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Close by, the two other types of Petrekoran tank. One a tankette- squat and ugly things little bigger than an automobile, with a 2-centimeter cannon stuffed into it, from the look of it. The other, a smaller tank that looked like the runty cousin of the great ones, fat stout guns in small turrets that must have been small howitzers from how blunt nosed they were, and machine guns in the hulls. Neither of the two smaller ones were anywhere near as fearsome as the big tanks. Even T-8s would probably wipe away the lighter companions away with ease.
There was an air of suspicion…concerning the red hue of one of the heavy tank’s turrets. That same color had been present on a Twaryian enemy before, but perhaps it meant nothing. After all, that tank was riding alongside a whole company of support- even if there was a possibility of one tank being stolen, surely a whole other two platoons being taken was ridiculous. The Twaryians that the Battalion had defeated didn’t seem capable of it, did they?
Then again, if it was possible, why let them come this close at all?
Up north, Vilgerson wasn’t much interested in aiding proceedings- but the northern terrain afforded a glance at the ground around the objective- the airship itself was dully visible from where he wandered, rising up above the houses of a northern village. The first eyes laid on the actual objective- yet, there was something odd nearby. Binoculars told what they were- and they seemed to have noticed him first. At a glance they were something like a cousin to a T-8, but…somewhat larger. Better built. Better armed- and their black paint was splotched with olive and viridian. They were complete unknowns- but not like the Petrekoran armor was. These seemed the opposite- quite a bit more advanced…
Haile looked at a small pocket mirror before heading forward with her picked bodyguard, and interpreter- Lieutenants Rheiner and Wesker- she made a grimace of disgust before wiping away the worst of the mess with a handkerchief, making herself far more plain- but nobody here looked ready for a ball anyways.
Nobody emerged as she and her escort approached.
“Hello?” She called out, “I am here to meet with the Petrekorans. I am Countess Haile Margareta Rendsdottir-Hageldorf, and my family seats the Grand Council. We have terms that should be quite agreeable.”
Leif was set to translating that in the gruff language of Caelus, but he didn’t get far before somebody emerged from the tank but a few steps in front.
He was a tall, broad, imposing man- and a shadow of red scraps showed from under a black tanker’s cap and headset, his jaw wide and his mouth bent into a frown that set his whole face smoldering with contemptuous candor.
“So we meet face to face, Bold One.”
