it, savouring the crisp crunch and sweet juice.

"Managing, Domenik, managing. Moved Welser to the yard. She seems to be coming along and with any luck she might be able to ride in a few days. Surgeon says her wounds aren't fatal and likely wont even slow her down."

"Luck of the devil then." The Corporal replied as he slung the apple core out the window into the field beyond. "Shame about Jager and Muller."

"Yes, but nothing can be done about that. How're we doing for remounts?" The never ending shortage of cavalry mounts had been an issue before the regiment marched, but it was going to be worse now with so many killed on the bridge.

"Not to bad, actually..." Heine replied. "We're up one. More men down than horses lost. Kraus sent a spare mount over for Welser this morning, she should be able to ride with us. Her horse was butchered by the infantry as they marched through. Poor things head was gone. It probably took the canister rounds that would have otherwise killed her."

"Lucky indeed. Though I doubt she feels that way."

"The lucky rarely feel lucky in battle." Heine replied. Hecht nodded. His Corporal had far more combat experience than he did and he was painfully aware of his shortcomings. Only Heines desire to tell officers exactly what he thought of them had prevented him being given command of A-Squadron.

"Well I'll get to my rounds." Heine said, rising from his stool and stretching his arms wide so that his back cracked. He sighed in relief. "Eat something, Frederick, you'll need it."

He gave a friendly wave to the two troopers who were pulling roasting meat off the fire, grabbed another apple, and vanished out the door.

"...and then it stomped on the guys head and mashed it into pudding!" Teddy said in a quiet voice as he handed Wilhelm some chopped apples.

"Teddy I'm tired of hearing about your damn horse!" Wilhelm said to his friend.

"I... that horse is crazy Willy!" Teddy leaned in conspiratorially, "I'm afraid he's gonna kill me!" he whispered.

"That horse loves you more than your own mother," Willy replied, stirring the cauldron, "all things considered you should count yourself lucky."

"Doesn't love me more than your mother," Teddy smiled as he stuck his head over the cauldron and took a big whiff, "It smells good Willy, when you get home you can add an inn to your dad's bakery!"

"If we get home you mean," Willy said thoughtfully. The boys stopped talking when Corporal Heine walked by and waved. They waved back but the Corporal was gone before he saw it. Teddy took advantage of the moment to grab an apple and walk over to the Sarge. He sat down on the stool and took a bite.

After a few moments he spoke up in a quiet voice. "Sarge," he whispered, not looking up, "....I killed two men, sir." He said it quickly, like he was confessing to his dad and was afraid of how much trouble he was going to be in. He took another bite of his apple and chewed for a moment. "My horse killed like, three, or five, I don't know, he's loony, but he saved my life." Teddy glanced up and caught Sergeant Hecht's eye.

"Then you should thank him," Hect said, still casually enjoying his own apple and looking straight back into Teddy's eye. Then he stopped and his face became very serious, "I killed someone too Teddy, this is war, this is what we have to do." He pointed in the direction of the graves where the people who lived in the house were buried, "because if we don't, then we're telling them that that's okay, and it's not okay, is it Teddy?" Teddy shook his head slowly in the negative, "I don't think so either." The Sergeant turned to look out the window and took another big bite of his apple.

"Thank you Sarge," Teddy said, then he quickly got up, grabbed another apple and shoved it in his inner coat pocket before heading out the door towards the stables. He patted his friend Willy on the shoulder on his way out.

The yard was a bustle of activity, people were shuffling the wounded around and tending the horses. Teddy walked up to a particular cot that had a pretty young blond friend of his he wanted to check on. "Well hi there," he said in his coolest sounding voice, Anja was mostly covered up so he couldn't see how badly she was hurt, but she looked really tired, and a pang of worry hit his belly like a bucket of ice water. "Ar.. are you okay?" he said in sincere concern, "I heard you were one of the first through the line and took a canon to the face? That's pretty bad ass if I don't say so my... OOF!" Suddenly his horse Sir Briggs nuzzled him so affectionately that it knocked him to the ground! The horse was whinnying happily and prancing a bit. Then he tried to stick his hungry maw into Teddy's jacket. Laughing, Teddy said, "Hold on, hold on you crazy old horse, I'll get it for you," he pulled the fresh apple from his pocket, "take it before you kill me too," he said, smiling. As Teddy got to his feet he looked over and saw that Anja had started softly chuckling too.

---

The 6th Dragoons, bloodied and having suffered its first losses, remained in the small village for two days as the least of the wounded rested and those who could recovered their courage. For some the vision of what was to come was to much and they deserted during the long nights punctured by the boom of cannons around Darmstadt. It was a herald of things to come.

On the second day, beneath ominous dark grey skies, the 6th began to move out. The wind had freshened from the South bringing with it the sweet smell of rain and the first drops that "plinked" against helmets as troopers pulled themselves into the saddle. Few spoke as scabbards clinked against stirrups and spurs, instead ensuring their powder would remain dry, most wrapping rags or leather around their carbine breaches to keep out the threatened cloud burst.

A-Squadron was chosen to lead the advance and they moved out quickly across the bridge where the first of their friends had died. The stones were still stained with blood and the butchered carcasses of horses lay nearby. A mound of fresh earth and stone showed where those had died lay buried but nothing else served to remember who had died.

Hecht forced himself not to look down at the blood as he rode across the bridge. He felt his guts twisting as they rode, he hadn't been able to shit in two days as fear clenched at him. The woods where the Imperial cannon had been seated were empty now as they passed into them, riding among thick trees, the cannon dragged away to be used by the Rhaetian forces ahead of them.

The crackle of musketry echoed down the long valley, pushed by the ever freshening wind that now plucked at horsehair plumes and jacket lapels. Above the long column of riders the clouds continued to build in a dramatic fashion, made all the more impressive by sunlight striking them from the west. The first rumble of thunder rolled across the land and Hecht saw lightening crackle through the clouds; he had never seen anything like it.

The river was to their right now, running hard and fast southward toward the promised battle. A few bodies in yellow coats lay tumbled next to the road as they went, dark stains showing where blood had seeped from wounds. One, a drummer boy of no more than twelve, was curled around his small drum, the stomach wound that had killed him would not have done so quickly.

There was little conversation in the ranks as they rode and still the rain held back. The clouds looked like massive towers as they advanced toward Hecht and A-squadron in the far distance. They were close enough now to see the first of the powder smoke smearing the skyline and the sound of individual cannon were easy to determine. Hecht swallowed and clutched his reins more tightly with a silent prayer to whatever gods might be listening.