A/N: After a longer hiatus than I would have liked, for several reasons including an internship and working on other projects, this translation/improvement is finally back on track. This time is chapter 5, aka the encounter with the Flame Dragon. On a side note, while I've used "castle" and "mansion" to refer to Count Formal's residence, I will stick with "mansion" from now on, like it is in the canon.

Also, this and the next chapter have some references to Operation Market Garden and the videogame "Brothers in Arms: Hell's Highway", based in the same operation. Without much else to add, I'll leave you with the story.

Disclaimer: "GATE: thus the JSDF fought there!" and "Girls und Panzer" do not belong to me, all credit to their respective authors/owners. This is merely a fan-made product who seeks no monetary gain or compensation.

.

.

.

Chapter 5
Scorched Earth

Command Room, Alnus.
D-Day +23

"Command, confirm! Did a dragon appear!?"

"Phoenix 1, confirm visual contact!"

"I want all Brandenburg units in the field, now!"

"Send the 4th Guards Company to Italica!"

"Downfall 4, say again. You are facing what?!"

"The 3rd and 7th Panzer are on their way to Italica!"

"I want the Guards Brigade leaving immediately and all elements in the field rerouted to Italica! Move it!"

"Order the 2nd Tank Detachment back to Alnus and make the 1st leave for Italica as soon as possible!"

"Two Combined Arms Companies were sent to Italica just now!"

"Downfall 0, reinforcements are on the way!"

"3rd Company, move your asses to Italica!"

"Deploy all the SAS on the field immediately!"

"I need 3 armoured companies on the way to Italica! Quickly!"

"Oh, come on! Can anyone make goddamn sense of what's going on here?!"

XXXXXXXXXX

Hangar

Certainly, when Charles Spencer hypothesised on his free time about something that could shake the entire base down to its core, he did not expect the result to be so... chaotic.

In front of him, countless people were running back and forth throughout the hangar, carrying helmets, uniforms, fuel, hoses, ropes, ammunition, and personal weapons, loading tanks, half-tracks, mobile artillery, light vehicles, and trucks, among other gear and supplies. Order was totally inexistent, and more than once he had seen a person (or a group of them) go from one place to the other, only to return where they left or go to a completely different place. There was a widespread uneasiness in the atmosphere, and logistics personnel were having their own "Black Day," as it would later be dubbed.

"It's the result of multiple high-priority orders in a row, given without timing nor reason," muttered Edward, another member of his unit, arms crossed while observing the disaster. "A single cunt smoking and we're all going out harder than the Japanese at Midway."

"A single emergency and the whole order went down... we knew we needed to choose a leader, but those damned egalitarians blocked all efforts. May the consequences fall on their shoulders." Sentenced Charles as he kept watching the generalized chaos, his brows furrowing as he remembered the fateful meeting held by the officers of the different academies regarding how to organize the base. The decision was to let each academy sort its own affairs on its own to avoid much internal conflict, leading to the current situation at hand.

"While a unit would regularly take ten to tweenty minutes to leave, I bet right now we're looking up to forty-five for the first ones to be ready, probably more than an hour for the bulk to leave," Edward commented again, pointing to a group of engineers directing some vehicles carrying spare parts.

The pairs attention was taken away by noise coming from a nearby column of trucks and half-tracks waiting near the exit, engines on and drivers impatiently shouting and honking like a typical rush-hour traffic jam in a major Earth city, a scene which, according to everyone's appreciation of traffic standards in Falmart, should not even be possible.

"They're stuck in traffic." Edward muttered incredulously, rubbing his eyes to confirm they were not deceiving him. "In war."

"Let's be glad it ain't us, then," noted Spencer, checking his watch before looking around. He spotted two men, the missing members of his unit, coming at them onboard the jeep they would need for their mission. "The rest is here. Let's go, we're leaving now."

"To do what, join the mess at the exits?"

"While I find charming your commitment to comedy, no, we have our orders."

"Are we going to Italica?"

"Not exactly, but near, yes."

"Must be an important mission if we're not going there when the whole base is committed to basically send anything that moves in that direction."

