Elune

"Look at how the moon bathes the sleeping landscape in its silvery glow, isn't it so amazing?"

"Uh huh. And the quiet, cool breeze makes me wanna cuddle someone, could you move a little closer, I want to feel you."

Leon turned his starry gaze towards his dreamy companion. It's the first time he spoke of such openness towards him ever since their nightly vigil began.

"Fuck you! get away from me you faggot!" He gently punched his arm before wrapping his around his neck.

"Damn you Avicenna, seems like our blissful spot is turning you on huh? What if someone finds us?"

"Who cares!" Avicenna leans his back against Leon's shoulders. "What matters is you're here with me."

"It will be a long night you know, and watching this patch of land with you is the only moment I got before things return to its hellish state tomorrow."

The landscape around them appears to enjoy the eerie calmness on this most elusive of nights as well. It's been months since the vast swaths of primeval forests, pristine lakes and snow-capped hills surrounding their fortress basked in such tranquility. Even the nearby city of Lumina shimmers from its artificial lights. A few weeks back and its searchlights would be beamed towards the sky, watching for any Pathallasa fighters appearing on the horizon.

"I wonder when will this all end?" Avicenna mumbles.

"If the fighting is over, it might be the end of us as well."

Before this crisis happened. Avicenna and Leon lived on the opposite sides of the realm. Avicenna was in his early-twenties: tall, slim, fair-skinned and with droopy-sad eyes that attracts sympathy of whoever gazes at them. He was a pre-school teacher before his creche was burned to the ground by the first enemy assault.

Meanwhile, Leon was a farmer: buff, dark-skinned, and with arms as big as the logs he burns at night. His hut sits on the edge of a grass-covered cliff overlooking the sea and the distant volcanic peaks of St. Agnes Island. When war was declared, he was conscripted by the then Girharde government. Unfortunately, that government fell within weeks and it its place now heads the military dictator Mabushke. The Mabushke regime is known for its brutality to any opposition. For Leon and Avicenna however, it never mattered. Their time being the nocturnal guardians of the east watchtower is all that is important to them.

"When the fighting is over, we will have to return to our former lives. That means you will become a pre-school teacher again, and I..."

"Lets live together," Leon insists. "I don't think anyone will raise a question about it. Even the great leader Mabushke is known to keep a harem of fine, young ladies and she's a female."

"But she has the power and we're just pawns in her army."

"Who cares?!?!" Leon held Avicenna's right hand tightly. Sweat slowly dribbles from his face as he tilts his head closer to his.

"Time is of no essence, I just want to be with you forever."

Before their lips were able to lock on to each other, a sudden flash of light blinds everything in sight. It is followed by searing heat which tore both Leon and Avicenna's olive-green military uniform hugging their muscular bodies. Their flesh then begins to melt like wax exposing the muscles and bones beneath their skin. With both of them weak and unable to speak, they embraced each other as the flames of death consumes whatever is left of their being.

Their inhuman remains were discovered a few months later, together with the 200,000 unsuspecting souls from the Gallente Fortress and the nearby city of Lumina. Whatever is left of their existence was their titanium-zylon dogtags stacked on top of each other.

They were the victims of the Khorasan sneak attacks: a sad period in their nation's history, which was authorized and later denied by none other but Mabushke herself. It was said that she let the enemy penetrate the most insignificant parts of her country to have a pretext of launching a solar-burst airstrike against her enemy's heartland.

The sacrifice met its purpose.

A few months later, peace was sealed between the warring factions.

Organic Overload

"Mister President, our soldiers on the frontlines have reported a massive troop surge from the RASC," a lieutenant suddenly barged through the door disrupting his conversation with the Energy Secretary. "If we will not hold the Jura Line, they will overrun the city of Basel in a matter of days!"

"Damn those Teutonic bastards! Use whatever necessary force to slow their advance!" The President almost choked after giving his orders.

"Will you grant us the green light to drop the Black Death Bomb on different RASC positions sir?" The lieutenant inquired. Pearls of sweat rolled down the President's withered face. He knows that once the enemy occupies the city of Basel, the entire canton of Zurich including its capital will surrender to the RASC.

"Mister President, if Zurich falls, we will lose control of one of our key gardens." The Energy Secretary advised. "Even if it will cause a global uproar, I strongly suggest that we use our destructive capabilities against Teutonic cities as well!"

"History will never forgive us. I cannot take such responsibility."

"But think of our future sir. The empire will think twice of invading us again when they find out that we have already developed the perfect weapon."

"Do you think they are not aware that we already posses such destructive weapon Mister Secretary?"

The President retreats back to his office desk. The table, with its intricately carved cross and other medieval illustrations embedded on its front and sides still whiffs of pinewood cut from the Western Alps. It has been in his office long before the founding of the Croesus Republic. Breathing deeply, he took a piece of paper with a government insignia written on its top left corner. Silently he began scribbling notes, which the two gentlemen found perplexing. After writing his orders, he pricked his finger using the presidential pen. Droplets of blood began to surface from his pierced skin.

"Use the Black Death against RASC units that are within Croesus' borders." He then pressed his bleeding finger against the piece of white paper. "Your general can verify my orders using genetic scanners. That's all lieutenant."

"Thank you Mister President." The soldier was about to exit the door, when the President gives a follow-up order.

"Tell your superior to evacuate the city of Zurich before nightfall - I want all the children and elderly out of that accursed place. " The president turned his back against the two gentlemen to set his gaze towards the blue skies outside his office. "Humans will forever be ruled by greed. The RSC will never stop until they get what they want."

The lieutenant quietly withdraw from the scene leaving the Energy Secretary with the President.

"So much blood has been shed for our Eastern Rose." The President mumbled.

"Enough is enough."

---

The Jura Line separates the country of Croesus from Teutonia, the former Federal Republic of Germany. Teutonia was once allied with Croesus through cultural and historical ties. However, the RASC invaded this state replacing all its leaders with ones who are now loyal to the empire.

The Black Death is a Croseun superweapon. Whispers tell that its elements were directly condensed from the much-prized Eastern Rose. Information about its effects is strictly confidential. Aside from top-brass generals and lead scienctists of Croesus. Only the President knows of this weapon's existence.