Res Publica Christiana - 1. Keeping the Faith

I do not know how my tale began, but I know it ended on the battlefields of the Holy Roman Empire fighting for my Pope, for my God. I am not a knight, but I have slain many knights with the weapons provided by my faith. I am not a noble, but I have made many nobles bow before me to kiss the golden cross I was given. I am not a priest, but I have purified many churches by defenestrating false priests and acolytes, who betrayed the true faith. My name is Pietro di Fera, I was born near Mantua in Anno Domini 1530 and died near Cologne in Anno Domini 1550.

I was born the fifth peasant son of a Mezzadria land-leaser of the benevolent Medici family. My life was hardy and filled with toil, and the only respite from the fields was a night or two a year when a group of traveling players came to our village and performed the Passion Play. This is when I first realized that I wanted more out of life. It wasn't just a desire, it was a need that filled my very soul.

When the plague came in 1546, and took my parents and two brothers, it was then that I knew that the hand of the Almighty was guiding me. The plague took the poor, the lazy, and the old, and left the hard-working and the strong. With only two brothers and a sister remaining, we needed all the strong arms we could muster to maintain the small farmstead. However, a call to arms came in 1548 from Pope Peter VI, who was also my family's benefactor and lord. The princes and priests of the Holy Roman Empire had incited a rebellion again, desecrating our church and blaspheming the name of our Lord. A new Crusade was called. The Pope had asked his loyal vassals to send forth their sons and husbands, to cleanse the land of the ungodly. My father and older brothers were dead, so I answered the summons and headed to Mantua, then to Rome, where my training as a holy soldier of the Church began.

I trained, not as a common soldier, but as a Holy Crusader, in the art of a new musket that can fire cylinders every five seconds, and a sharp short sword that could cut through steel. I learned the teachings of Saint Augustine, Saint Paul, the Old and New Testament, and the new works of Guillamo Medici, the true name of Pope Peter VI.

I had heard stories of the Pope and his great wisdom and power. However, the sight of him when I met him was beyond any vision I could imagine. He was a man of great knowledge, fortitude, and power beyond mortal comprehension. He rode a horseless metal carriage down the boulevard of Rome to the cheers and reverence of his flock. I was amazed by the smooth motions of the carriage, the shine of the metal, and the rotating top that moved without the need for human intervention.

Our army was composed of about 30,000 soldiers, the Holy Crusaders, who were dressed in shining breastplates, with these new muskets and a sword. We spent many weeks training on simple tasks such as aiming with the musket and using our sharp sword in fast charges on horses. Some of the boys, who had driven carriages in the past, were trained in driving horseless metal carriages like the one our Pope rode. However, these horseless carriages had a cannon's barrel attached to their round top. As I was a good shooter and was dexterous, I was made a gunner of a tank, meaning my responsibility was to load the shells, aim with a spyglass, and fire the weapon across a battlefield. The instructors called them "light tanks", which none of us understood as they did not appear to be containers.

During my first assignment inside a tank, my instructor, now called a commander, drove the vehicle to the field of battle. He had taught me how to aim and shoot the cannon from the gunner's position. It was a strange sensation to see the cannon blast out a round, but not feel the concussion or hear the report of the shot. The instructor said it was the Holy Spirit protecting us from the sound and force of the shot, so we may better hear the voice of the Lord. The tank was slow and clunky, and we could only move the tank a few hundred yards a minute. Our infantry, which moved faster with human legs, were not tied to a tank's pace and could spread out to find a better position for their shots. We were told that the tanks were there to keep the enemy infantry from swarming us with its cannon.

When the day came for the battle, I was excited. I had been a good student, and I felt prepared for what was to come. The instructor drove us to the field of battle. My position in the tank was at the front, where the cannon sat, and the instructor was behind me in the driving seat. Through the spyglass, I could see the enemy. They were a rabble, not well dressed, and not well organized. There were not even any tanks or other types of horse-drawn wagons with them. We moved closer, and our cannons began firing on the enemy. After a few rounds of firing, I saw something move near us. I observed a few of the enemy in full armor charging towards us on horses, and they were shot by our new muskets without mercy. The instructor and I kept shooting until the battle was over. It seemed to end in an instant. I could not believe the power of our weapons and armor.

I was so caught up in the exhilaration of battle that I did not realize that I had not seen a single dead body or injury on our side. Our troops marched into the field, and after a few minutes, returned to their tents. It was strange, they had been in a great battle and were unscathed. I went to bed that night knowing I had been part of a great victory.