"And you would be correct on that statement. It's important, yes..." Spencer's voice trailed a bit, a smirk appearing on his face as he climbed on the co-driver's seat of the light utility vehicles. "Important enough, at least, to not use the main gates. We don't want witnesses, amirite?"

.

XXXXXXXXXX

.

Italica

Miho's first notion that something was very, very wrong was the long, drawn-out shadow suddenly casted over the group. Initially downplaying it like the rest, happy to have something to relieve them of the sun and the burnt earth on their feet, her senses sparked up when a deep roar made the atmosphere tremble and crash sounds came soon after.

Looking up hastily, she beheld a creature with great resemblance to reptiles, winged, red-scaled, and of sizable height, flying near the students, its figure standing out thanks to the sun blocked by its shape. Its tail moved quickly, and only Yukari's scream made her enter the tank in time to avoid any damage.

No sooner had she slipped into the hatch she looked up, meeting the inexplicable sight of a flying French B1 bis tank passing over her German-made machine. Time slowed down for the young commander, who gazed in fear and disbelief at the armoured vehicle on top of her own for everlasting seconds, before the B1 finally continued its path and hit the hard ground several meters away, spinning a few times before coming to rest with its tracks pointing skyward. Miho observed it for a few seconds, shocked, until she found her mind and reacted.

"Saori! Contact Mallard Team, now!"

"R-right away, Miporin!"

The light red-head radio operator got on the comms of the vehicle quickly, calling the members of the disciplinary committee. There was static for a few seconds, increasing the crew's fears, but then a whining voice reached back at them through the small device.

"We're... fine, Takebe-san. Just a little beat up... I guess," Sodoko's voice, commander of the B1 crew, was slowly heard.

"Wait, is that blood?!" Another voice came from the radio, presumably from other member of the crew.

"Don't freak out over a scratch, dammit!" The leader of the French tank sounded back to her regular self, up to the complains over anything that could easily be ignored. "Don't worry, we'll be fine as long as that doesn't hit us like that again. We were very lucky to have been inside a tank."

Saori told Miho everything she heard. The Nishizumi took little time to give orders.

"Tell them to fall back to a safe place at the first chance they get. Abandon the tank if needed."

"Ok. Sodoko, (My name is not Sodoko!), Miporin says you girls fall back to a safe place as soon as you can. You can leave the tank behind if you need to."

"Understood. Good luck with that dragon over there."

"Thank the gods they're safe..." Hana sighed, cleaning a drop of sweat from her forehead.

"They sound like they have only a couple bruises, but nothing serious. They should be fine," noted Yukari, noticeably relieved. Miho was about to add her own thoughts, but Saori cut her off with a frown.

"Huh, Miporin...?"

"Yes?"

"Message from the main channel. It's for everyone from HQ."

"Pass me through." Miho connected her own neck radio equipment to the main device and announced her presence. "This is Downfall 7-Actual reporting in. Is there any order yet?"

"If there's an order?! Survive, damn it! We're risking our lives out here with this thing!" Came the shout of captain Meyer, from Downfall 4.

"Shut it, damn it! I want all high-calibre weapons aimed at the bloody dragon! Use small arms as distraction aiming for its head! Piercing ammo, everyone who has it!" Schmidt's voice came clear and quickly, imposing itself over the rest. Agreeing on the radio, Miho ordered all the tanks of her team to aim their cannons at the massive creature, while Roth headed with his men and the half-track towards the diversionary perimeter created around the flying reptile.

"That thing is hard as fuck! Our shells barely make a dent!" Was heard through the radio. The channel was filled with static barely seconds later, when a powerful jet of flames came out of the dragon's mouth and hit a light tank squarely. The M3 Stuart finished with some parts of its armour with a slight unnatural colour, thanks to the intense heat, a few second later exploding as its fuel and ammunition depots exploded, carrying any crew members who might still be alive to the other world.

The radio remained mute for a few long seconds, in which nobody dared speak, until finally the shouts restarted.

"Fuck, that was Downfall 2!"

"It got Rosslov! It fucking got Rosslov!"

"He's dead! It killed him and we're next!"

"Everyone, SHUT IT AND KEEP FIRING!" Petrakov's voice rang loudly through the radio, silencing most people still talking.

"But-"

"I said SHUT IT!"

