Midgard
September 30th, 2004, 04:02 PM
around 2 AM, August 31, 1939
Varna, capital of the Bulgarian theme
Constantine Vataces, duke of Bulgaria and Wallachia, was bored. The meeting has lasted well past midnight, and has nearly degenerated into placing blame for the recent outbreak of Bulgarian insurgency between the different officers. "Would the damn senile fool just die!" he thought of his uncle in Constantinople, now well into his seventies and still showing no signs of vacating the throne any time soon for his chosen successor. Why, he thought to himself, why do I have to put up with these imbeciles in some barbarian-infested province on the frontier, away from most of the comforts of the capital - the only city, as far as he and the most aristocratic of his command staff were concerned, that was worth living in.
The night was quiet, with the streets of Varna now sound asleep. He could see a lone fisherman's boat making its way towards the harbor, illuminated by a tall lighthouse. In the harbor itself, there were several steamers, and few of the newer "sea fortresses", covered in metal, porcupine's needles of their guns inspiring awe in the Emperor's subjects. Up in the sky, a watcher's air balloon overlooked the sleeping city, the Imperial eagle proudly emblazoned on its side.
He could not tell what happened for sure, but for a moment, he felt a strange sense of displacement, as if the outlines of the room grew blurry. Then, the first flash of light came...
3 AM, August 31st
Northern Carpathian Mountains
Leo Sgouros did not know what to think. At the first flash of light his patrol of four men was rushed out of the barracks and hastily sent to check if this was not some sort of Vlach trick... a mass explosion of some sort, far enough away to where the sound would not be heard, he thought. As he ordered his men to scout the area for any signs of the insurgents, or anything out of ordinary, thoughts rushed through his head of what could be happening.
He could not even possibly imagine anyone with enough power to do something of this magnitude, not in the world where the eternal Roman Empire stood for two millenia since Julius Caesar first crossed the River Rubicon, and for seventeen centuries since Constantine the Great adoped the teachings of Christ, and made his capital in the place where Europe meets Asia. Beyond the border, there was nothing for miles, just some wild Slavs and Magyars fighting each other and the Empire, as they have been for centuries. Nothing serious enough to mount a threat of any serious sort.
The patrol crossed into the foothills, descending from their mountain post. There was nary a sign, other than the sound of their horses' hooves on the ground. Yet, something was wrong. Maybe it was the sound of the nocturnal animals, the crickets, something in the trees that just did not seem quite like the path he and his men have traveled hundreds of times on routing patrols like this one.
Suddenly, a narrow band of smoke attracted his attention. Waving a hand to his men, he ordered them to slow down. There should not be any settlements for miles, he thought.
Trying to stay covered within the thin mountain vegetation, they dismounted and tried to move closer to the source of smoke. What they saw was something unexpected.
There should have been no one for miles, and yet there was a village, a small one at that, with several dozen houses. Moreso, the village looked like it stood there for a long time, and was not a makeshift construction of any sort. So amazed was he at this seemingly improbable turn of events that he almost did not notice the sound, much like an airship engine, only much quieter, approaching. He quietly gestured to his men to stay covered in the bushes and try to observe the source of the sound.
He saw something that looked like a munitions cart, but much smaller, and apparently propelled forward without horses or mules. Inside it were several men, by the appearance of them, soldiers of some sort. If all of this was going on here, on the border of the Imperial territory, without them finding out beforehand, he was in for some serious trouble from his superiors.
Suddenly, the vehicle stopped, with one of the men dismounting and appearing to be examining the location. One of them pointed, Sgouros noticed rather uncomfortably, in the direction of the bushes he and his men were hiding in. The strange soldier then hurried back to his vehicle, where three others emerged, all holding guns that looked unlike any make or model Sgouros expected to find near the border. Then, he realized what was happening. The soldier was pointing in the direction of their horses, which were pasturing not too far away - not unlike many of their wild or escaped brethren that were still relatively common in the area.
Sgouros caught a bit of the phrase, that did not sound like it was in any of the local Slavic or Magyar dialects. In fact it sounded almost like... he brushed away the thought.
Strange soldiers now appeared to be ready for combat, their weapons drawn. One of them spoke something loudly, and again Sgouros did not recognize a word, although something about the language seemed vaguely familiar. Then, one of the strange soldiers fired up in the air, as if warning any potential intruders to stay away. Another one, closer to the vehicle, spoke something into what looked like a small metal box.
Before Sgouros even knew what was happening, one of his men's nerves gave out, and he shot at the strange men. The bullet hit the side of the vehicle, alarming the men to the patrol's presense. The soldiers returned fire.
Sgouros noticed that their rifles seemed to fire much faster than those of his men. He shot at the group, and noticed that one of the strange soldiers fell down. The fallen man's comrades fired again, and this time one of the Imperial soldiers was hit. The man screamed uncontrollably.
The soldiers advanced closer, and this time they were able to see Sgouros' men through the cover of the bushes. With a corner of his eye, Sgouros saw one of his troop, a young recruit, run away towards their horses. Then, he aimed and fired, missing.
It was not long before the strange soldiers closed in, only a matter of few seconds. Among the sounds of weapons, it took Sgouros a second to realize that they were almost certainly neither Slavs nor Magyars. They were way too efficient, disciplined, clean cut; their weapons were of much higher quality, and the way they acted in combat together meant that they went through some very rigorous training. And as the bullet entered his head, he noticed with amazement that at the sleeves of the men's uniforms, there was an eagle, much like... then there was silence.