The next day, the commander gathered us all in a field and told us that we had won a great victory and that the army was moving out again the next day. He congratulated each soldier and said he was proud of their courage and discipline. Then he explained that some of the army would be leaving for different parts of the Holy Roman Empire. We would all be given medals and honors and would be returning home with much gold. This would help us feed and clothe our families and give our villages a boost to their economy.

The next morning, we were awakened early and told to gather our things. My group, which the commander called a Corp, was sent to the rebelling city of Stuttgart, where a large army of Lutherans had gathered with their own weaker cannons and firearms. We arrived outside the walls of the city a few days later and took up positions. The city was well-fortified and had high walls and towers. It was easy to see why the Lutherans thought they could withstand us. Our guns were superior, and our armor was stronger, but the city was too big to take by direct assault. The commander decided that we would dig a trench around the city. Soon the trench was dug. He did not want to siege the city as was customary for several months, instead, he ordered us to continue digging and begin planting small metal coffin-shaped objects below various areas near the wall. The next morning, the commander told us to prepare for battle.

I loaded the cannon, and when the commander gave the signal for some lads to ignite a greasy rope that led into the tunnel that we planted the small metal coffins. We waited for several minutes, until a massive explosion tore from the ground to the walls of Stuttgart, collapsing several sections without warning, where their cannons were positioned. It was an amazing sight.

After the smoke cleared, we charged the city, and our men easily entered. They were not expecting us and did not have enough time to prepare for our attack. The defenders were slaughtered, and we were victorious. Many prisoners were taken, and their leaders were tried for their crimes against the Church.

When the battle was over, we moved back to the camp outside the city. It was a joyous occasion for the Holy Crusaders. We were praised for our victory and given many rewards. We had won a great victory and had defeated an army that outnumbered us ten to one. I was proud of myself and my comrades.

The next day, the commanders had a celebration banquet, and a special announcement was made to gather beautiful women and girls from the city. While we may be good Christian men, we were still young men filled with vigor and desires. However, I did not want to reveal a secret about my predilections to others as I had no interest in women or girls. Instead, I went to the market square, where I saw several people gathering, including a group of musicians and singers, a puppet show, and a juggler. There was also a troupe of acrobats.

One of the acrobats, a boy, several years younger than me, caught my eye. He was quite pretty and was dressed in a red costume that matched his hair. He had a large smile and a nice figure, and I was attracted to him immediately. He performed a few tricks, then walked around the crowd, collecting donations. When he passed me, I put a coin in his jar, and he smiled at me and winked. I felt my heart skip a beat. However, before I could offer to buy him a drink or seek him out for a night of private enjoyment, my commander approached him and gave the head acrobat five gold coins.

The commander then grabbed the acrobat's arm and pulled him aside. The boy struggled, and I could tell he was resisting, but the commander was stronger. The boy started to scream and plead, but the commander covered his mouth and dragged him away, while the other performers ignored him. I knew that in times of war, the defeated lived and died at the whim of the victor, so their lack of reaction and callous betrayal of the boy was not uncommon. Prostitution was common in Italy and it was better to be sold to a victorious master than to struggle in the ruins of a pillaged city. However, I felt a pang of my desire and did not know my commander shared my interests; my commander's countenance had always been hard without empathy. I cannot imagine him being tender with the boy.

After the encounter, I made a quick return to camp, hoping to see the boy again. The commander and the acrobat did not return to the camp for several hours. When they did, the boy was carrying a satchel, and the commander led the boy like a dog. He took the boy to his tent and closed the flap. When the boy came out, he looked different. His costume had been replaced with a loincloth, and his red hair had been cropped short. He no longer wore makeup, and he had a strange, vacant expression.

The boy was not the same person who had winked at me a few hours ago. He lost his innocence and it appeared the interest of the commander. I could tell that the boy was broken. His spirit was gone. It was then that I understood what had happened to the boy. The commander had raped him and turned him into his whore.

I was sickened by the sight and the thought, but the boy approached me tugging on my uniform, seeking the warmth I had for him merely hours before. He said nothing, just stared at me with the same vacant look. I was disgusted and repulsed. I pushed him away, and he fell and started to cry. I looked around, hoping to find someone else to take him, but everyone ignored him. I slapped him across the face and ordered him to get up.