"Heavy tanks and assault weapons, fall back to a tertiary line and provide long range support aiming for its main body!" Schmidt intervened, taking advantage of the lack of speech created by the Russian. "Medium and light tanks, drive around it and aim your canons from the neck upwards, we need to hurt it enough so that it flees! If I see anyone not on the line, I'll go and kill it myself!"

Spurred by their commander's words, the officers gave order and soon there were three lines formed around the scaly creature, who let out another roar at the resistance from the "lesser beings" he found in the midst of its path. Light vehicles began to circle the animal at a distance, rifles and machine guns trained on its head, aiming at its eyes to prevent it from fixing its attention on the farther away mobile canons who rained explosive ammo on it. Despite all this, it was clear that their efforts were being met by little success.

"What the fuck are those scales made of?!" Shouted the remaining light team commander, grunting at the difficulty of simply keeping the creature distracted from the rest.

"No clue, but we hardly hurt him! We can barely damage him with kinetic projectiles without explosive charge!"

"Have you tried aiming upwards? We're risking our butts here if you don't mind!"

"Watch out!"

The dragon's tail slammed in front of a half-track, forcing it to turn and loose speed. The next in line collided with it, soon joining a third vehicle, a truck. The crew of the latter managed to drive away, while the crews of the first two abandoned their vehicles with whatever they could carry and ran to get away from the danger area, their comrades intensifying their fire at the dragon to prevent it from locking on the foot mobiles, even if briefly.

Yet it seemed for nothing. A jet of fire began to form in the jaws of the animal, many noticing its gaze turning to the fleeing soldiers. But as it prepared to burn them in the fields, tanking the scant damage dealt by the others, an incoming projectile struck the back of its head, forcing it to close its mouth and turn its furious gaze skyward. There, two "birds" were approaching him at high speed from sky high.

Reinforcements had arrived.

XXXXXXXXXX

Far away from the battle, two people observed with worrying faces the intense exchange of fire and lead that occurred between the otherworldly forces and the mythical beast that countless times had ravaged their lands. It was surreal, to say the last, and definitely way out of any sort of combat any had seen. Last night's battle had been a messy and confusing affair for them, partly hampered by the darkness that hid the young soldiers' vehicles and weapons (specially when they counterattacked the bandits and flames appeared outside the walls), but now their might was in full display for them to see in the day of day.

To say they were surprised would be an understatement.

To delay the Flame Dragon was long considered a feat of might in Falmart, not so say in the Empire. Its power was so great that even magicians had trouble preventing its path of destruction, and many names were added to the folklore of heroes throughout the centuries as large groups of powerful people, veterans of countless battles and struggles, managed to drive it off after nightmarish casualties among their ranks, usually aided by an Apostle or a similarly powerful being. It was also supposed to only awaken every hundred years to roam through the lands, which, coupled with what little survivors it left wherever it went, prevented much knowledge from it from passing down among generations accurately.

And still, despite all that, both princess Piña Co Lada and her senior most military advisor, knight Grey Co Aldo, were speechlessly seeing how this reduced group of teenagers, a number less than an imperial cohort, was not only delaying the ancient beast, but actually fighting back and damaging it, even if slightly. The dragon was clearly not getting by unscathed from the constant explosions and hits it was receiving all over its body, with the mobile carts without horses of the otherworldly soldiers circling it around and constantly firing their weapons on it, peeling scales off and preventing it from locking down onto any of them for too long. Even when soldiers fell from their carts, their sharp reactions and training prevented them from getting bogged down and picked off, quickly retreating to a safe distance while the ranks closed around the flying reptile, guns trained on it and laying down constant fire.

"This is incredible..." Piña muttered slowly. Grey nodded as an answer.

"I can't find words to describe this scene, your Highness. The dragon is finding itself bogged down. It can't even advance towards Italica. I've never heard of warriors from the Empire, or any other place in fact, that managed to do so without a considerable number of magicians or several times more soldiers. And in both cases, casualties after the battle are crippling enough to prevent them from doing anything much." The white-haired older knight commented with a heavy voice. Piña swallowed hard.

"Do you think they'll kill it?"

