Belgamine

August 14th, 2100 A.D.

Eastern Archon Front

Machine gun fire in the distance reverberated across the plains and echoed off of the mountains of the former German territory. Belgamine, all of twenty-two now, walked through the Archonian trench to inspect her troops and witches. She was battle hardened, having fought in the Eastern European Front, as well as having been present during the Cataclysm of Japan. Her heart was hardened, her nerves made of steel, and her will to survive long forgotten. With every mortar shell that burst in the distance she saw the young, fresh soldiers under her command flinch; some clutching Arcane Rifles, others staves and broom sticks, and a scant few bearing custom built wands. With the death of Sechs during the fall of Japan, Belgamine found herself in the position of Commandant now; a role she wished she'd never been granted, but one she fulfilled to the best of her abilities. Her witches looked up to her in this endless conflict against the New Eden Republic. Another shell burst in the sky and her younger troops flinched, but Belgamine did not. She knew that it would be another three hours before the NER would launch their assault. She was ready for them.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small black device with a screen, which she tapped on and began scrolling through a list of names. "Dreizehn!" she called out.

A young man of about sixteen, wearing the yellow of a first year witch and bearing an Arcane Rifle in his hands rushed to her and saluted with a shaking hand. "Ma'am! Reader Dreizehn reporting!"

"What is your status?" she asked him.

"The trenches are at half strength, we have fifteen casualties."

Belgamine nodded. "Who is your commander?"

"Arbiter Vierzig was killed last night, ma'am. I'm...not sure who is in command of my division."

"Then you are," she said sternly. "I promote you to the rank of Median. Bolster the defenses as best you can, Median Dreizehn."

He saluted again and then ran off to do as he was told. Belgamine took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, calming herself. She hated the position she held now; commanding other people, knowing that they were depending on her to lead them. Knowing that at any moment they could be killed. It was a heavy burden.

She shook her head and put the device back into her pocket. The mortar shells were still exploding in the distance. She looked up and saw that the sky was filled with dark clouds, a sign that the NER was about to attack. "Witches of Archon!" she shouted, gaining everyone's attention. "Prepare to defend yourselves!"

The witches and soldiers all scrambled to do their jobs. They gathered their weapons, checked ammunition, and prepared for battle. Belgamine watched them go, then turned and walked away from the trench. She was done with watching. She readied her staff and began to count the seconds. Then the minutes. Twenty minutes passed by before she heard the sounds of the NER troops hopping the trench and charge forward, the mortars ceasing. "Light em up!" she commanded, and three different witches fired flare spells high into the sky to illuminate the battlefield. Arcane riflemen peeked over the edge of the trench and began to fire at the NER troops, barrier spells were erected, and Belgamine watched with pride as many of the witches began to fire combat spells into the charging forces of the NER.

But even as the NER fell, the barrage of mortar shells continued to fall. Belgamine didn't know how much longer the Archonians could keep up this defense.

"Median Dreizehn! Mortars!"

"Ma'am!" he replied before relaying the order. "Fire at will! Fire at will! Fire at will!" The mortars began to fire, lighting up the blackened sky with fiery explosions as men and limbs began to fly in every direction. Machine guns began to fire back at the witches, and an exchange of bullets hailed across no man's land. Belgamine raced along the trench to relay her orders and to bolster the defense wherever she could. Blood, guts, and brains began to splatter the mud around her as her witches began to fall in battle. "Seibzig!" she called out to a female witch.

"Ma-" Seibzig began before machine gun fire ripped through her body like a hail of death as her body fell limp into the mud.

"Damn it!" Belgamine picked up an Arcane Rifle and began to fire back with fury in her heart. "Where are the Mages?" she demanded as another mortar shell exploded in the distance.

"They're here," one of the witches replied, pointing at the sky. Belgamine looked up and saw that a group of Mages had just appeared, riding broomsticks as they began to rain down hellfire in magic spells. Barriers went up to protect the Archonian troops, but the NER onslaught was not protected by such magic as they began to burn.

Belgamnine saw one of the burning NER troops pull the pin on a grenade and toss it through the barrier, landing at the mortar site. "Dreizehn! Get down!" she cried out, but it was too late.

The grenade erupted, wrecking two of the mortars, and shredding the bodies of four mortarmen, as well as Dreizehn. After a few moments of screaming, the battle came to a close as silence once again fell over the trenches. She raced over to see if anyone needed help. Dreizehn, to her surprise, was still alive. His right side was burned from the blast, some pieces of shrapnel were embedded in his right arm, and one piece of hot metal had pierced his right eye; he was now blinded in that eye and severely wounded, but he would live.

"Median Dreizehn!" Belgamine said, dragging him to a nearby alcove in the trench. "Medica!"

Medica Arztin raced over and began to treat Dreizehn's wounds. Belgamine held his hand for a moment until the morphine kicked in, and then she stepped away to retreat to her private command center. Finally alone, she was proud that her troops had pushed the assault back. A few moments later, Median Zwolf, one of her oldest comrades and confidants, entered her little office. "Casualty report, ma'am," he said as he handed her the paper.

Thirty-six had died in the battle. "Thank you, Zwolf," she said, trying to hide the shakiness in her voice. "And thank you for your help."

"You're welcome, ma'am," he replied, returning to his position. She looked down at the report again and sighed. Thirty-six dead and over two hundred wounded. She collapsed into her chair and tried her hardest not to weep.