Dimentio
Royal jester
- Joined
- Jun 27, 2009
- Messages
- 204
The Corps of Vyllier is a war fantasy story occurring in the Noviyarian World. It is not as much connected with my main work, "The Noviyariad" which is ocurring about 30-40 years later in history.
It is a story of a man who finds himself fighting humanity for its own sake, together with the enemies of humanity - the goblins. The Noviyarian War during this time was fought between the industrialising Noviyarian Union and the goblin freestate of Orodai (as well as Orodai's allies, both human and goblin nations). The reason why so many are against the Union is that the Union wants to take over the whole world.
The technology is on par with the early WW2 era level. Magic is very uncommon and not something which those in power take into account.
Well, here it is. Mind that English is'nt my first language really, so if you think it sucks, then I must improve my English.
[FONT=Cambria, serif]Former Lieutenant Tomilcâr Marrech killed his cigarette with a decisive stomp from his right boot, and looked up to the desolated greyish sky where the sun was a mere white shadow behind a thick veil of filthy clouds. While the cigarette had been rather tasteless, it had at least soothed his addiction. And cigarettes was a rare privilegie in the Prisoner Camp of the Zyu'lah Gorge, in which Tomilcâr had spent the last eighteen months.[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]About thirty former officers, now more like wrecks than men, stood out and huttered in the cold winds from the Sea. In the horizon to the north, the black silhouette of the Mount Corazüne cast its black fume over the sky. The volcano – the world's highest peak – was a mere thirty kilometres from them, and yet it was highly visible even though a row of razor-sharp mountains stood before it, as lifeguards stood before a king.[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]If Marrech had not been thoroughly beaten into pieces when first arriving here, he might have appreciated the might of the black volcano. Yet, the Zyu'lah Prisoner Camp was affected by the proximity of a highky active mountain in more than the visual aspect. The ground sometimes shook for weeks, and made it impossible to sleep. The air was so thick with fragments of ash and fragments of the interior of the world, that the lungs bled. More than one man had suffocated to death in sleep, and those suffering from pneumonia and tubercolosis first of all.[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]The first weeks had been the worst. It had been in the heat of the summer months, and the broken men of the Prisoner Camp had been forced to erect their own barracks, guarded by bored goblins armed with bayonets. They had been forced to carry or drag heavy stones away from the gorge to make room for the buildings, chained to one another. Those who gave in to hunger, diseases or the severity of the guards, and fell down dead, dying or simply apathetic, were dragged away and cast down from a height, left to die. To prevent escape attempts, the guards used their gunstocks to crush the arms, ribs and legs of those who succumbed, and their screams had echoed throughout the nights. Before the barracks had been raised, the soldiers had slept in the wild, chained to rocks. Wolves and snakes, starved and scared, had attacked them and further decimated their numbers, eating on those who were at the periphery of the crowd or too weak to resist being wholly or partially eaten alive. The heat had been unbearable, but the nights had been as cold as winter.[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]Out of the six thousand original prisoners, of which Tomilcâr was one, only two thousand eight hundred fifty survived the first summer. And during the winter, when their rations were cut in half, yet another three hundred died out of starvation. New waves of prisoners had arrived, and the Camp had grown into a little town, with a healthcare clinic, a shop, an alehouse and even a brothel. The goblins had established a Prisoner's Council which was elected by the officers and responsible for doling out rewards and punishments. There were no electricity, no running water and no heating except body heat and a gasoline oven in the alehouse. But the conditions were no longer lethal. At least not for those who did not on a regular basis visited the brothel.[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]Tomilcâr did not know why he and the other twenty-seven officers from the different barracks had been summoned up to stand at guard at dawn. Usually, the goblins were pretty laid-off, and only those prisoners who had committed acts of defiance against the council or the goblin guardians watching the north and south gates were put to death. But Tomilcâr had been an exceptional prisoner. Surely, he had not partaken in so many officer meetings, and never been elected to a post of trust. But he had done his work, refrained from complaining and behaved as a good little slave. Although he had felt urges to flee, these urges had nothing to do with liberty, but rather from a self-destructive impulse to die. Not in order to make an example out of himself, but to simply being vanquished.[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]These suicidal thoughts running through his tormented mind had very little to do with the conditions of the Prisoner Camp. The reason was rather, that he did not have a home to flee to, because everything he once had had been lost. Not at the hands of any foreigner, not even the goblins. But at the hands of the civilian authorities, the so-called ”Sword of the Union”. [/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]The United Security Services[/FONT][FONT=Cambria, serif]. [/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]And Tomilcâr was not the only man here who had suffered at their hands, and seen friends, relatives and entire communities swallowed in a couple of months, as if they never had existed. The so-called ”Great Harvest” had left an empty void, and paralysed the people with fear. But underneath the fear, hatred had been steadily building up in Tomilcâr's heart. While he still hated the goblins with a burning fervor, as any civilised man would, his hatred for the regime which had killed his beloved ones was of another nature. It was cold, resolute, and sharp. Like a frozen dagger in his back.