"I wouldn't say it's likely. The dragon is still resisting most attacks with little damage, but their sheer amount is a deciding factor. My guess is it'll be repulsed outside the city walls, if not from where it's now. Whatever the outcome of this combat is, is a fact both sides will be exhausted when this is over." He predicted, his eyes narrowing. Piña looked at him with worry. "And it is then, by that moment, that we'll do our counterattack."

XXXXXXXXXX

"Gentlemen, sorry I'm late for the party! This is Phoenix 1 and I'm here to brighten up your day!" Was heard through all the radios of the recon teams. The two planes skimmed over the students before pulling away, eliciting sighs of relief from the soldiers on the ground, turning around and face the dragon.

"Phoenix 1 where are you going! I love you!" A British soldier shouted comically on the radio, his friends waving at the air vehicles. The rest laughed at his words as the planes unloaded a barrage of rockets at point-blank range on the hostile beast, eliciting a pained roar, while half-tracks approached wounded and stranded soldiers on the ground and helped them evacuated to a safe distance or regroup with their own units and trucks were used as ambulances to carry the wounded inside the city walls, hoping the stone would be enough protection if the dragon's attempted to attack the city while the fight was underway.

Rick Johnson flew his plane close to the dragon, drawing its attention and distracting it from the ground units as it fired its canons and machine guns at it. The claws of the winged being tried to reach him and his breath of fire hindered his movement, but by far the biggest threats where its jaws and the wind currents created by its enormous wings. Mary, flying farther from the beast, constantly shouted through the radio trying to get him away, but the American pilot stubbornly continued to annoy the creature at short range, ignoring her request.

"I swear to God, Rick, I'm gonna kill ya myself if ye don't come back from there soon!"

"Calm down, serious gal! I got this!"

"No ya don't, now get back here already!"

"Easy now, we don't want you getting distracted while- woah! Breaking left, breaking left!"

"Shit! Breaking right, breaking right!"

Both flew to each side of the dragon as it plunged forwards, attempting to catch both by surprise. The pilots reacted in time and evaded the attack, making distance between themselves and the threat and making a wide circling around to regain their attack vector.

"See? That's what I'm talking about, ya useless wanker! Now form back on me will ya?"

"Wait, let me try something."

"Don't ya even dare-"

"Hey scaly-bitch! It's me, ya freedom boi!"

"Oi! Come back here ya, brainless Texan!"

Rick aggressively accelerated his plane and got into close range with the target for a second time. The dragon tried once again to catch him with his claws, but the American manoeuvred his machine expertly and evaded both while firing another barrage or rockets into its jaws, eliciting a new furious roar from the beast as the F9F Grumman left it behind in a cloud of smoke.

"How's that, Mary? Still thinking I'm in danger?"

"You'll be a...! Grr, for now fall back and-! Get away from there, now!"

"What?"

"I said, get away n-"

From the smoke left by the attack of rockets a massive torrent of flame appeared, as if embodying the fury of its creator whose yellow eyes were almost shinning with rage towards its flying annoyance. Rick, flying in a straight line and barely noticing the danger, performed emergency manoeuvres to avoid most vital damage, but still found its plane hit by the attack and the wings damaged beyond repair. Expertly analysing his situation, and with cold sweat pouring down his forehead, he could only say...

"Well... shit. Guess I got too cocky."

His plane began to trail away from the combat zone as its pilot tried to stabilize his machine, his speed increasing from the lack of control he had over it. This, however, did little to distract the dragon from his wounded prey, eyes following the "bird" as it got away. The soldiers on the ground, meanwhile, watched disheartened as the saviour that appeared their saving grace was becoming nothing more than a trail of black smoke in the distance. The battlefield was left speechless, but a timely roar from the dragon and the movement of its wings to give chase to the American brought them all back to reality.

RRRROOOOOOOAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

A furious British pilot turned her sights towards the face of the fire-breathing reptile, her tunnel-vision focused on the dragon who had just shot down her partner despite her warnings. Nothing mattered anymore, not even if she died. But...

"I WILL TAKE THIS BASTARD DOWN WITH ME!"

A point-blank barrage of all her rockets was received by the battered head of the red-scaled dragon. Roaring intensely, it began to flail and shake as it shot several jets of flames and lashed out with its tail in an erratic pattern, as if blinded by the smoke around its head.

