Immediately after the chaos caused by Cignus, the port city of Marjorie was in a tense situation. Fires were still burning in parts of the city, while bodies were recovered from the rubble, with the dead still being counted in the streets. A strong sense of fear and alienation blanketed the citizens of Marjorie, both locals and foreigners, as a massive, imposing iron island anchored offshore. Its enormous guns loomed menacingly, even more imposing than the crippled Norvogan fleet in port. Everyone was gripped with fear, anticipating the potential devastation if this armada were to open fire—a fate far worse than the destruction Cignus had unleashed earlier.
The people watched cautiously as a large warship, the size of the Monsoon Cignus flagship, approached. Unlike Cignus’s single-deck gun warships, it bristled with five double gun turrets, not to mention countless smaller cannons on its amidships and wings. Marjorie officials and Eastern Continent Conference delegates couldn't afford to delay, as doing so could provoke a powerful empire from the far reaches of the western world—the destroyer of Callusia. This empire shared a similar demonym with Marjorie’s holy kingdom, but it was known as the Holy Empire. As their princess approached, the delegation from Sanctium began to descend into the motor launches.
The wounded, bandaged ruler of Marjorie, who had been in the Cathedral of Marjorie when a harpoon struck it squarely in the center—sending shockwaves and raining debris that crushed, squashed, and killed dozens of nuns, priests, civilians, and guards—pushed forward, Emily, to greet the powerful princess of Sanctium. "Your Highness Lizette, welcome to this goddess-sanctioned land, Marjorie. However, I must apologize; due to the barbarians of Cignus, our land is marred by the pain and suffering of those affected by their unjust destruction." She bowed slightly, attempting to appear as pitiful as possible to elicit sympathy. The blue-eyed, blonde-haired princess looked back at her with an expressionless face, emotionless, like a doll—impossible to read.
"I am honored by such words, Lady Emily," Lizette replied, curtseying politely but devoid of emotion. "I must say, this city is suffering greatly," she added as her eyes scanned the surroundings, taking in the rubble and the dead scattered about. Lizette’s escorts eyed the Marjorie delegation and Eastern Continent Conference members as if they were contemptible for allowing the princess to witness this tragic state. Yet no one reacted outwardly; everyone gripped their submachine guns and ceremonial bolt-action rifles, ready should anything go wrong.
"Yes, but the goddess will surely soothe their pains," Emily said with feigned piety, casting a glance at the visitors from the western continents. Only Lizette offered a wry smile.
"On the contrary," Lizette replied, sidestepping Emily’s fanatical sentiment and getting straight to the point. "Given the current situation, I assume the Eastern Continent Conference is postponed?" she asked, seeking confirmation.
"Unfortunately," Emily replied.
"Then let’s dispense with formalities," Lizette continued. "I came for the conference, if it's canceled, then my business here has ended. I have no reason to remain." Emily and the other delegates nodded in understanding. "However, I would like to better understand the situation. Would you mind if I took a few minutes of your time?" she asked, her tone and manner graceful yet unnervingly neutral, almost alien to those around her. They observed her as if she were a lifeless husk, a talking doll.
The Marjorie side soon prepared seats and a large umbrella to shade the impromptu meeting area. The other delegates had left, except for Viscountess Daltine of Kashim; Norvoga's representative was absent. Only Emily and Daltine remained to face Lizette and her escorts, who stood nearby, armed and watchful, their sharp eyes making the two uneasy in the presence of Sanctium's formidable representative.
The sounds of waves splashing, birds chirping, and the salty coastal air filled the tense silence. A servant brought Lizette a cup of hot choco latte, which she savored, inhaling the aroma as her fingers twitched while she lifted the cup to her lips. The silence between them grew thick and unbearable for Emily and Daltine, who struggled to initiate conversation. Lizette’s escorts looked down at them, like predators watching prey too paralyzed to move.
"It appears that Cignus—the power that toppled the most formidable empire in the eastern continents—has attacked your city. Would you mind if I inquire further into the reason?" Lizette asked. Though she already had vague information from Sanctium’s spies, who had been stationed in the eastern continents for years, she wished to hear their perspective directly.
The two looked uneasy, exchanging hesitant glances before Viscountess Daltine began.
“Cignus has always threatened the stability of the eastern continents. With their massive armies, their reluctance to engage, and their general isolation, they've resisted cooperation with the eastern nations,” Daltine explained. “We repeatedly requested their presence in our conferences, and finally, they accepted. Yet now, this is what has come of it.” She gestured to the devastated city around them.
"What is the defense force of that country?" Lizette asked, placing her cup on the table and resting her chin on her hands, her gaze piercing. “Did they ever imply they would invade you?”
