Tyranny of Steel

Berengar gazed at a report which had been set upon the desk he was using while he was acting as the Regent of Al-Andalus. The attack on the college of cardinals had been a success, still he did not anticipate his suicide bomber to strike while the Pope was in the room. Nor did he believe anyone would survive the explosion.

While the German Newspapers reported it as an act of divine vengeance upon the wicked souls of the Papacy, it made no mention of a Moorish suicide bomber who had heroically given his life to send a message to the Catholic World.

Instead, the paper made it abundantly clear that the Papacy was planning to assassinate the three-year-old child, Ghazi Al-Fadl. All forms of evidence gathered by Imperial Intelligence supported these claims. Berengar read through the papers that were being issued from in the fatherland, with a wide smile on his face.

He could practically hear the song "what a wonderful world" in his mind as he carefully studied each line of text within the paper. He knew full well what was occurring across Iberia as he sat back and relaxed while humming the tune.

In Toledo, a young girl, no older than seventeen, was rushing through the streets, no longer caring about what anyone thought about her frantic state. She forced her way through the crowds at the dismay of the many of the men who were walking through the streets. If she wasn't such a pretty young woman, then perhaps they would scold her for her reckless actions.

This girl was a diehard catholic and worked as a page for the local mayor who acted on behalf of the new regime. However, she had abandoned her duties and headed to the slums of the city after hearing the latest report from the soldiers of the garrison. She quickly rushed to the headquarters of the rebel group she was secretly a part of to warn them about the upcoming raid.

However, the closer she got to her destination, the more she witnessed smoke rising from the building where her allies hid. The sounds of gunshots rippled through the air. Causing her to run faster than she had ever done before. A single thought entered her mind as she lamented her poor speed and athleticism.

Am I too late?

When she turned finally around the corner, her worst fears were realized. Several men and women were being led out of the complex while bound in chains. They were being closely guarded by the heavily armed German troops, who poked and prodded the captives with their bayonets while jeering at them.

"Catholic scum! You dare conspire against the Kaiser's son! You're nothing but filthy savages!"

"Now you will learn the wrath of the Reich!"

"How evil must you be to target a three-year-old child! You will be shown no mercy for your crimes!"

The German soldiers were ruthless in their taunts, as they led the prisoners into the middle of the street. Plenty of onlookers had gathered to witness the scene. Completely unaware of what the Germans had planned for these rebels. After leaving a serious of cuts on the prisoners, the captain in charge of the Company that was used to ambush the rebels in their own homes raised his hand in the air, and gave the order.

"Quit fucking with the prisoners. You know your orders. There is no reason to waste anymore time!"

The German soldiers were quick to fall in line as they raised their G22 Bolt action rifles and pointed them at the captives. With the commands issued by the captain, the German soldiers squeezed their triggers, and sent their .45-70 projectiles down range and into the torsos of the rebels, executing them on the spot.

The girl gazed in horror as she witnessed her friends and family so ruthlessly gunned down in the street. It was as if the world had slowed down when she saw the bodies collapse to the wayside with lifeless expressions on their faces. Words could not express the guilt she felt in her heart at that moment. If she had just been a few minutes quicker, then perhaps she could have saved her comrades.

Unfortunately, reality was cruel, and there was nothing she could do now. She just wanted to find a quiet place to die alone. As such horrendous thoughts flooded her mind, a firm hand gripped her shoulder. The girl quickly turned around to see a German officer in a trench coat smile fiercely at her. He spoke in the local dialect, albeit very poorly as he stared the young girl in the eyes.

"María Rosa, I presume? Curious isn't it? As far as our records show, you should be at the Mayor's office right now. Do you mind explaining to me why you have come to this rebel safe house? After all, these men and women were planning to assassinate the young sultan and it would be a pity if you were involved with them..."

The young woman was defiant as she refused to answer. She knew the German Officer was lying. Though she was part of a rebel cell, they were not planning to assassinate the Sultan. Perhaps there were some other groups out there with such bold ideals, but she and her comrades weren't associated with them.