When said smoke was cleared seconds later, the dragon surged with several scales missing from its head and neck as well as one eye closed, glaring at its aerial assailant with blinding rage. It flapped its massive wings, trying to get away, but its British opponent was not planning to let it get away so easily.

"COME BACK HERE YA CUNT!"

Finding herself just in line with the dragon's damaged eye, Mary shot all the canon shots she could in the time window presented, the shells of the Hispano 20mm cannons hitting the dragon's eye area and giving ground to yet more erratic movements as it tried to wring itself free from the attack. But the pilot was not granting it that mercy, keeping her trajectory to keep the sights on its head, seeking that critical hit that would carry her to victory.

And she got it.

A lucky shot, at less than 200 meters from the creature. She enjoyed the pained scream it provoked, allowing herself to relax on her seat for a moment. But a moment was all it took. A warning from the ground troops was all it took to bring her back to reality and look back from her cockpit. Her eyes widened in shock. Closing fast, a stream of flames seemingly as hot as the sun was heading her way, with little time left for her to manoeuvre herself free. A quick last glance at the dragon showed one of its eyes was bleeding profusely, and Mary allowed herself a second relaxation moment: she had hit it hard after all.

"This is all I can do... now it's all up to you guys."

With a last drastic move, she turned her plane sharply, presenting the best angle she could to protect herself from the flames. She felt the temperature in the cockpit raise by several degrees as the fire passed through the machine, but as soon as it came it went away, the plane lifelessly gliding away from the battlefield in a soft descent. The appeared ready to engage in pursuit, wishing to get revenge on the metal animal that managed to inflict damage on him, only to feel an impact at the base of his neck prompting it to turn around. There, scattered on the hills and lands, were those ants with their toys, one of them with its metal stick smoking from the recent attack.

"Now..." muttered Schmidt, smiling confidently at the dragon. "... begins round two."

XXXXXXXXXX

There was no chance. No escape either. That was how Karl Schmidt saw the scenery in slow-motion from his location, high in the air and who knew how far from the hard, destroyed ground.

The dragon's tail had struck close. His kübelwagen and the half-track next to it, overcrowded by servicemen trying to escape the incoming beast, went flying from the force of the impact. The crew of the latter managed to land mostly safely, the weight of the vehicle helping them not rise too much up high. Him, on the other hand, was still with his crew falling head-first. The dragon, for its part, wasn't bothered by them, having turned its head away, its flames and tail searching for new victims among the remaining members of the Recon Teams still firing their guns at it.

Karl surveyed his crew flying around him. Some were still alive, wounded, shocked, or paralyzed with fear, but alive. Others were not so lucky. His driver, for example, was missing both legs from the knees down. If he hadn't seen wounds like that several times before, he would have puked. Or tried to, at least, since, if he hadn't thrown up by now, there wasn't much else that could force him to.

It took him a little while to realize he was upside down. So shocked he was he didn't notice. His brain was barely thinking straight, the surrealism of the last two months finally coming down on him. He was in the middle of another world, one quite different from everything he knew, populated by roman wannabes and medieval idiots. He was commanding a multinational reconnaissance force composed of people of four nationalities. Five, he corrected himself: Boomfield was American. Who knew if there were others. And finally, after capturing a trading city with a name really similar to a certain country south of his, from the hands of a redhead princess whose name was an exact match to a popular alcoholic drink, and defeating a siege carried out by bandits, a giant dragon of all things had appeared and engaged his men, almost effortlessly destroying them in a brutal combat where not even air support could help to even the field for much time. He managed to keep a cool head through most of it, but still, he was sure than the deaths of his unit outnumbered the fingers in his hands. It didn't feel right. He was surrounded by that much death since the Incident, roughly a year ago, back in those violent final days of the Old System of the military academies.

His gaze wondered through the battlefield, with little worry over how many thoughts were passing through his head in the little time he still had in the air. Many sectors were still lighting up, canons and rifles firing to the rampaging beast on front of him, hoping to give him a lucky shot to finally kill it. Other sectors, like where his, were mostly silent, the scant activity being driven by soldiers carrying the wounded out of the kill zones, while several bodies lay there, motionless, their minds off as the life escaped their mortal vessels. He chuckled slightly, loosening the seriousness of his face as he tried to remember them from his time in the academy.