[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]If they kill me, it won't matter at all. They can do what they wish, I don't care. At all...[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]The gates opened and a flackcart slowly drove into the Camp. Its lights were on, shining like orange eyes through the morning fog. The warm buzz of its engine did not warm the chilling air. Tomilcâr put down his nose into the shawl he wore to make his face just some degrees less cold. He looked down as the massive vehicle closed in at near range of this sad group of prisoners.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]I've understood it you served under the great Vyllier himself? Am I right, lieutenant?” general Zalyua da'Tuariza asked as Tomilcâr was led into the Staff Room of the HQ Mobile Tank. His captors had put handcuffs on him, and put him down on the metal chair facing the general's desk. The Staff Room was a small poky hole shielded by three decimetres of armoured metal. It contained nothing except a lamp, a safe locker and the desk behind which the general sat on a comfortable red sofa.[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]General Zalyua was a short, bald goblin of old age, with a black patch over his left eye. His brownish green skin had several moles, and a dominant chin with a mishapen tooth stretched itself before his face. The tooth almost reached the grim nose. Tomilcâr could see that the goblin once had tattooed his scalp, but the tattoos had vanished with rain, sunshine and hail. The dark grey camouflage uniform had its chest covered with medallions. The hellish yellow eyes were focused on the prisoner.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Yes Sire”, Tomilcâr answered. ”I served in the nineteenth infantry regiment at the Glaucus, tenth of Leoris 7724. I was sixteen by then.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]Tomilcâr sighed and looked down on his handcuffs. After the First Civil War, of which the Glaucus had been the decisive victory for the Nationalist Side, he had been awarded the Hyzalian Gold Cross as he had been one of the dozen who first had charged the second redoubt line of the Dilyakinists. That medallion had been what he needed to be allowed to meet and engage to Belisla Dalian, the beautiful daughter of Vyllier's brother in arms, general Dalian.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]And Vyllier himself gave you this?” the general asked and took up a glimmering piece – the golden Hyzalian![/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]Tomilcâr was a bit surprised that it had fallen into the possession of general Zalyua, but he kept the stone expression in his face. He nodded slowly, focusing his eyes on the medallion.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]You could leave us”, the general ordered the sentry who stood behind Tomilcâr. The sentry abide and closed the round metal door behind him. Zalyua and Tomilcâr were now alone in the Staff Room. The prisoner wished the beams of the fluorescent lamp behind the general could have less strong. He could not shield his face from the piercing lights.[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]Tomilcâr's face could have been attractive, if it was'nt so that it had went through soo much. The contures of his facial bones had become visible, and his lips had been broken and then never really healed. When it was hot or cold, they still cracked up and got infected. He had lost several teeth. His nose was crooked out of a fist almost a decade ago. His skin had a greyish, pale tone. Dark rings had appeared around his eyes, but the eyes themselves were quite special. Their colour was jewel-blue with a slant of clear green. It was said he ”wore his mother's eyes”. But out of determination, resolve and hardships, they had become unbreakable like massive crystal.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]To my opinion”, the general stated, ”Field Marshal Eugene Vyllier is one of the four or five greatest individuals of this century. And he was a great man. I should know, as I have served under him myself, but a decade earlier than you did, lieutenant.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Oh, really? Sire?”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Yes. We Tuarizas had sworn allegiance to him. My father also served under him, like his brothers.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Vyllier is dead today, Sire.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]Silence.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]I know. But it is my hope that his ideals will live on.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Everything he stood for has died. Nowadays there is no loyalty, no kinship, no steel and no sun. There is only death, Sire.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]You were once a colonel, Tomilcâr.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]You seem to have read up on me, Sire.” Tomilcâr did not appreciate the turns this conversation were taking.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Would you mind telling me what happened that made you degraded?”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]No. I won't tell you.