"Missiles out. Fuel out. Larissans spotted us. Will proceed with guns in the AO. Goddess save the Queen."

- Squadron Leader Indy Smith, No. II (Fighter) Squadron, RLAF (Royal Lorathian Air Force).

---

Her Majesty did not find the news very appealing. Each hour, a report would reach her desk of the deteriorating situation at the front. Each time, she had less and less of an idea of how to respond. For what could she do?

Amelie reasoned to herself that she could not escalate the war any further. Yet if she didn't, it seemed as if more lives were lost in her indecisiveness.

DesDiv 3 lost contact.

ONS Tribute reported heavy damage.

Task Force 19 was forced to retreat.

The City of Lipool was bombed.

The City of Trivermore was bombed.

ONS Glory sunk.

It was report after report from the navy, sent directly to her. Almost as if the navy's brass was sending her a direct message of how dire the situation was.

Each hour that passed, the seas around Lorathia grew hotter and hotter. Small units of three or two ships would constantly meet each other and engage on the wide expanse of the Northern Sea - again and again.

Worse was the fact that Orland lost its two carriers in Lorathia, and now they were down to the ONS Rebenslof being the sole carrier in the area, as the rest of the Orlish Navy was still sailing continents away.

And she was even more worried sick about such a fact. Her brother was alone out there - possibly, cut off. And she had absolutely no means to aid him. She loathed it all.

Someone knocked on her door.

"Come in." She said, voice raised.

Major William opened the door, and the two of them met eyes once more. Amelie had a bit of a verbal scuffle with William, yet he didn't appear perturbed by it.

"Amelie, the Navy still hadn't found Albert."

"But, I told them to find him!"

William closed the door, and Amelie seethed as she stood from her desk. Amelie had asked and asked for them to search for her brother, yet none bore fruit. The endeavor had been riddled with problem after problem.

And so Strike Force 7 was left unseen. Which naturally made her descend to being a complete worrywart much worse.

"You have to understand, that the Northern Sea is massive."

"I know that, but still…I can't. I can't lose another family."

"They are trying."

"It is not enough!"

William paused as he stared her down. It was clear that Amelie had been quite unstable ever since Strike Force 7 had been lost. Her demeanor had been completely changed, her gentle noble regality gone - replaced by a paranoid teenager.

And William understood why. Suffice it to say, he even felt jealous of Albert at how someone, a woman no less (even if she was her sister) cared sick for him. Many mothers and sisters had willingly sent millions of their sons and brothers to war with no regard after all.

Even so, he didn't like the hypocrisy and inconsistency that Amelie spewed. She had almost sounded as if she wanted to sacrifice the navy to find her brother, which was no less worse than Queen Areya who ordered millions to bash their heads through fortified trenches.

"Then what do you want them to do?"

"I don't-"

"What do you want from the Navy? No, Amelie, what do you want us, the Armed Forces, to do? To fight your war to the fullest, or to be spineless chickens as you ordered for your delusions of diplomatic peace?"

Amelie kept her tongue in check as the two choices were clearly presented to her. What kind of an utterly ridiculous situation it was, her two decisions were so awful.

She didn't want war. She didn't want blood. She promised not to be a warmonger. Yet war wanted her. War demanded her attention. War wanted her to send men to their deaths.

She didn't want such a thing. She wanted to talk. She wanted to settle things down. She wanted diplomacy over guns.

Yet it seemed elusive.

She wanted to deny it. And she denied and denied it. Yet every report cracked her illusions. Every word from the military crumbled her visions. It was nothing. It was rubble now.

I…I hate this. I hate this. Why did I become a Queen? Why? Why do I have to make these decisions?

"Amelie?"

"What?"

"You're crying again."

She checked her tears. Indeed she was. She was cracking. Her mind cracked at the full view of her failures and the blood in her hands.

"I…"

"Amelie…can you still go on?"

"I, I don't know William. I don't know. Why…why did they have to put so much blood on my hand? I just wanted…I just wanted…"

She cried. And she cried and cried.

William witnessed it, unable to do much more. He merely stood and watched. Watched as the Queen of Orland - the most powerful matriarch of the world, crumbled at her failures.

At the end of the day, she was merely a teenage girl, with too much responsibility placed upon her delicate shoulders.

"Amelie, you need to make a decision soon."

"I'm so pathetic. Why am I…why am I crying?"

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"How do you feel when you look at the reports?"

"I…I wanted to puke. I…so many lives…"

"Then there's your answer. You're a good woman, but please, you don't need to be weak."

She wiped herself off her tears as she nodded.

Indeed. She was the Queen. To break in such a way. She needed to get a hold of herself.

I need to make a decision.

…

Once again, Minister Fisch and Admiral Halberd were with the Queen. The situation in the Northern Sea further deteriorated, and with Admiral Tresckow gone (who flew to Lorathia to command VACCOM) reports from the Admiralty went through the two.

"The problem we are facing is that we cannot locate the main Larissan fleet."

The screens inside the room showed map after map that detailed the ongoing war in the sea. Amelie and Admiral Halberd were sat at their seats as Minister Fisch detailed the latest report.

"And we are also trying to keep our available assets un-spotted without our carriers. Thus, any significant concentrations are avoided - and we do not have any offensive capabilities as a consequence."

Admiral Halberd turned to Amelie as he finished.

"And that is why we cannot search for your brother's Strike Force. We can't."

"Is there really no other way?"

"Until the ONS Trihorn and the ONS Halia and the rest of the 4th Fleet reached Lorathia, any offensive actions are out of our options."

