Imperial Palace, Esthirant
“Your Excellency,” a timid voice uttered.
Emperor Ludius, not even bothering to turn away from the window, spoke. “Report.”
The fearful messenger from the Parpaldian Navy felt his legs turn into jelly as he looked at the report. “The Centris Island Task force met with the American fleet several hours ago and sustained a loss of over half their fleet before surrendering,” he said with a shaky voice, focusing all of his willpower to not stutter.
Emperor Ludius exhaled audibly, angered by the news. To the messenger’s relief, Emperor Ludius only said a single word. “Leave.”
After the messenger left, Ludius reached for his manacomm in order to call for a meeting.
——
The evening moonlight shone upon the stained glass windows of the Imperial Palace, casting vibrant shadows that contrasted against the magical lighting in the meeting room. Officials trickled in, pulled away from their nightly activities. The room’s atmosphere drifted toward gloom, dragged down by the somber demeanor of many of the military officials, who already knew what this meeting was about.
Where before there was lively chatter, there was now silence. Prior to the Centris Island battle, the Parpaldian Empire had not yet experienced direct combat with the Americans. They had only seen their mostly indirect involvement in the defense of Le Brias, primarily the use of small arms and the surprise attack on the Imperial Army fleet. Despite the overwhelming naval success of the enemy, many within the room still had hope. After all, the Imperial Army was caught off guard and had already lost most of their wyvern carriers.
For the Battle of Centris Island, however, there was no excuse. The Parpaldian fleet had the upper hand and the element of surprise, even going so far as to implement new types of shrouding techniques to mask their forces. Despite this, the Americans saw through their covers as if they had never existed, peering into the fog and mess of magical energy like it was a clear day. Furthermore, it was now clear that these adversaries cared little about how many valuable light arrows they expend; they only cared about victory and crushing the enemy.
There were still some admirals and generals who criticized the cowardly actions of Commander Mitan, but most knew that surrender was his only option. Although this understanding was shared by many of the people present, none could confirm the opinions of others due to the sheer silence that blanketed the room. The tension and fear created by Emperor Ludius’ change in posture was well-reflected in his subjects, who dared not speak before His Excellency spoke.
Staring straight ahead, seemingly into nothingness, Emperor Ludius leaned forward on this throne, resting his chin upon his clasped hands. Due to the positioning of his throne behind the room’s primary lighting, it was difficult to see his expression. It didn’t take a genius though to figure out that he was fuming. The disappointment radiated from him, afflicting the earliest-arriving officials and making them wish they had arrived later.
Eventually, the last person arrived. Remille walked through the door, taking her seat in silence. Like everyone else, she kept her head slightly angled downward, following the trend of fear. No one wanted to be seen by the enraged emperor, thinking that he might randomly pick someone to blame for the failures that occurred today.
To everyone’s surprise, Ludius began with logic. “Chief Matal and Admiral Balus,” he said, causing the acknowledged people to stiffen up. “The Centris Island Task Force proved to be a disaster… However, it was a disaster that could not have been averted, regardless of our degree of preparation. The local commander, most of all, could not lift a finger against the Americans, let alone scratch the paint on their vessels.” He scoffed, “It is honestly pathetic that even the Lourians were able to accomplish more than us. At least they landed an arrow on one of their ships. Our fleet was not even able to visibly identify an enemy ship until after they surrendered.”
Everyone’s mood dropped severely, to the point that some began to sweat profusely out of anxiety.
“Despite the best efforts of our brightest tacticians, we suffered the most devastating defeat in our history. This only proves one thing: that our navy is no longer an effective tool. It is clear that no amount of strategizing can bring our ships to the level of the American ships. Instead, we shall have the ships stripped of their sailors, weapons, and equipment. Supreme Commander Arde, you will oversee the distribution of materials among your men.”
Arde showed his acknowledgement before shrinking back, relieved that Ludius was giving orders for wartime strategy rather than orders for execution. “Understood, Your Excellency.”
Ludius, deeming the ships useless against the American Navy, planned to use the armor, weapons, and men to bolster ground-based defenses. “All members from the Department of the Navy will assist in logistics and defense construction. Chief Matal, you will work with the Navy to set aside two hundred ships for storage. These will be used to replenish our fleets once our defense repels the Americans, or after they agree to a beneficial peace treaty. We shall continue to use your idea of an early warning system, but this mission will be contracted to fishing and merchant vessels instead.”
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“Yes, Your Excellency.”
“Director Vindus, do you have any new information on the enemy?”
“Yes, Your Excellency.”
Ludius gave a subtle nod, urging Vindus to continue.
“Our surviving spy networks in the Kingdom of Altaras are being hunted down by King Taara’s forces and teams of silent killers, likely American in origin. Some of my men have managed to avoid detection, masquerading as common citizens. From these men, I have received reports of heavy American activity around the Mu airfield in the Kingdom of Altaras. They have not been able to get close to the base itself, but have witnessed the arrival of their heavy aircraft from afar: the same described by the Lourians during the defense of Fort Ejei. These ‘bombers’ are likely preparing for a direct assault on our defenses.”