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]Tomilcâr looked down on his hands. They were cracked out of a lack of vitamines and the cold air. The skin had turned grey. On his left hand, he lacked the little finger, as well as the tip of the index finger. On the right hand, the ring-finger had been amputated. He hoped that the goblin general would'nt notice how near he was the breaking point.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]You know what could happen if you do'nt cooperate, Tomilcâr”, the goblin general purred.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Yes. I don't care.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Really? I have heard that you indeed are a tough *******. You had a shot straight in your thigh the day you got captured. At the medical centre you had a blood infection which nearly killed you. Is that correct?”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]That is correct.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Yet you did'nt scream as our surgeons cut open your wound to remove the bullet. You were quiet. The medics were quite impressed. Some of them say you cannot feel pain, is that correct?”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]That is not correct, Sire. I feel pain very much. But I simply don't mind.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Your body has traces of earlier torture. I have in my possession a couple of photos...”[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]A sudden flare of anger took hold of Tomilcâr. He stood up so quickly so he hit the head into the metal armament and fell down on his chair again, swearing. General Zalyua smiled with a sadistic but yet compassionate glee.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]So, do you mind telling me why you was degraded, lieutenant?”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Nothing at all!”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]I beg for pardon?”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]They never told me why! You should tell me, you probably know better!”[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]The general slanted his head understandingly. He allowed Tomilcâr to continue with his rant.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]They arrested me suspected for treason. Because I had fought on Vyllier's side a dozen years earlier. They took my woman as well. My father-in-law, general Dalian... was shot straight in the face by Ezaiah Marteus himself, and then beaten to death with a chair. I sat thirty months on the Khôta.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]The general gave up a hissing noise.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]The NUSS took my fingers, my teeth, and my right ball. They fed their dogs with these parts... of me. And they made me watch. Do you now understand... why I don't react to pain, Sire?”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Why were you let out?”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]I was rehabilitated. Supreme Commander Ourintessa needed more officers, so I was put in command of a communication detachment at the Orodaean Front in year '43. Then came the counter-offensive of Arghan Yuzruday, and we were pushed back. Our armies were wiped out. And I was brought here.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Are you a married man, lieutenant?”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]I don't know anymore.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]Tomilcâr wished he would'nt sob. Tears fled down his cheeks as he bit his jaws together, refusing to cry.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]She was arrested as well?”[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]Tomilcâr nodded slowly while he kept his eyes closed together. A bawling sound came up from his throat. [/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Do you know where they took her?”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]How should I know that?! It could have been Airrisin in Ahavaza, or Cherrýdale in Teledor. Both camps have female barracks. There was at least fifty camps operating when I was sent to Khôta. It might be less today... or more.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Are there any people left in Noviyaria?” the general almost asked himself.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]I think they will kill them all. Before you'll have the opportunity. I am sorry.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Why have the people not risen up against Zachâry?”[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]Thoughts were running through Tomilcâr's tormented mind, but he could'nt grasp them. He saw the firestorms of the Battle of Yalazea in '43, his wife's smile, his children whom he would never see again. All these years... all these memories ran through his head.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]You know, Yuzruday has liberated the Khôta Concentration Camp. The NUSS had evacuated most of their personnel from the island. They kept two-hundred men behind in order to dispatch all the prisoners. But we managed to stop them. Over one thousand prisoners were liberated.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Impressive. What did your boars do with them? Roast them alive to celebrate their victory?”[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]The general scoffed.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]We are actually fighting this war for you... as well as for us. We have the same enemy.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]It was you who attacked us, Sire. You attacked the Union three years ago.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]That is correct. Arghan and the High Council made that decision. You were in a state of weakness after the NUSS had eliminated nine tenths of your veteran officers. It would have been foolish of us to not utilise that weakness.