Fourth Vector Ch. 21

The colonel crossed his arms in front of his chest. He then checked out the rest of her body before finishing with a look back at her eyes. The message was clear. He was looking for something he couldn't find, and Magda was quite sure it was a penis.

"This is a real war here, sweetheart," said the colonel dismissively. "Just this morning, my men captured a platoon of Picards trying to escape to the north after having fired upon our camp. All those Picards were put to death a few hours ago. Many of them are still hanging in the place, long since having turned stiff. Have you ever seen a man die before?"

"A lot more than you've seen, I can assure you," she said sweetly. It didn't have the desired effect, as most of the men in the room started to laugh. The cocksure colonel even rolled his eyes.

"Why don't you just leave the running of the war to us? Have you ever led any kind of operation whatsoever?"

Magda grinned. "Perhaps you've heard of the last major engagement I had a command in? The Battle of Blenheim?"

Instantly, the men stiffened. The cocky grin on the colonel's face melted away as quickly as it arrived. "Blenheim, you said?" he nearly whispered.

Magda nodded slowly, marching her way to his side of the table. She stopped directly in front of him and peered down into his eyes. "You are familiar with that battle, right? With the Nax? Do you know what happened there?"

"Unbelievable carnage and cruelty," said the colonel while he turned pale. "They said over ten thousand Nax survivors were killed that night."

"And how did they die?" she asked, while leaning closer to his face.

The colonel started to sweat. "By impalement."

Magda stopped her face only inches from his. "Do you know what they called me after that particular battle?"

"The Butcher of Blenheim," whispered the colonel.

Magda whipped her hand back and struck the colonel in the face as hard as she could. The man yelped as her nails raked into his skin, soon falling forward as he clutched his now bloody wound. When he dared look up again, he had five marks where her nails had struck home. The look of fear in his eyes was now more prominent than anything else.

Having made her point, Magda straightened her back and walked back to the center of the table. "Does anyone else have any disagreements with my command?"

The room couldn't have been any quieter after that demonstration, and Magda felt herself able to put her sweet smile back on.

"Since my reputation precedes me, you all know the type of commander I am. We're here in Picardy to stay," said Magda as she strolled back and forth. "Before the end of the night, I want the positions and current strengths of your regiments. I also want to know about any remaining Picard positions so that we can rub them out along the way."

Magda then took a deep breath. "I don't know what you've been doing before my arrival, but it's time we got things locked together. There can be no more setbacks in Picardy. Do you all understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," they answered in unison.

*****

Adalbert found himself leaving the docks of the Zarah more confused than how he'd arrived. More importantly, his chest still hurt from the spot where Magda jammed her finger earlier. She never missed an opportunity to give him a hard time, despite the fact that he was the only reason she was still alive.

If it had been up to her, she would have died willingly in the Picard imperial palace back in Daban. Even though there was some risk to owning up to their failure, Adalbert always thought the chance of life was better than certain death.

Yet ever since that event, it seemed like she treated him with more disdain than usual. If anything, she should be thankful for the second chance, but the word wasn't even in Magda's vocabulary. Her treatment as they left the ship just seemed to cap off what he'd already suspected.

Their working relationship had disintegrated.

It also meant he needed to get out of Zarah quickly. He didn't doubt that she would find a way to make his life hell if he stayed, even if he didn't believe it would be a deadly offense. It also meant he would have to find another place to operate while he worked on his main goal—finding and capturing Jack Easterbrook.

But how was he to accomplish this goal? It was a more daunting task than keeping Andalucia, and more dangerous than holding Daban. Jack Easterbrook had a deadly army and efficient navy at his beck and call, and he'd left a string of turmoil everywhere he went. The only way to capture the man would be to surprise him. The only way to surprise him would be to figure out his routine.

He couldn't even think about routine until he located him.

His last known whereabouts were in Daban but that was over two weeks ago, at the end of the battle. Sure, he would have most likely stayed there, but he could also have left. If he was still in the country, Adalbert would need a network of eyes and ears bent to the purpose, and it was that task that would take precedence over all else.

