The situation in Columbia was growing more precarious by the hour.
"West Point has fallen! It appears there are no survivors from the local garrison!"
"They are herding the people into the town halls and setting them ablaze! They mean to burn everyone alive... it's not just us, they intend to exterminate every Columbian!"
"My troops! Give me back my troops!!"
The council chamber, which had been a chaotic arena of shouting matches only hours before, was now drowned in a sea of despair and grief. The only sounds remaining were the hollow echoes of sobbing and the rhythmic, pathetic sniffling of men drowning in their own misery.
"Ah... my revolution! My revolution is turning to ash!"
"What of reinforcements? Are they coming? Hah, as if! We acted on our own, of course they won't come. You goddamn idiots from the Liberty League!"
Suddenly, a young People's Commissar, overcome with rage, leapt to his feet and pointed a trembling finger at the representatives of the Liberty League.
The members of the Liberty League could offer no rebuttal.
"That... the general who commanded the battle at North Bridge. Was he from our faction?"
"So I've heard."
"We are truly, utterly finished. Lord have mercy..."
The enemy was now at the very gates of Lexington.
Strictly speaking, it was a metaphorical gate, but the reality was no less grim. Between the advancing enemy and the city, the only 'allied' forces remaining were the tattered remnants of what were supposed to be elite units and a rabble of terrified conscripts.
It was an undeniable, brutal truth: they had no means to halt the Duke's offensive.
"What do we do... why did the uprising have to start now?!"
"The loss of the motherland! The agony!"
"Shut your mouth! Enough with the wailing!"
These thoughts were not confined solely to the Columbian Communists. Across the field of battle, others shared a similar, albeit more triumphant, conviction.
"Commit the reserves. We finish Lexington with this final thrust."
"Yes, General!"
Duke Tibalt's army began its inexorable march toward Lexington.
It was at that very moment that the telegraph in the Columbia Communist Party headquarters began to chatter frantically.
"The International Communist Party has dispatched a Military Advisory Group! they've arrived!"
"Long live! Long live! Eternal glory to General Secretary Vladimir!"
"We are saved! We are going to live!"
The curtain rose on the counteroffensive.
******************************************
"Long live the Revolution!"
"It is the Liberation Army! The Liberation Army has come!"
"Haha, thank you! Thank you!"
The Military Advisory Group of the International Communist Party made their entry into Lexington amidst a deafening roar of cheers from the locals. Wreaths and banners lined the streets, welcoming the foreign cadres as if they were messiahs.
"It feels quite good to be welcomed like this. Wouldn't you agree, Laman?"
"It does. When we finally marry... do you think our wedding will feel like this?"
"Ugh, why would you say that here? How embarrassing..."
Amidst the fanfare, the Head of the Advisory Group, Alexandra, and her Deputy, Laman, entered while shamelessly flaunting their affection as a couple. The local populace and the visiting soldiers didn't mind—they were a handsome pair—but if the Protagonist had seen it, he likely would have kicked Laman's shins until he turned blue for being so nauseatingly sentimental on a battlefield.
"Oh, you've arrived! We have been waiting desperately! Please, come inside!"
"The Revolution is saved... We have won back our destiny..."
"...Finally finished groaning and started weeping now, have you?"
They stepped into the Headquarters of the Columbia Red Guards and immediately began scouring the mountain of unprocessed paperwork and tactical reports. The results were... a catastrophic mess.
"Is... is this supposed to be an army? Even as someone who has never served, I can see this is a shambles."
It was a common occurrence for soldiers to ignore direct orders. In one report, a commander had been ordered to lay an ambush for a surprise attack, but decided that such tactics were 'not honorable,' ordered a frontal charge instead, and saw his entire unit annihilated.
Furthermore, the chain of command was non-existent. Orders and battle reports were relayed through a convoluted game of telephone involving messengers of messengers, often arriving too late to matter.
Several advisors who were former Victorian officers felt faint simply looking at the absurdity of it all.
Alexandra clutched her throbbing head and looked at the man who seemed to be the ranking commander. She demanded to know exactly how the military state of affairs had degenerated into such a farce.
The answer she received was breathtakingly incompetent.
"Well... the Liberty League cadres insisted that the army must be operated 'horizontally.' They claimed a chain of command felt far too authoritarian..."
Those absolute lunatics.