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]We are not the same, general. I have seen goblin boars play fieldball with the heads of my dead comrades. I have seen them burn corpses laughing. And you say that they are my friends?”[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]The general shook his head.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]We of da'Zhyati, and you of da'Hamyati... have several millennias of conflicts between each-other. We have dominated each-other, tried to erradicate one another, fought countless wars for dominance over the world. We are both war-like and proud races. Yet, when presented with stronger enemies, we have united in alliances. Not because we love each-other, nay! But because we need each-other!”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]That is correct, Sire.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]The Freestate is not waging this war alone, Tomilcâr. Shyoda and Badgihl – two vast empires inhabitated by men – have declared war against the Union as well, on our side. Goblins and men alike today fight against a common enemy – the regime of Zachâry - which is an enemy of both mankind and goblinkin.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Did you summon me here to lecture with me about your opinions, Sire?”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Do you want to be colonel again, Tomilcâr?”[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]Tomilcâr shrugged his shoulders. ”I don't really care.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]The High Council has rehabilitated those prisoners of Khôta who still have their five senses and their minds relatively intact. Arghan has moved a large army to the gates of Culerica, besieging the City, while the main bulk of our forces has engaged the remnants of Ourintessa's armies in Nivria...”[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]Nivria[/FONT][FONT=Cambria, serif]. [/FONT][FONT=Cambria, serif]The land which had been gives us by Targon. And by Vyllier[/FONT][FONT=Cambria, serif]. [/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]The thought of a frontline carving through the most beautiful landscape in the world, and all the mansions and small towns burning was too much for Tomilcâr. The general took a break, allowing the prisoner to cry out.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]But despite our recent successes, our losses have also been significant. At least one hundred and fifty thousand Orodoi has fallen on the battlefields since this war began. And the armies of our allies has suffered similar losses. Our armies together is way smaller than the size of the Union Army, which we underestimated. Arghan himself has stated that it is impossible for us to hope for a decisive victory in the war.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Do you want me as a peace envoy or what, Sire?”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]No, Tomilcâr. The High Council has formulated a new main strategy. We will create a new army... an army composed of enemies of the Noviyarian regime. It will be led by the rehabilitated officers, and be composed both of men and goblins. An army which will hoist the banners of the Union!”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]You plan to use... traitors?”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]How many laws have not you r President broken? How many citizens haven't he killed?”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]So you want me... to help you conquer Noviyaria, Sire?”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]No. We want you to fight to help liberating your homeland from the scourge which has taken possession of it.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]Treason[/FONT][FONT=Cambria, serif]...[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]Tomilcâr looked up with clear eyes, harsh as flint. Once again, he met the gaze of the general's piercing yellow eyes.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]And you want me... as a colonel, Sire?”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Correct, colonel.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Will I have back my Golden Hyzalian Cross?”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]If you wish.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]How many men will I command?”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Right now, we have an available detachment of two-hundred and forty-five. The total amount of volunteers to ”Project no. 33” should be about twelve thousand at the moment.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]That is nothing!”[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]The general stood up. He was only about one and forty, and could stand up straight in the low Staff Room.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Eugene Vyllier was a great man. I still remember the Second Battle of Angal. With two cavalry regiments, he beat an army of eighty thousand men, took twenty thousand prisoners and saved a kingdom. Have faith, Tomilcâr.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]The prisoner looked down, thinking for a moment. At the end, he turned up his chin again, looking at his now superior.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Sire... might I have a cigarette?”[/FONT]
It is a story of a man who finds himself fighting humanity for its own sake, together with the enemies of humanity - the goblins. The Noviyarian War during this time was fought between the industrialising Noviyarian Union and the goblin freestate of Orodai (as well as Orodai's allies, both human and goblin nations). The reason why so many are against the Union is that the Union wants to take over the whole world.