I was angry at the commander, and I was angry at the boy for his weakness and his compliance. I wanted to kill the commander, but I could not do that. He was my commanding officer and would kill me if I disobeyed his orders. I wanted to kill the boy to spare him the life of a catamite.

I looked at the boy and saw him crying. He was helpless and weak. He was no longer a toy for the commander, but he was no longer a person either. He was a hollow shell of his former self. The sight of him stirred something inside of me, and I felt the urge to comfort him, but I could not show comfort as a Holy Crusader. I grabbed his arm and pulled him towards my tent. He started screaming and fighting back, but I ignored him. When I got to the tent, I threw him on my bed. He started screaming and kicking, and I hit him again. Then, I did what was needed. I used him and then tossed him away with one gold coin for his service. He was so broken that I didn't need to worry about him. My commander and my fellow soldiers saw what I did, but they praised me for teaching the sodomite a lesson. My commander offered to buy me a beautiful female courtesan for the night, which I had to accept after what I did to the boy. I spent a night of unhappy pleasure as a result.

It was several weeks before the army moved on again. I saw the boy around the city of Stuttgart, he was wearing rags that did not hide his body and stalking in alleyways. A few times he tried to entice me, despite knowing what I would do to him, but I refrained from taking him on as a lover. I knew I could not bear to be so cruel to him and would likely have apologized to this foreign boy for what I did. He was a prostitute now, and he had no one else due to my commander and me.

We marched north again, and it was during the march that the Pope's plans for the Holy Roman Empire became clear. The plan was to conquer the entire Empire with our army. This would require years of war and many more lives lost. When someone voiced a concern, they were told by the commanders that this was the will of God and was necessary. Pope Peter VI had been given heavenly oracles and was ordered by God to create a "Christian Commonwealth", one nation for our lord Jesus Christ to rule upon for his second coming. They told all of us not to question the Almighty, and I agreed with them and my Pope.

Our next target was the town of Diez. We moved on and laid siege to it. Our cannon barrage destroyed the fortifications, and our musket fire kept the defenders in the town from retaliating. After a few weeks, the defenders surrendered, and we moved in to occupy the town on the way northward to the sea for our Pope and true faith.

As we entered the town, we were joined by a group of monks. These monks were unlike any I had ever seen before. They were dressed in black and had shaved heads. They were clean and well-groomed, unlike most monks I had encountered. Their faces were stern, and their eyes were dark and menacing. They wore heavy gloves, and they had strange devices that resembled smaller versions of our muskets. We were told that the Pope had sent them to assist us in our conquest. Their leader, a tall man named Brother Dominic, was the one who informed us that the Pope had plans to build an iron road to connect the Holy Roman Empire and Rome, forging the core of the new Christian Commonwealth. Our work was necessary to fulfill the divine will of the Almighty.

Dominic then turned and pointed his finger at a man from the town, who had come forward with a large group of peasants. The man had a long white beard and was wearing a robe and a cross around his neck.

"That is a heretic, and he must die!" Dominic shouted.

"But he is a priest, a holy man!" I said.

"He is no man of God. His ilk calls themselves Protestants, they are idol worshipers. They believe the Bible is wrong, and they deny the will of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost," Dominic responded.

"You are lying, you are a heathen. You have no respect for the Lord," the priest shouted, as Dominic pulled out his weapon and shot the man in his stomach, causing his body to fall to the ground.

"We are the only true believers. You are a traitor, a heretic, a nonbeliever, a demon," Dominic continued, as he shot a woman in the head who was standing next to the priest. She had been trying to help the priest.

"We are the servants of God. We have been given the authority and power to execute justice on His behalf," Dominic proclaimed.

"Who are you to judge me? Who gave you the right to kill me?" the priest demanded, as he rose to his feet and charged at Dominic, his blood splashing on the ground.

Dominic calmly raised his pistol and fired at the priest's head, causing his body to fly backward and land in a heap.

"Those who deny the truth shall be killed by the hand of God. We are his holy executioners. You are his instrument. The Almighty has shown us the truth, and it is the only truth. All those who oppose us are doomed," Dominic stated.