Her heart sank further.

"My…my brother…"

Minister Fisch, who had so far kept himself silent at their affairs, looked at the young Queen with much pity.

"Your Majesty, while the Navy had lost contact with Strike Force 7, we do not believe he is lost."

"I know that, but still."

"But still what, Amelie?" Halberd interrupted. "Do you think your brother is gone?"

"No."

"Then stay in that mindset and wait. I have trust in that young man and trust me, Albert knows what he is doing."

…

Albert didn't know what he was doing.

"What do you mean they got our AWACS?"

"We lost contact. The missile came from nowhere."

Captain Vogel and the groups of officers were sorely disappointed. So too was Albert.

For days since they went dark, Strike Force 7 had traversed through the depths of the Northern Sea with every desperate method of hiding.

Their radar, radio, and many comms and sensors were off, as they were forced to passively listen to detect hostile forces.

His main eye in the skies, the W-2 Vision operated intermittently over the battle. They were effective at keeping a radar eye at nearly a hundred kilometers away but with many limitations due to the curvature of the world and the heavy rain.

The clutter that the storm produced kept their radar intel questionable at best, however, the W-2 was their best chance, as it allowed them to spot the enemy without activating their ship-based radar (and being spotted in return.)

Naturally, this made his AWACS planes vulnerable, as they would be spotted from far away. Their lamentable deaths were thus the conclusion.

Which worried Albert, as he was running out of W-2s.

"How many do we have left?"

"Three sir."

The absolute disaster it was indeed. Three? This made any possibility of combat dangerous. Should direct engagement occur, their radar coverage would be smaller and more vulnerable.

I can't lose any more planes. But if I don't spot them first…

"Where were the last signatures?"

Vogel showed a map at his table.

"The last signatures appeared around 84 kilometers away from us, North West, on this grid. We did not identify if they are friend or foe, however."

And that presented the next challenge for them. The utter disaster that was the storm kept their radar limited and unreliable, which meant they could not simply fire willy-nilly at anything they could detect.

Until they were sure, they would run the risk of firing a missile upon Orlish ships. Albert naturally preferred not to engage.

"What about down south?"

"Indigo Squadron's reports were spotty at best. And even if it was the enemy's main fleet…"

"We cannot strike yet?"

"Indeed."

A sudden shout came, however, and it was from the Comms Officer.

"Sir! CIC reports radio contact with nearby friendlies! Should we respond?"

He turned to his officers, who nodded, including Captain Vogel.

"Yes! Hand me that, let me talk to them."

In moments, the CIC accepted the hails and allowed Albert to speak to them.

"Attention! This is CV-84, ONS Rebenslof. Do you copy?"

"Commodore Ludendorf? This is the CO of DDG-127 speaking, Captain Theodore Heint. I can hear you clearly."

"Good. Captain Heint, you are hereby ordered to remain radio silent. We suspect nearby hostile vessels in your vicinity."

"Copy that, Commodore."

…

"We found him."

The words from Admiral Halberd lifted a hundred tons off Amelie's shoulder. Her brother was alive.

"You…you did?"

"DesDiv 12 contacted him briefly before they also went radio silent. The last report from their Captain was, 'Strike Force 7 found the enemy fleet.' Nothing more."

"Which means…he would do battle."

"Your brother is currently acting with initiative. It appears he is hunting the enemy fleet indeed, as I have expected."

And she was back to being a worrywart. Her brother seemed to have chosen duty over safety and was actively choosing to fight. She thought he had hidden himself to retreat, yet it was clear that she was sorely mistaken. No, her brother hid to fight well.

If it weren't for the fact that his life was on the line as well, she would have been singing praises for his noble bravery.

"Can you seriously not contact him to turn back?"

"We can't, and I doubt he would. I know Albert, once he's on a chase, he won't stop until the enemy is sinking at the depths."

How infuriating!

But Amelie chose calm. Her brother was alive. There was…no need to panic at all. No need for panicked storms in her mind, not anymore.

"What about our fleets? How far are they?"

"4 more days, give or take. Rest assured, VACCOM is doing everything to defend Lorathia. They are holding the line with what they have."

Truthfully, VACCOM's stand was an impressive display. While the Larissan surprise attack crippled them, they had valiantly held the line for days and nights already.

With a mere 64 ships left, VACCOM utilized each and every asset with much delicate efficiency. Not only had they stopped any further advances and port strikes, but VACCOM had also already sunk nearly a dozen enemy vessels - for ten of theirs.

"What about the strikes on Lorathian cities? How is the Kingdom responding?"

"Queen Eliette had already ordered a general mobilization and closed the Lorathian Airspace. So did Queen Clericia. Gaul is on high alert as well."

"...Do we really need to mobilize?"

"I already told you everything. We already told you everything. We need to mobilize now. Your approval is the only thing that stands between it."

She sighed. She had debated it with herself and with them. She had even cried to William for it. Just the sound of it left a bitter taste in her tongue. Mobilization.

It meant draft for men. It meant factories that produced weapons of war. It meant everything that went against her ideals.

Thus, now that she was left with no options, she finally conceded. It was necessary, and she left many people dead due to her delays. No more.

Still, she held out hope. Hope that it won't be a long drawn-out war.

"Admiral…can we do a partial mobilization instead."

"That would indeed be better than nothing."

She looked down at her desk, at the reports and documents that filled it. She looked back up at him.

"Then…I permit a partial mobilization."