2nd imperium fleet.
Flagship Cihaz Heartstrider
Aetesian sea.
December 3, 1773.
| 3:21 PM | 15:21:00 Hours |
The salty wind from the northern Artesian Sea, icy and cold, rushed across the deck of the armoured battlecruiser. The ship pushed ahead, its steel hull cutting through towering waves as it steamed toward the meeting point designated by the joint forces of two superpowers. There, representatives of the Aetesians would meet them to discuss recent developments. Tensions were running high among the crew, and even the captain saw the diplomatic rendezvous as a cowardly gesture in the face of growing conflict.
The relentless pounding of waves made the journey gruelling, with many soldiers battling seasickness. Less affected others spent their time singing and laughing, their voices mixing with the ocean's roar. However, for most, the monotony of the voyage weighed heavily. Conversations dragged, and boredom set in as the ship pressed on.
On the open bridge, the captain and the executive officer (XO) spread the map, planning their route. The icy wind brought with it sprays of seawater that clung to their coats. Suddenly, a shout cut through the din of the elements.
"Warship! Forty degrees starboard side!" The spotter's voice came through the magical communication orb mounted above the bridge.
The XO straightened up, adjusting his binoculars. Peering through the lens, he saw a dark silhouette of a vessel against the horizon. There was no question that it was a warship. He lowered his binoculars and looked to the captain with a firm yet urgent tone in his voice.
"Sir, a warship has been sighted. Should we tell our lord?"
The captain’s eyes narrowed as he considered the report. After a moment, he gave a curt nod. "Of course. I’ll see to it personally."
Without another word, he descended from the bridge, his coat billowing behind him as the tension aboard the ship thickened like the gathering clouds above. From the deck into the button parts of the interior of the ship was a different change of pace; sailors passed by while the constant sound of echoing commands could be heard around and the gathering of soldiers and men endlessly, waiting for the time to pass.
Midway, he enters the captain's quarters, personally modified for the emperor to rest upon. Two royal guards watch the door, seeing the rank and being the captain of the ship. The guard shortly salutes and immediately gives him a pass, as a formal discussion can be heard from the room.
There, his advisor Draco gives out military intelligence reports to generals and admirals to learn about the recent events as they talk about the recent military operation as the unfortunate news was brought upon.
"These Russian Federation forces have successfully pushed most of the 2nd Rapid Amphibious Army out of the landing zone. Casualty reports remain undisclosed, but survivors estimate that we lost at least 3,000 soldiers during the offensive, along with several destroyers and one Imperium-class battleship. The grim news hung heavy in the air.
"As for General Fehlinger and the southern forces, they stand at the ready. Intelligence coming out of Alervon says an invasion across the mainland is pretty much guaranteed. We will see to it that it never happens…"
Prince Gourment's face clouded, listening. They'd lost so many men; it was almost unbearable. He had misjudged his enemy by overestimating himself in the first place. Being one of the last heirs to sit on the throne, he purged the nobility and the remaining scions from power in order to get rid of the potential claimants. But now he felt overwhelmed with paranoia. His twitching eyes and nervous fingers gave away his agitation.
The generals exchanged uneasy glances but did not say anything. His closest advisor, Draco, placed a steadying hand on his shoulder.
"My lord…"
Gourment shrugged off Draco’s arm with a scowl. “I’m fine… just didn’t sleep well last night,” he muttered, his voice laced with irritation. “Losing one battleship isn’t catastrophic. Besides, the Jylonians didn’t even grant us a proper dreadnought—just an outdated relic they considered obsolete. We’ve spent far too much relying on foreign arms dealers. That has to change.”
Returning his eyes to the assembled generals, his tone turned biting. "I have heard enough of the battle report. General Fehlinger will be in charge of recovery in the south. Bring the previous general back to the capital for a debriefing—his defeat is duly noted. In the meantime, the 4th Imperial Northern Army will drive back these Russians and ensure that no more enter. They may have superior armaments, but no amount of firepower can outdo hundreds of thousands of our troops.".
