"Mono/Dialogue"

  'Inner thoughts'

  Narration

  [Message/communication apparatus]

  Date: 25th January 1920 NWC or 647 AU.

  Location: ???

  POV: ???

  “The natives are holding on better than we presumed?” Paleniskos uttered those words with reverential astonishment. RNS Sajanus is on a holding pattern behind a rocky isnd that could hide her bulk from a distance. The misty surroundings also help them blend in, giving them ample leeway to head into striking distance should it be necessary.

  “Yes, sir. Condor 4 reported a furious effort to repel the underwater monsters. Their morale tested, but these Helicarians refuse to give up. At this rate, they will emerge victorious.” The radio operator intoned professionally, but even he could not help but respect these sailors who didn’t break and instead pushed on toward their objective. “What would be our direction, sirs?” He asked the officers around, their expression a varying degree of unease to respect.

  “We shall proceed,” Freddy answered. He stood up from his seat and looked at the naval chart on the table. “I deemed the Ministerial body and their R&D’s little experiment to be concluded. Pack the data for transmission posthaste, minimal content calibration lest their audacious nature reared back its ugly head.” He echoed the sentiment of everyone present. While it is logical and strategically, or at least tactically, proving its merits, many could not stomach the dirty method they are forced to be dabbling in.

  Many recalls of NIIO’s deceitful doublespeak and twisting narratives without a visible limit to demonize Regalia. That effort bore fruit, seeing Frostnd Patriots’ extreme conduct back in the war. Many feel shame for being forced to accommodate a concve of madmen who use everything and anything to further their agenda. Yet these people serve under the same fg.

  This war had been a test of how much control Regalia could exert when the mainnd stability was still a burgeoning problem. A test based on hubris and political theatrics that were left for others to py around with. Cylene’s immense disinterest in internal politics is one of the few cited reasons.

  Not only are they overwhelmed with rebuilding, the necessary resources expenditure to speed up the reconstruction, spearheaded by the Grand Autarch herself, is another yer of politicking. Each Autarch, while ultimately loyal to her, is still the same nest of self-interest within her design.

  What intelligence wants would be different from what the trade ministry wants. What one Autarch shall consider valuable objectives could be next to worthless for the naval bureaucracy and reality on the field. As much as it pains him to admit, Regalia is taking a major risk on even entertaining this meddling.

  ‘Yet we must.’ He looked to his staff and saw the same dawning realization. Regalia requires proper political clout, so the smoke and mirrors would hold curious eyes at bay as best as possible. ‘We will need to reevaluate our approach. This is a fortuitous learning experience.’ He ended his thought there and tidied up his uniform.

  “Full speed ahead, battle station.” The officers nodded with some already leaving for their posts at the cannon fire control station, others manned the radars, and so forth. Freddy walked up to the bridge with Paleniskos a step behind him.

  “Do you think they will surrender, sir?” He voiced the skepticism of the officers onboard. “Ideally, yes, but I doubt so.” The Rear Admiral pced a hand on the railing as they walked upstairs, the noise of sailors and officers mingling back and forth. “It will be cruel of me, but perhaps a forceful method would be necessary. We cannot risk the fleet to flee, for there could be hell to pay.”

  “Our enemy is centuries behind; perhaps a more lenient course would be acceptable?” Paleniskos argued that the Rear Admiral's ck of admonishment proves his gambit to convince his superior otherwise remains on the table. “We must be different if we wish to gain allies. It will be within our interest to pull back a few punches.”

  “Pulling back a few will results into nothing but half-measure. It will harm our allies and interests in the long term. There must be a clear separation between friends and foes, lest we breed an inconsistent narrative.”

  “That may be so, but we need actionable intel regarding the Empire’s territory further innd, and if nothing went awry, we should recim the eastern seaboard in less than a month.” They arrived at the bridge, sailors and officers saluting before Freddy let them be at ease and continue with their duties.

  “Your argument has merits, but I refuse to bend our operational doctrine for further disruption. The Ministry’s overbearing demand had put our operation at immense risk. The changing of pnning could have unforeseen consequences.”

