There was a sour taste of silence lurking amongst the courtyards and fields of Eastern Gallia. It was as if a thousand voices had once flourished and thrived with jovial content, when they had the chance, before a sleeping behemoth had emptied all signs of life. The East was no more the East, but now a part of Western Imperialist ideology and militarised fortifications. Towns, settlements, homes and rooms had been vacated either forcefully or by the settler's choices, though there weren't many choices to begin with. The term Ghost Town would never be grand or broad enough to cover such expansive terrors which was the cease of Eastern Gallian life. Many had died already, many more were likely to follow. For the footsteps of an awakened monster tore through the lands and bonds shared by its inhabitants. The war had begun a lot sooner than people expected; the war had begun a lot sooner than people wanted. No one wanted the war, save for certain high-ranking personnel required to maintain their reputation throughout the ranks of their nation.
The people of Gallia were shaken; shaken down to their cores. Those who scrutinised the outbreak of the Second Europan War were lucky enough to draw themselves Westwards towards the Capital, whereas the rest either hoped the first line of forts on the border to the Empire were strong enough to withstand an invasion. Unfortunately, they weren't. The Towns-watch were the first call to arms outside of standard military provisions, with limited supplies of firearms being distributed around the nation. They acted as the military police unofficially running each settlement. These were the unluckiest, in the eyes of some. Whilst civilians were shot, many were captured if given the chance. The Towns-Watch were never given the chance to be taken far. All that stand in the way of the steaming battalions of hell bare no acceptance of mercy, so the Imperials think. It was lucky that the Militia were armed and primed...It would be the only thing able to stop the continuous massacres of Watchmen laying down their lives without justice or the fairness of well-equipped.
Otto was one of those who believed in such things. He was grateful, entirely, that the Militia had been re-established. It wasn't because of the universal conscription, not at all. That was his least favourite part about it. However, what he was grateful for was that it gave people the chance to fight in the towns whilst having the equipment to do so. The town-watchmen were limited in resources, relying on mainly semi-automatic or bolt-action rifles to keep them in the fight. Against the newfound expansion of automatic handheld firearms, Otto was surprised even himself, Iden and Yralith were able to survive the Battle of Ryben Hill alongside himself. Though the other two now well-acquainted comrades were tougher, they were expected to survive if Otto could. They were disciplined, but also able to speak their free-mind without too much hostility. Respect was their biggest strive to density and durability in combat. It made sense for them to become Lieutenants. But that wasn't something Otto could take on himself. It was never something Otto could take on himself.
There was an echo of footsteps bouncing around the concrete walls of the hallway on the Western Quarters of the Second Gallian Militia HQ. There were several bases of operations scattered along the West, though some bigger than others. The one he resided at and called his home was a series of tall, sturdy buildings that were clearly built with the thought of a Coastal Invasion in mind. It was nearer to the western coast, about a ten minute drive by truck to the beaches specifically. They were glossy beaches, golden and aesthetically awe-inspiring to the core. They were a symbol of hope in these buildings.
His footsteps creating such a tremolo tone were likely due to the thickness of the walls. Some called the Second Militia Headquarters the Fortress of the People's Army. Some of the higher officers within the military used the term `People's Army` to mock their expendable intentions for the Militia, yet those who bared the uniforms and titles of Militia personnel took advantage of such an insult and used it as a rallying motto for their conscripted soldiers. It was to give them hope, letting them know that they were the ones that had lived, suffered and set out to take back their homes that they had lost themselves. And in all honesty, Otto was starting to believe that being called an Army for the People was helping his own confidence himself. The Fortress gave him confidence as well. With walls able to withstand a decent amount of bombardment, as demonstrated during its construction in the First Europan War, it made him feel like if it came down to it, they could make their last stand in a place that had a chance of surviving.
Otto Mallaye was a man of worry, care and small fear for those around him, but that was what pushed him on in the first place. Fear was a driving motion that made him think tactically, imagining that those under his rank would have the chances of falling because of what he said. Yet it had its disadvantages, as every death could change his vitality against shock to an utter-collapse. This mind-numbing experience of thought was what decayed his confidence from taking the position as a Lieutenant. Thinking he could just fight alongside his comrades as equals, he could not escape the chain of command and found himself being placed as a Sergeant.
