Author Notes:
Yahallo~! The next RM chapter is out at last! Much like before, after this RM chapter, I will work on the next two OBOM chapter before going on to pen down more of GSS.
I know, I know, the release rate ain't the best, but I hope you all will bear with me for this part of the journey. It's excruciating for me as well.
Now, with chapter 92-5 being a semi-official cut off point for the Erusean-Belkan war and the reaction to its ending, we will start seeing a bit more of Belka's working its magic and the path to end Polania as well in later chapters. Europe will hopefully be a bit of a wrap, by then.
Additionally, the Monthly Recruitment Drive is up! If you want to support OBOM, RM, and GSS, and get access to their Early Access Chapters, don't forget to head there or my Discord server for more details!
Thank you, and have a great day!
https://www.patreon.com/Heartbreak117
https://discord.gg/cVZxJ29ruh
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
The V-22 carrying me makes a gentle bank to the left, circling above the smoking Buckingham Palace a couple of times before going in for a landing approach. In the process, I scoot over to the left side vision port and lay my eyes on the battle-scarred royal palace. Although I have viewed the entire smoky vista via drone footage, witnessing it in person serves to drive the point that Erusea is on its knees even further.
With London effectively ours, the next step is the pacification of the rest of Erusea. Whether to do this peacefully or forcefully, however, is dependent on what sort of response King George VI will give, and if the surviving Erusean nobles and capitalists are smart enough to exit stage left or choose to be foolish rocks that get the sledgehammer of elimination. I reckon the process won't be too much of an issue, though, as natural selection has done its due for us when the London Civil War happened. Not much of an Erusean ruling populace left for us to screen after everything, is what I am thinking.
As the Osprey lands in a leveled patch of ashen grass near Buckingham Palace Memorial Garden, the slight lurch of the airframe prompts me to move away from the viewing port. I give a nod at Erika, who is sitting opposite me, signalling her to start the disembarkation process.
I watch as Erika puts her fingers on her throat mic, saying. "Overlord has landed. SEC-UNIT, standby for step-off."
Erika then gives Lola, sitting next to me, a look that the little dwarf lady understands immediately. Hopping to her feet, Lola turns around and offers me her hand and a grin.
"Well then, Big Boss, do you need me to give you another rundown on what to and what shouldn't be done?"
I take the offered hand and let her pull me up to a standing position. "This ain't my first rodeo, Lola, but do give me a short refresher, if you don't mind."
"Heh. Since you want the short version, then short it is." Lola smirks. "We'll follow you through thick and thin, but don't stray more than a couple of steps from us, and you'll be fine, Big Boss."
"That's literally an oversimplification of our line of work..." Erika grumbles, rolling her eyes. "And I hate how it fits perfectly."
I wink at Erika as she moves to hit a button that opens the rear cargo ramp on the Osprey. "At the very least, you won't be in for much of a walk."
Erika quips back as the ramp is lowering.
"But you're leaving out the fact that the Eruseans will be coming to the table, armed. Why do you allow them the right to bear arms anyway? You're literally making our job harder than it should have been."
I shrug. "Call it me showing those stubborn Scots Guards some due respect. You gotta admit, they were ballsy, hella resilient and resourceful with the bad hands they were dealt."
"Well..." Erika draws out the words as the ramp hits the ground. "I can't deny that. It's like Dunkirk all over again, but on a smaller scale."
"If anything," Lola interjects. "I think Yuki here is going for those same effects. You know, the defeat march and all that jazz."
"An honorable defeat is still much more desirable than a crushing one. There's no need to rub salt into their wounds now, ain't it?" I nod at Lola's words. "Come on, let's see what the Eruseans have in store for us. I am curious about the state of their wine cellar."
With my half-joking prompt, Erika and Lola escort me out of the Osprey. If this is a cinematic game, the transitional sequence from inside a VTOL to the external environment would have involved a lot of crepuscular rays or blinding light that hit your eyes. But reality is much different.
This is London. The traumas from recent battles linger, and the Fog of War casts a hopeless gloom over an otherwise already distraught city. Buckingham Palace, once the splendorous crown of a mighty colonial regime, now finds itself in a state of disarray that is beaten only by the collapse of the old Ustian Palace in Paris. There's not much beauty to witness when my feet take me off the ramp. Even the Victoria Memorial lay damaged, battered, and scorched in the aftermath of the single-round shelling conducted by the Marines. The Winged Victory on top of the pedestal has had its right arm and wing destroyed, presumably by stray fragmentation.