  “With all due respect, Rear Admiral, we must be vigint, yes, but to paint every nook and cranny with targeting range due to paranoia will inspire a far different aspect regarding our foreign policy. Then we have yet to solve the puzzle regarding our adversary’s suspected jamming device.”

  “… Hmm…” Freddy crossed his arms and thought it through. ‘We do need more intelligence, but I doubt the enemy will be so kind as to let us have free rein to have the device, if it exists at all.’ “I shall think it through, but for now it will be in our interest to have those beasts vacate the area.” Paleniskos let out a sigh of relief as he reyed the information.

  As his XO works on modifying their approach, Dona approaches him. Her epaulet shows the sigil of Grasdivi, a sort of promotion that pushed her discharge further away. The Technical Major is part of his Chief of Staff and proves to be capable.

  Right now, she has something she needs to speak with. “Sir, may I have some of your time?” She signaled towards the balcony railing with her eyes. Freddy nodded and let her lead the way. Once the door was closed and two Grasdivi were shadowing them, Dona spoke. “The decision to arm one flight with special flight assets remains contentious,” Dona whispers close.

  “I understand my pilots’ apprehension, but all they can do is do as they’re told… those are secured, aren't they?”

  “Without doubt. The activation package is safely secured; it will be nothing but a conventional weapon.” She subtly flicked her gaze to the sea further west, where the bulk of this fleet is about to be positioned. RNS Sajanus has pickets around her, but they keep it neat with the help of mists and local disturbance. “Hmm…” He thinks back on what happened a few days ago.

  “I must confess, sir… this cascade of promotion had left me with no small amount of anxiety.” Dona smiled thinly; the accommodations and rights of her ranks seemed to be paling in comparison to the sheer disjointed nature of this venture.

  “Any man or woman who was given something of that caliber and not losing sleep is an alien to me, or their hearts had been long dead.” He leaned over the railing with his elbows on it, searching the empty sky for any flocks of birds but found none. His mind reels back on the assets.

  Supreme Admiral Jin Dougs had suddenly reallocated such assets under Freddy’s control; there will be checks and bances, of course, but it is an immense responsibility. Either a show of trust and paranoia, or a test of character, neither knows what’s what.

  “So as I, but I fear we are well unprepared for surprises, and Supreme Admiral had rarely been wrong.” His tentative aide's jaw tightened, teeth grinding as she imagined the many things that could immediately go wrong from gut feelings alone.

  Then again, Regalia had prevented many camities and minimized many more through this insanity and paranoia. If it proves to be nothing, then they can ugh it off. Problem start when something does happen, and look where it got them. Moloch.

  “E.I.R.I. will have to respond as best they can while we gather our bearings.” He looks outside to the vast expanse of the sea leading home further east. “We have to win this war, if only to test the limit of our own strength shrouded in weakness.”

  Location: Fallfiore and its surroundings.

  POV: Narrator

  “Sy the beasts! For the Queen!” Kressel roared beside Gerntz as the Arganean Sailors fought off the encroaching monsters from the accursed sea. Cannons and swivel guns are bsting a staccato of puffing smoke and lead, and grapeshots are used without restraint as the point-bnk range made it an ideal weapon to combat the schools of Bdemouths.

  “Steady ds! We are the face of new Arganea! Do not shame her, grace will! The Crown is with us! Our cause is true!” Gerntz shouts courageous words, his voice carrying even in the din of combat. Men and women find their resolve solidifies. The tang of their predecessor’s failures of bringing glory before Arganean becoming a protectorate is a tangible source of motivation.

  Allied ships weave through the battlefield; the Imperial Admiral appears not to be a useless bum after all. The view of their wyverns abandoning them was a great point of contention, but they have their honor and determination to combat these monsters, suspected to be sent by enemies through god knows what means, and continue.

  If not for them, then for the hundreds and thousands that had died. It will be a stain on their honor to merely retreat if this is all the enemy could do. Besides, the sight of technology slowly triumphing against beasts is an invigorating experience. The ship construction, now slowly reinforced by the mythical shield, proves to be a strong supporting element in this vicious war offshore.