I looked around, and I saw my fellow Crusaders standing in awe. They had not seen anything like this before. A few were shaking, and some were crying. There was power in this monk's words and truth in his actions. All my doubts and fears washed away from me as I knelt before Brother Dominic, along with the other soldiers near me. All my life, I felt unworthy, felt wrong for my desires, and felt like I needed to serve a higher purpose to atone. Here before men of such conviction, I had seen the light of God and could feel absolute power in the fear they created as the other Protestants had begun to wail and cry for forgiveness after the death of their false priest and his female disciple.

"Brother Dominic, I beg you, allow me to serve the Lord. I wish to cleanse myself through heretic blood," I cried out.

"Your sins have been absolved, brother. You may rise. You will serve the Almighty with your sword and your gun. Your body and mind are now His, to use and dispose of as He wills," Dominic replied.

"I am ready to die for His glory. I am His tool," I said.

"Very good. Now, rise. Go forth and continue His will," Dominic commanded.

I rose and turned to face the other soldiers, and they were kneeling as well, asking for forgiveness. I was not the only one who had a moment of epiphany. We were all the instruments of the Almighty, and we were all ready to do His will.

We stayed in Diez for a week, and we helped the townspeople prepare for their new life as part of the Christian Commonwealth. The monks showed us how to make explosives, and we used them to blow up large trees, clearing land around the town. They also showed the townspeople how to process iron ingots into steel, so they began building steel beams for the iron road to connect our new Christian Kingdom.

Brother Dominic had orders for us to march further north to the city of Bonn, which would require a long siege to take due to their fortified position and reinforced slanted walls, which prevented sappers from destroying the fortification. As we marched north, the land changed. It was no longer a flat plain, but it became hilly and rocky. Our tanks were struggling to move over the rough terrain, and our cannons were not as accurate. It was not long before the enemy launched their counteroffensive against us. They had heard of our victories and knew that the only way to survive was to push back our attack.

We fought many battles and won some and lost others. We did not always win, and we suffered casualties, but our determination never wavered. We knew that our mission was divine and our cause was righteous. The Almighty was guiding us, and we would not fail.

One day, I was leading my troops on an attack when a bullet pierced my leg. I fell, and a medic ran over to me. The medic was a young boy, no older than fifteen. He looked terrified, and I could tell he had not seen battle.

"Please don't die! Please don't die! Please don't die!" he cried.

"Calm down. It's only a scratch," I said, as I tried to reassure him.

"No, it's not. You're going to die! You're bleeding, and you'll die! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" the boy continued.

"Calm down. It's okay. Just relax. I'm going to be fine," I said, as the medic started sobbing.

We had been reinforced on our march to Bonn with recruits, including medics, who had never seen battle like this boy. He probably had just treated several badly injured Holy Crusaders, who did not survive the cuts and leeches to clear the bad blood. He was such a soft boy and should not be in battle.

"What is your name, Medic? I am Pietro di Fera," I told him.

"I am Giovanni di Roma. I am so sorry, sir. I should have known better," the boy sobbed.

"Shhhh, it is alright. Now, please take care of me, Giovanni. I promise not to die. Now, where is your commander?" I asked him.

"I do not know, sir. They sent us ahead, and we got separated," Giovanni replied.

"Alright, I will send a messenger. Now, you have done a good job, and you are a very brave boy. I know you are scared, but I need you to continue treating my leg. Can you do that?" I asked him.

Giovanni nodded and grabbed some bandages. He started cleaning the wound and applying a tourniquet. The pain was excruciating, and I winced, but I could tell Giovanni was doing a good job. He was very thorough and seemed to know what he was doing.

"Good work, Giovanni. You have a gift for this. If I did not know better, I would say you were a doctor," I complimented.

"Thank you, sir," Giovanni replied.

We stayed like this for a few minutes, until a runner arrived and informed me that reinforcements were coming. The medic took a break and went to tend to the wounded soldiers nearby. I could see him working, and I could tell he was trying hard. It was admirable. I had heard about the new training techniques of the Medici family, but seeing this boy work made me realize that these boys were not just trained, but were truly capable and compassionate.

A few hours later, the reinforcements arrived. I was able to walk. The reinforcements consisted of a tank unit and a few hundred infantrymen. I was greeted by my commander, who saw my bandaged leg and laughed.

"You look like hell, Fera," he said.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," I replied.

"Good work, son. We've got a long way to go before this campaign is over," he said.

"Yes, sir. I'm ready to fight, sir," I replied.

"Good. Now get some rest. We have a long march tomorrow," he said, before leaving.