“They claim it’s just a ‘normal-sized defense force,’” Daltine replied bitterly. “Yet, even if the combined forces of the entire eastern continents amount to around 800,000 soldiers, Cignus alone has close to a million—even during peacetime.” She spoke with unease. “It’s impossible to trust their claims of peace with an army that size. I believe they're preparing for an invasion and are exploiting this year’s conference to act on it.”
“Understood,” Lizette said in a lazy tone. “But you didn’t answer my question. Did they ever imply they would invade you?”
“Their sheer numbers are evidence enough, Your Highness. Maintaining an army of that size during peace only suggests preparation for war.” She spoke as politely as possible, emphasizing that such a vast army, especially in peacetime, could mean nothing but a sign of imminent conflict, spreading fear and paranoia across the eastern nations.
“That must be concerning,” Lizette replied sardonically, leaving Daltine silent, her pride stung by the princess’s indifference. Lizette then turned to Emily. “Lady Emily, it appears Cignus has declared war on your lands. Can you tell me how it began?”
“Those barbarians, Your Highness,” Emily began. “They stole the vessel of the goddess, a sacred gift bestowed upon us, and attacked this peaceful city. The daughter of the fallen saint, corrupted by Cignus, defiled the goddess’s name and caused destruction here.” Emily’s eyes glinted with fervor, but Lizette’s expression shifted, her gaze sharpening like a hawk’s.
“These heretics, who openly embrace inhumans, are lower than worms,” Emily continued, her voice laced with contempt as she described how Cignus fully integrated demi-humans into their society. Sanctium’s delegation looked upon Emily with barely concealed disgust. For all their insularity, the people of Sanctium were wary of anything beyond their borders, much like Cignus was now. Cignite Valurians and Legrandians accepted all demi-humans as equals after a long effort toward integration by Oliver.
Now, elves, high elves, beastmen, dwarves, and other races within Cignus together with humans looks everyone outside their borders with suspicion — xenophobia for those aren't in the banner of Cignus. Only Valur maintained amicable relations with Cignus, largely due to Mila, crown princess of Valur, Oliver’s former fiancée and close companion— the woman many hoped would one day marry him or at least have his child, someone to follow as next ruler — Oliver’s bloodline, after all. Held an exceptional place among over half of the Cignus Federation’s states and territories as they only pledge their loyalty to Oliver, not the country.
Emily continued her fervent preaching, describing the inherent supremacy of humans as dictated by the goddess. But Lizette and her escorts saw only a fanatical woman, and rather than sympathy, they felt only revulsion for her dogmatic views. They aren’t in the image of the goddess, taking them in is an act of degradation. We humans must reign supreme, as the goddess decreed."
As Emily concluded her fervent speech, Lizette was already calculating a way to end the conversation, formulating parting words. But then Emily continued recklessly. "That man—no, that demon, a demon lord of Cignus—must be eliminated," she declared. "I’ll raise the flag of crusade to enlighten the people of Cignus; to spout nonsense about coming from another world is the most deranged thinking I’ve ever heard."
"Coming from another world?" Lizette murmured, interrupting Emily. Even her escorts looked intrigued.
"Yes, that demon claimed to come from another world, Your Highness," Emily replied.
"Demon..." Lizette repeated slowly. "You mentioned he captured the vessel of your goddess, correct?"
"Yes, the daughter of the Corrupted Saint, Cecily, was taken. But I’m certain the goddess will ensure her safe return," Emily replied, her conviction unshaken. At this, a small, almost mocking smile tugged at the corners of Lizette’s mouth.
"Oliver, ruler of Cignus, will face divine retribution for his sins," Emily concluded vehemently. But as she uttered these words, Lizette’s face darkened, her expression suddenly turning pale and strained. She began to tremble, her entire countenance shifting as tears flood her face, and her escorts seeing her state reacted instantly.
"Bastard! What did you do?!" one of the guards shouted.
"Princess, are you alright?" another demanded, as they immediately moved to shield her, separating her from the table. The soldiers and servants of Sanctium rushed in, escalating the tense situation.
"Wait, wait! We did nothing wrong! I swear by the goddess!" Emily pleaded, her voice trembling with fear.
"Stand back!" one of the guards commanded, guns raised toward Emily and Daltine. "Back off!" The order sent a chill through Emily and Daltine as their faces went deathly pale, watching in horror as the situation spiraled out of control.
“I’m alright,” Lizette managed, gasping as she struggled to stand on her own, wiping her tears off.
“Your Highness, you’re not alright. We’ll evacuate you immediately.”
“Bring the boat, on the double!” another escort ordered.