  Admiral Dalig's voice rang through the unified magical radio. [Push them hard, men! Push them! Show them our fury! We will never be subjected to the shadow of the past! Forward! Fight on!] He conveniently omitted those flying contraptions, but the heat of combat provides him with such leeway.

  Kressel observes through his monocur the sight of the unified fleet slowly hardening into one command. “I want the Timberwolf to cut to the east, open up a path for our volley. Remember to always position our vessel so that it is not completely on their broadsides; those beasts could snap us in half easier otherwise.”

  “Aye, milord!” A runner slides down the stairs’ railing, rapidly approaching the communication officer to issue further commands. “Gerntz! How many men had we lost!?”

  “We lost about sixty in this vessel alone, but we are making good progress! The Bdemouths are being culled swiftly; we must keep up the momentum!” “Gerntz climbed onto the crows’ nest, his eye scanning the battlefield where hulks are adrift, the sea drenched with fishy stench and painted with blood red madness.

  A few of the Bdemouths turn their attention to feed on hopeless sailors who were thrown onto the sea. The lucky ones were swallowed whole, the unlucky ones are being torn apart by smaller Bdemouth, their screams lost to the din of combat.

  He bit his lip hard, pushing down the rage building inside. “We have everything under control!” His words weren’t a lie. “We are winning control of the sea! The Imperial bastards and their cunts are pulling their weights too! At this rate, we should be able to retreat!”

  “Good, keep everyone sharp!” Kressel turns his gaze to the deck as men move with the frantic energy of shared survival. “Men!” While they didn’t turn to him, many listened as they loaded cannons, scrubbed the deck off human remains, and helped the wounded. “Our situation is bleak! But make no mistake, we have the crown on our side!” His words weren’t false as a fiment of light began to encase the fleet.

  The Queen had heard their plea, and she spared what power she could to protect them. For all her faults, she cares about them. She is willing to hear the voices of her subjects. She still believes, shown by her shrewd negotiation, in uplifting their fleet from mere war galleys and dromons into what it is today.

  “Our name will be stained no more! Do not falter, Long Live the Queen! Long live the Crown!” He raised his bde high, the steel shining brightly, and burned away the lingering fear on this very vessel.

  ““““LONG LIVE THE QUEEN! LONG LIVE THE CROWN!”””” Morale is on all-time high, and that contributes to greater focus and courage. The wounded are being tended, repairs are being done with wood and water mages sealing the breech, and the arquebus picking shots at all that tries to take a bite of their ship. Across their vessel, the same grim determination momentarily made men mad with bloodlust and adrenaline. To fight is to survive, and right now there’s no drug more potent than that.

  A small ship that could still maneuver and have a ram attached at the prow, sm right onto a Bdemouth’s fnk, eliciting a mighty roar and whine of pain. It untched from the bigger vessel, allowing the broadside a clear shot at the trashing beast still floating above the waterline.

  On Dalig’s ship, he is a vision of a man possessed. “Keep on your feet, ds! Keep those hand cannons and cannons loaded! I don’t give a rat ass if you’re losing a leg or hand, do what you can so we all may live!” He stopped near a line of gunners and raised a hand. “FIRE!” Puffs of smoke line the starboard side. The magically propelled bullet, at close range, has the same joules as 5.56mm rounds and gouges deep into the flesh.

  The healers are working overtime, mending flesh and bone even as their vision swims. Those who had lost their limbs or parts of their bodies to the sea pushed down their terror at what they lost and used them as furious fuel. Even swords and axes are being thrown overboard towards any damnable fins that dared to surface.

  A rge explosion soon engulfed two Bdemouth, busy chewing a rge galleon. The sailors aboard had made the grim decision to ignite the mana gems and gunpowder, creating a magnificent plume of fme and sacrifice. Those who watched it unfolds roars in fury, a vivid showcase of valor in the face of hopeless odds.

  “Port side fire!” A command that was echoed by a barrage of cannonballs smming onto soft Bdemouth’s tissue, a point-bnk carnage that tore skin and embedded deep inside flesh. From the looks of it, victory is all but assured. No matter how bloody.