That one always had useless information at hand. That other one was always asking him to take notes when he had an emergency or was sick. The third was one he hadn't seen since the entrance ceremony, though perhaps he saw him in the halls from time to time. The fourth he had crushed in a competition, destroying his hopes for a promotion. That last one was a good strategist who might have had a bright future, who joined just after the Incident took place hoping for a better life in the improved safety of the academies.

Now their lives were worthless. By his orders. His fault. The decision of the High Command to send them alone and without support to Italica also weighed heavily, but in the end, it was him who ordered everyone to stay and fight rather than surrender the city to beast.

But it didn't matter anymore. That was something he found out about him, both a gift and a curse. Being able to take things on quickly, accepting everything and letting go of the related emotions with chilling ease. He had gotten into trouble more than once because of that. And he knew that, if he made it out alive, this time would be no different.

"Oi." He whispered.

It was just a soft sound, lost in the immensity of the battle around him. Somehow, however, the dragon seemed to hear him, turning its head again to face him head-on. It also seemed to recognize that it hadn't finished the job with him, and so a stream of flames began to form in his gaping maw as his one still-good eye gazed with delight at the tiny upside-down human in front of it. One human who, despite everything, watched it with impossible serenely as he faced the threat that would finally cease his life. He was a worthy opponent, it thought as he looked at him. He would recognize that. But the German showed no reaction to the impending attack. Time seemed to keep going at an exasperatingly slow speed. Not even the boring waiting rooms of a collapsed public service took that long to deliver bad news.

That was also why he almost didn't see it. A figure barely a meter tall, or so he remembered at least. It was also incredibly simple, both in shape and design. At his side was a piece of engineering that was widely used in the last years of a brutal war, when the agony of a country that blindly followed a cruel dictator was beginning to make itself felt by everyone. Cheap, simple, and disposable, were some words used to describe it. And it may not have been the most helpful of all, but it did his job. And even now, more than seventy years later, it would continue to do so. Taking it firmly, as if a mere hesitation would make it disappear from his grasp, he aimed it at the dragon's open jaws. The fireball in them was growing in size, and he could feel the heat from where he was. He squinted his eyes: it was less than fifty meters away. He only had one chance.

"See you in hell," he told the winged beast, pulling the trigger and releasing the projectile from the tube that housed it, getting pushed back in the process. The Panzerfaust made its way silently, adventuring into the creature's jaws and hitting that lucky spot where the planes missiles had hit several times prior. Crashing into the wounded flesh exposed by the lack of scales, the panzerfaust's high explosive charge detonated, completely damaging the dragon's inside, prompting it to close its mouth. It was like a chain reaction: the fireball, uncontrolled, exploded inside him, fire spread through its mouth, throat, and lungs, a few flames escaping from minuscule wounds now revealed to everyone seeing. The dragon stretched its neck to the sky and let out a primal scream of pain, smoke and fire scaping from its body. Then, with a final cry, it raised his wings and took flight, getting away from the place where he caused a carnage that would undoubtedly mark all those present for the remainder of their lives.

Karl couldn't contain his astonishment. There was so much happening that he was barely breathing. Time returned to normal as soon as the charm of the dragon's pain wore off and he painfully fell into the slope of the hill, him and his companions rolling down until even ground was found at the bottom of the earth formation. Getting up slowly with trembling knees and hurting limbs, he silently surveyed the scene as a wild smile slowly spread through his face, stabilizing himself with close debris as his mind finally processed what had just happen.

Then, finally, he burst out laughing, soon followed by those around him.