Varna, capital of the Bulgarian theme
Constantine Vataces, duke of Bulgaria and Wallachia, was bored. The meeting has lasted well past midnight, and has nearly degenerated into placing blame for the recent outbreak of Bulgarian insurgency between the different officers. "Would the damn senile fool just die!" he thought of his uncle in Constantinople, now well into his seventies and still showing no signs of vacating the throne any time soon for his chosen successor. Why, he thought to himself, why do I have to put up with these imbeciles in some barbarian-infested province on the frontier, away from most of the comforts of the capital - the only city, as far as he and the most aristocratic of his command staff were concerned, that was worth living in.
The night was quiet, with the streets of Varna now sound asleep. He could see a lone fisherman's boat making its way towards the harbor, illuminated by a tall lighthouse. In the harbor itself, there were several steamers, and few of the newer "sea fortresses", covered in metal, porcupine's needles of their guns inspiring awe in the Emperor's subjects. Up in the sky, a watcher's air balloon overlooked the sleeping city, the Imperial eagle proudly emblazoned on its side.
He could not tell what happened for sure, but for a moment, he felt a strange sense of displacement, as if the outlines of the room grew blurry. Then, the first flash of light came...
3 AM, August 31st
Northern Carpathian Mountains
Leo Sgouros did not know what to think. At the first flash of light his patrol of four men was rushed out of the barracks and hastily sent to check if this was not some sort of Vlach trick... a mass explosion of some sort, far enough away to where the sound would not be heard, he thought. As he ordered his men to scout the area for any signs of the insurgents, or anything out of ordinary, thoughts rushed through his head of what could be happening.
He could not even possibly imagine anyone with enough power to do something of this magnitude, not in the world where the eternal Roman Empire stood for two millenia since Julius Caesar first crossed the River Rubicon, and for seventeen centuries since Constantine the Great adoped the teachings of Christ, and made his capital in the place where Europe meets Asia. Beyond the border, there was nothing for miles, just some wild Slavs and Magyars fighting each other and the Empire, as they have been for centuries. Nothing serious enough to mount a threat of any serious sort.
The patrol crossed into the foothills, descending from their mountain post. There was nary a sign, other than the sound of their horses' hooves on the ground. Yet, something was wrong. Maybe it was the sound of the nocturnal animals, the crickets, something in the trees that just did not seem quite like the path he and his men have traveled hundreds of times on routing patrols like this one.
Suddenly, a narrow band of smoke attracted his attention. Waving a hand to his men, he ordered them to slow down. There should not be any settlements for miles, he thought.
Trying to stay covered within the thin mountain vegetation, they dismounted and tried to move closer to the source of smoke. What they saw was something unexpected.
There should have been no one for miles, and yet there was a village, a small one at that, with several dozen houses. Moreso, the village looked like it stood there for a long time, and was not a makeshift construction of any sort. So amazed was he at this seemingly improbable turn of events that he almost did not notice the sound, much like an airship engine, only much quieter, approaching. He quietly gestured to his men to stay covered in the bushes and try to observe the source of the sound.
He saw something that looked like a munitions cart, but much smaller, and apparently propelled forward without horses or mules. Inside it were several men, by the appearance of them, soldiers of some sort. If all of this was going on here, on the border of the Imperial territory, without them finding out beforehand, he was in for some serious trouble from his superiors.
Suddenly, the vehicle stopped, with one of the men dismounting and appearing to be examining the location. One of them pointed, Sgouros noticed rather uncomfortably, in the direction of the bushes he and his men were hiding in. The strange soldier then hurried back to his vehicle, where three others emerged, all holding guns that looked unlike any make or model Sgouros expected to find near the border. Then, he realized what was happening. The soldier was pointing in the direction of their horses, which were pasturing not too far away - not unlike many of their wild or escaped brethren that were still relatively common in the area.
Sgouros caught a bit of the phrase, that did not sound like it was in any of the local Slavic or Magyar dialects. In fact it sounded almost like... he brushed away the thought.
Strange soldiers now appeared to be ready for combat, their weapons drawn. One of them spoke something loudly, and again Sgouros did not recognize a word, although something about the language seemed vaguely familiar. Then, one of the strange soldiers fired up in the air, as if warning any potential intruders to stay away. Another one, closer to the vehicle, spoke something into what looked like a small metal box.
Before Sgouros even knew what was happening, one of his men's nerves gave out, and he shot at the strange men. The bullet hit the side of the vehicle, alarming the men to the patrol's presense. The soldiers returned fire.
Sgouros noticed that their rifles seemed to fire much faster than those of his men. He shot at the group, and noticed that one of the strange soldiers fell down. The fallen man's comrades fired again, and this time one of the Imperial soldiers was hit. The man screamed uncontrollably.
The soldiers advanced closer, and this time they were able to see Sgouros' men through the cover of the bushes. With a corner of his eye, Sgouros saw one of his troop, a young recruit, run away towards their horses. Then, he aimed and fired, missing.
It was not long before the strange soldiers closed in, only a matter of few seconds. Among the sounds of weapons, it took Sgouros a second to realize that they were almost certainly neither Slavs nor Magyars. They were way too efficient, disciplined, clean cut; their weapons were of much higher quality, and the way they acted in combat together meant that they went through some very rigorous training. And as the bullet entered his head, he noticed with amazement that at the sleeves of the men's uniforms, there was an eagle, much like... then there was silence.