  Despite that, many still lost the will to fight. Sailors could be seen cowering and crying near a cannon, he screamed as the ship was jostled and his body crushed by the metal he used to hole up on. Another grew mad as the sight of blood and gore finally broke the limit, pushing men to scream in terror and weep for a family they left back home.

  Madness is what overtook them, either from their need to numb the mind on the horror unfolding, or the indomitability to be broken. They are bending under pressure, but the combined fleet held on with awe-inspiring fortitude worthy of their legacy.

  [Admiral Kressel, this is Admiral Dalig of Imperial Navy. I want your ships to reorient back with us. We are breaking through and pushing forward! We will find the perpetrators, and avenge our men!]

  ‘I despise being ordered by Imperials, but there’s nothing to be done.’ Kressel pushed down his misgivings as he yanked the magical radio from the operator. [This is Admiral Kressel. We will fall in line behind your fleet. We must survive this battle.]

  [Rest assured, my Arganean friends! We are in this together, either we fight as one or die alone!]

  [Then you'd better back up your bold cim with proof.] Kressel heard barking ughter from the other side, a weary smile blooming against his will. ‘Those who passed before would be rolling in their grave seeing me now.’ His Admiralty persona remains even as he revels in the irony.

  “Full rudder, hard to port! We shall break through these accursed beasts, aye!” Spirited aye and roars of men propelled morale further. The Imperials and their protectorates turn as one ordered gear, pushing through with relentless desire to live against odds heavily stacked against them. More bodies were fed into the gaping maws.

  Maws of which steadily shrinks in number as schools of Bdemouth deem this fight to be too costly for what it's worth. The ringing beneath their gills persists, but they, too, desire to live. The rage they feel after smelling the stench of mana reined by the cold, hard needs of self-preservation.

  “Sons and Daughters of Arganea, together for victory-!?” Kressel's voice died in his throat as a rge plume of waters shots to the sky, and intense shrieking noise soon reverberated like tidal waves a few moments ter. All the Bdemouths were thrown into frightened frenzy when high-frequency noise disturbed their sensitive gills and senses.

  Bdemouth, that had been busy chewing through the keel of a ship, made a mad dash away with blood seeping out of every orifice. Those who are truly unlucky were simply rendered into comatose shock, their organs failing due to a device tailor-made to deal with them. Regalia has many dark secrets born from their existence next to a literal nd belonging only in hell.

  It taught them much for monsters spewing through had done the same to them. One such weapon is high frequency sonic weapon, a weapon that would be loaded into a container, such as a bomb to be dropped, or an artillery shell to be fired. This is a weapon that is considered as vile as mustard gas, especially in confined spaces.

  It rings inside one's ears until their sense of hearing is liquefied into bloody goop seeping out in messy gore, eyes burning red as blood vessels pop, and throat screaming to nothing as agony made men mad. There are innumerable more people willing to die compared to suffering a slow death or living a maimed life.

  The st global war had seen this weapon be banned from use under pressure, significant pressure that once again showed how much the world feared Regalia and how few friends they have. Countering such weapon require specialized muffling device or robust earplugs, noise dampening suit, and there were plenty back then.

  Still, UFSNE does not wish to see the proliferation of heinous weapons. Technology was moving as fast as it already is, and the bance of power shifted like crazy just because a coalition of many failed to fell a single ndmass. It was truly a silver lining that it wasn’t completely inundated with a weapon testing program, on paper.

  What happens behind the scenes is anyone’s guess.

  What happens now, however, is a complete eschewing of that idea. There’s no NIIO to cry wolf with, there’s no UFSNE to reign and preside under, and there’s only conscience. Conscience that had been tested by those men and women in b coats in the name of progress and resilience.

  The crew on the ships is suffering from tinnitus, but it was momentarily as their hearing returns. They slowly staggered back onto their feet, eyes wide as a rge vessel made of steel glides into view like a beast through the foggy morning mist. It is a vessel of such colossal build that many men simply fell back on their knees and rears.

  One by one, more ships made of steel surround them with impunity. Their guns are smaller, but one made a demonstration of shooting once… that shot fell a few meters away from the nearest ship. The range shows they are still quite a few leagues away, and they made no falsehood of what promised outcome from defiance.