This group that had been so mercilessly gunned down in the streets of Toledo were not violent revolutionaries, but the peaceful resistance against German occupation, and the unification of Spanish territories under the banner of the Moors.

They were rebellious in spirit, but not armed insurgents. To lump them in with more extreme groups was just a tactic the overlords were using to get rid of them all. Upon seeing that her friends were dead, the young woman, whose pretty face was filled with tears, found her resolve and spat on the German Officer's cheek before expressing her ideals.

"Go to hell, you German bastard!"

The officer sighed heavily before wiping the spit off his face with a handkerchief. After doing so, he pulled out his revolver, pointed it at the girl's forehead and pulled the trigger, ending her life on the spot.

After killing the girl, the officer sighed once more before he shook his head.

"Such a pity. She was really quite beautiful. It is such a waste that she chose to die with her friends..."

After saying this, the officer called out to the company of soldiers who had eliminated the rebels in this region.

"What are you bastards dawdling for? There are more cells in this city, and we have our orders. Get to work!"

After saying this, the infantry company reloaded their weapons before running off to the next area that Intelligence had marked for them.

On the other side of the continent in Portugal, a young German Jaeger held his rifle in his hands. He had come under fire after kicking down the door to a suspected Rebel safe house. Over the past few years, Portugal had been reduced to a state of nationwide insurgency. After the warlords domains were crushed and brought into the fold by Hasan's forces, the people broke out in rebellion.

This man had spent his entire military career operating beside the Andalusian Royal Guard, previously known as the Granadan Royal Guard, in gendarmerie operations. By now, he was used to kicking down doors and getting shot at.

As per usual, the Portuguese resistance was stiff, supplied by papacy with matchlock weaponry. It had become quite common to face gun fire the moment one entered a building. Luckily, these insurgents lacked repeating fire, or his job would be a lot more dangerous.

The moment he had entered the building, a lead ball struck his body armor. The ceramic plate easily absorbed the projectile, though it still hurt like hell. Despite this pain he was suffering, the Jaeger raised his rifle and fired a shot directly into the man's chest, before rapidly reloading his weapon and firing another in the dying man's head. A nearby Jaeger quickly checked on the man's condition while the other members of his squad cleared the rest of the building.

"Fritz, are you alright?"

The man named Fritz nodded his head in response, albeit with a painful expression on his face.

"I'm fine. He got me on the plate. Keep going, I'll be right behind you!"

The man quickly nodded his head, and rushed into the building, clearing the area alongside the other Jaegers with perfect synergy. These men had been through enough urban warfare to know how to properly clear a building by now.

Quickly, the men entered a room where another gunshot echoed in the air. This time, the projectile missed the three men entirely. In retaliation the Jaegers fired a volley of projectiles into the room and towards the plume of smoke responsible for the previous shot. The bullets of the soldiers mercilessly shredded whoever was wielding the matchlock.

The soldiers quickly reloaded their weapons before checking the room for other hostiles. There was nobody else in the room, however. The wielder of the firearm was a young boy, no older than eight. Despite this, the German Jaegers did not care in the slightest. They had killed many children over the past few years.

For whatever reason the Portuguese parents would arm boys and girls with weapons and instruct them to fire on German and Andalusian fireteams, it had caused quite a few casualties among the German and Andalusian forces, as few men were cold-hearted enough to pull the trigger on young children. Over time, though, the soldiers who dealt with this brutal urban warfare had become callous.

By now, killing children was as common as killing men, and they considered anyone armed to be an enemy combatant. They did not worry about how old their victims were. An enemy deserved no mercy. By taking up arms, these child insurgents had become a threat and needed to be neutralized.

Shortly after this exchange of gunfire, the building was cleared, and the German Jaegers did not waste anymore time. They regrouped with the rest of their unit and continued to kick down doors throughout the small village.

If the Pope were to have his way, all of Iberia would turn into a hotbed for urban warfare. Something the German soldiers dreaded. Thus, while Berengar was busy enacting reforms across Iberia that would help aid in prosperity, his soldiers were purging political dissidents in the tens of thousands.