Sylvain was hot. And sweaty. And he didn't like it. He was currently tied up in a small tent with a bag over his head, which made it hard to breathe. He was dirty, bruised and bloody...but he was still alive. He didn't know how this had happened to him and his men. His thoughts drifted back towards how he found himself in this situation, as he desperately tried to figure out what had gone wrong.
The day had started off like any other day, he was woken up and dressed and then he made his way to the royal dining area to be served his breakfast. Things deviated when a frazzled looking page burst through the door and barely had time to announce the king before Syl's father was striding into the room. He stood up, "Father. You're looking well this morning."
The king, Quintel, waved off pleasantries and motioned for his boy to sit. "I haven't the time for idle chatter. You're to go on a mission today. You and your boys. Morale is low at the front, and they feel as if a visit from the Prince will do the soldiers some good."
Most normal people would have been frightened, but Sylvain's eyes lit up, "You're sending me to the front?" He wanted to get up and leave right that moment. This was the day he'd been dreaming of, when his father would finally trust him with something other than babysitting a bunch of silly nobles sons.
King Quintel nodded, "Yes. Go change and gather your men. I expect you to be ready within the hour." He turned and strode from the room without another word to his only child. Syl stood up and headed for his room, forgetting about his breakfast entirely. He was dressed in his uniform in record time, and he was soon standing in front of the grand entrance to the imperial palace with his men, waiting for the convoy that would drive them to the desert.
Most of ride was uneventful, with a few of the guys razzing each other, and a few others playing cards. Syl ignored most of them and kept his eyes on the road. He was finally going to be able to see what a real solider did and fought for. He had often begged his father to send him to the front, even though he knew it was futile. As the only current heir to the throne, they couldn't risk it.
As they got closer to the front, Syl noticed something strange. It looked as if some black hover tanks were coming to meet them. He hadn't had much time to talk to his father, but he had assumed that the meeting was kept a secret. As the tanks came closer, they opened fire on the convoy, blowing away the first vehicle in line and sending the hover car with prince and his men careening off the road.
It was an ambush, and a bloodbath. The palace guards assigned to protect him were outnumbered and soon fell where they stood, though true to their station each of them had protected the prince to their last breath. Some of Sylvain's friends had tried to run, but they were so close to the desert there was nowhere to hide, and they were gunned down. Syl watched in horror, frozen to the spot.
In the center of the tanks was a hover car, and more men spilled out of it, dressed in the military uniform of Anaopia. The prince had nothing to defend himself with but his ceremonial saber, and he snapped out of his head long enough to fend off the soldiers for a few moments before the useless thing broke. They soon had him and what was left of his men face down on the ground where they were tied up, and pulled roughly to the car. Some of the boys were crying, and some of them looked as if they were in shock.
Sylvain's mind was running a mile a minute, as he tried to figure out any way out of this. Before he was shoved in the car, with a bag over his head, he spotted a small oasis community in the distance. He tried to call out, but he was too far away for the sound to carry, and he was hit in the face with the butt of a pulse rifle for his efforts. The hit was hard enough to split his lip, and then he was shoved into the cars and a heavy burlap bag was jammed onto his head.
Thinking about it did not help the Prince, and he could see no way out of the situation at hand. He could hear men around him speaking their native tongue, but he didn't understand a word of it. He knew there were men guarding him, because when he tried to speak and find out who of his men were still alive, he was beaten until he stopped making noise. He only tried to talk twice before he eventually gave up.
His thoughts kept circling back to one thing. Someone in his father's court had to be a traitor. There was no other way that the Anaopian's could have known he was coming. Syl would just have to wait it out, and hope that his father sent aid.
