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Kan wiped her glistening brow with her free hand, maintaining her grasp on the coveted pair of old British binoculars. She never understood why things like binoculars or backpacks or even tupperware werenât ever contracted by Popa for the militia, and that soldiers had to scavenge for anything that wasnât a 150-year-old rifle or a canteen. It was ridiculous, and the talks of the Royal Guard joining the corps only exacerbated the issue, especially considering that every year they were promised, another year passed. It had been what; three years now since the Emperor declared their integration? Meanwhile, these highly trained guards with their relatively-new equipment still sat within the walls of Thimphu, twiddling their thumbs and providing nothing to their country except reassurance that theyâd get off their asses and do something, eventually. She had met cats with more motivation than those damn faceless imperial bureaucrats. She quit thinking about politics and found what she was looking for down the hillside.
âThirty-two degrees east; four north.â She chattered to her cohorts mindlessly, âMake sure it hits this time.â
The commanding officer next to her nodded and signaled towards the artillery batteries, which consisted of a motley crew of Napoleonic cannons and various pieces of old Japanese artillery that they had scavenged from the jungle years prior ran on an ever-decreasing stockpile of special, also-scavenged ammunition. After a second, three or four ancient cannons fired, their munitions screeching past Kan and her deputy. An explosion rocked in the distance, assuring Kan of her suspicions. She grimaced.
âMinefield ahead,â She spoke loudly, so everyone in the reconnaissance unit could hear in the distance, âI expect you boys to use caution this time. We donât want another Thiha situation here.â
Some made solemn faces while putting away their lunches and putting out a small campfire. At least Thiha hadnât died, but that was a messy situation they didnât want to repeat.
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