Being a Sergeant was quite difficult to take in. As his introductory meeting with Major Latell, one of the Headquarters' Commanding Officers overlooking multiple platoons within the 2nd Regiment, he was instructed to take up the role of Squad 11's subordinate: The IC's personal non-comissioned officer. It also made him the replacement in the event of their IC's death, which was also quite a staggering thought to cross Otto's mind. The trail of thought about his introduction to his Squad's CO made him focus on different topics.
He hadn't met anyone from his Squad that wasn't Lando Tankreith. She was a stubborn but well-rounded individual from first impressions. Being the third-day that everyone was at the headquarters since the arrival of the conscripted took place, there wasn't much chance for Otto to even introduce himself to the others. He knew Lando had though. She'd seen quite a lot of their upcoming squad-mates with the intention of getting a good and fresh-start with those under her command. Sure, she wasn't the tallest of soldiers to stand amongst the group he was yet to meet. She checked out, however, with an ability to supply knowledge tactically in training scenarios. Otto wasn't too different to her, in the sense that he wasn't the drill-sergeant type of individual to run amok the Militia. It wouldn't wear off well onto the sleeves of his comrades if he were to act in such a way consistently.
Otto realised he'd been static in the hallways for longer than he'd imagined. There was no one inside roaming around, save for a few other Lieutenants and the occasional group of Privates. The uniforms had recently been fully stocked and provided to every soldier, so it was likely that everyone was still making changes to how they looked or adjusting the personal touches they wished to add. There weren't many options of style that could effectively change their ability in combat, barely any armour-plating stocks had come through, as most of them were being used for the 3rd Regiment, the ones planned to fight in the North. His static position led to him picking up the pace, holding a light jog as he made his way towards the newly refurbished office of his commanding officer...Lando.
"Lieutenant Tankreith?" Otto cautiously exposed his loneliness by entering the slightly open door that was of Lando's office. When walking in, he saw her adjusting the cap upon her head, looking within the mirror as if she'd been attempting since the hours ago she'd received her uniform. It was still the early morning, but the Lieutenants could receive their uniforms earlier due to how easily outnumbered they were by regular Militia soldiers. "Ma'am, I've sent word for Squad 11 to meet us within the Northern depots, second workshop, for the introductions to one another and your speech. Do you need any form of escort to get there, the journey is a bit of a tangled pathway?"
The tall lad was never usually as polite as this when it came to casual conversations, but seeing as his brief but experienced encounter with communication to higher-ranking personnel from the Ryben Hill incident he knew he had to make the best presentation around those who held higher titles than he did. The smaller woman, roughly a few years older than him, looked from her mirror towards him with a nod and a smile of appreciation for his arrival.
"Well, thank you, Sergeant Mallaye. To answer your question, sure. I could use some sort of a tour there, I'm only familiar with the Southern and Eastern parts of the Headquarters." The two soon after began to make their way, hoping not to bump into anyone from their Squad too early. They didn't want to create an awkward introduction that seemed uncanny to how everyone else received theirs. They were lucky enough to miss that unfortunate opportunity, despite the appearance of soldiers now appearing from their dormitories all kitted with slightly altered or different variations of the uniform. The groups of insignia commemorating their role within their teams shone on their backs and chests. Each role and position within the Gallian Militia, at least to Otto, helped him find out what kind of a person they were. Some had the choice of their role, whilst others were unable to decide and placed based upon their achievements in the youth-academies in previous years.
Eventually, the duo of command entered the Depot workshop, where a few vehicles stood out. It was assigned as the greater place of comfort for the entirely new Squad 11. Two tanks, an APC and a LAV all laid waiting, though their condition could've used a little refreshment. There were likely to be talented engineers within their Squad, and those tasked with being Armoured Crewmen were also likely to be familiar with the maintenance of such vehicles. Speaking of which, there were a few soldiers who were already waiting for them. Some were yet to arrive, but that wouldn't take too long to get through. Otto and Lando both agreed to let the already occurring small-talk to continue until everyone was there. Lando, being the well-spoken woman she was, invited Otto to even converse with those within his Squad. For someone who was eager to meet his new comrades, there was a sticking sensation of hesitation. He felt compelled to not get too attached to his soldiers, but that would be ridiculous to do so. It still seemed that the events of Ryben Hill were a constant reminder...
He was scooted along, closer to the group, as he began to feel his legs carry him in motion. He slowly made his way to towards the split groups and stood where he was, looking around at the small few people already present. Part of him hoped the others would turn up quickly, whilst the rest hoped they wouldn't, meaning he could get to know everyone here well enough to build trust. Trust is important after-all.
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