Meanwhile, in the Imperial Palace Court
Everything had been a flurry of activity that morning as soon as Anaopia claimed that they had the crown prince and several nobles. The King had called court, and wanted to give into their demands, but his advisors urged him against this. His queen was still young, and another heir could be made...but if he gave into Anaopia now he would look weak. They would press for more and more until they had taken the entire empire of Galbraith. With a heavy heart, the king issued the order to the men on the front. No rescue mission was to be taken under way. They did not negotiate with Anaopia, and they would not start now when the other country had stooped to such dirty tactics. The news reached the men quickly, and the entire Oasis town where they were stationed was abuzz with the news. It was all anybody could speak about, King Quintel was going to let his own son die to save face!
The day had started off like any other day, he was woken up and dressed and then he made his way to the royal dining area to be served his breakfast. Things deviated when a frazzled looking page burst through the door and barely had time to announce the king before Syl's father was striding into the room. He stood up, "Father. You're looking well this morning."
The king, Quintel, waved off pleasantries and motioned for his boy to sit. "I haven't the time for idle chatter. You're to go on a mission today. You and your boys. Morale is low at the front, and they feel as if a visit from the Prince will do the soldiers some good."
Most normal people would have been frightened, but Sylvain's eyes lit up, "You're sending me to the front?" He wanted to get up and leave right that moment. This was the day he'd been dreaming of, when his father would finally trust him with something other than babysitting a bunch of silly nobles sons.
King Quintel nodded, "Yes. Go change and gather your men. I expect you to be ready within the hour." He turned and strode from the room without another word to his only child. Syl stood up and headed for his room, forgetting about his breakfast entirely. He was dressed in his uniform in record time, and he was soon standing in front of the grand entrance to the imperial palace with his men, waiting for the convoy that would drive them to the desert.
Most of ride was uneventful, with a few of the guys razzing each other, and a few others playing cards. Syl ignored most of them and kept his eyes on the road. He was finally going to be able to see what a real solider did and fought for. He had often begged his father to send him to the front, even though he knew it was futile. As the only current heir to the throne, they couldn't risk it.
As they got closer to the front, Syl noticed something strange. It looked as if some black hover tanks were coming to meet them. He hadn't had much time to talk to his father, but he had assumed that the meeting was kept a secret. As the tanks came closer, they opened fire on the convoy, blowing away the first vehicle in line and sending the hover car with prince and his men careening off the road.
It was an ambush, and a bloodbath. The palace guards assigned to protect him were outnumbered and soon fell where they stood, though true to their station each of them had protected the prince to their last breath. Some of Sylvain's friends had tried to run, but they were so close to the desert there was nowhere to hide, and they were gunned down. Syl watched in horror, frozen to the spot.
In the center of the tanks was a hover car, and more men spilled out of it, dressed in the military uniform of Anaopia. The prince had nothing to defend himself with but his ceremonial saber, and he snapped out of his head long enough to fend off the soldiers for a few moments before the useless thing broke. They soon had him and what was left of his men face down on the ground where they were tied up, and pulled roughly to the car. Some of the boys were crying, and some of them looked as if they were in shock.
Sylvain's mind was running a mile a minute, as he tried to figure out any way out of this. Before he was shoved in the car, with a bag over his head, he spotted a small oasis community in the distance. He tried to call out, but he was too far away for the sound to carry, and he was hit in the face with the butt of a pulse rifle for his efforts. The hit was hard enough to split his lip, and then he was shoved into the cars and a heavy burlap bag was jammed onto his head.
Thinking about it did not help the Prince, and he could see no way out of the situation at hand. He could hear men around him speaking their native tongue, but he didn't understand a word of it. He knew there were men guarding him, because when he tried to speak and find out who of his men were still alive, he was beaten until he stopped making noise. He only tried to talk twice before he eventually gave up.
His thoughts kept circling back to one thing. Someone in his father's court had to be a traitor. There was no other way that the Anaopian's could have known he was coming. Syl would just have to wait it out, and hope that his father sent aid.
