King George V
The British coastline had no shortage of breath-taking sights. I had seen it all. From the stone pillars of Giant's Causeway in Ireland, to the calming beach of Flamborough Head, every place had its own charm. But on my list, no place could ever hope to live to the majestic presence of the Dover Cliffs. The imposing white wall of rock extended a few miles to either side of my ship, anchored a few hundred meters away from the shore, and a Siren vessel between us and the cliffs. Other than the gardens in Buckingham Palace, I could hardly think of a better scenery for our tea party.
"...eorge. George!"
A strident voice snapped me out of my fascinations. On the head of the table, set up in the forward deck of my own ship, Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth, took a sip of tea.
"Your mind is sailing somewhere else, isn't it? You haven't touched your food yet! As my servant, I order you to stay healthy and strong!"
"What Her Majesty means to say is…" To the side of the Queen, her most loyal knight, as well as her sister, spoke to me. Lady Warspite was far stricter than Elizabeth in battle, but outside, she had this faint gentleness of an elder "You are still concerned about Wales, aren't you?"
Ah… Wales. Yes, her recent actions, as well as her words when we last saw each other, had me worried. I was not one to be overly protective of my sisters. Howe was a sweetheart, York had an unnecessary amount of love for dramatic one liners, and Wales had this… well, let's say… behaviour unbecoming of a high-standing lady. Not on the level of the Eternal Flagship's sister, but then again, nobody came close to that level, according to Illustrious. But… they were all alive and well.
"Do share your thoughts then, George!"
"Yes, Your Majesty. As you know, after our encounter with the Ironblood ladies, we headed to Scapa Flow and decided to spend the night. The following morning, Wales was gone, and all we had to go by was a letter saying she needed time for herself. I would have looked for her, had I had the time."
"Worry not, George. I've watched over the Royal Navy for years, far before you were even designs to be considered." Lady Warspite laid her cup on the table "I understand your concern, but we will not allow harm to come to her."
"That's right." Her Majesty's voice sounded uncharacteristically serious "Both Warspite and I have felt Wales's very same pain in our own flesh. I don't want to imagine how Valiant felt that day."
Belfast's hand stopped for a brief second before she poured the Queen a second cup of tea. The more time we spent on war, the more I realised how lucky I had been. Barham had blown up, like Hood did, last year. The palace felt more empty without her high and mighty attitude.
"That started last year, with our denial of help for the Pacific . My knights aren't expendable. No one in the Royal Navy is. And may Neptune of the Seas forgive me for what I am about to say, but a knight that is looking for a place to lie down and wait for her death is not seaworthy."
My eyes widened. The High Command had raised a serious complaint against Her Majesty last year, a complaint we had been told to turn our backs to and ignore. I had thought the reason behind that complaint was about the decision to send Hood to the mission that would eventually result in her death, but to think complete disregard for orders had been it…
"Let's not kid ourselves, George. After Hood sunk, and the start of this war, the Royal Navy no longer stands at the top. We still have more surface combatants than the Ironblood, but the Eagle Union's forces far surpasses our own. Especially those carrier girls, the Yorktown class."
"Shouldn't we send help their way anyway?"
Her Majesty shook her head
"Intelligence reports from the Eagle Union state that the Sakura Empire had pulled back on expanding their defensive perimeter. The Eagle Union either has no more information, or doesn't want to share it."
Part of me was somewhat relieved that we didn't have to immediately intervene in any conflict in the pacific. The Sakura Empire was keeping their cards behind their back, and if I was to be honest, we had more than enough as it was. Wales, the presence of the Ironblood in the Northern Atlantic, the disappearance of the Toulon fleet, Jean Bart reportedly recovering… and that 'sister' ship of hers that shouldn't even exist. Her building hadn't even started when France fell.
I shook my head. Wales would be okay, that much I had to believe. More so after Lady Richelieu and Lady Jeanne offered to go talk to her. And the French fleet was an issue for the George of the future. Right now, there was another important matter at hand.
"I have something else to say, regarding my meeting with the Ironblood fleet."
"Speak."
"The woman in charge introduced herself as Odin. My destroyed AA mounts and flag were caused by her, with this."
I took out the same red and black scabbard from below my cape. Now that I took a closer look, it was primarily red, with several small crosses decorating its length until the hilt, where a bigger iron cross topped it. I laid the scabbard on the table.
"A blade…" Lady Warspite picked it up to evaluate it. My instinct didn't fail me, if it was a sword, then it would definitely tickle her curiosity "You didn't mention any retaliation on your part. How did you get your hands on this?"
"She offered it to me. As a token of trust, or so she said."
"Hah! Trust she said!" Her Majesty stood up, proudly puffing her… modest chest out "Those girls cannot be trusted! They know nothing of loyalty."