I walked back to the camp and collapsed on my bed. However, I could not sleep as my thoughts went back to Giovanni, who I knew was still nervously tending to the injured in the medic's tent, which was the loudest in the camp due to the screams and cries of horror as the medics amputated infected limbs to save the soldiers. I left my tent and followed the awful noises to find Giovanni, who was breathing heavily outside the medic's tent. He looked up at me and smiled.

"I hope I did a good job, sir. I have been learning how to do this from an older medic, and I have practiced on animals, but this is the first time I have seen an actual injury. Please forgive me if I hurt you. I have not had a chance to practice with people," Giovanni said.

"Do not worry. You did a wonderful job, and I appreciate it. However, you look exhausted. Why don't you get some rest?" I replied.

"Thank you, sir, but I can only take a small break. The other medics are all rotating after a long day of tending to the injured, so they will require a break as well. We have had to sacrifice our sleeping tents for additional bedding for the injured. The commander said we are moving out in the morning," Giovanni replied.

"I see. Well, would you like to share my tent tonight, even briefly? I could use the company, and you can tell me more about your training," I said.

"Thank you, sir, but it is against the rules of our holy order," Giovanni said, shyly.

"Nonsense. You will be safer with me than out here in the open. I have been blessed by our lord, and nothing bad can happen to you," I insisted.

"If you say so, sir," Giovanni said.

"Good, follow me," I said and led him to my tent.

I lit a lantern, and we sat down on my bed. Giovanni looked around, and his eyes widened. He looked at the walls, the floor, and the ceiling.

"You have a beautiful tent, sir. It's bigger than any other tent I've seen," he said.

"Thank you. The commanders and officers each have their own tents, and I am a ranking officer, so they gave me a bigger one. It is quite comfortable. So, tell me, Giovanni, where did you come from?" I asked.

"I was born in Rome. My father was a tailor, and my mother was a seamstress. We lived in a small house in the Trastevere district, and I spent my days playing in the streets. When I was eight, my father died, and my mother sent me to a monastery. They taught me Latin and how to read several languages. After that, I joined the Holy Crusaders as the monks were rallied to do battle for the Pope," Giovanni said.

"Is obligation to the Church why you joined the Holy Crusaders?" I asked.

"Well, no, sir. To be honest, I wanted to join the Holy Crusaders because I thought they were the most glorious warriors. I had heard stories of their victories and their strength in battles for the Church across the world. I wanted to be a part of that," Giovanni said.

"Ah, yes, the glory and adventure of being a warrior," I said, wistfully.

"Yes, sir. But after my first battle, I realized that I was not strong or brave enough. I was scared and confused. Then, the medic found me, and he took me under his wing. He taught me how to clean and dress wounds. He taught me how to identify poison and what herbs could cure illnesses. He showed me how to treat broken bones and cuts. He taught me all kinds of things. I think I learned more from him than I did in the monastery. And then, one day, the commander called me and the other medics forward. He told us that we were not to be soldiers, but were to be healers. We were to help the sick and wounded, and we were to treat them with kindness and compassion. We were to be in the hands of the Lord, and we were to heal those who needed healing. I was so honored and excited," Giovanni said, smiling brightly.

I slowly removed my trousers and revealed my naked thigh, where Giovanni had tightly wrapped his tourniquet. Revealing my bare flesh to the boy had excited my manhood to its full length, Giovanni noticed and blushed.

"I need your assistance, Medic. Can you please help me again?" I asked him.

"O-Of course, sir. But are you sure you do not need a real doctor? I do not think I can do much for your leg," Giovanni stammered.

"Nonsense. Your medical knowledge is quite impressive for one so young, and you have already done a great service to me. I want to reward you," I said and leaned back.

"R-reward me? But you do not have to do that, sir. I was just doing my job," Giovanni replied, still blushing.

"It is the least I can do for a talented boy like you," I said and pulled his face down to mine.

He let out a small squeak and tried to resist, but I held him firmly.

"Shhhh, it is alright. I know you are scared, but it is time for your lesson," I whispered.

"What are you talking about?" Giovanni asked as he struggled against my grip.

"Do not be afraid, Medic. I am a warrior, and you are a healer. I am going to show you what it feels like to have the hands of a warrior. Do not worry, I will be gentle. You are safe with me," I said, before releasing him.

He pulled away and looked at me with a mix of confusion and fear.

"What are you going to do to me, sir?" Giovanni asked, his voice shaking.