Meanwhile, in the Imperial Palace Court
Everything had been a flurry of activity that morning as soon as Anaopia claimed that they had the crown prince and several nobles. The King had called court, and wanted to give into their demands, but his advisors urged him against this. His queen was still young, and another heir could be made...but if he gave into Anaopia now he would look weak. They would press for more and more until they had taken the entire empire of Galbraith. With a heavy heart, the king issued the order to the men on the front. No rescue mission was to be taken under way. They did not negotiate with Anaopia, and they would not start now when the other country had stooped to such dirty tactics. The news reached the men quickly, and the entire Oasis town where they were stationed was abuzz with the news. It was all anybody could speak about, King Quintel was going to let his own son die to save face!
There was no rescue attempt being mounted for the prince, but Rangsey Graeme didn't even know the prince was held hostage. He was separated from his battalion and stranded behind enemy lines himself, trying to find a way back. Hiding in the dark, he could see the tent Syl was being kept in and found it curious; it hadn't been there long and from the looks of it it was important. Graeme was not a selfish person and when he could help someone out, he always tried to. If someone from their side was being help captive here, he had to be sure to free them.
It was guarded, sure, but Rang was sure he could sneak around the back and get in that way. He had his side arm, but the ammo was running low so if he could preserve the bullets and not alert anyone to his presence, he would prefer it. Making his way low, Grae managed to cut a hole to peak into the tent. He found it empty of enemy soldiers, but littered with bound and gagged figures. One of which stood out from the rest as if he were more important. It was now or never, so he made a bigger hole to slip through and tip toed to that specific prisoner.
"Are you conscious?" Graeme looked around to see if anyone else might answer. He had a bit of an accent as he crouched behind the figure to untie his hands that suggested he was from way out in the country. He was whispering just in case someone could hear and his hands were working fast to free the captive. In no time at all, Syl's hands were free, then his feet and then the bag was lifted free. Graeme probably should have started with that, but this was his first self-given rescue mission and he was winging it. "Can you walk, ya think?"
It was guarded, sure, but Rang was sure he could sneak around the back and get in that way. He had his side arm, but the ammo was running low so if he could preserve the bullets and not alert anyone to his presence, he would prefer it. Making his way low, Grae managed to cut a hole to peak into the tent. He found it empty of enemy soldiers, but littered with bound and gagged figures. One of which stood out from the rest as if he were more important. It was now or never, so he made a bigger hole to slip through and tip toed to that specific prisoner.
"Are you conscious?" Graeme looked around to see if anyone else might answer. He had a bit of an accent as he crouched behind the figure to untie his hands that suggested he was from way out in the country. He was whispering just in case someone could hear and his hands were working fast to free the captive. In no time at all, Syl's hands were free, then his feet and then the bag was lifted free. Graeme probably should have started with that, but this was his first self-given rescue mission and he was winging it. "Can you walk, ya think?"
Syl squinted when Graeme pulled the hood off, "I think so." His face was a swollen mass of purple and black bruises, and his right eye was swollen shut entirely. He looked around, "There were guards..." Somehow Graeme managed to wander by when the men had gone for lunch, as they figured the prisoners were relatively safe.
As soon as his hands were free he sprung up and tried to rouse what few men were left. There were five of them total, including the prince. They didn't look to be in much better shape, and the youngest--a fourteen year old boy--was actually crying. Syl was upset that there were so few of them, but he knew he had to get his men to safety.
He turned to their unlikely rescuer, "We have to get out of here before they come back. Do you know the way back to base?" If they hurried, they could probably make it to the outer trenches before they were noticed. Unfortunately they were in the desert, so that left few places to hide. They would have to be quick to avoid being captured or worse.
As soon as his hands were free he sprung up and tried to rouse what few men were left. There were five of them total, including the prince. They didn't look to be in much better shape, and the youngest--a fourteen year old boy--was actually crying. Syl was upset that there were so few of them, but he knew he had to get his men to safety.
