"Women see their world on fire, men see the blaze of righteous fury. Indiscriminate collective punishment, just like what they did to us."

- Joachim Meyers, after his pirate group bombed and disrupted the Levantine Canal, where fifty percent of grain shipments to East Vaeyox passed through.

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Queen's Bunker

November 17, 2024

Amelie gave a passing read on the notice given by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs on her desk. The recent "Levantine Canal Bombing" incident was an utter disaster, to say the least. A flotilla of Orlish Rebel Captains decided to pay a visit to the same canal where a massive chunk of international shipping from West Vaeyox, Oppellia, and East Vaeyox passed through and gave it a thorough bombing that left five smoldering ships blocking the complex canal.

"Nations in East Vaeyox are now asking for Orland to divert grain shipments." The paper read. "Their population needs Oppelian Grain to survive until the crisis is resolved."

It made sense. Orland, being the most advanced industrial nation in the world, also held a massive share of the global agricultural market. The war in Orland disrupted it, yes, but most of the farming was done on the West Coast. Hopefully, she could divert some. East Vaeyox relied heavily on West Vaeyox's and Oppelia's food shipments since those nations weren't as advanced but had a bigger population (like the Hebeian Empire). And they also suffered from Civil Wars and Coups.

If I don't divert the West's food production, I'd be damning billions to famine. She began typing her instructions to Adelaide. Hopefully, she could hammer out something without threatening Orland's needs. She had a war on her own soil, of course, she needed everything for the war effort. But I won't damn people to starvation.

She looked back at her passing interaction with Princess Xue before the Orlish Civil War. It had been a long time since she talked to her, and she wondered how she was doing. She asked for military support by secret supply shipments back then, and Amelie agreed. But ever since the war started, it had naturally been promptly ended. Still, they were, truthfully, in a similar situation.

She sent her encrypted mail back to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Up to them to figure it out, she supposed. She had a battle to tend to. And today, she would go over there to get dirty, and figure out what to really do herself.

Figure it out, heh. She really wondered how that would be possible. She was no military strategist. She had no idea how things truly worked. And she thought she would do better than seasoned war veterans? Veterans like William, who saw what amounted to the closest thing to hell on Pollos?

"Are you ready?" Asked William as they prepared for the trip close to the established FOBs outside of Halia that supported the battles in the trenches. He placed her belongings on the back of his SUV.

"About as best as I can. I need to prioritize this battle over everything else." Amelie said. "I don't know if I can be of any help, but, perhaps…"

"You're going to see the front."

"That's my decision. I want to observe and react to everything as it happens. No more delayed reports. No more sitting behind screens for a while. I want to be a leader, William."

"You are."

"Not enough." William sighed to himself as the two boarded their SUV. From behind them, a convoy formed in their wake. It was William's men, all making up the main contingent of her security detail.

"We're just…we're just cannon fodder. That's the truth." His words still stung to her heart deeply. The fact that men truly viewed themselves that way when they looked up at women, left a deep hole in her view of women's self-ascribed righteousness.

She vowed to defend Halia at all cost, for her and her sister. Was that nothing but pure selfishness? These questions bore on her as the bumpy ride continued. William stayed silent, electing to focus on driving while stealing glances at Amelie. Eventually, he had enough of watching her mull herself to death.

"Hey, are you alright?" He asked.

"Not anywhere near as bad as our boys knee-deep in the trenches, that's for sure," Amelie said. "Not even close. Yes, I'm fine."

"Folks aren't really fine nowadays. It's normal to admit that, you know. Fear, it eats you. Like predator to prey. It's pointless to deny it."

"How…how do you men face those?"

"I'm quite sure if you place a woman in our position, it would be no more different." He laughed. "Granted, you ladies would probably be more on the desperate wand-waving side of things, but quite the same."

"They…the Putschists. They want an all-out assault soon, right?"

"Indeed. That's what the AFI indicated. All-out assault forward. It would be a pure bloodfest for both sides soon. Hell, with the frontlines solidified, tactical maneuvers would be limited. It would be a literal numbers game. He who breaks first loses, that's the name of the game."

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

"So nothing but brute force and attrition would matter?"

"Aside from a possible northern pincer and how we would respond, yes. Essentially, it would boil down to who gets to throw the most shells and bodies now. It's not even a question for the men below. They know it. And I'm afraid the fresh green ladies of the RGO won't know what hell is awaiting them. Won't fault them if they rout first."

Amelie looked to the side. A game of who could throw most lives away, and motivate masses of young men best to throw said lives away. How utterly psychotic. The idea alone sent an extreme revulsion to her. She was playing a game that ultimately required her to do all means to bathe her hands with the blood of young men and women.

"Could we…reduce the casualties at least?" Amelie asked, and William shook his head. "Why?"

