A/N: This is just the Prologue written in the view of some unnamed soldier, who will probably never appear again. Also this story will not be updated at the same rate as my other story 'The unpleasantries of life', but I will most likely be able to update once a week.
And on a sidenote, Denmark aka Mathias will be a little bit OOC, but seeing the history I have given him that might even be natural.

The air was heavy with smoke and the sound of artillery fire. The smell of burning flesh mingled with the echoing screams of the dying. The ground was a barren waste of mud and dirt where once lush green plants had graced the scenery. The sky was a dull grey, as were the uniforms of the men who cowered in the trenches that were cutting through the landscape like tunnels in an anthill that had been ripped open.

There were many trenches, but only few men left to guard them. They had been bombed away one after another by the unrelenting onslaught of the tank formations dispatched by the Federation.

Every day had been the same for a long time now. The mornings were filled with missiles and grenades, the unwavering attack of the artillery units shredding every little bit of spirit that was left in the soldiers from the Empire who were scattered among the trenches, desperate to hold what little ground was left to them. After the deadly rain the tanks would come, line after line until they reached the first trench, where foot troops would lay out metal plates over the rifts in the earth, so the tanks could proceed once more, meter by meter, every day a little more.

This was also the only moment we could fight back, because the artillery units were too far beyond the enemy line, the tanks too heavy and our men too few to perform a sortie. The foot soldiers who laid out the metal plates would duck behind a tank until the vehicle had reached a trench, then they would scurry forward, accompanied by the firing of the cannon of the very same craft they were trying to make a passage for.

And we, as desperate as we were, would move above the safety of the trenches, aiming our guns at the soldiers and hoping that the bullet would hit its target and that the assault was halted, even if only for a little moment.

But it was futile.

Every day we would lose more ground, we were forced to move back in the lines of trenches, and soon there would be no more trenches left, and then we would just die out there in the field, giving our lives for a cause we long had forgotten. I didn't remember who had started the war, if it was the Empire or the Federation. This war raged on for centuries now, both sides tried to gain as much ground against their enemy as possible, but more and more land was destroyed in the process.

The Empire didn't lack manpower, they could have easily sent reinforcements a long time ago to claim back what we lost day after day, there were more than enough eager young men who dreamed of giving their lives for the cause of the Empire. But this part of the continent had been torn in countless wars, and what was left of its fertile lands had been tainted by the current fight for supremacy.

And so the Empire had come to the decision to throw this land that had lost all its value to the Emperor, before the hungry mouth of the Federation, to bind their manpower here, while other more important battles were won elsewhere. And we, the soldiers who were stationed here had been ordered to fight until all trenches were lost, and what little survivors were still standing after that would retreat to the Eastern Base that would soon guard our new border. But only when the last trench had fallen, were we allowed to leave. We were only pawns to be sacrificed on the chess board of this war.

It would be time soon, the day before we had lost more ground than expected, and now we were in the last line of trenches; behind us was nothing more than wasteland and some stray bushes and trees. Soon I would be able to give the long awaited command for retreat, and then we would light the fuse that had been laid out here some days prior, and the ensuing explosion would disguise our flight from the sight of our enemies.

I kneeled in a side arm of the network of trenches, a long rifle poked out of the safety of the earth hole, but I had long since given up on aiming, the risk was too great and so I just randomly shot in the general direction, even if I would hit, I would only delay the inevitable.

My second lieutenant cowered beside me, fumbling with the radio, waiting for the Intel that would finally allow us retreat.

An explosion rocked the ground, a projectile must have hit somewhere near. Dirt and stones rained down on us, and I ducked my head, seeking cover under my helmet. The impacts were drawing nearer, and a loud gasp, followed by a short yell from one of the soldiers signaled that they had once more conquered an obstacle. That left only one trench between them and our position.

Soon.

The radio cracked, my second lieutenant hastily pulled some switches and put the earphones on. The relief that washed over his face, when he got whatever the other side had sent, was apparent through all the dirt and blood that covered his face. He gave me a thumbs up.

Finally.

But before I could issue the order for retreat, another explosion shook the ground, only this time it came from behind us. Another one followed shortly after, and then there was gunfire again from behind us. For a short moment I thought that the Empire finally had sent reinforcements that the radio transmission hadn't been the order to retreat but the Intel on new troops. And then I heard footsteps, and a soldier scrambled to a halt before me.