Those words made me remember how Odin had mentioned the way Bismarck had ordered Eugen not to intervene and leave her to die in the last night of fight. I of course couldn't be certain that her words stood for the truth, but…
"Something doesn't add up." Lady Warspite scratched her head "I trained you personally. You are a very competent fencer, so how did she get up close to cut you?"
"That's… rather complicated to explain. I was hoping our guest would have a bit of an insight."
Everyone turned to face the last person sitting at our table. Awkwardly glancing through her grimoire with nervous fingers, Miss L'Opiniâtre fidgeted with the corners of her book.
"What does this have to do with me?"
"Miss L'Opiniâtre, given our past interactions with the Iris Orthodoxy, I would understand if you didn't want to help us with that matter. I've heard you are acquainted with magic."
"I… am. Many refer to me as the magician of the Iris Libre, which… is kind of embarrassing when I think about it."
I smiled a bit. She didn't seem opposed to the idea of helping us.
"I was hoping you would help us evaluate this blade, and its potential."
She raised an eyebrow "How would I be able to help in that regard? I don't have a spell to magically appraise a weapon, nor do I have any knowledge about smithing."
"You see." I picked the sword from the table, and unsheathed it. The blade was polished with a tremendous amount of care, without any sign of rusting. The deep carvings were cleanly cut into the blade without making it any frailer, and the entire thing glowed with a deep crimson aura. "This is not a nameless blade. Much like Lady Warspite's Prowess, it has both a name and a story. Does the name Angurvadal bring anything to mind, Miss L'Opiniâtre?"
Miss L'Opiniâtre grabbed the sword by the hilt, running her fingers through the carvings "I've studied magic and magical weapons ever since I was commissioned. If the woman that gave this to you is named Odin, then this is... See the carvings? That is Old Norse runes for Stream of Anguish."
"Stream of Anguish?"
"That's the meaning of it's name, yes. A blade said to shine blood red in times of war, but meant to serve as a memento in times of peace, shining with a tame blue hue."
"Hold on a second!" Her Majesty stood up "You mean to tell me those tales of gods and myths are real?!"
"I… can't say much about that. Even the way us shipgirls work is a mystery bigger than magic for me." Miss L'Opiniâtre sheathed the blade and offered it back to Lady Warspite, who inspected it thoroughly.
Well, whatever that sword was, it wasn't normal. Even more rare than Prowess. Lady Warspite could find similar results with her own skill, but the strange feeling of dread that had come when Odin's attack came my way…
"Lady Warspite, if I would be so bold…"
"Don't worry, George. We are all allies here. Speak your mind."
"I'd like you to show us the potential of this blade. There isn't a swordsman more capable than you on the face of the earth."
She pointed to the floating siren vessel a few hundred meters away "Is that why you requested that hunk of metal be towed here?"
"I apologize, I should probably have informed you beforehand."
"It's fine. Your Majesty, may I?"
"Show us, Warspite! And show this guest of ours the might of Royal Navy swordsmanship."
Lady Warspite grabbed the scabbard and jumped off of the deck of my ship, softly landing on the calm sea below. She secured it to her hip, the opposite side of Prowess's own scabbard.
"I hope you realise, whatever power I show you here, you won't be able to completely match, George."
"It's fine! This should give us a rough idea on how much of a threat Odin can be!"
Lady Warspite nodded. She calmly took off her gloves. It was a quirk of hers, always mentioning how a True Warrior could never hope to feel the spirit of a sword through the comfort of leather and metal. She grasped the hilt of the blade, unsheathing it and raising it over her head, like she always did when showing off.
Then something went wrong.
The blood red aura of the sword started creeping up Lady Warspite's hands, then forearms, as if it was embracing her entire body. Soon, her entire self was covered in a sinister hue. Her focus, however, did not waver a single bit, with her eyes still closed and facing forward with Angurvadal raised.
"W-Warspite! Cease in this instant!"
"Don't worry about me, Your Majesty! Seek cover behind the barbettes!"
"I SAID CEASE! THAT'S AN ORDER!"
I quickly took a look around to find Miss L'Opiniâtre. She was the one that identified the weapon, surely she would know what was happening. What I found instead was a girl, white as snow, taking a few steps backwards then tripping, falling on her bottom. I could clearly see the hairs in her arms and nape standing up.
"S-S-Such terrifying… power…"
My head snapped back to Lady Warspite. Something was happening. The red hue seemed to be migrating from her body to the blade. Bit by bit, her body was now visible again, until the entire aura surrounded the blade, turning the air around it opaque.
Then….
"HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
The blade came down with the weight of a full salvo, in a thin sheet of metal. The water exploded in front of us, splitting the sea in two and almost blowing Her Majesty, Miss L'Opiniâtre, Belfast and myself out of my deck, despite being grown humans, by sheer air pressure alone. The bang was loud enough that I couldn't hear my own voice shouting as much as my lungs allowed me. A jet of dark energy, not unlike the one Odin shot against me, but several times as powerful flashed the hundred and fifty meters that separated us from both the target siren vessel and the cliffs behind it, exploding in an enormous cloud of dust and screeching metal.