Well, almost over all else. There were two immediate things on his mind that he wanted to take care of today. The first was to secure lodging for the evening before he left the city and headed into the great Picard interior. This he easily found, finding a room at a local establishment that was more than willing to rent to a Swabian. The quarters were spartan, but they would do for a single night. More importantly, there was a convenient exit to the street, which helped to serve his next purpose.

As soon as dusk fell, Adalbert went sulking out onto the street, heading for the area of the city that was closest to the docks. It was easily distinguishable from the rest of the city by the more livelier population and the more depressed looking buildings.

Down one particular alley he found what he was looking for. Soon his eyes feasted on the sight of exposed flesh—smooth thighs, pendulous breasts, and inviting eyes. Tonight though, none of those features on their own would suffice. He was looking for one feature in particular.

He found her after passing by about fifty other girls. She was just perfect, apart from the flaming red hair, which to her credit was just greasy-looking enough to match the look he was going for. Her best feature was her lips—plump, soft, and perfect for sucking cock. Just like someone else he knew.

"Hey handsome, you looking to spend some time together?" the whore asked, capping off the invitation with a blown kiss.

Adalbert stopped walking and approached her slowly. "Depends. How much?"

"Depends," she shot back. "What are you looking for?"

"Just to relieve some pressure. Down here," he said, grabbing his cock.

The whore's perfect lips curled up in a smile. "How'd you like me to do that? A little sucking or would you like to use my other holes?"

"Sucking is fine."'

She looked him up and down before settling on his eyes. "Two silver pieces."

Two silver pieces for a little head in Swabia would have been an outright robbery, but Adalbert was hoping the price would be worthy of the performance. Once he deposited the silver into her hand, she smiled wider and tugged his hand inside a small room just off the street.

It was unceremoniously plain as most of these dwellings were. Adalbert spotted a sterile-looking bed in one corner and a shower in the other. Such rooms were utterly utilitarian in purpose, leaving no doubt at what happened between those four walls.

"Let's see what we're working with here," said the whore as she smacked her lips. She felt under his trousers, grabbing the outline of his cock. "Mmm, someone's happy."

"I have one more request if you don't mind," he said as she fondled him lewdly. "If I might call you a particular name?"

The whore looked amused. "What name is that and who is she? An ex-girlfriend of yours, sweetie? Or someone that likes to tease you?"

"Something like that," he replied with a smirk. "Can you do it?"

"Of course," she said while undoing his trousers and releasing his cock. He was already hard in anticipation, and she began to work him with long, teasing strokes. "So what's the name?"

The whore didn't bat an eyelash when he whispered the name. Instead, she moaned as her stroking became more fervent. "I like when I get to work with the big fellas. All too often, I get the sexual outcasts coming down my way, the ones with issues or small dicks. I'm glad you're rising to the occasion though."

Adalbert gritted his teeth. "Less talking and more sucking."

The smile dropped from the whore's face but she did as she was told regardless. Her mouth slowly parted, and Adalbert let out a hiss of pleasure as those perfect lips encased the tip of his cock. They were so incredibly soft against his manhood, and she was expertly-skilled. As her lips slid further down his shaft, he could feel her tongue on the underside, providing a sensation that soon made his eyes roll to the back of his head.

"Just like that," he whispered, taking a handful of her red hair in his fist and holding it to one side. The whore was able to take more of him with her hair out of the way, and soon he felt those soft lips pushing up against the rest of his body.

She then pulled it all the way out and smacked it against her tongue a few times. "Such a nice, fat cock," she whispered before attempting to deepthroat it once again.

It was testament to her skills that Adalbert was soon thrusting against her mouth, driving his cock all the way to her throat with every forceful push. He soon felt her hands against his ass, holding him in place while she sought to capture every inch of him inside. She then began to use her hands against his balls as the sound of activity echoed throughout the room.