The technology is on par with the early WW2 era level. Magic is very uncommon and not something which those in power take into account.
Well, here it is. Mind that English is'nt my first language really, so if you think it sucks, then I must improve my English.
[FONT=Cambria, serif]CHAPTER ONE[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]TREASON[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]Ailis year 7745[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]The Zyu'lah Prisoner Camp, Orodai[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]1.[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]About thirty former officers, now more like wrecks than men, stood out and huttered in the cold winds from the Sea. In the horizon to the north, the black silhouette of the Mount Corazüne cast its black fume over the sky. The volcano – the world's highest peak – was a mere thirty kilometres from them, and yet it was highly visible even though a row of razor-sharp mountains stood before it, as lifeguards stood before a king.[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]If Marrech had not been thoroughly beaten into pieces when first arriving here, he might have appreciated the might of the black volcano. Yet, the Zyu'lah Prisoner Camp was affected by the proximity of a highky active mountain in more than the visual aspect. The ground sometimes shook for weeks, and made it impossible to sleep. The air was so thick with fragments of ash and fragments of the interior of the world, that the lungs bled. More than one man had suffocated to death in sleep, and those suffering from pneumonia and tubercolosis first of all.[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]The first weeks had been the worst. It had been in the heat of the summer months, and the broken men of the Prisoner Camp had been forced to erect their own barracks, guarded by bored goblins armed with bayonets. They had been forced to carry or drag heavy stones away from the gorge to make room for the buildings, chained to one another. Those who gave in to hunger, diseases or the severity of the guards, and fell down dead, dying or simply apathetic, were dragged away and cast down from a height, left to die. To prevent escape attempts, the guards used their gunstocks to crush the arms, ribs and legs of those who succumbed, and their screams had echoed throughout the nights. Before the barracks had been raised, the soldiers had slept in the wild, chained to rocks. Wolves and snakes, starved and scared, had attacked them and further decimated their numbers, eating on those who were at the periphery of the crowd or too weak to resist being wholly or partially eaten alive. The heat had been unbearable, but the nights had been as cold as winter.[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]Out of the six thousand original prisoners, of which Tomilcâr was one, only two thousand eight hundred fifty survived the first summer. And during the winter, when their rations were cut in half, yet another three hundred died out of starvation. New waves of prisoners had arrived, and the Camp had grown into a little town, with a healthcare clinic, a shop, an alehouse and even a brothel. The goblins had established a Prisoner's Council which was elected by the officers and responsible for doling out rewards and punishments. There were no electricity, no running water and no heating except body heat and a gasoline oven in the alehouse. But the conditions were no longer lethal. At least not for those who did not on a regular basis visited the brothel.[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]Tomilcâr did not know why he and the other twenty-seven officers from the different barracks had been summoned up to stand at guard at dawn. Usually, the goblins were pretty laid-off, and only those prisoners who had committed acts of defiance against the council or the goblin guardians watching the north and south gates were put to death. But Tomilcâr had been an exceptional prisoner. Surely, he had not partaken in so many officer meetings, and never been elected to a post of trust. But he had done his work, refrained from complaining and behaved as a good little slave. Although he had felt urges to flee, these urges had nothing to do with liberty, but rather from a self-destructive impulse to die. Not in order to make an example out of himself, but to simply being vanquished.[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]These suicidal thoughts running through his tormented mind had very little to do with the conditions of the Prisoner Camp. The reason was rather, that he did not have a home to flee to, because everything he once had had been lost. Not at the hands of any foreigner, not even the goblins. But at the hands of the civilian authorities, the so-called ”Sword of the Union”. [/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]The United Security Services[/FONT][FONT=Cambria, serif]. [/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]And Tomilcâr was not the only man here who had suffered at their hands, and seen friends, relatives and entire communities swallowed in a couple of months, as if they never had existed. The so-called ”Great Harvest” had left an empty void, and paralysed the people with fear. But underneath the fear, hatred had been steadily building up in Tomilcâr's heart. While he still hated the goblins with a burning fervor, as any civilised man would, his hatred for the regime which had killed his beloved ones was of another nature. It was cold, resolute, and sharp. Like a frozen dagger in his back.