Did they think war was a parlor game? They didn't have unlimited funds, they didn't have elite regulars, and they certainly didn't have an abundance of high-grade weaponry. They were a ragtag militia operating five minutes before midnight, yet they discarded discipline and still expected to win? Alexandra's patience was frayed to the breaking point.
One Columbian Party official met Laman's fiercely glowing eyes and withered instantly, realizing the depth of the foreigners' contempt. Alexandra took a deep breath, barely containing her rage.
"Ugh... then surely the training levels are acceptable?"
"Surely they didn't neglect basic training, too?"
Shaken by the disastrous administrative incompetence at headquarters, Alexandra and Laman moved to the training grounds. There, they encountered an even greater horror.
"Why are you giving a bow to a man who doesn't even know how to notch an arrow? What do you expect him to do, throw the bow at the enemy?"
"Well... he said he wanted to be an archer. We have to let him try. That is the essence of freedom, is it not?"
"We are in the middle of a total war, you ignorant peasant!!" Laman roared.
"Laman! Contain your anger!"
Ultimately, the Advisory Group reached a singular, inescapable conclusion regarding the Red Guards.
"They are less effective than a group of village vigilantes."
The decision was made instantly.
"We are taking military command. If we leave things to these fools, we'll die of high blood pressure before we see an enemy."
"Eh? Our command... is gone?"
Congratulations! The 'Columbia Communist Party' has lost its military sovereignty.
With that, the Columbian Red Guards fell under the absolute authority of the International Communist Party's Military Advisory Group.
"We must implement reforms at maximum speed. We don't know when the enemy will strike."
"Agreed. I truly didn't realize they had botched it to this extent!"
"Start with the fundamentals. They need basic training, and they need it yesterday."
An accelerated drill corps was established immediately.
"Move it, you slugs! One more lap around the perimeter! Run!"
"Huh? You said the last one was the final lap!"
"Oh? Talking back, are we? That's two more laps! Go! Sing the 'Internationale' while you're at it!"
From the conditioning techniques used by the Victorian army to those used by modern soldiers... all were implemented. The Red Guards were taught obedience from the ground up.
"Let me hear you roar! Sound off once!"
"""RAAGH!!!"""
"I can't hear you! Again!"
"""RAAAAAAGH!!!!!!!!"""
Training manuals meticulously drafted by the Protagonist and former Victorian military cadres began to reshape the Red Guards into a cohesive weapon.
"This instructor is disappointed. Everyone, get down. Front leaning rest position!"
""Down!!!""
"You there, get that tail down! Are you trying to show off your backside? You're a Sarkaz—you have horns to balance with, so it should be easier for you, you miserable cur!"
"No, sir!!!"
Every tactic of verbal harassment and discipline was utilized to its fullest extent. Whatever the methods, the Red Guards began to function like a 'normal' military force.
"Our forces have won the battle at Rogue Town! Twenty enemy prisoners captured!"
"The enemy transport convoy at Pittsburgh Bridge has been completely destroyed. The looted supplies are substantial!"
"Our units have routed an enemy scouting party at Concord Hill! Over eighty enemy casualties litter the slope!"
As reports of victory began to trickle in from all corners, the council chamber regained its vitality.
"To our revolutionary comrades!"
"For Columbia!"
"Good heavens, if this keeps up, we might occupy the Governor-General's palace before Maylander even gets there! This is... slightly awkward, haha..."
"Ugh... this is nauseating."
Members of the Liberty League and the Centralists alike were now hand-in-hand, singing 'We Are the World' in their own fashion as they praised the International Communist Party. And the culmination of their euphoric rise was fast approaching.
"We shall do battle here, at the Bunker Hill Fort."
The battle that would decide the fate of the Columbian War of Independence had arrived.
************************************
— BRRRRAAAA-THOOOOOM! —
"Gods, keep it down."
"Hey, shut your mouth. Don't you remember that lad who was whispering and got an arrow through his throat?"
The battle trumpets of the military band blared as a battalion made camp in the woods. These were the soldiers of Duke Tibalt.
"Damn... those traitorous scum seem to have gotten stronger lately. They used to run the moment they saw our banners."
"Tell me about it. I once saw a fellow holding a better weapon than mine screaming and running for his life the second he spotted us."
The soldiers chatted as they huddled around the campfire, heating their meager rations.