  It doesn’t take long to determine who might have executed that attack, which rendered the whole fleet forced to remain still. The Bdemouths ran away the moment those floating fortress shows up, and none of those ships emitted a sliver of mana. It is a weapon made by mortal hands without the guiding principle of spirits.

  Spirits that had been in high demand since the Kinsying.

  Kressel's heart sank as he watched a small, ugly, and bulky insect with windmills (he thinks) for wings. No one raised their guns anymore; there was not even a wyvern rider trying to contest its arrogance. It hovered above the fleet and let out a voice spoken in the standard common tongue.

  [To all the Brave Imperial, Protectorates, and Arganean Sailors, your bravery has been noted, and it is time to y down your arms. There’s no shame in surrendering, there’s no shame in admitting defeat, for you had all fought braver than most would expect. Braver than many would be allowed to judge your tenacity.] If it were said a few moments ago, there would have been widespread indignation, but there’s only weary silence from men whose life was turned upside down.

  [We, the sailors of RNS Sajanus and others, had arrived under the auspicious direction of His Majesty the King, Zorphal Xel Arganea.] Gasps spread across the fleet, disbelief, hate… and fear. Fear for what the accursed prince had brought upon their shore. [There’s enough blood be spilt, your valor has been noted, and we extend our hospitality should you choose the sensible path. We implore you to either raise the white banner for surrender, or to lower the fgs with dignity they deserve.]

  Sensible. Kressel looked around and overboard, to the sea churning with blood due to the pet of their enemy. Yet they dare cimed on hospitality. He feels it all, the burning hatred of one too many sons and daughters lost to a continuing war. It is spring, and yet war returned all the same.

  His hatred burns bright, but so does his crity. Zorphal, on paper, has a much cleaner cause that will resonate with more Arganean who fell victim to this horrible war. He will have his support, and men like him will all be considered traitors of the highest order. He looked at his subordinates; a few stared with hate, but many… that old ember is back.

  Being a sailor in a disgraced navy is still one of the more sensible paths. Their pay remains more generous compared to mere levies who need loot to sustain themselves. Many of them harbor darker thoughts, but the need to feed what they have overrides such notions. So what will happen when overwhelming power shows up as these poor fellows drown?

  He doesn’t dare think much of it. “Gerntz… could we really?” His tone weary, even with the gleaming hull of his ship blessed by the Crown, he very much doubted it could hold a candle to those massive cannons by the yonder.

  Gerntz didn’t answer, his eyes bzing red and teeth grinding hard, he tasted iron between his gums. His sword hand clutched his saber tight, and his hand cannon tighter. “… There’s no more hope for these kids.” He turns to the sailors, clearly starting to be divided amongst themselves. Kressel shakes his head, imploringly, but Gerntz chooses to blind himself from his friend’s earnest plea.

  “Men!” Gerntz's voice was hoarse, but it carried to the nearby vessels, even those of the Imperials. “I know what you think, and I understand… but it will be the death of you. One way or another.” The younger sailors exchange gnces while the veterans solemnly close their eyes. “I wholly agree to your desire to live, and I myself doesn’t wish to die… but those horse shites over there?” He pointed far, back at their home port hundreds of leagues away, and where scornful eyes gather. “Will you accept that?” No one answered.

  “We are doomed the moment we return home, yet again beaten, or worse, taken captive, despite it being the only sane option. And what will be our thanks?!” He screamed, he railed his voice through the din. The sheer hatred is like an engulfing magma, stirring unease for younger mettle, but bringing forth ugly scabbing wounds belonging to the veterans.

  “Those bastards will never cherish our sacrifice, our blood and suffering! To them, it will be just another chip in their nonexistent pride! Pride, I say!” He smmed his sword onto the deck, cttering loudly as even the wounded stifled their groan.

  “I am not blind, and I speak from pride too… but I know death as each of you had, I know death when it took our friends, brothers, and sisters, where we voyage through these deadly seas! Those cowards will never honor us!” Kressel couldn’t say a thing, even though he had suffered from scornful looks of those who would never understand that some had genuinely tried and did not fold over at the first call.