[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]If they kill me, it won't matter at all. They can do what they wish, I don't care. At all...[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]The gates opened and a flackcart slowly drove into the Camp. Its lights were on, shining like orange eyes through the morning fog. The warm buzz of its engine did not warm the chilling air. Tomilcâr put down his nose into the shawl he wore to make his face just some degrees less cold. He looked down as the massive vehicle closed in at near range of this sad group of prisoners.[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]2.[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]General Zalyua was a short, bald goblin of old age, with a black patch over his left eye. His brownish green skin had several moles, and a dominant chin with a mishapen tooth stretched itself before his face. The tooth almost reached the grim nose. Tomilcâr could see that the goblin once had tattooed his scalp, but the tattoos had vanished with rain, sunshine and hail. The dark grey camouflage uniform had its chest covered with medallions. The hellish yellow eyes were focused on the prisoner.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Yes Sire”, Tomilcâr answered. ”I served in the nineteenth infantry regiment at the Glaucus, tenth of Leoris 7724. I was sixteen by then.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]Tomilcâr sighed and looked down on his handcuffs. After the First Civil War, of which the Glaucus had been the decisive victory for the Nationalist Side, he had been awarded the Hyzalian Gold Cross as he had been one of the dozen who first had charged the second redoubt line of the Dilyakinists. That medallion had been what he needed to be allowed to meet and engage to Belisla Dalian, the beautiful daughter of Vyllier's brother in arms, general Dalian.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]And Vyllier himself gave you this?” the general asked and took up a glimmering piece – the golden Hyzalian![/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]Tomilcâr was a bit surprised that it had fallen into the possession of general Zalyua, but he kept the stone expression in his face. He nodded slowly, focusing his eyes on the medallion.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]You could leave us”, the general ordered the sentry who stood behind Tomilcâr. The sentry abide and closed the round metal door behind him. Zalyua and Tomilcâr were now alone in the Staff Room. The prisoner wished the beams of the fluorescent lamp behind the general could have less strong. He could not shield his face from the piercing lights.[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]Tomilcâr's face could have been attractive, if it was'nt so that it had went through soo much. The contures of his facial bones had become visible, and his lips had been broken and then never really healed. When it was hot or cold, they still cracked up and got infected. He had lost several teeth. His nose was crooked out of a fist almost a decade ago. His skin had a greyish, pale tone. Dark rings had appeared around his eyes, but the eyes themselves were quite special. Their colour was jewel-blue with a slant of clear green. It was said he ”wore his mother's eyes”. But out of determination, resolve and hardships, they had become unbreakable like massive crystal.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]To my opinion”, the general stated, ”Field Marshal Eugene Vyllier is one of the four or five greatest individuals of this century. And he was a great man. I should know, as I have served under him myself, but a decade earlier than you did, lieutenant.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Oh, really? Sire?”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Yes. We Tuarizas had sworn allegiance to him. My father also served under him, like his brothers.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Vyllier is dead today, Sire.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]Silence.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]I know. But it is my hope that his ideals will live on.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Everything he stood for has died. Nowadays there is no loyalty, no kinship, no steel and no sun. There is only death, Sire.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]You were once a colonel, Tomilcâr.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]You seem to have read up on me, Sire.” Tomilcâr did not appreciate the turns this conversation were taking.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Would you mind telling me what happened that made you degraded?”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]No. I won't tell you.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]Tomilcâr looked down on his hands. They were cracked out of a lack of vitamines and the cold air. The skin had turned grey. On his left hand, he lacked the little finger, as well as the tip of the index finger. On the right hand, the ring-finger had been amputated. He hoped that the goblin general would'nt notice how near he was the breaking point.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]You know what could happen if you do'nt cooperate, Tomilcâr”, the goblin general purred.