Quoted By:
Julio di Alba marched down the line of his battalion, as they psyched themselves up for the fight to come. Despite his origins, despite his magnificent forward thinking and philosophical mind, he had not found a place in Vitelia- let alone the Revolution, that he was satisfied with. A deep scar on his eye marked a bitter rivalry with the Autarch, and the Consul of the Revolutionary Confederacy of Vitelia now…well, he could smirk to himself about one thing, but regardless, that scoundrel’s rise had coincided with his own faction’s fall from influence. Here, however, the Revolutionary Army of Greater Vitelia would show itself worthy. They were a long way from home- but they had to come a long way in order to secure the support of their…potential benefactors. They had the best Vitelia could offer- in men and equipment, and they would surely need it today- but with the odds as they were, victory was practically assured. <span class="mu-i">Glory</span> was guaranteed.
“Today,” He shouted into the morning, “We avenge the failure of Halmeggia! Today, the Revolutionary Army of Greater Vitelia shall show itself once again worthy of its magnificent cause. There waits the Forlorn Hope of Vynmark- their most storied, their best, defiant in the face of the vengeance of Twaryi, and a stain on the world that bears the stench of Alexander. Today they will be crushed! Crushed beneath the Guards of the Forthcoming Dawn! Comrades! <span class="mu-i">Il Sole del Popolo sorge! La Rosa della Rivoluzione sboccia!</span>”
-----
The dawn was rising- but the land remained dark. Black soil, twisted skeletal trees, thick thorns and marshy pools covered in inky-black leaves of various water flora, but the water was clear as crystal where it could be seen beyond the thick, slightly iridescent mist. Yawning chasms opened in the ground- and from these pits rose volcanic columns of basalt and spikes of multicolored quartz that may as well have been thrown from the heavens. Even though it couldn’t be seen yet, the one scent of life, the salty spray of the sea, indicated that the ocean was close by to this haunted land.
Not far behind, there would be Twaryians or their allies in pursuit, but the battalion was still cautious in their advance. The black suited soldiers of the east were a known quantity- and they’d been beaten many times now. Yet a scouting unit, a stray from the scattering of the past battle, had recklessly pressed onwards into the heart of the Huldravikland- and contact had been lost with them like they had vanished into thin air. The same happened to a following band of reconnaissance, despite being instructed not to. Now, the point where they had disappeared had been passed, and it did nothing to help anybody’s nerves. Despite many being in their homeland, defending it, they were surrounded by enemies here.