"Ugh... isn't this spoiled?"
"Just eat it. It's either this or grazing on grass like cattle."
"Fair enough. But look at this! I'm going to have a stomach ache for a week."
The soldiers chewed on low-quality, sprouting potatoes, barely scraped clean with their knives and roasted over the flames.
Suddenly, one soldier spoke up.
"Hey, James. What are you going to do when this war is over? Isn't this your first deployment?"
James, the young man eating the potato, paused for a moment in deep thought. After a moment, he stood up, clenched his fist, and spoke with conviction.
"When this is over, I'm going to buy my parents a cow. No matter how poor these Columbians claim to be, there must be something worth looting. Isn't that right?"
The campfire erupted in laughter.
"Pwahaha! A cow? Is that all?"
"Exactly! Why not find a wife while you're at it? I saw plenty of pretty ones—even if the ones we fought were soldiers and had to be put down."
"Haha, I'll have to think about that."
The soldiers shared such idle jokes until the moon climbed high into the sky and sleep claimed them. I hope tomorrow's battle is an easy one,* James thought as he closed his eyes.
The next morning broke. They began the ascent up a hill topped with a timber-and-earth fortification. The name of that hill was Bunker Hill.
"We have two thousand men! Do not look back! Forward!"
""CHARGE!!!!""
"Charge!!"
James gripped his spear and ran. He was in the fourth rank, a position where the probability of being struck by an arrow was statistically low. He advanced with a measure of confidence.
That was... until 'She' appeared.
The transition to carnage was instantaneous.
A woman appeared atop the walls of the fort. Suddenly, shards of obsidian-black crystal began to manifest and swirl around her before taking flight.
"Huh? What is that?"
"Hehe... she's a pretty thing. Just my type. What do you think, James?"
"People who talk like that usually end up dead..."
Inwardly, James couldn't help but agree. If that beautiful woman belonged to him... how wonderful would that be? But as they reached the foot of the wall, his daydreams were shattered.
The black crystals sharpened into jagged needles and began to rain down upon his comrades.
"Wha—?"
— THWIP! —
The razor-sharp Originium shards punched through human flesh as if it were paper. Gaps began to appear in their ranks.
"Aaaaagh!!"
"Run! R-Run away!"
"—Cough!"
The crystals shattered heavy wooden shields and impaled the Victorian soldiers with clinical efficiency. Hot blood from the man in front of James sprayed across his face—the same man who had been joking with him only a moment before.
"I... ah..."
James's mind went blank as shock seized his nervous system. While the front ranks wavered and turned back in panic, the enemy archers launched a coordinated volley.
"Archers, loose!"
"Don't leave a single Victorian parasite alive!"
— SHWIP-SHWIP-SHWIP! —
"Urgh!!"
The hill began to disappear under a carpet of corpses. The Victorian troops fled in every direction, their screams filling the air. Even the NCOs and officers who tried to rally them were systematically hunted down, impaled by arrows or pierced by those haunting black crystals.
Even the 'high and mighty' Casters of the Duke's army fell. They would block a shot or two, only for their barriers to be shredded and their lives snuffed out.
"D-Don't retreat! Stand your gro—!"
— CRUNCH!! —
"Enemy officer down!"
Amidst the carnage, James stood rooted to the spot. Every man who had been at his side was dead. In his entire squad, he was the sole survivor.
It was then.
"We have a survivor over here!"
"Where? Where?"
"Right here!"
The Columbian Red Guards had found him. Only then did James snap back to reality, backing away in a feverish, primitive terror.
"Eek! Hieee! Don't kill me! Please!"
He squeezed his eyes shut and begged. He threw himself to the ground, kowtowing and weeping like a child.
Then, a voice reached him.
"Sir? Are you awake? Can you hear me?"
It was the voice of a woman. James forced his eyes open. Hovering above him was a woman's face—the very same face he had seen atop the walls, the one who had summoned the black crystals to slaughter his comrades.
The world began to spin for James.
"Um, sir? Hello? Are you alright?"
The woman grabbed his shoulder and began to shake him. It was a reasonable reaction, given that James was beginning to froth at the mouth.
"W... tch...."
"Pardon?"
"Witch... the witch..."
— THUD —
Finally, James's consciousness flickered and went out. And so, the Battle of Bunker Hill ended in a total, crushing victory for the revolutionary forces.