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Yes. I don't care.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Really? I have heard that you indeed are a tough *******. You had a shot straight in your thigh the day you got captured. At the medical centre you had a blood infection which nearly killed you. Is that correct?”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]That is correct.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Yet you did'nt scream as our surgeons cut open your wound to remove the bullet. You were quiet. The medics were quite impressed. Some of them say you cannot feel pain, is that correct?”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]That is not correct, Sire. I feel pain very much. But I simply don't mind.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Your body has traces of earlier torture. I have in my possession a couple of photos...”[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]A sudden flare of anger took hold of Tomilcâr. He stood up so quickly so he hit the head into the metal armament and fell down on his chair again, swearing. General Zalyua smiled with a sadistic but yet compassionate glee.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]So, do you mind telling me why you was degraded, lieutenant?”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Nothing at all!”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]I beg for pardon?”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]They never told me why! You should tell me, you probably know better!”[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]The general slanted his head understandingly. He allowed Tomilcâr to continue with his rant.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]They arrested me suspected for treason. Because I had fought on Vyllier's side a dozen years earlier. They took my woman as well. My father-in-law, general Dalian... was shot straight in the face by Ezaiah Marteus himself, and then beaten to death with a chair. I sat thirty months on the Khôta.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]The general gave up a hissing noise.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]The NUSS took my fingers, my teeth, and my right ball. They fed their dogs with these parts... of me. And they made me watch. Do you now understand... why I don't react to pain, Sire?”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Why were you let out?”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]I was rehabilitated. Supreme Commander Ourintessa needed more officers, so I was put in command of a communication detachment at the Orodaean Front in year '43. Then came the counter-offensive of Arghan Yuzruday, and we were pushed back. Our armies were wiped out. And I was brought here.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Are you a married man, lieutenant?”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]I don't know anymore.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]Tomilcâr wished he would'nt sob. Tears fled down his cheeks as he bit his jaws together, refusing to cry.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]She was arrested as well?”[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]Tomilcâr nodded slowly while he kept his eyes closed together. A bawling sound came up from his throat. [/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Do you know where they took her?”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]How should I know that?! It could have been Airrisin in Ahavaza, or Cherrýdale in Teledor. Both camps have female barracks. There was at least fifty camps operating when I was sent to Khôta. It might be less today... or more.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Are there any people left in Noviyaria?” the general almost asked himself.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]I think they will kill them all. Before you'll have the opportunity. I am sorry.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Why have the people not risen up against Zachâry?”[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]Thoughts were running through Tomilcâr's tormented mind, but he could'nt grasp them. He saw the firestorms of the Battle of Yalazea in '43, his wife's smile, his children whom he would never see again. All these years... all these memories ran through his head.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]You know, Yuzruday has liberated the Khôta Concentration Camp. The NUSS had evacuated most of their personnel from the island. They kept two-hundred men behind in order to dispatch all the prisoners. But we managed to stop them. Over one thousand prisoners were liberated.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Impressive. What did your boars do with them? Roast them alive to celebrate their victory?”[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]The general scoffed.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]We are actually fighting this war for you... as well as for us. We have the same enemy.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]It was you who attacked us, Sire. You attacked the Union three years ago.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]That is correct. Arghan and the High Council made that decision. You were in a state of weakness after the NUSS had eliminated nine tenths of your veteran officers. It would have been foolish of us to not utilise that weakness.