"Make sure our armoured trains and coastal guns remain on high alert. Should these peace talks falter, we must be prepared. One setback doesn't spell total defeat for the entire operation. And as for our Jylonian allies…" He sneered, "They make it seem hopeless because they lack the resolve to stand against a foe they perceive as stronger. The Jylonians have no pride.". They bow to strength, which is why the Holy Empire still controls Northern Cyax Island after two decades under their thumb.
Dracos compliments the prince's words, and shortly afterwards gourmet continues. “This is an example of why supernations middling in your own interest makes it hard for one to become powerful… even the thurmifiman empire aren't interested in getting themselves involved in this operation and that fucking slut suggested that I have to lay down my weapons and resolve on a more peaceful solution… FUCK THAT”
This whole side mission to see the Japanese delegation—and perhaps the Americans—was hypocritical to him, but Draco did not dare say it out loud. Still, he could not deny the obvious: Prince Gourment's ego was as big as the room they were in. Everyone in the room could see it. The generals had no power and certainly no will to stand up against him. They were bound to do everything he said. Little else was there to do but obey.
The Prince ended his rant with his sharp tone, cutting through the uneasy silence, as he made his next decree.
“I don’t intend to let these superpowers dictate the outcome of this war. The 5th Aerial Bombing Force will take some of the Jylonian bombers stationed at Acevedo Airbase and launch an assault on Sollan. We’ll target the one asset the Alervons have that matters. From there, we’ll initiate the second phase of operations and ensure this godforsaken war ends in our favor.”
Gasps and murmured protests rippled through the room. Many officials seemed shocked-even horrified-by the audacity of the plan. But to the inner circle of generals whom Prince Gourment trusted, there was no surprise. Draco knew the Prince had been planning this move for weeks, carefully piecing it together through intelligence reports and the work of his spies. The supposed ceasefire negotiated for this meeting was just a shield, a convenient cover to ensure the bombers could strike without resistance. Gourment had no intention of playing fair, and Draco knew he wouldn't let the opportunity slip through his fingers.
As murmurs grew louder among the officials, the higher members of the court remained silent. Their stoic faces betrayed nothing of their inner thoughts. He knew they digested the severity of the words of the Prince.
In all the commotion, Prince Gourment caught the eye of the captain of the flagship Cihaz Heartstrider. He stepped forward carefully neutral in face, though an eyebrow was raised above the bridge.
Japanese delegate escorts spotted, portside," the captain reported in a low voice. "Shall I prepare your boat, my lord?"
Gourment responded with no words of the sort, only nodding his head in acknowledgement. The captain saluted sharply and exited the chamber, wherein the rest of the room yet possessed murmurs and various discussions.
The Prince sat there unmoving, his eyes icy and unforgiving as the conversations around him swirled like the buzzing of flies. Draco watched the silence fall, his gaze unblinking. The wheels were now set in motion; no one could stop them—no one should stop them. The others continued to mumble and voice their confused, doubtful words. The patience of Draco was wearing thin, and he shot a look at Prince Gourment. With barely a gesture, the Prince silenced the room. The chatter dissipated, and all eyes turned toward him.
"We will continue this on the mainland. Intelligence has confirmed that the Jylonian Republic is likely preparing to withdraw its military units. We will not let that valuable military equipment go to waste. Some of your forces will be tasked with ensuring the Jylonians surrender their weapons while their soldiers and civilians retreat."
A voice from the ranks hesitated, then spoke. "Wouldn't Ambassador Rustler and the Blue House see this as a threat? They might even side with Alervon and launch an invasion against us."
"They might," the Prince responded calmly. "But since the Jylonians do not control any strategic outpost on the Northern Fifth Continent, I don't think they'll risk standing up to us especially when they'll surely be hit on the flank from the Hindoe Kingdom. Our envoys and gendarmes have already deserted. Spies say that some of their warships and many of their troops in reserve, are mobilising for a strong attack."
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"But hitting their airbase still feels like an invasion of our territory. How does this benefit us?" another officer challenged.
Just as the debate was building, Prince Gourment intervened. "Once we neutralise the battalion at that airbase, we will secure the victory and push the beastmen out. Keep Colonel McStandley in the dark about this. The only information I've received from Rustler suggests they are likely reducing their forces. General Gigrely's recon has confirmed that some of their units are already heading toward the port. This will leave their forces at the airbase significantly lighter."