"Nothing that you will not enjoy. Now, sit next to me," I ordered, and he obeyed.

I placed my hand on his knee and slowly slid it up his thigh, causing him to shiver.

"Do not be afraid. I am going to show you what it is like to feel a man's touch," I said and moved my hand higher, cupping his genitals through his robes.

He whimpered and tried to pull away, but I held him in place.

"No, Medic. Stay here. Do not be afraid. You will like this," I said and kissed him on the lips.

He whimpered and trembled but did not resist. I released him and began unbuttoning his shirt, exposing his smooth, hairless chest.

"Please, sir, don't do this. Please don't hurt me," Giovanni begged.

"Do not worry, Medic. I am not going to hurt you. Now, just relax and let me touch you," I said and slid his shirt off his shoulders.

His skin was soft and warm, and his nipples were hard. I kissed them and ran my tongue over them. He shivered and moaned softly.

"Good boy. Now, you are a smart boy, so tell me what this is?" I asked as I grasped his manhood.

"I-I do not know, sir," Giovanni said.

"Come, Medic, tell me. This is your body, you know what it is called," I insisted.

"I-it is my penis," Giovanni said, timidly.

"That is correct, Medic. Now, what do you call the fluid that is leaking from the tip?" I asked.

"It is my ejaculate," Giovanni replied.

"Good boy. Now, do you know why it is leaking from your penis?" I asked.

"N-no, sir," Giovanni replied.

"You have not yet learned that the male body produces this fluid when it is aroused. The sensation of touch and pleasure causes the body to produce this fluid. Do you understand?" I asked.

"Y-yes, sir," Giovanni replied.

"Very good, Medic. You are a quick learner. Now, do you know what happens when the male body produces this fluid?" I asked.

"No, sir," Giovanni replied.

"Tell me, Medic, why is there so much fluid leaking from your penis?" I asked, teasing him.

"I-I do not know, sir," Giovanni replied.

"Think, Medic. You have not yet learned about reproduction, but surely you must have some idea," I said.

"I-I do not know, sir, the monks were all celibate holy men," Giovanni said.

"Hmmm, perhaps you do not. Well, you will learn now, Medic," I said and kissed him again.

He whimpered and squirmed, but I did not stop. My hand worked his member, while my other hand caressed his chest and belly. He moaned and arched his back. His eyes were closed and his breath was quick.

"You are enjoying this, Medic. Good," I whispered and moved my hand lower.

"S-sir, please stop. This is quite sinful, I don't want to be a sodomite," Giovanni said.

"But Medic, it is not sodomy if neither of us enter each other. It is not sinful if we do not lie in bed together as we do with a woman. It is not sinful if we both desire this. It is not sinful if it is pleasurable. It is not sinful if it is mutual," I explained.

"I-I suppose not," Giovanni agreed.

"Then, let us continue," I said and pushed his trousers down.

I kissed his belly and then took his member into my mouth. He gasped and shuddered.

"S-sir, what are you doing?" he cried out.

"Shhh, Medic, just enjoy the feeling. Just let me make you feel good," I whispered.

He groaned and arched his back. I felt his hands grasp my head, and I heard him moan.

"Can...Can I make you feel good too, sir?" Giovanni asked quietly.

"Why, of course, Medic. But you must learn to relax," I replied.

He nodded and I pulled him on top of me so that he was straddling my lap with his warm mouth as I aligned his manhood to my lips. He started by licking and kissing my manhood.

"Mmmmm, Medic, that is good. Keep going," I said and took his member into my mouth again.

He moaned and shivered.

"Good, Medic. Now, stroke me," I said.

He obeyed and began stroking my manhood.

"Aaahhhh, yes, Medic. Just like that. Now, suck on it," I said.

He hesitated but then obeyed. He took my member into his mouth and began sucking on it.

"Aaaahhhh, yes, Medic. That is good. Keep going," I said and resumed licking his.

He moaned and writhed, and I could feel his manhood twitching in my mouth.

"You are enjoying this, Medic. Good," I whispered.

His breathing was heavy and his moans were muffled. He was close.

"Medic, are you ready?" I asked.

"What, sir?" Giovanni replied.

"I will count to three, and we will both release our seed. One, two, three!"

"Aaaahhhhh, Sirrrrr," Giovanni moaned as his seed spilled out of his manhood into my mouth, and mine into his.