Adalbert was in heaven. Not only did this whore know how to properly suck cock, but he was now picturing another woman in her place. Something about that image put more steel in his erection, and he wasn't sure if it was the image of her on her knees before him or just the thought of getting his long-awaited revenge against her. Either way, he was a very happy man and soon on the brink of orgasm.

To her credit, the whore figured it out too. "Let me know when you're about to cum," she said before deepthroating him again.

"I'm so close," he whispered as her sucking became more intense. It was like she was trying to suck his cock clean off, the intensity of how powerful her mouth felt against his sensitive organ. He could soon feel the impending orgasm begin to work its way through his body. Moments before it was too late, he warned her.

"Oh, fuck, Magda, I'm going to cum."

The whore made a satisfied noise as she began to pump his cock with her free hand, and soon he emptied the entire contents of his balls into her mouth. She latched on to catch every drop, making sure he was nearly dry before she dared to pull away. She made a big display of showing off his seed in her mouth before swallowing it with a big smile.

"That was just tasty," she said once she could talk again. "But tell me this, who's Magda?"

Adalbert quickly grabbed his trousers and buttoned them in place. He turned toward the door, but not before one last look at the whore. "I'm sure you'll know of her name soon enough."

With that, he was off, disappearing back into the night.

*****

The first two weeks out of Daban for Greg felt like old times again. Even though the lush scenery of central Picardy was vastly different, it reminded him of the Desert War they fought years ago back in Ruthenia. The constant patrols, skirmishes, and sleeping out under the stars were exactly what he was trained for, and it was a happy man that woke up each morning to get back into action.

Of course, Vera helped that out greatly too, and he never wanted to spend another night without the lovely blonde woman pressed against his chest. It was the best of both worlds, and as they neared the suburbs of the city of Burwick, he had no doubt that the city would soon be theirs.

It wasn't that the Swabians had been completely docile either. They were still out there, operating in small groups and getting into local fights with the men as the army pushed closer to the city. Yet, it seemed like all offensive efforts launched by the enemy were entirely feeble, indicative of a weariness to fight hard. Truthfully, it robbed Greg of his need for a serious fight, but he'd just have to settle for the glory of kicking them out of Picardy.

That particular morning, Greg slung his NT-12 over his shoulder and joined Dustin for a meeting with General Neil Fagan to discuss a broader strategy for entering the city.

"I'm still not sure what to make of this Fagan guy," said Dustin with a low voice as they approached the Picard's tent. "He still seems awfully green."

Greg chuckled. "What gave that away? You could almost read it from his body language when he first took over."

"True, but it makes me nervous to serve under someone without a steady hand," said Dustin.

"He's coming along. I think our talks each night are helping," said Greg. There was a lot of truth to that statement. Ever since Neil had introduced himself to them and invited them for evening meals and chatter, Greg had spent a lot of time with the man and found himself liking him as a person. As a leader, he still needed work, and Greg was happy to help provide some framework for his development. It also meant they got to spend more time with the Carinthian General, Luis Barca, and the four of them struck up an easy comradery.

Dustin shrugged. "I hope so. I'm just glad there hasn't been any major fighting yet. I don't want him to shit his pants when it happens."

"Quiet now, we're almost there," said Greg with a laugh. "And he's not that bad."

The two Javans were approved for entrance into the meager tent of General Fagan, finding the man already pouring over a map of the city.

"Ah, good morning, Greg. Dustin," said Neil with a chirpy friendliness.

"Morning, Neil," said Greg as Dustin so followed suit. "Already planning your first attack on the city?"

"Something like that," said Neil as he began to trace a circle around Burwick on the map. "The entire city sits on a plain with no natural defenses with which the Swabians will be able to take advantage of. Even the forest is beginning to thin out the closer we get to the city, which means there's nothing that's stopping us from enveloping them on all sides and tightening the noose."

"What about reinforcements from the south?" asked Dustin as he observed the map.

"Unfortunately, it appears the garrison in Burwick has been reinforced with another regiment, so we have about four of them inside the city walls."

"Four thousand men are hardly much of an impediment against thirteen thousand," said Greg. "Especially without any additional help."