A few whispered among themselves, divided by the prince's plan. Some wondered if this attack was a wise move, while others fell in line, but the accord felt shallow. The generals shared glances of pretend assent. They all knew the Jylonians were not to be trusted, but letting the Hindoe Kingdom march into the Jylonian continent was one thing too far. The Russians were one thing, but the Hindoes? They could not advance unchecked. Draco knew this was just another piece in the larger geopolitical puzzle, and he could sense that the delicate dance of diplomacy was about to become far more complicated.
As the conversation wore on, Draco's eyes drifted toward the side of the ship. Through two small portholes he could see the looming shadows of Japanese warships in the distance. They had finally reached the place. The plan was set in motion—now came the big approach.
———
Flagship Battleship JN Yamato.
| 4:43 PM | 16:43:00 Hours |
There was a look from the powerful waves that met my vision as I stood there, my face as hard as steel, scanning the view in front of me—the pride of the Japanese navy. Hundreds of sailors lined both the starboard and port sides, with faces showing equal parts determination and anticipation. The murmurs of unfamiliar voices droned through the air, and my own officers looked stunned by the view. One of them whispered with great awe, "My God. What. is this warship?
The monstrous ship was moored, a small floating dock projecting back from the arrears of the battleship. Two men in immaculate white uniforms stood waiting for me. I met their eyes with a sharp, piercing glance, but they appeared indifferent, their attention on their work as my little boat drew near. My task force surrounded us, and the view of the Japanese warships surrounding my escorts was not lost on me. My vice admiral, ever watchful, quickly realized the gravity of the situation.
"My lord!" he called out, concern in his voice. "These people are manoeuvring in a way that could force us into their control!"
Prince Gourmet, ever calm and composed, dismissed the warning with a mutter, "Only the weak see danger in the worst of things, but the strong always find a solution."
As we docked, the Japanese sailors quickly hurried over to help us. I saw several of them armed with submachine guns, though I could not identify their type. We disembarked from the boat and walked up the short staircase to the deck, followed by my officers. When I got to the top, I was received by two high-ranking members from the Japanese state.
The officers bowed low with a wide grin, though this was tempered in their faces. "Welcome to the Battleship Yamato," one of them said, with smooth politeness, his voice polished with polite formalities. Both of them bowed again in the gesture of courtesy. I repeated the same act, and quiet satisfaction spread across their faces when I did so. My officers, following my lead, did the same, and the atmosphere lightened slightly, though the underlying tension remained palpable.
Two Japanese officials spoke, and the Japanese admiral bowed in formal greeting and introduced himself. "Vice Admiral Kenji Nakamura, I command the 2nd Fleet, Dai-ni Kantai, and serve as a representative of the Japanese Admiralty. Our Prime Minister awaits your arrival in the command control room. Please, let me escort you," he said, his voice steady and commanding.
The insignia on his uniform told of his high rank, and though his face was worn with age, his energy was youthful, his sharp eyes and steady, deadpan voice betraying the experience of a seasoned warrior. It was clear from his demeanor—like a brave dog standing firm against a tiger—that he wasn't intimidated by my presence. I respected his boldness, although many of my own men did not, and they knew why he was doing it-to cover up the tension. Still, I did not let them make a scene, for we were going into a sensitive situation.
We followed Captain Nogami and Vice Admiral Nakamura as they took us further into the warship. Our gaze, immediately cast upon Yamato's third rear battery, fell on those giant 18-inch naval guns looming like horizon giants. And as we stood, our amazement grew as the ground we were on began to slowly descend: an elevator.
Then close to my left, Draco spoke in a barely audible whisper to my ear: "Shall we advance the operation while here? Delay no longer?"
I looked at him with a firm disagreement. "No. A few hours will make all the difference. We will use that time wisely. Instruct the mainland to prepare, but I am not going to waste one moment aboard this ship. Do whatever needs to be done to make our position clear to the Artesian Empire."