He turned to their unlikely rescuer, "We have to get out of here before they come back. Do you know the way back to base?" If they hurried, they could probably make it to the outer trenches before they were noticed. Unfortunately they were in the desert, so that left few places to hide. They would have to be quick to avoid being captured or worse.
Graeme took stock of Syl's face an winced. He didn't look good at all, but Graeme didn't have any medical supplies on him just now. He moved to help Syl with the other boys and peered through his entrance.
"I think so. I didn't want to leave if anyone was still alive..." He bit his lip and looked back to Syl. "We better move before someone comes back." If anyone needed help walking, Grae was there to help.
"I think so. I didn't want to leave if anyone was still alive..." He bit his lip and looked back to Syl. "We better move before someone comes back." If anyone needed help walking, Grae was there to help.
Syl couldn't place the man's accent, and he wondered where his father had found his rescuer. He must be some sort of elite military commando to be sent alone! "Yes...let's." He looked back at what was left of his men, "Move out boys." He motioned towards the slit in the tent and had all his men go first before he finally slipped out and tried to make his way quickly across the desert sand.
One of the boys had a twisted ankle and he had to hobble along with Graeme. Syl kept looking behind him, knowing that it was likely only moments before it was noticed that they were gone. He could see the trenches in front of him, and he knew it was just a bit farther to safety. He kept looking at Graeme, but now wasn't the time to bring up idle conversation.
They were tantalizingly close to the border now, and Syl thought they were home free when he heard shouting behind him. Sirens started going off and floodlights turned on. "Go! Run!" The men took off towards the trench as fast as they could go. The smallest one, the fourteen year old boy, stumbled in the sand and fell. Syl rushed to his side to help him up and that's when the shooting started.
Bullets tore through the air and Sylvain watched in horror as one of them narrowly missed him, but tore through Nicholas with such force that he fell again. There was so much blood and Syl stood frozen in place as bullets rained around him.
The rest of the men made it to the trench, even the one that was limping. None of them dared to go back and try to grab Syl though, not even the men that were already in the trenches. Syl was lost in his own world, kneeling and holding Nicholas' hand. He wasn't going to leave the boy to die scared and alone, even if that meant he got hit with a bullet himself.
One of the boys had a twisted ankle and he had to hobble along with Graeme. Syl kept looking behind him, knowing that it was likely only moments before it was noticed that they were gone. He could see the trenches in front of him, and he knew it was just a bit farther to safety. He kept looking at Graeme, but now wasn't the time to bring up idle conversation.
They were tantalizingly close to the border now, and Syl thought they were home free when he heard shouting behind him. Sirens started going off and floodlights turned on. "Go! Run!" The men took off towards the trench as fast as they could go. The smallest one, the fourteen year old boy, stumbled in the sand and fell. Syl rushed to his side to help him up and that's when the shooting started.
Bullets tore through the air and Sylvain watched in horror as one of them narrowly missed him, but tore through Nicholas with such force that he fell again. There was so much blood and Syl stood frozen in place as bullets rained around him.
The rest of the men made it to the trench, even the one that was limping. None of them dared to go back and try to grab Syl though, not even the men that were already in the trenches. Syl was lost in his own world, kneeling and holding Nicholas' hand. He wasn't going to leave the boy to die scared and alone, even if that meant he got hit with a bullet himself.
Graeme got to escaping and lent the limping boy support. When the bullets started, he scooped up the other man and ran him to safety. Graeme's heart was racing with adrenline and fear and he did a head count as they reached the trench.
Two missing. Grae turned to see Sylvain still on the field. Before he had time to think of it, Graeme was running full tilt for the prince. "Watch out!" He ran at a crouch like it might help him miss the hail of bullets and lunged to grab Syl. He had a very firm grip around the prince and tried to drag him back.
Two missing. Grae turned to see Sylvain still on the field. Before he had time to think of it, Graeme was running full tilt for the prince. "Watch out!" He ran at a crouch like it might help him miss the hail of bullets and lunged to grab Syl. He had a very firm grip around the prince and tried to drag him back.