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]We are not the same, general. I have seen goblin boars play fieldball with the heads of my dead comrades. I have seen them burn corpses laughing. And you say that they are my friends?”[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]The general shook his head.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]We of da'Zhyati, and you of da'Hamyati... have several millennias of conflicts between each-other. We have dominated each-other, tried to erradicate one another, fought countless wars for dominance over the world. We are both war-like and proud races. Yet, when presented with stronger enemies, we have united in alliances. Not because we love each-other, nay! But because we need each-other!”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]That is correct, Sire.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]The Freestate is not waging this war alone, Tomilcâr. Shyoda and Badgihl – two vast empires inhabitated by men – have declared war against the Union as well, on our side. Goblins and men alike today fight against a common enemy – the regime of Zachâry - which is an enemy of both mankind and goblinkin.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Did you summon me here to lecture with me about your opinions, Sire?”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Do you want to be colonel again, Tomilcâr?”[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]Tomilcâr shrugged his shoulders. ”I don't really care.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]The High Council has rehabilitated those prisoners of Khôta who still have their five senses and their minds relatively intact. Arghan has moved a large army to the gates of Culerica, besieging the City, while the main bulk of our forces has engaged the remnants of Ourintessa's armies in Nivria...”[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]Nivria[/FONT][FONT=Cambria, serif]. [/FONT][FONT=Cambria, serif]The land which had been gives us by Targon. And by Vyllier[/FONT][FONT=Cambria, serif]. [/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]The thought of a frontline carving through the most beautiful landscape in the world, and all the mansions and small towns burning was too much for Tomilcâr. The general took a break, allowing the prisoner to cry out.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]But despite our recent successes, our losses have also been significant. At least one hundred and fifty thousand Orodoi has fallen on the battlefields since this war began. And the armies of our allies has suffered similar losses. Our armies together is way smaller than the size of the Union Army, which we underestimated. Arghan himself has stated that it is impossible for us to hope for a decisive victory in the war.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Do you want me as a peace envoy or what, Sire?”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]No, Tomilcâr. The High Council has formulated a new main strategy. We will create a new army... an army composed of enemies of the Noviyarian regime. It will be led by the rehabilitated officers, and be composed both of men and goblins. An army which will hoist the banners of the Union!”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]You plan to use... traitors?”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]How many laws have not you r President broken? How many citizens haven't he killed?”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]So you want me... to help you conquer Noviyaria, Sire?”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]No. We want you to fight to help liberating your homeland from the scourge which has taken possession of it.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]Treason[/FONT][FONT=Cambria, serif]...[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]Tomilcâr looked up with clear eyes, harsh as flint. Once again, he met the gaze of the general's piercing yellow eyes.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]And you want me... as a colonel, Sire?”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Correct, colonel.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Will I have back my Golden Hyzalian Cross?”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]If you wish.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]How many men will I command?”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Right now, we have an available detachment of two-hundred and forty-five. The total amount of volunteers to ”Project no. 33” should be about twelve thousand at the moment.”[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]That is nothing!”[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]The general stood up. He was only about one and forty, and could stand up straight in the low Staff Room.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Eugene Vyllier was a great man. I still remember the Second Battle of Angal. With two cavalry regiments, he beat an army of eighty thousand men, took twenty thousand prisoners and saved a kingdom. Have faith, Tomilcâr.”[/FONT]
[FONT=Cambria, serif]The prisoner looked down, thinking for a moment. At the end, he turned up his chin again, looking at his now superior.[/FONT]
”[FONT=Cambria, serif]Sire... might I have a cigarette?”[/FONT]