The heavy metallic sound of the helicopter elevator reverberated through the air as it reached the hangar. Draco nodded, then turned and walked in the direction of the medium-sized hangar found beneath the Battleship Yamato. We kept going, passing through watertight doors, the tension rising with each step closer we made to the Prime Minister's quarters.
The corridor was long ahead of us, sailors standing at attention, whispering to one another as we walked by. Tension hung almost palpably in the air, and Vice Admiral Nakamura stopped, stepping aside, letting me go ahead.
"Our Prime Minister awaits, my lord," he said, his voice calm but purposeful.
I smiled; my words meant more for me than anyone else. "May our countries live on," I said, a courteous lie to veil the complexity of our ambitions. Both the Vice Admiral and Captain Nogami smiled, though it was clear that beneath the pleasantries, they, too, understood the weight of the moment.
The door to the command room slowly creaked open, and what lay behind it well may determine the course of the war.
Inside, a silent discussion was shared between Prime Minister Takahashi and Minister of Foreign Affairs Hirai Ko. The Prime Minister was being informed about the latest unfortunate events. "The yen won't last much longer. We must hasten exports and imports. The world market is lost, and consumer goods are breaking down. The worse it gets, the worse we'll operate."
"I know, Hirai Ko," the Prime Minister could only answer rather grimly. “Just find a way to inflate the currency. Meanwhile, our armed forces will destroy this failing nation. If things get worse, I’ll authorise Secretary of Defence Tinjo Kamaguria to send the eastern army to protect key government buildings. Japan isn’t what it used to be since the war with China, but we’ll ensure Japan retains its status as a superpower. Keep the currency stable, and our soldiers will return home with allies we can trade with."
Hirai Ko understood the Prime Minister's request. Inflating the yen to make it less worthless would keep Japan's currency functional. If the situation worsened—if Japan ended up like Colombia or one of the failing African nations—it would spell the end for Japan itself.
Minister Takahashi bowed a sign of respect before closing his tablet. Just as he turned it off, he looked up to see two marines opening the door for the arrival of the Prince Gourmet. The room rose to their feet in respect. The prince's gaze immediately fixed on the prime minister.
It was as if Japan, in its own right, had a monarchy; this was the opportunity. The Prince, along with his confidant, Draco, and his trusted generals, both admirals and generals, stepped inside. Prime Minister Daigo Takahashi stood tall but bowed low as he greeted him.
"Welcome aboard the battleship Yamato," he said with a low steady voice. "I am Prime Minister Daigo Takahashi."
Words came from a man with piercing red, cold eyes. Behind him, the flag of the Rising Sun fluttered proudly. There was an unsettling aura about these people—an air of secrecy, of hidden agendas—like they were planning something, something I couldn't quite grasp. The sensation of being caught in a trap lingered in the room. Unlike the beastmen, who let out their language, these people seemed more human in a way that unsettled and intrigued me at the same time. It was a moment of realization whether for better or for worse; I couldn't tell.
After introducing himself briefly, the man returned to his seat. I followed suit and introduced myself, and we both settled at the large table aboard the metal hulk of a ship. The conversation started casually, with both Prince Gourmet and Prime Minister Takahashi engaging in polite dialogue, seeking mutual understanding.
The first topic that arose was the initial contact between their forces. A historical incident, one that had seen the Japanese warship JN Hatakaze engaged in battle with a fleet from the Aetesians in the Sea of Japan. The Aetesians had referred to this stretch of water as the "Eastern Seaboard." A holographic projection of the event was displayed in front of us. Draco and Prince Gourmet marvelled at the advanced technology, especially Draco, who, turning to Gourmet, was clearly in awe of the device. Compared to something like a movie theatre screen, it was far more immersive and vibrant. Gourmet broke the silence, asking, “How come I wasn’t told about this warship?”
Draco, muttering in defence, replied, “We didn’t report it because it would’ve seemed unbelievable—how could a small warship like the Hatakaze have pushed back an entire fleet without sustaining damage? But seeing what our navy has done, I admit I should have informed you sooner, my lord. ”
“Tsk,” Gourmet spat out, irritation creeping into his voice. “Anything combat-related needs to be reported to me. I can’t be left in the dark about these matters!”
“My apologies, my lord,” Draco responded quickly, bowing his head.