Syl strugged against him as he was grabbed and pulled back. "No! NO!" The kid was already gone, but Syl was half out of his mind from the stress of what he'd been through. He flailed and squirmed as he was pulled back into the trenches, and finally the men in the trenches opened fire.
Syl sank down against the floor and put his head in his hands, "He was just a kid...he was only fourteen!!!" He was yelling at nobody in particular, and the remaining men just watched their prince have his meltdown.
Syl sank down against the floor and put his head in his hands, "He was just a kid...he was only fourteen!!!" He was yelling at nobody in particular, and the remaining men just watched their prince have his meltdown.
Graeme just ducked his head and pulled Syl back into the trenches. He didn't care if the man hit him or fought, he understood. Unfortunately there was nothing he could do for Nicholas and that was obvious with only a glance...
"I'm sorry for loss..." Graeme crouched down beside Syl and started to cjeck him for bullet wounds. He moved the man's arms up and down just to check, then moved to make sure the other boys weren't hit. Once he was sure everyone was safely behind friendly lines he flopped down next to Syl just to breathe.
"I'm sorry for loss..." Graeme crouched down beside Syl and started to cjeck him for bullet wounds. He moved the man's arms up and down just to check, then moved to make sure the other boys weren't hit. Once he was sure everyone was safely behind friendly lines he flopped down next to Syl just to breathe.
Syl hit the wall of the trench with his hands, and then held still while Graeme checked for bullets. He wasn't hit, but he was pretty badly beat up. "He was just a kid..." He said it so quietly it was likely that only Rangsey heard, but there was clear hurt in his voice.
Once it was obvious that they were all okay for the most part, one of the men in the trenches approached Rangsey, "Who are you guys?" He knew they were from Galbraith because of the language they were speaking. One of the other boys spoke up, a dark skinned boy with wide cheekbones and almond colored eyes. "We're all that's left of the 102nd." The men looked at each other, shocked. "Call command. We need to get these men away from the front lines."
Once it was obvious that they were all okay for the most part, one of the men in the trenches approached Rangsey, "Who are you guys?" He knew they were from Galbraith because of the language they were speaking. One of the other boys spoke up, a dark skinned boy with wide cheekbones and almond colored eyes. "We're all that's left of the 102nd." The men looked at each other, shocked. "Call command. We need to get these men away from the front lines."
Graeme was starting to feel the adrenaline drain and he let out a long breath. He ran his hands back through his blond hair and then pushed himself to his feet. "Let me get you something for your face." He didn't know how to comfort the man... the horrors of war were hard to shake off.
He came back with some salve and stuff to clean Sylvain's face. He glanced up as he tried to help Syl to the man speaking. Someone was answering for him though and he let the boy talk. "Hear that? Command can get you guys out if here." He tried to offer a bright smile to cheer Syl up a little.
He came back with some salve and stuff to clean Sylvain's face. He glanced up as he tried to help Syl to the man speaking. Someone was answering for him though and he let the boy talk. "Hear that? Command can get you guys out if here." He tried to offer a bright smile to cheer Syl up a little.
Syl didn't say anything, but he allowed Rangsey to clean off his face. "Yeah. I heard. But who's going to get Nicholas out?" He pushed Graeme's hand away then and stood up. "I'm sure you'll be paid by my father anyway." He silently brooded then, and it was only a matter of time before there was the sound of a chopper craft lowering to the ground behind them.
The boys were helped from the trench, and Graeme was ushered along with them as they assumed he was also part of the 102nd. Syl sat in the seat of the craft silently as it made its way back to the main base.
The boys were helped from the trench, and Graeme was ushered along with them as they assumed he was also part of the 102nd. Syl sat in the seat of the craft silently as it made its way back to the main base.