"My thoughts exactly, now if we can just—"

Neil never got a chance to finish his sentence before the booming sound of nearby small arms fire started to take off just to the east of their position. The three men looked at each other at once.

"Swabians!"

Greg found himself dashing out of the general's tent as he began the short trek over to the front of Picard lines where the gunfire was heaviest. He could hear Dustin swearing right behind him, a smile on his face at the thought of an impending battle.

"Get back to our men on the flank," yelled Greg, much to Dustin's disappointment. So far, none of the gunfire was anywhere near the Javan position. "Get them ready in case this is a larger attack!"

As Dustin reluctantly peeled off, Greg unslung his rifle as nearby contingents of Picard soldiers with their light blue uniforms ran toward the sounds of trouble. They found it not much further away, in an open field that crested upward toward the city. At the time, Greg could see the field littered with Picard dead while Swabian soldiers in their gray robes poured through the gap down the hill. Their own lines were a scene of madness. A ragged band of Picard soldiers took cover behind a fallen tree, giving them the only possible coverage from the raging counterattack of the enemy. The position was hardly secure, and they were riddled with bullets moments later.

Greg hurriedly rushed behind his own tree before getting off a few short bursts of his rifle. Yet it seemed that every time he took down a Swabian, three more appeared to replace him. Another chance glance up the hill revealed more enemy troops pouring through the gap.

A quick surveillance of his own line revealed there weren't enough Picards in this position to stop the attack. They would need help preventing the Swabians from penetrating the line further. Greg grabbed the closest Picard he could find.

"Go over to the right flank and find Major Dustin Culver," he yelled at the man as the sound of gunfire drowned out all but the loudest noises. "Tell him to bring a battalion over here quickly or this position will be overrun!"

The Picard soldier set off quickly while Greg managed another shot around the tree. The soldier he killed was no more than twenty feet from his spot, and soon he could see Picards falling back away from the fight.

His position precarious, Greg backtracked to another group of trees some thirty yards away, where another makeshift defensive line was forming. They had the advantage now of tree cover but it also lent a certain advantage back to the Swabians as well. They just kept pouring past the treeline but now at least they were coming up on a larger group of Picards.

The fighting in this section of the forest was desperate and multiple attempts by each side to push the line forward always ended in a bloody stalemate. At one point, a Picard soldier fighting right beside Greg pushed out from the tree to get off a shot and quickly crumpled to the ground. A Swabian bullet was lodged directly above the eyes, but just below the helmet.

At least it was quick, thought Greg as he put in a new magazine and returned fire.

Just as the situation seemed to be showing no signs of improvement, Greg heard a roar behind him as a sudden rush of Javan marines entered the fray. The voice of the roar belonged undoubtedly to Dustin as he led the group of marines to battle.

"About time you showed up," said Greg as Dustin slipped in beside him.

"Should have let me join in the first place! We would've licked 'em by now!" yelled back Dustin.

With the addition of the marines, there was now enough firepower on the allied lines to start making a dent in the Swabian defense. The line started to move definitively forward, and soon Greg found himself moving to the next tree to get more men in his sights.

He had to give it to this group of Swabians though. Unlike the ones in Andalucia who seemed not to understand their own mortal peril, this group seemed to be a lot more flexible as a unit. It was already obvious that this coming fight wasn't going to be as easy for them, and instead of allowing themselves to be killed off to the man, the main bulk of Swabians made a fighting withdrawal back up the hill while a small group covered their retreat to the start of the treeline.

That small unfortunate group that covered their comrades had little to no hope once the full force of Javan and Picard arms was upon it. What started out as no more than thirty men quickly dwindled down until about ten of them as they tried to make a run for it back to the safety of their own lines. Not a single man was able to make it up the hill, the furthest one having fallen no more than halfway up the field.

After the enormous ruckus of the fight, silence descended quickly upon the battlefield. An eerie silence as well, as the allied army began to wonder if the Swabians would dare to throw another attack on them so soon or shift their focus to another point on the line.