I swallowed his seed, and he did the same. It was a bit bitter, but it was not unpleasant.

"There, Medic, was that not enjoyable?" I asked, after a few moments of silence.

"Yes, sir. But we must never do this again. It is too sinful," Giovanni said.

"Very well, Medic. Now, let us sleep. We will have a long march tomorrow," I said, and he lay down on the bed.

We did not say another word, but soon he fell asleep. I kissed him on the forehead and held him in my arms. He was so innocent and pure, and it was my duty to protect him.

The next day, we marched north towards the city of Bonn, which was heavily fortified and protected by a river. We were ordered to construct a bridge so we could cross the river and siege the city. The commander was a stern man and demanded swift progress, even if it meant using our blood to make the bridge. We built a makeshift bridge and crossed it with our army after suffering heavy losses from enemy cannon fire.

The city was a walled city, and the defenders were waiting for us. They fired upon us as soon as we reached the outskirts. We fought a fierce battle, but we were able to hold our ground and begin the siege.

We took the city after a year-long siege, which was broken when our air fleet arrived and began bombing the interior of the city. The sight of our airships filled with hundreds of explosives was like an avenging angel delivering God's divine justice against these heretics. The defenders fought hard, but they were no match for our weapons, which could cut down more of their forces than they could ours. The commander led the charge into the city, and the defenders surrendered.

The commander was a ruthless man, and he ordered us to put all the surviving defenders to the sword. The men cried and begged, but the commander was unmoved. He had us line up the defenders and had us stab them to death. They were all adherents of the Protestant faith, traitors to the Church, and enemies of God's future Christian Commonwealth. We slaughtered the defenders, and then we set the city ablaze with the aid of our airships. Bonn was a hindrance, not a strategic target to capture for God's plans.

After the battle, the commander called me forward.

"Well done, Fera. Your men are strong and loyal. You have proven yourself a fine officer," the commander said.

"Thank you, sir," I said.

"Would you like to be promoted? How would you like to lead a company?" the commander asked.

"Sir, that would be an honor. Thank you, sir," I said.

"You earned it, Fera. Now, go and prepare your men. We will march north soon to Cologne. We will have another battle, and more glory awaits us," the commander said.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," I said and saluted.

I turned and left the commander, and my mind was spinning. I had been promoted to company Captain. It was the next rank an officer could achieve. I would have command of over 100 soldiers, composing several tanks and musket units.

I was ecstatic but also nervous. The war was taking a toll on all of us, and the stress and fear were starting to get to me. I knew the commanders were pushing us hard, and I feared they were going to break us. In times like these, I found comfort in the arms of Giovanni, who had become my lover. He was a beautiful boy, with pale skin, golden hair, and deep blue eyes. I had fallen in love with him, and I did not know how much longer we could last.

After the fall of Bonn, the Pope was pleased. Our armies had conquered the Rhine, and we had brought many heretics to justice. We had also brought their lands and cities under the control of the Church. We were heroes, and we were being treated as such. However, Giovanni and I knew that we could never be lovers in the open. The Church may tolerate our behavior up to a point, but we were both expected to marry women and father children. The idea of leaving Giovanni added to my dread and fears.

One night, I could not sleep, so I went for a walk. I wandered the camp and saw that everyone was asleep. Everyone except for Giovanni, who was standing outside his tent. He looked nervous, and he kept looking around. He saw me and motioned for me to come over. I went to him and saw that he had a bottle of wine in his hand.

"What are you doing, Medic?" I asked.

"I sneaked this bottle of wine away from the commander's stores," he answered mischievously.

"You should not be stealing, Medic. You could get in trouble," I scolded him.

"It is alright, sir. It is just one bottle. The commander has plenty. He won't even notice," Giovanni replied.

"I am a bad influence on you," I said with a wide grin.

"Nonsense, sir. I stole this for you," Giovanni replied.

"Why? Are you trying to seduce me?" I asked, jokingly.

"Perhaps," Giovanni said, winking at me.

"Whatever happened to the innocent boy, who grew up in a monastery?" I questioned and embraced Giovanni, helping him hide the wine better under my officer's winter coat.

"He was corrupted by a handsome soldier," Giovanni whispered in my ear.

"Is that so? Well, perhaps I should punish him," I teased.

"Perhaps you should," Giovanni replied.

"Come with me," I said and led him away from the camp.

We walked for a while, and then we found a spot to rest. We sat down and opened the bottle of wine.