"That's right... THAT'S RIGHT YOU FLYING REPTILE BASTARD! THIS IS HOW THE GERMANS FIGHT, BITCH! THAT'S HOW WE SOLDIERS FIGHT! COME AGAIN IF YOU DARE YOU SON OF A BITCH! WE ARE WAITING FOR YOU HERE! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

The laughter stopped as soon as his lungs ran out of air, but it was enough. It allowed him to relax from the intense emotions. His men were clearly enjoying the display, and smiles and laughs were quickly spreading throughout the Recon Teams. It was not the first time he had faced death. Hell, it probably wasn't the first for many of his men either. But... it was the first time they had faced something that had intended to kill them from the very beginning, very different from seeing an accidental death during a duel of tanks or the mess that was the start of the Incident. Shakily walking, falling to his knees and finally crawling, then rising again to finally limp, he approached a command vehicle, parked nearby with its wheels half-melted. Taking the radio microphone that a nervous soldier held out for him, he gathered his saliva and spoke what every member of the Academic Coalition in the vicinity wanted to hear:

"To all units on this frequency, this is Hauptmann Karl Schmidt form Downfall 0, commander of all Reconnaissance Teams, reporting from Italica. The dragon has been beaten back. We have won.

The radio fell to the ground. The adrenaline rush had ended. Karl sat on the warm ground, heaving a loud sigh before grabbing a gun and firing a shot into the sky. That green smoke would be seen by all reinforcements sent to Italica for a considerable distance, saying that combat had ceased with their victory. It relaxed his muscles and nerves. It was the sign of victory.

They had won, and nothing would change that fact.

.

XXXXXXXXXX

.

"In Falmart, the horn still means get out of my fucking way!" Shouted the driver as he honked at the two civilians in the road. Both jumped into the dirt just before being hit by the jeep, left covered by the dust in its wake. "Sorry, sir."

"I don't mind. Edward, are we heading in the right direction?"

"I think so... turn right here." The driver did as instruct by the member of the team with the signals' equipment, its beep repeating increasingly quickly until it became a flat sound. After going over a few small hills and speeding towards a column of black smoke in the distance, the team managed to find the smoking fuselage of the crashed F9F Grumman at the bottom of a slope, a trail of removed dirt showing the path of its forced landing.

"There he is. And still alive, that bloody Yankee." With a gesture, Spencer motioned his team to head to the pilot, who, seeing them sited on top of his cockpit, could only laugh nervously at the awkwardness of the situation.

"Man, I thought I'd be the star of the show, not some prick shot down first." He welcomed them as they arrived at his position, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

"Well, apparently you weren't the star and were indeed shot down first." Spencer said, rolling his eyes. "Now let's patch you up and get the hell out of here before any fucking Roman appears around here."

"As lovely as always." Rick shrugged, getting down from the plane and approaching the jeep. "Still, nice to see you here, guys. Didn't know you brits were considerate enough to come for me after all, with the emergency in Italica and stuff."

"Don't hold yourself too high, Yankee." Spencer sighed, massaging his shoulders as Edward checked the American's condition. "We were just doing some ops nearby and were redirected to get your ass back towards civilized people."

"Does it have to do with the package with human form at the bac-"

"Now, now, we don't want any accidents happening, amirite?" Rick nodded, face serious, as the captain whose name he didn't know smirked at him. "That's way better. Status?"

"He's fine and dandy. Ready to go, sir," reported Edward.

"Good. Now let's head back to Italica once and for all."

"Oh, a quick note, captain." Spencer motioned with his head for Rick to continue as both climbed the jeep, Edward marking the plane with a beacon for the engineers to recover it. "The other pilot was shot down as well form what I've heard. She fell on a lake, not far from here."

"You have her location?"

"Indeed. It's barely a few miles to the west."

"Lead the way."

As they departed from the crash site, Spencer saw a green trail of smoke shoot up into the sky from Italica's direction. He motioned for the radio and spoke with command via their private network, taking advantage of the battle being over.

"Foxtrot Charlie, this Charlie 1. Main objective completed, we also managed to fetch Phoenix 1 from his crash site. He's looks like shit, but he's fine. We'll go for Royalty 1 before heading towards Italica. Charlie 1 out."

.

XXXXXXXXXX

.

"A-are you sure about this, princess? After all, they managed to beat back a Flame Dragon, something that no one in the Empire has been able to do in the last hundred years."

"I want a headcount of dead and wounded, as quick as possible. Fortify the infirmary too, but not much, we don't want to anger the locals. A small detachment should suffice, there's enough arms there to take over half Italica."