  “We fought and died, and someone got angry! We surrender to save lives, and still someone gets angry?! What are we even fighting for?! Those parasites?! Do they have any right to judge us while they’re spared the horrors we face?! We surrendered years ago, yes, but we did so after we fought the good fight! Not them! Those cowards did nothing but bemoan their selfish lives!” The murmurs even started from other Arganean ships nearby, listening closely as he ripped the bandage open.

  Many had fought for the country and nd, and their reward was a full lifetime of scorn. Without a doubt, there were monsters among them, but people’s paranoia and the need to find figure bme gave birth to the belling. Gerntz continued his oratory, grieving and tired, but no less hateful for those who forced men like him to the battlefield for the benefit of all involve no matter the variety.

  “I will not have my children be belled as sons and daughters; children of Twice the Cowards, and Thrice the Traitors! I will not have it! I will not give them the satisfaction to judge me!”

  “We fought for them, we died for them, and we weren’t granted even the dignity of silence!” Such an utterance delivered by a man with a mouthful of blood, his eyes clear.

  “We were scorned, hated, mocked as cowards, and traitors, and all vile accusations my lips grew weary to name!” A woman cursed and cried, her trembling hand finding purchase on a broken-down railing where the blood was still fresh.

  Seeing the veterans breaking down into vengeful, hapless fury affects the younger sailors. They see their grief and wonder if they, too, shall be belled as mere cowards. That is the impetus for heartbroken ideals reforming into fatalistic acceptance. These men are fools, yes, but they’re no less human whose emotion was born from ego, id, and superego that made man a man.

  His chest heaves with sorrow, rage, and desperation; illogical, need to prove to the naysayers that they hadn’t brought shame to Arganea. “Link the ships so those who wish to return may do so alongside the wounded! Otherwise… Who wishes to fight with me!?” Fatalistic cry follows through his words, and Kressel cannot say a thing. The Old Man feels the same stirring, but he, too, feels the imploring gaze of those who wish to return home despite the stigma.

  Foolishness.

  -

  -

  -

  -

  Freddy’s hands csped tight behind him, and he watched as the ships either dutifully raised the white fg or lowered theirs with solemn dignity. His eyes weren’t at them, not truly, for 15 ships had made a line abreast with their intent known. Their fgs raised high and billowing defiantly in the face of certain doom.

  “Madness.” Paleniskos voiced his disbelief and incomprehension. His idea was reflected by others sharing the same line of thought. “They are throwing their lives away, couldn’t they see it?”

  “No, they did. Have you ever heard the tales of veterans returning home?”

  “I believe so, yes… but why?” Fred smiled sadly, those ships are sailing to their doom, and yet they choose to. “It is much easier to die; much, much easier. Men were truly tested if they had suffered and endured… they clearly had done that, and found it unbearable.” He checks the nearby terminal, showing the parabolic flights of each RNS Sajanus’s shell that will find its mark. “I pity them. To be so unloved and unwanted that death is preferable to a lifetime of scorn. They need help, but you can’t help those who refuse to be helped.”

  “… Understood, Rear Admiral.” He turns to the communication officer. “Full broadside.” The bridge went to move, reying orders, and the ponderous turrets moved resolutely onto the ships beyond. So clean and easy to hit, a fatalistic resolve that would never register in the minds of common people. It is nothing more than sentimentality that might not matter when the st sun is extinguished. Yet that absurdity is what makes humans who they are.

  He raised a hand once the guns were loaded. “Rest assured, my faceless comrades, there were no cowards among you.” His eulogy was procimed by the thundering rumble of 16-inch guns escorting these poor fools to the next world.

  [END OF CHAPTER]

  Author’s Note:

  Yo there, this is me, myself, and I, the author who is genuinely stressed. I am sorry for the te update because shits been happening, including partial deletion of a chapter that never was.

  I do not have much to say other than, again, I will try to reframe some parts of the conflict from a different angle. I am by no means condoning the many horrible things happening in the world through my work, but merely writing what I can understand as a civilian. You are free to disagree or even bash me in the comments for it.

  Oh yeah, I will be taking a break for this month. I should be back in March, I think.

  Ciao