"I have been thinking about you, sir," Giovanni said as we took a sip of the wine.

"Oh? What about me?" I asked.

"Well, you are so brave and strong. I wish I could be like you," Giovanni replied as he began indulging in the wine.

"You can. You just need some confidence. You are a good man and a good medic. You are a hero. Do not doubt yourself," I told him.

"I...I wish I was brave enough to ask you to leave Italy with me and take a ship bound for the Americas," Giovanni blurted out in a rush as he drank a pull of wine.

"You wish for us to run away? But the Church would hunt us down. We would be killed," I said, shocked.

"I know, but it is better than dying on a never-ending crusade, isn't it? Did you hear what happened to Stuttgart, the rebels recaptured it," Giovanni said.

"I...I did not. But...what would we do in the Americas? Where would we live?" I asked.

"Well, the islands are mostly uninhabited, except for a few sugar cane farmers, since they don't have much gold. We could make a decent life together as farmers, maybe have a little family between the two of us," Giovanni suggested, his eyes full of hope.

"Giovanni, I am a warrior. I am a captain in the Holy Crusaders. This is who I am. This is who you fell in love with. I cannot abandon my faith. I cannot abandon the Pope's crusade. This is my destiny. This is who I am," I told him.

"Sir...you know the war is never going to end. The Spanish have sworn fealty to the Church, in exchange for weapons. The Spanish sent armies on new campaigns in Africa and the lands of the Muslims for rivers of black water. There will always be a crusade, there will always be an excuse to kill the heathen and heretic. Please, let’s go away," Giovanni pleaded.

"I cannot. I will not. I have a duty to the Church, and I will not abandon her. If you truly love me, then you will understand. Now, finish the wine and return to your tent. We will march at dawn," I said and stood up. Part of me knew he was right, knew these campaigns that the Pope was sending his various Christian soldiers on would never end. There would always be a crusade, a holy war, or an extermination, but my heart was with the Church and the Pope. I left him to finish the wine and returned to my tent. That was the last time I spoke to Giovanni.

We marched north again, and the cold winds were harsh. The snow was deep, and the trees were barren. We had left the green forests behind, and we were marching into the land of ice and death.

Before we reached Cologne, the rebels began raiding our army's rear supply columns. One of our company captains had neglected to set up flanking forces to protect our supply unit, so a sortie from the rebels caught us off-guard. Despite the frigid temperatures, they were able to perform a full charge with lightly armored knights and massacred hundreds of our troops, including Giovanni.

When I heard of his death, I was enraged. I had seen the bodies of my friends and comrades. I had seen the bodies of innocent women and children. I had seen the bodies of those who were too old or too young to fight. I had seen the bodies of those who were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. But when I saw Giovanni's body, I felt as if my soul had been ripped out of me. His face was pale, and his eyes were closed. He had died quickly, and he had died with a smile on his face.

I wanted revenge. I wanted to kill the rebels who had killed my beloved. I wanted to see them suffer and die. In haste to seek vengeance, I led my company to strike at the enemy camp, which our scouts had discovered. I marshaled men, equipment, and tanks to charge at them. However, when we reached the camp no one was there, except one familiar boy with red hair.

"Hello, Pietro. You are a fool," the boy said in broken Italian.

"I-it cannot be," I exclaimed.

"Do you not remember the acrobat that you took as a whore," the boy said as he lit a short fuse to a barrel that he was sitting on top of in the middle of the camp. I reacted too late.

The boy disappeared in the explosion and a cloud of fire consumed the camp, but the force of the blast only knocked me back as I was sitting inside my tank.

Many of my men perished and I was injured. The explosion had damaged our light tanks tanks' wheels that were not armored like the rest of its body. My remaining men and I retreated on foot after the explosion as a result. As we retreated, we were ambushed by the rebels. We fought bravely, but we were vastly outnumbered. My men were killed one by one, and I was the last one left.

I was surrounded by the enemy and they were closing in on me. I was tired and wounded, and I knew I could not hold out much longer. One of the soldiers charged me from the back, while I was concentrating on fighting his comrades in front. His sword pierced my chest and I knew it was a mortal wound.

"I followed the course; I kept the faith. God, forgive me. I could not save my men," I muttered before I was struck down by a dozen soldiers.

The last thing I thought before it all faded was how beautiful the snow was and how Giovanni would have enjoyed this sight with me.