"It's our best option. They are exhausted, they won't be able to react if we move now. Besides, they are only teenagers. They shouldn't be able to do much after all that's happened in the last 24 hours. And if they value each other as much as it seems, if we take the wounded hostage, we could negotiate to get them out of the city."

"I also want a report on which vehicles can be repaired and which are just scrap metal at this point. Check thoroughly, there might still be someone alive in there. Don't forget to also register the locations for recovery."

"But their reaction could be horrible! Don't you remember the explosion in the hill yesterday? We also don't even know if there are more "iron birds" nearby to help them."

"Contact Alnus Command again and report that we need urgent medical personnel and equipment, first aid kits as well. And don't forget to speed up the reinforcements, or we'll lose Italica to the first enemy patrol that shows up."

"Please, Hamilton, think. If there were more "iron birds" at their disposal, they would have surely used them against the dragon, right? They almost died there!"

"What...? I see. Make sure the infirmary has two special beds for them. Also, send a squad to every wall gate. The rest of you, with me, double time it to the infirmary! We have so many officers there it might just be our new command centre."

It was pure coincidence. As soon as the house to the right of Piña's group of knights ended, a group of teenagers headed by their blonde leader appeared in front of the imperials, which just at that moment began to run towards the Formal mansion in the centre of the city. Thinking their plans discovered, Piña prompted her knights to run as well, swords unsheathed, making it to the improvised infirmary in the mansion in record time, soon after the soldiers had entered. With silent nods and gestures, they kicked the door open and rushed inside.

What they found inside were several soldiers laying in litters and beds, most of them injured, unconscious, groaning or several at the same time, while medics tended to them as best as they could with limited means. But the biggest shock for the group was that, as soon as they entered, half the people inside trained their guns in them, eyes sharp and fingers ready to pull the triggers. Schmidt, their leader, was standing in the middle of them, a shorter weapon in his right hand while his left put on his cap.

"Wow, would you look at that... although I expected it from some disgruntled citizen, you personally heading the attack against wounded soldiers was not within my impressions of you, Princess Piña," he commented sarcastic, fixing the cap in his head.

"D-did you discover our plan?"

"Not really, no." He shook his head, letting out a heavy sigh. "But armour and swords are quite noisy, did you know that? Specially while running." Piña frowned, but the German didn't let her finish yet. "But seriously, what an unfortunate circumstance. After a fierce defence of the city by people who made a deal with her, Princess Piña Co Lada was seen attacking the wounded of that very same people she made an agreement with. It's a good story for the press and for anyone who asks."

"We haven't attacked you yet! You can't do anything to us without proof!" Hamilton tried to bluff but was instead met with a serious stare from the German.

"You attempted attack against people protected by the red cross. Enough reason to be sentenced to death, depending on the country. But cheer up: we'll just take you prisoner. I really don't want any more people dying today, I suppose."

The knights tightened their grip on their weapons. They had no idea what this "red cross" was about, but it sounded like some law of their world. One that had they just broken. And the soldiers in the infirmary still had their sights trained on them.

"Oh, but if you haven't decided yet..." the officer pointed outwards, through a window. Outside the walls, multiple horseless carts could be seen arriving, many times more than those already in the city. "You don't stand a chance, Your Highness. I know you have your noble pride and stuff, but..."

He left the threat in the air, raising his own Walther P38 handgun at them. The message was clear.

Piña pursed her lips and sheathed her sword. Her knights followed her in confusion. She raised her hands, and with a gesture from their commander the soldiers closest to them snatched their weapons. Finally, with her hands tied behind her back, the knights and the princess were locked in a cell in the cellar of the mansion.

And so, Schmidt thought as he saw the nobles being carried away, ended a good day or work.

.

.

.

A/N: This chapter also didn't change much from a story perspective, but the writing and sequence of actions clearly did improve a lot. We got a lot more mentions of the Incident and whatever happened there (on that note, some edits were made to Chapter 2 regarding backstory of Roth and info on the Incident), as well as a much larger participation of the pilots in the fight against the dragon and a less rushed move by Piña against the wounded (this time with actual reasoning behind it).

Either way, that's it for this chapter (this was done in three days, kind of a record for the last couple years regarding this fic). Read ya later,
RedSS.