Her servants and guards kept a strict distance, casting wary glances at the onlookers, who began to scatter in fear, sensing the possibility of further violence. The scars left by Cignus’s naval bombardment were still fresh, and the terror of yesterday’s chaos remained etched in the hearts of the city’s people.
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The motor launches swiftly arrived to retrieve Lizette and her escorts, intensifying the panic that spread through the port city as citizens feared an imminent bombardment. The boat quickly reached the flagship, HRMS Princess Victoria, where Lizette was disembarked from the motor launch under a flurry of activity.
“Clear the way! Bring the royal doctor!” her escorts commanded as sailors formed a protective circle around the princess.
“Princess, over here,” the doctor guided her to a seat, examining her with concern.
“I said I’m alright,” Lizette insisted.
“You’re pale, Your Highness. Your breathing is irregular, and there’s clear anxiety…” the doctor observed. “Are you experiencing a panic attack?” he asked, assessing her condition with a practiced eye.
“This is fine,” Lizette insisted stubbornly. “I just need to rest, and it will pass.”
The doctor glanced around at the surrounding escorts, noting the worry etched on their faces. “What happened back there? Regent Aust will have your heads rolling if he hears about this,” he warned, which caused a few of them to pale.
“Don’t ignore me, and leave my honorary brother out of this,” Lizette retorted, fanning herself as her servants tended to her.
“Your Highness, I must insist—this is clearly a mild panic attack,” the doctor said gently. “Did something specific happen back there? I need to understand in order to help prevent or mitigate this in the future. Please, allow me to do my job.”
“Something that isn’t significant,” Lizette replied, almost prompting the doctor to retort. But before he could respond, she continued, “Ask Admiral Calth to move toward Cignus; I want to go there.”
“Your Highness…” the doctor began, concerned.
“Doctor, I appreciate your words, but I need to do this. It’s not important right now.” Internally, the doctor screamed at her dismissiveness. Her health was more important than the fate of a thousand lives aboard the battleship. He knew all too well what her brother and family would do if anything happened to her. Yet her tone left no room for rejection, so he nodded reluctantly, hoping nothing would go wrong.
“Your Highness, we didn’t plan to go to Cignus,” one of the escorts said. “It’s ill-advised. We don’t have enough fuel to return to Raul Archipelagos, and we know they are also a transferred country like us. We don’t know their full military power,” the escort cautioned. “The ship they deployed yesterday is unknown to our spies.” For the first time, the Monsoon was sent outside Cignus, an alarming development. Though classified as an aviso or sloop due to its single deck gun, its size was comparable to that of a light cruiser.
Going to a land shrouded in uncertainty was a dangerous gamble.
“We’re going,” Lizette insisted.
“Even if it’s safe, there’s no guarantee we’ll have enough fuel to return, Your Highness.”
“But Cignus is a modern industrial power, as our spies reported, right?” Lizette countered, wiping the sweat from her brow. “We’ll refuel there.” Her determination left the room stunned.
“Please understand that they are in a state of war; they might attack us if we approach their lands. I urge you to reconsider,” the doctor implored. “There’s no guarantee they’ll lend or sell us fuel either.”
“I guarantee it. So order Admiral Calth to move the fleet to Cignus! By my authority as the First Princess of Sanctium, I command that this fleet set course for Cignus!” Lizette shouted, and the weight of her command settled heavily in the air. Reluctantly, the officers began plotting a course to Cignus, specifically to the Anubia Industrial Peninsula, the gateway to the very limited international trade of Cignus.
Northern Valur Sea
Approximately 900 kilometers northwest of Marjorie, we were safely out of reach from any immediate danger. With a cruising speed of 16 knots, we had left the Norvogan naval ships far behind, rendering any pursuit from them futile. The only potential threat would be airborne assets, but they’d be detected by our radar long before they posed a risk, and would likely be shot down or forced back.
I looked down at the deck where my men were enjoying themselves, enthusiastically firing at the sea.
Ratatat! Ratatat!
Machine guns roared as part of a training session, though the gathering crowd suggested it had turned into a bit of a betting game as well.
“Should I stop them?” Captain Alexander Thorne of the Monsoon asked, appearing by my side.
“Leave them be,” I replied. “It’s dual purpose—they’re entertained and training simultaneously, right?” He nodded with a faint smile.
“True, but with you here, I’d rather keep things orderly. I don’t want them causing a scene while you’re aboard.”
“Unnecessary,” I reassured him.
He chuckled briefly before his tone grew serious. “We’ve received some intel from our contacts in Marjorie.”
“So, what’s the news?”
“Emily, their ruler, is rallying support for a crusade against us.”