At that point, Takahashi took his turn, clearing his throat to steer the conversation back to the issue at hand.
Gourmet turned toward him as he began his report. "At 1300 hours, JN Hatakaze was training in the Sea of Japan when it made contact with your warships. The crew report said that your forces were the first to open fire on the Hatakaze. They said the attack caused major damage to the warship." As Takahashi spoke, the projection moved on to the Hatakaze's images—a mass of great holes on the port side, its smokestacks peppered with damage and with the bridge windows shattered and cracked. In reply, Prince Gourmet hobbled forward as best he could to defend himself. His words flowed in tones not conciliatory but instead defence.
"I didn't know that your country's warships were anchored on the Eastern Seaboard. My intention in firing at the Hatakaze was to make it known that we had some ongoing issues with your men at that point."
Takahashi's face set in a stern line. "I don't know if I can accept that explanation, my lord. The crew of the Hatakaze reported that there were losses, and the damage was significant."
The tension in the room was palpable as both sides exchanged their accounts, each unwilling to budge on their version of events. Despite the growing unease, Prince Gourmet was the first to break the deadlock, sensing the time slipping away. He offered an unexpected proposition, one that would alter the course of their discussion.
"I can tell that neither of our nations seeks a larger war," Gourmet began, his voice steady. "Our nation’s primary interest is the Alervon Kingdom. Queen Savannah refused my offer of marriage to Princess Elizabeth, and after seeing the kingdom's support of the Hindoe Empire—allowing them to rebel against my forces—I gave them their independence. But now, I wish to make terms with your country. Minister Takahashi, my proposal is this: let our nations remain at peace and engage in trade. While my nation annexes Alervon, I will offer you the abundant resources Alervon holds, and we will pay for the damage caused to your warship, the JN Hatakaze. We will also fully withdraw from the island we mistakenly thought was part of your territory."
The proposal left Takahashi and the Japanese officers stunned. Draco, too, was caught off guard. This was not what he had anticipated. A ceasefire had been enough for Prince Gourmet to buy time, but now, annexing Alervon and placing Japan in a position of accepting this deal was something Draco never expected. He could already sense the dangerous consequences of this reckless offer.
Takahashi recovered first, shaking his head with disbelief. “This proposal is absurd, even for you, Prince Gourmet. Japan will not let its new allies become the property of the Aetesian Empire. Understand this clearly: Japan will make its own terms alongside Alervon and the United States. Your forces must withdraw from the Sakhalin Islands. You will pay the damages to our training ship, and you will sign a ceasefire agreement and a peace treaty between Alervon and your country."
The words stung, but Prince Gourmet’s resolve remained. He couldn’t accept this; surrendering to Japan’s demands was an option he would never entertain. He was already too deep in debt for the actions he had taken, and his pride would not allow him to yield. His gaze locked on Takahashi, wishing he could strike the man down for daring to tell him what to do. But keeping his composure, he refrained from any such action.
Instead, he took a deep breath. "I will consider your terms."
Takahashi didn’t flinch. "This is not something to take lightly, Prince Gourmet. We will wait for your decision. We will continue this discussion in Sollan's capital. I hope, by then, we will see your nation fulfill its obligations regarding Alervon."
With that, both leaders rose from their seats and exchanged a formal handshake. Prince Gourmet, with Draco and his officers, followed the guide out of the room. Once outside, whispers of their next steps began.
"The demands are ridiculous," Gourmet muttered. "Agreeing to them would make us look weak."
Dracos being a strategist himself countered, "But 72 hours is sufficient to make all the necessary adjustments. We should be getting some reports soon that the Jylonian bombers are being seized. We can continue with your plan."
Gourmet, still agitated, walked down the warship's corridor, deep in thought. The Jylonian forces wouldn’t be enough to turn the tide in their favor. It was becoming clear that the Aetesian Empire was isolated in this conflict. The terms and demands were heavily stacked against them, and they needed a new strategy.
He paused for a moment, turning to Draco. "Begin the first wave."
Draco nodded; he understood the gravity of the order. This was the start of the biggest military operation so far, and this clock was ticking. Everything would change in 72 hours.
The second war had begun.