I then move on from my cursory glance of the local vista. I go on to note that my usual security team has been bolstered by not just the Marines of the 4th ESG, the very ones that blew open Buckingham's pearly gate, but also my loyal Panzergrenadiers of the Iron Blood Division. Additionally, I spot figures clad in high-tech armor, soldiers of the 141st Rapid Force Division, and Raven Teams. A part of me thinks that it's a waste to deploy these prized elites on a bodyguard basis for me, but Bryn can be quite persuasive. At the very least, the aura exuded by these supersoldiers will nail the gravita, ensuring the Eruseans are pacified and not trigger-happy.
I will need to have ONI edit the propaganda reels later, though.
As the propellers of the Osprey around us die down, a familiar figure comes to a soft landing some steps away from me. It's Bryn in all of her combat glory. Despite her face still obscured by her SPI-helmet, I recognize those wings anywhere. Bryn's presence is joined by a few others, all members of the Belkan military. Bryn removes her helmet before leading them in my direction. Erika and Lola respectfully stick close, just slightly behind me, when they notice the approaching Valkyrie.
Bryn comes to a stop in front of me before snapping a salute with rifle slung and her helmet tucked to her left side. The others behind her mirror the salutation. I return the gesture crisply and give them a nod. These are the men and women who have led much of the fighting on my behalf. They deserve my recognition and more.
"Marshal," Bryn speaks up first in a formal tone. "Welcome to London. Properly, this time."
"It's been an interesting, if a bit uneventful, flight from there to here, Lieutenant General. I believe I have the flight plan you made to thank you for?" I smile softly.
"Your safety is our top concern, Marshal. Brief as it may be, we must ensure your safe transit to the best of our ability, even if it means razing the other, less receptive Erusean holdouts to the ground." Bryn replies seriously, and I note with both amusement and love how her concern shines through that steel gaze of hers.
"Professionally, I applaud your effort, Lieutenant General. Personally speaking, however, my heart is at peace, knowing you will be my watchful guardian, among many other things." I give Bryn a grateful nod and a meaningful glance before turning to the others behind her. "And Colonel Hopson, I do believe I have you to thank for redecorating Buckingham Palace? I must admit, the styling is a bit..."
I gesture my hand around the battered terrain. "It's a bit avant-garde, to say the least."
Acting non-plushed, Colonel Hopson of the Belkan Marine Corps' 4th Marine Expeditionary Unit stands at attention and replies clearly.
"Marshal. Art is an explosion! And we Marines take that sentence to heart."
I laugh lightly. "Hah, I don't see why you can't use a howitzer to breach a stubborn gate, as long as those behind it deserve such enlightening treatment."
"With your explicit permission, ma'am, I would spread this joyful directive to the boys and girls." The Colonel is allowed a knowing grin from me.
I do believe they really will take it to heart and use an M777 as a breaching tool from here on out. Well, that's the Marines for ya.
I then turn to the last person of interest from Bryn's impromptu retinue.
"Captain Cenzo. I saw your work earlier. Clean, swift, and decisive." I give Captain a complimenting nod. "The 141st has been instrumental in maintaining our momentum. Captain Schnee asks me to pass on her regards to you and your men. The Ravens will always welcome a fight with their 141st brothers and sisters."
With a snappy salute, the ONI Field Captain says. "It will be our honor, Marshal!"
"Now that the representatives from ONI, the Marines, and the Army are here. Shall we proceed with the next thing on our agenda, Lady and gents?"
"Allow us to join you as escort, Marshal." Bryn requests.
"Then I will trouble you all to both lead the way and to ensure that nothing... Unseemly happens on this monumentous day." I accept the offer easily, although Bryn and I both know I would never say no to her.
Colonel Hopson then steps aside with an outstretched hand, pointing at a table and a chair set up just beyond the memorial. Understandably, I am guided to sit right there with a front row seat of Buckingham Palace's East side. Now, some may cite security concerns, Erika and Bryn, for instance, with me sitting openly like that while the Eruseans still retain their weapons. Well, let's just say the Eruseans have a gentleman's agreement.
I sit there, watching, with Bryn and the others guarding me, as a commotion occurs on Buckingham's end. The barricade the Scots raised to guard against us, or what's left of it, is completely removed. From the previously sealed aisle, the likes of Winston Churchill and his ilk of pro-war cohorts are led out in cuffs and all that by a combined unit of Marines and Panzergrenadiers. The Erusean Prime Minister, while seemingly listless, accepts the outcome with a certain grace despite his overall bulk.