“Hm… Arde, what do you know of the specifications of these crafts?”
Supreme Commander Arde jogged his memory in a desperate effort to recite every single detail provided in the reports from the American-Lourian War. “Your Excellency, the bombers flew at an altitude of at least ten thousand feet during their missions against the Lourian military. This is out of the operational range of wyverns and barely in the range of wyvern lords, but I believe they can be intercepted by our new wyvern overlords. The estimated top speed of most of these bombers is no higher than 400 miles per hour. Our wyvern overlords can easily catch up to these monstrosities.”
“Yes, perhaps, but what of their escorts?”
“Their escorts likely cannot be dealt with. We will need to time our interception perfectly, launching our forces alongside wyvern and wyvern lord decoys. Some of our units will certainly be able to breach their defenses and strike the bombers. I suggest garrisoning our squadrons south of our Esthirant base, along the direct flight path between the Mu airfield and our base.”
“I shall leave the preparations to you.”
“Thank you, Your Excellency.”
Ludius turned his attention to his governmental staff. “As for our internal affairs, we must prepare our economy and infrastructure for an extended conflict. This means maintaining control over Kooze and other subjugated territories. However, in the event that Esthirant requires more defenses, we may sacrifice the governing boards and recall their troops. To continue the war effort, I am authorizing extra funding for wyvern overlord production and the Magic Weapons Research Department. The faster we discover the secrets of the Mirishial anti-aircraft weapon, the better we can defend ourselves.”
A chorus of replies came from the various staff members of the Parpaldian Internal Affairs Departments.
“Remille, has your team made any progress with negotiations?”
“No,” Remille said, afflicted by a mixed bag of emotions. She felt shame for her lack of results, anger toward the stubborn Americans who continued to refuse her generous offers with insulting laughs, and worry about the future — a future that may very well be dominated by Americans rather than by Parpaldians. “They have proven to be quite… arrogant. My proposals have only been met with laughter and mockery.”
“Hmph.” Kaios emitted a small noise.
“Do you have something to say, Director?” Remille asked, slightly frustrated.
“Perhaps you should stop asking them for slaves. You’re still treating them like a barbarian country when you should be treating them with the same level of respect that we do for Mu and the Holy Mirishial Empire. Imagine how audacious it would be to ask Mu for slaves, especially when their military outstrips our own.”
“Tsk, and you’ve made —”
“Enough, Remille,” Emperor Ludius said. “Director Kaios does have a point. You need to be more realistic with regards to diplomacy, but keep in mind that it is also your job to secure as beneficial a deal as possible. We may not be able to reclaim Altaras as a subject, but there are still other claims we can still cement, particularly to the north and west.”
“I… I understand, Your Excellency.”
Speaking softly to Remille, he said, “Worry not, we shall not lose this war. Our enemy will be put in their place for daring to defy us.” He then raised his voice, speaking not just to Remille now, but to everyone else as well. “We will make them hurt for their actions against us. We will experience incredible pain in turn, as we have done so with the loss of our fleets. Our men will die and our defenses will shatter, but never our resolve and spirit! We will sacrifice as much as necessary in order to prevail and force the invaders out of our territory!”
——
Kingdom of Altaras
Flights of B-52 bombers disturbed the local villages, keeping many up at night due to the loud sounds all throughout the day. No complaints were ever received — likely due to the gratitude of the locals, who much rather prefer sound to subjugation.
The Muan airfield was quickly modified and expanded upon, with heavy machinery laying down new strips and establishing hangars to accommodate new arrivals. Within the span of a week, the airfield exploded in activity, growing enough to ready three dozen bombers for deployment.
General Hammond sat by a restaurant near the local pier, chatting with Admiral Hawthorne about chain of command.
“It’s a shame we can’t spend more time on the airfield. I sure would’ve liked to have my own birds escorting the big boys,” Hammond said, sunglasses obscuring his eyes.
“Well rest assured, General. My pilots are more than enough to cover your bombers. I highly doubt the Parpies will be able to even reach them.”
Hammond joked with light banter, “Haha, you know damn well it ain’t about cover; you’re just glad to be getting even more action.”
Shrugging, Hawthorne responded, “What can I say? I’m a sucker for explosions.”
“Heh. Y’know, I am wondering though why the President wants the bombers to fly so low. Ten thousand feet is cutting it a bit close, don’t ya think? I mean, the average wyvern lord can get close to nine thousand. And with that new strain, ten thousand doesn’t seem like too far away of a throw.”
“Hmm, yeah that is a bit close. I guess President Lee just wants the bombers to be visible enough to make an impact; psychological warfare and intimidation.”
“I do see the value in that, but I want to ask a favor. I’ve already sent a few complaints up the chain, do you think you can add your voice? Could use a bit of help with making sure we don’t get caught off guard.”
“Of course.” Hawthorne finished his drink, made from a local mix of berries and fruits. “I’ll go ahead and do that right now. Happy hunting, Hammond.”
“You’re the one with the missiles.”
“True, but you’ve got more explosives. Put on a show, will ya?”
“Alright then. Let’s give them an airshow.”