"Captain, we are surrounded, the enemy has cut in from the sides, they are now behind us!" I looked at him in utter shock. I had been so concentrated on the prospect of imminent relief, that the thought of them thwarting our plans didn't even graze my mind. They hadn't lost as many men as we had, and they were close to their goal of claiming this land, so why did they even bother with what little was left of our troop?

Because they wanted to send a message to the Empire. We won't only take your land, but we will crush you in the process.

Screams echoed through the air, the smoke that was wavering around us made it hard to make out our surroundings.

"Captain," my second lieutenant urged on, "What are your orders?"

It didn't matter, did it? There was no way we could break through the enemy line, from the sound of it they had circled us with tanks, which now fired happily away at us. Maybe the heavy smoke would allow us to sneak through, but surely they would have infantries positioned between the tank lines.

We could surrender though. But that would also mean to forfeit our lives. They would not kill us, well not all of us, but they would torture us, and if they ever set us free, there would be no more place for us in the world. The Empire condemned surrenders, rather die a glorious death in battle than to come home in shame. No, we had to fight 'til our deaths, only then the Empire would glorify our heroic sacrifice on the battlefield.

"Captain!" The lesser officer now shook my shoulder, other soldiers had gathered round; there was nowhere else to go so they flocked around their leader.

As if I could safe them.

A shadow passed over us, followed by a gust of wind that tangled in our hair and a roar that could only mean one thing.

No, that could not possibly be…?

I snapped my head up and searched the sky frantically for what I never believed to find there ever again. The majestic form of a dragon parted the skies with its enormous wings. It was spiraling down, over the ripped up earth, screaming a wordless challenge into the dreary sky.

Than it had reached attack height, and the world was suddenly filled with flame. Nothing could stand before a dragon's flame; not even the heavy steel that armored a tank could withstand the heat. I watched in awe as the fire wrecked havoc under the enemy troops. The foot troops were the lucky ones, they burned immediately, their bones charred to nothing more than coal. Some tanks exploded as their fuel supply caught fire and tore the heavy vehicle apart, but the rest was melted by the dragon flame, the men inside cooked until their brains dissolved.

We were surrounded by a ring of flames and screams, the dragon had effectively shattered the enemy assault in only a few heartbeats.

I would have never thought that the Empire would send one of its precious dragons, let alone one this big, to a frontline that was deemed lost, just to allow some soldiers to escape. The dragons were the trump cards of the Empire, allowing them to stand a chance against the superior armaments of the Federation.

And when they had first flown over the battlefield, they had brought unparalleled disaster over the enemy line, their tanks useless, for they could not aim at the sky, and the thick metal plating melted in seconds. But then the enemy had adapted, using heavy grounded flak artillery to shoot the dragons from the sky. Back than they had attacked in swarms, forming up a flight formation to cover as much ground as possible when they spat fire, but thus, providing an easy target for the flaks. The Empire had then issued a new attack strategy, loosening the attack formation into independently operating groups that were able to outmaneuver the flak artillery. The Federation had adapted again, and their new measurement of attack was then countered by the Empire and so on for more than hundred years now.

But despite all of that, it was still not easy to bring down a dragon; the dragon's belly was armored with thick scales that withstood almost everything. At the beginning they had tried to aim at the mouth, but the moment a dragon opened its mouth, there was flame and no warhead stood a chance against newly fueled dragon flame. And even if, by some lucky chance, a projectile would enter the split second it took the dragon to spray the essence that preceded the flame, it wouldn't come past the scale plates that protected the dragon's throat. The wings were of course a weakness, the membrane could be penetrated by some heavier calibers, but it was almost impossible to hit the wings when the dragon was midflight and not in formation, he was simply too agile. So that left the eyes, but as sensitive as they were, they were far too small to provide a reliable target.

The dragon had stopped its attack, most of the flames had already died, since they were not fueled by oxygen, but by the essence a dragon spit our prior to the attack, and steel did not burn on its own. Only the burning of the exploded gas tanks remained, but the temperature of that flame was much lower than the flame of a dragon.

The dragon circled, looking for a spot to land, and when he found one, he quickly descended; crouching down once the ground was hit and pulling its wings close to the body to be as less a target as possible.

Once the Federation had realized that their ground artillery was no match for a dragon, they had poured as much funding as possible into the research of aircraft vessels, and finally they had come up with a counter measure.

They used cords of steel wire attached to the belly of small and nimble planes that would slice through a dragon's wing if hit frontal, using the momentum of the dragons flight to strengthen the impact. And in time the pilots had become more and more skilled at that kind of attack and now the order was for every dragon to stay grounded, unless they had reason to take flight. A grounded dragon was less vulnerable for he could curl into a heavy armored fortress of scale and fire.