Graeme paused at Sylvain's question. His hand was pushed away and he looked lost. "Who's your father?" Grae seemed to be genuinely asking but he didn't seem to wait for an answer. "I will get him. If I can. Just make sure everyone else gets to the chopper."
He moved away from Syl and waited for the cover fire for the chopper. Hopefully the enemy would be focused on that so he could run out to drag Nicholas' body back. He made ot out fine, but halfway back a bullet cut into his shoulder. Graeme cried out, but kept moving with a clenched jaw. He got back to the chopper with the body so his family had something to mourn. Upon inspecting the bullet wound, it had only grazed his arm and left a gash.
He moved away from Syl and waited for the cover fire for the chopper. Hopefully the enemy would be focused on that so he could run out to drag Nicholas' body back. He made ot out fine, but halfway back a bullet cut into his shoulder. Graeme cried out, but kept moving with a clenched jaw. He got back to the chopper with the body so his family had something to mourn. Upon inspecting the bullet wound, it had only grazed his arm and left a gash.
Syl watched as Graeme ran out and risked death to grab Nicholas' body. He didn't say anything about Graeme's wound but he did take the boy and carefully lay him out and closed his eyes. "I'm sure his parents will appreciate it." It wasn't long before the chopper craft was back at base and everyone was being ushered off. Syl didn't move though, he stayed in the craft, staring at the lifeless body at his feet.
Graeme closed his eyes for the trip. He had bandaged his arm himself and piled put of the copter when everyone else did. He would have gone about his business but he noticed Syl wasn't with the group. Frowning, he headed back to check the helicopter. "Hey, are you okay?" Grae looked genuinely concerned and climbed back inside. He sat down next to Syl and dropped his voice. "Did you know him well?"
Syl shrugged at Graeme and then winced, regretting the action. "He was one of my men. He was just a scared kid." He drug his attention to Graeme, "But what do you care? You'll get your reward no matter what." He climbed out of the chopper then, and limped after his men.
If Graeme followed he would notice that there was a lot of press around and all the men he'd rescued were being ushered into one of the nicer facilities, which had been completely cleared for them.
If Graeme followed he would notice that there was a lot of press around and all the men he'd rescued were being ushered into one of the nicer facilities, which had been completely cleared for them.
Graeme looked hurt. He didn't understand why Syl snapped at him. "Why do you keep saying that?" He called after Sylvain as the other man left the chopper. With one last look at Nicholas, Graeme hopped out after him.
He watched the proceedings with confusion, wondering what the fuss was about. Maybe these men had been behind enemy lines longer than he'd thought. It had nothing to do with him, though. Graeme looked for someone to give him further orders since he didn't really belong with this troop.
He watched the proceedings with confusion, wondering what the fuss was about. Maybe these men had been behind enemy lines longer than he'd thought. It had nothing to do with him, though. Graeme looked for someone to give him further orders since he didn't really belong with this troop.
Syl didn't answer the man, and he was just ushered along with the rest of them even though he didn't really belong in the 102nd. Once they were in the main building, Syl sat off to the side by himself, while the other survivors congregated together.
A man approached Graeme then, a general by the look of him. "You're the one that defied orders and rescued these men?"
A man approached Graeme then, a general by the look of him. "You're the one that defied orders and rescued these men?"
Graeme was shuffled along and like a good soldier did as he was told. He quietly followed until he was addressed. Grae stood at attention and saluted. "Yes, sir." He didn't feel he'd defied orders since he was left behind enemy lines, but he was unaware of the kings orders.
"What troop are you with?" He looked stern and not at all happy that Graeme had rescued these men, even though most everyone else was thrilled. With Graeme distracted, it was easy to miss the mob of reporters and all the 'your highness'' they were flinging at Syl.
Graeme stayed upright and focused. "I was with the 77th, sir. I am the only survivor I know of, sir." He wanted to add he eas stuck behind enemy lines and did what anyone should have done... but that was probably insubordination and Graeme was obedient.
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