"It's a pipedream. Once the assault begins, it will be trench after trench that will be taken over. Do you think we'd be able to evacuate the wounded when things are barely holding? As for them, the casualty ratios would not matter. Only the tempo of attacks. The faster they get through our defenses, the better. The mountain of dead would stop mattering as long as you can plug in bodies to replace them."

"William, even you sound deranged." Amelie chastised. "I'm tired of hearing you talk of lives so callously like that. These are people we are talking about."

"You think I don't know that?" William said. "I've seen the Great War, Amelie. I know what each life means. You think I haven't seen an entire battalion of my fellow brothers, many that I knew, some extremely close, all who mattered to me, get gunned down? I know that these people have lives. But what you should understand, is once the breaking point of warfare is reached – lives become cheap. No matter what moral and emotional crisis you go through, no philosophical ramblings would cut through that reality."

"War is expensive," Amelie concluded.

"But you will only see the bill once it is over. For now, all lives are cheap." William said. "That's the value mother warfare assigns when she reigns. You can cry through it, or accept its deranged nature. That's how we men face it." He smirked, and that sent a chill to Amelie's spine. "The Great War filtered out the weakest of men a long time ago, Amelie. All that's left now is the most deranged variety. The other side is willing to be deranged to win. And I am too."

"We will be nothing but monsters in the end if that is the path we choose, William. I refuse. We'll try our best to hold on, but no more deranged last stands of yours, or sacrificial delaying charges, or whatever. William, you will stop it." Her mind was clear. "If the other side will fight with insanity, with morale so non-existent it doesn't matter anymore, then we shall fight with integrity. Perhaps, if I send the right message to our troops and officers while I lead closer to the front, I can give them just that."

"That's your plan?"

Amelie smiled to herself. "I'm the Queen, Mister Porter. It's my job to motivate my people to the proper path. That has always been the case ever since Parliament took most of the daily duties. If I can't do that, then why should I keep sitting on my throne?"

"Well, you do have a point."

"As such, there is no point in you keeping those desperate tactics just to hold on. I'd do my best to serve my role as the Queen and inspire hope at the front. You do the maneuvers and tactics, I do the morale part."

"Well, seems like a good division of labor then." William grinned. "Let's do it."

But, that still left the question of how she could do that. Inspire hope at the front? That sounded way too vague for her to work with. She did have quite the oratory skills already, so she could do quite a lot of speaking in front of the officers and troops.

Of course, she couldn't speak to all of them. But her presence would spread like wildfire through the front. Word traveled quickly, and Amelie knew that once she started speaking and made her presence known at the front, they would know. They would start talking. They would all know that she was there with them.

Their Queen. The sole reason they were knee-deep in the muddy hell they called trenches to fight and die in. There was nothing more painful for a soldier than to die for some distant snobby rich royal woman they won't even know. She hoped to break that belief.

But, this could cost me my life. Amelie reminded herself. If they find out I'm out there, they will attempt once more to take me out. There were no limits to what the Putschists would do to win, she surmised. To kill a monarch was something they already did and would try again and again. She would be a ripe target. A target so tasty, for taking her out while she led in the front would collapse the Royalist cause like nothing else.

"You're thinking the same as I do, no?" William said again, breaking her from her thoughts.

"My security?"

"Yep. I think we'll get into a nasty incident with this one. I honestly would prefer it if you keep that wand of yours nice and ready. There's a lot of turncoats and hidden agents in our ranks."

"Really?" She didn't expect that. Well, she did, but…really? "You mean, many of our troops are potentially traitors."

"Heh, it's quite a morbid joke on our boys already. Both sides are filled with so many traitors in their ranks, that you wouldn't even know who really is a Putschist or a Royalist. They get mutinies that turn into violent shootouts because someone believed in you, we get mutinies that turn into violent shootouts because someone here believed Rimpler. That's what happens in a messy civil war."

"I suppose that makes sense." Subtly, Amelie checked the wand tucked into her skirt's wand pocket. Indeed, that was the only thing that gave her security. She definitely planned to draw it at light speed should trouble arise.

Suddenly, the distant rumbles intensified as if a thunderstorm of apocalyptic proportions arrived. Amelie looked up at the skies on the distant front ahead, and it was all almost lit up.

Goddess…it has begun.

"Seems like the shitfest is starting," William said. "No turning back now, Amelie."

"Indeed…" Victory or death – that's the only two things that await me now. Amelie gripped the wand in her pocket tighter as they drove forward to the raging storm ahead. All bridges behind me are now burned. I…have to win. "Are they responding?"

"As best as they can, I suppose."

"Then make haste. We'll do everything, William."

"Alright…I'll take your word for that, Amelie."

Amelie nodded. The storm ahead would be unforgiving, but to face it would be her only option. No more bridges behind her. This was it.

At all costs. At all costs.