I climbed out of the trench, making my way through the field of fiery destruction towards the landing site of the dragon. It was the biggest dragon I had ever seen; it was black with red accents, the eye on the side of the head that was facing me shone red with a slit pupil. As I approached I noticed the two poles that stuck in the dragon's back, right at the shoulders.

That was unusual.

The poles were spells driven into the dragon to subdue it and bind it to the Tamer's will. The most common spell, the one driven through the head to reduce a dragon's savage intelligence into the mindless conscious of a mere animal, was missing. Instead the dragon's eye shone with feral intelligence, following my every move with unsettling interest. Most dragons had spells everywhere, on the legs, on the body the neck, some Tamers even went as far as to impair their dragon's voice by putting one through the tongue.

A figure was appearing on the dragon's back, he was small in comparison to the dragon, but then again everyone would be. He wore a heavy coat to shield him from the cold winds and goggles to protect his eyes. He leapt from the back and onto the folded wing to use it as a step and climbed down on the ground.

He approached us and I saluted the moment he was in range. There were three ranks among the dragon Tamers, each and every one superior to everything that was below a Colonel of the ground troops. The lowest rank were the Sky Watchers, they used the smaller and more nimble dragons, called pearl dragons, often colored white or silver to perform air recon or carry messages. They did not fight, for their dragons were not capable of spouting flames. The pearl dragons were not considered as real dragons but lesser forms due to their lack of fire.

The middle rank was made up by the Dragoneers, they were the fighters and their dragons were bigger than those of the Sky Watchers, heavier plated with scales and more destructive. They could have every color, but most commonly were darker colors like green and blue. Multicolored patterns were unusual, they were mostly monochrome.

And the highest rank was the Dragon Lords, the officers in charge of the other dragon ranks. They were made up of the noble houses of the Empire, thus the name. Their dragons were the same as the dragons of the Dragoneers, but often they would use unique dragons in color and traits, not for the skill but for appearance. The more unique a dragon was, the more prestigious its owner would feel.

As the Tamer neared us I could see the symbols on his shoulder pattern, and I realized that he was indeed a Dragon Lord, as befitting of the mighty dragon that he owned. He looked young though, younger than I had expected, his blonde hair was tousled and there was a cross shaped barrette holding back some of the strands. His eyes were dark blue and looked indifferently over my battered band of men.

"Thank you for saving us." I said, trying to sound calm, even though I was still shaken by the previous events. "I didn't expect HQ to send reinforcements, especially not winged ones." And most definitely not a Lord.

"HQ didn't send me; I was passing by and thought I could help." His words took me aback; it was unusual enough for a Dragon Lord to rescue some foot soldiers, but a Dragon Lord out alone? That was suspicious as hell. But I knew better than to inquire.

"Are those all of your men?" He asked, indifferent eyes grazing over the wrecked bunch of men around me. I made a quick headcount and then nodded. There were not many left though.

"The Eastern Base is not far from here, I will escort you there." It was not a proposition, but an order and I could only obey in disbelief, it was the first time that a Dragon Lord had bothered with such 'trifle' things. But then again that was not the only unusual thing about this Tamer. His dragon had watched the exchange with predatory curiosity and his eyes now followed his master as he walked back to him and climbed on his back.

The dragon pushed his heavy body up from the ground and began to flap his wings in powerful but slow movements, normally a dragon would jump from a high point, a mountain or one of the dragon towers specifically built for them. Taking off from the ground was a risk and left them in a vulnerable state, until they had managed to gain enough height to resort to full speed.

While I watched the dragons slow ascend I wondered what his human form looked like. Dragons, aside from the lesser ones were able to take on a human form. Some Tamers liked to be followed around by their dragons everywhere they went, thus requiring them to transform; others simply used the human form to confine them in a smaller spice while they didn't fly them. But somehow I felt that this tamer would grant his dragon some freedom.

When the dragon was once again airborne I signaled my men, and we departed, leaving the still smoking battlefield behind us. We had no vehicles left to carry us, but we set a brisk pace, everyone eager to leave this place. The few injured we had, were supported by their comrades. The Federation troops tended to not leave many injured though, they always aimed for the kill.

When we finally reached the Base, the dragon flew one more circle, alerting the stationed troops to our presence, then he flew back where we had came from, leaving us behind with many unanswered questions and immeasurable gratitude.