“More bodies to pile up to the kill count, then?”
“Exactly. And Kashim, along with their allies bound by a military treaty, is expected to declare war soon,” he continued. From an initial two nations, it seemed more would be joining the fray.
“The scale’s larger than anticipated,” I muttered, recalling my promise to Mila. “So much for ‘carefully,’ my ass” I added, annoyed. “Anything else?”
“We’ve also heard that Sanctium arrived in Marjorie, though they departed quickly after some commotion between their delegation and the Marjorie leadership.”
“Sanctium?” I raised an eyebrow. “Another transferred nation like us?”
“Most likely,” Thorne replied. “It’s probable they have their sights set on this continent. They’ve already annexed the western world, and with the eastern continent still largely pre-industrial, they may view us as the only potential threat here. They’re likely weighing options—to either stifle our growth or to invade before we gain too much strength.”
Creating a deterrent has become more urgent. "Nuclear weapons," I said. Thorne isn’t exactly the type to worry about using nukes, as long as they’re not aimed at friendlies. He nodded, though I’m not sure he understood my cryptic words. "If we had nuclear weapons to spare, they’d likely avoid us," he nodded in response.
"Do we have any at our disposal at the moment?" I wondered aloud. "Developing nuclear production capability must now become a top priority," I murmured. "I’ll need to ask Nathan to push an actual nuclear development." Contemplating the situation, I thought about Sanctium’s technology level—their ships and intel suggest something close to a 1940s understanding. They may not even have conceived of nuclear weaponization, or, if they have, it’s likely only theoretical and far from practical.
"Our rocket technology is already advancing. Once we field them, we could potentially modify them to carry nukes in the coming decades," I mused. "That should be enough to deter anyone from attacking outright." I placed a hand on my chin. "No, no, perhaps we also need to expand the navy. The real threat is from outsiders. If we can prevent them from reaching us—or even strike their territory if needed—then a powerful navy is essential."
"Isn’t the focus of the military on the army and air force, Your Excellency?" he asked.
I looked at him. "The Panzer IIs are rolling off the production lines, and our Falcons and Flankers are in substantial numbers. I suppose it’s time to allocate some sizeable budget to the navy as well," I replied. A few carriers wouldn’t be a bad start; even fully converted cargo ships could work, as most 1930s carriers were just modified cargo ships with flight decks. "And I’d like a battleship in the fleet too," I added, thinking of gunboat diplomacy. The majority in this world likely wouldn’t understand the power of modern VLS on ships, but an actual battleship with oversized guns would be a strong signal that we mean business.
“A battleship,” Thorne said.
“Impractical?” I asked.
“In a modern context, yes, but against the opponents we’re facing, it’s more than substantial.”
“Isn’t it romantic, though? Sixteen-inch guns at our disposal?”
“I’ll admit, it has its appeal,” he responded.
“Then I’ll have to ask Nathan about a design,” I said, only to be met with a hesitant look from Thorne.
“I hate to be the voice of reason, Your Excellency, but we don’t have the capacity for a heavily armed, heavily armored battleship. It would consume vast amounts of metal, resources, time, and manpower. We’re barely putting Retribution into service.”
I weighed his practical opinion. “Would heavy cruisers work, then?” Des Moines–style ships were sizable enough to intimidate; perhaps 203mm guns would have a better shock value than the 155mm on Retribution.
“Not necessarily a full-blown heavy cruiser,” he said. “But something with solid firepower, durability, and speed.”
“You mean an extended Retribution?” At over 130 meters, it was already light cruiser-class.
“If possible—extended, up-armed, and in numbers.”
“So, triple the Retribution numbers? That’d be twelve,” I calculated. “Then maybe double that for an improved version.” I smirked. “Guess I’ll be giving the budget department an ‘unrealistic’ request this year.”
Thorne could only respond with a bitter smile, clearly trying not to imagine the inevitable headaches.
“Don’t worry. If they push back, we’ll just mass-produce Retribution,” I joked, shrugging it off.
I watched the sailors tossing money around as their betting finally wrapped up. My gaze drifted toward the stern, where I noticed a familiar figure on the helipad.
“Cecily?”
She was standing there, staring out in the direction of Marjorie. Strangely, a faint glow seemed to surround her, as if she were radiating light. I blinked, wondering if I was imagining it, but the glow intensified. In the next moment, she seemed to vanish, reappearing as she walked back toward the Monsoon's hangar, disappearing from my sight.
“Magic, huh?” I muttered, recalling the teleportation I’d seen her perform before. It seemed she’d been using some kind of magic just now, too. I shrugged off the thought and turned back to head toward the bridge.
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