"Unhand me, mongrels! I say unhand me!"
There are, of course, some outliers that are dealt with promptly with tapes and zipties. I recall that one of them is someone called Udina. Ultimately, Churchill and they all boarded an HX truck and joined a convoy to be taken to the rearline FOB for processing. Right afterward, however, the next group steps out from Buckingham Palace. This time, the Scots Guards have made an appearance, led by someone I identify as Colonel Bradshaw.
Flanked by my soldiers, Colonel Bradshaw is escorted by his single chosen aide, all the while his remaining soldiers are allowed to slowly file out of Buckingham Palace to stand in a neat, orderly formation, at least to the best of their ability. By the time he comes to a stop in front of me, the formation of Scots Guards behind him is barely half assembled, with many can be seen injured or carrying the injured among them. I can feel the man's gaze as he looks at my young face, a mere 19 years of age in an otherwise bloody war.
Colonel Bradshaw's professionalism soon took over, however, as he gave me a stiff nod. "Marshal..."
"Colonel." I return the nod in kind, yet refuse to say anything further.
By this point, I have already done them a lot of service by not ordering their immediate disarmament prior to my arrival. That is already a major act of trust in the honor and integrity of the Eruseans, or to be more specific, the Scots Guards. To say the first words now when all have been communicated by my liaison to them would be too much of a concession.
Colonel Bradshaw takes the hint before going on to slowly, but heavily, say. "On behalf of the Scots Guards, my brave soldiers, I come to present to you our surrender... Marshal."
I look at the man's eyes, seeing the grim acceptance of his fate for five full seconds before nodding with one hand at the table. An aide soon placed a briefcase down to my right.
"I accept your surrender, Colonel Bradshaw."
For a brief moment, I see the Colonel's shoulders tense before relaxing. It's unknown to me what prompts him to ask.
"I wonder what will happen to us, to people like you and me, when there are no more wars to occupy us."
It's indeed a good question.
"Then we find something else to do." I point my index finger at the dusty sky above with a grin. "The world isn't confined to just a single planet."
Clearly, Colonel Bradshaw doesn't expect any answer from me, much less one that is tainted in ambition.
Seeing the man's lack of comeback, I move on to say.
"Have all your men collected your weapons. You are allowed a march with full honor and colors back to your barracks. Once there, deposit them at the armory, the mustering yard, and the training ground."
This time, Colonel Bradshaw nods, his lips strained to utter the words. "Very well." The man does regain a bit of his spirit; however, it's but an ember of what used to be.
Under the scrutiny of Bryn and Erika, Colonel Bradshaw slowly reached into his pistol holster, drawing out his sidearm in a disarming manner before presenting it, grip first, to me.
"Please accept this as my formal surrender, Reich Marshal. It is better than to lay it on the desk of a clerk."
Sensing the seriousness in the Scottish man's action, the corner of my lips curls up slightly. I opt to stand up from my seat. Colonel Bradshaw has been civilized in his actions so far, which warrants my respect in turn.
"You may keep your sidearm, Colonel." I say calmly to the man who has been serious in showcasing his acceptance of reality.
It takes Colonel Bradshaw a second to register that I said the words with the proper respect, one officer to another. Holstering his sidearm, both Bradshaw and his aide salute me, now with all the necessary energy behind the motion. I return the gesture before the Erusean Colonel looks around, seeing what's left of the original London before it starts flying Belkan colors.
"Ustio was the best." Bradshaw suddenly says, as if seeing something in his memory and comparing it to reality."
I allow myself a smile, now that the atmosphere has eased up after the acceptance of Bradshaw's surrender. "Really?"
Bradshaw nods to affirm his words. "Yeah, I think I was in both Europe and Asia, but Ustio was the best."
"India would be a second for me. Sardena wasn't desirable." Bradshaw continues while pulling out a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it. "China... Was okay. And now, in my homeland, it's the end of my second war."
I can hear the vitriol in Bradshaw's last sentence.
"Just what was the point of all of this, God..." Bradshaw takes a long drag of his cigarette before tossing it down onto the ground and stomping on it.
Blowing the smoke away to the side, the Erusean Colonel moves on from his melancholic state. Looking at me once more, Bradshaw stands straighter, saying.
"With your permission, I would like to address my men briefly."
I give him the pass with a small nod. "That will be fine, Colonel."
Bradshaw then gives me a deferential tilt of his head before pivoting in his place and, together with his silent aide, walking back to his assembled Scots Guards.
What comes next is a moment worth their words in gold in the pages of history.