It took me several seconds to even be able to hear anything again. My head was spinning with a dizziness unknown to me, everything seemed to be going slowly. Ah, Her Majesty! I slowly turned around, sighing in relief at the sight of Lady L'Opiniâtre and Her Majesty, pressed against each other on top of my barbettes, with Belfast's rigging on top of them.
I directed my gaze towards the sea in front of us. The cloud of smoke coming from where the wreck was supposed to be, eclipsing the white cliffs behind, and Lady Warspite standing strong….
Until she faltered.
"LADY WARSPITE!"
She fell to her knees. As fast as I could, I jumped off of my deck and ran towards her. I reached her a few seconds later, closely followed by Her Majesty.
"Warspite! Speak to me! I knew they weren't trustworthy, those…!"
"I'm… well, Your Majesty…" Warspite was panting heavily, like I had never seen her before. Not during our training sessions. Or during battle. "It's just that… the sword took way…. Way more than I was expecting…"
"Nonsense! You must rest, Lady Warspite!"
One could hardly blame the rest of us for losing our composure in this situation, but soon, using my shoulder as a stand, Lady Warspite stood again. She took one last look at the sword, now back in its normal, red shining state, and sheathed it again.
"I'm well, I'll be alright after some of Belfast's tea."
The head maid frowned "With all due respect, your Highness…"
"I said I will be fine. If this much got me, my fencing teacher would beat me up." Lady Warspite let go of my shoulder, finally standing on her own. "Angurvadal, was it? There's something uncanny about it. I felt as if my strength was being taken away, bit by bit."
How did Odin even manage to stand after firing a similar attack at me? Though, to be fair, her firepower was far inferior to that of Lady Warspite's. Perhaps that was how, and why. Because Lady Warspite put too much behind this attack.
"A-Are you sure, Warspite."
"Certain, Your Majesty."
"W-Well, of course, my First knight would be fine after just this much."
"That was… unbelievable." Miss L'Opiniâtre sighed in relief, part of her face still white as snow "That power is…"
"Lady Warspite, Lady George, Your Majesty, we must hurry. This area is unstable."
"Unstable?"
As an answer, Belfast pointed at the cliffs. Everyone's jaw dropped, including Her Majesty's.
"God save me."
The smoke had started to clear, thanks to the shore winds. Left behind was the once hulking mass of the siren battleship, split in half. It wasn't a clean cut, as if the attack had pushed the metal along the way until it ripped apart. Fires of various dangerous colours raised from the wreck. If one of those hit a magazine, it could blow up any moment.
Somewhere, deep inside a fortress within a mirror sea, a certain master tactician's jaw dropped for a few seconds, her right eye shining blue through her fringe. Then, she excitedly stood up from her rocking chair, putting a canvas on her easel, quickly starting to mix her colours with her favourite brush.
Richelieu
The weather in the Orkney Islands was very, very different to what I was used to from Brest. It felt at the very least a few degrees. The sky was covered in those clouds that signalled that it would soon start to rain, yet not very intensely. The sea breeze only served to lower the apparent temperature.
And even then, I was in the middle of the Scapa Flow bay, on my knees and with my hands joined.
Praying.
I didn't need to check to my right to see that my most loyal knight, the most devoted person in the world, Jeanne d'Arc, had also joined me as soon as I decided to step down from the small boat that had brought us there. I initially would have liked to not get anyone involved in our personal duties, but it was against British law to freely sail in these waters.
"Why go through all this trouble, for these lost souls?"
I could almost feel Jeanne, to my right, twitching in discontent. The question would normally irritate any person, but I knew better. From the small exchange we had before the woman rowed us here, I knew her question was not in bad blood, but of simple curiosity.
"I am a woman of God. And a woman of God has duties to perform. Though my initial goals were not to be here this day, I still find it my obligation to pray for them."
"Do you know what went down here? The High Seas fleet was scuttled. These men decided to die here."
"Mathew, 27:5. So Judas threw the money into the temple and left. Then he went away and hanged himself. Suicide is not only present in the holy Scriptures, it is sometimes the only option left for man."
"You give people too much credit."
"There are good, honest people out there." Jeanne stood up momentarily "These men fought for what they believed in."
"What they believed in." interrupted the woman "Was a terribly expansionist government. You should ask any of your countrymen their opinion of the High Seas Fleet's fate."
Jeanne seemed surprised, but it was evident which country we belonged to. Neither Jeanne nor me had the best English accent. Jeanne's was even thicker. That's what years of speaking only to compatriots did to one's skills in another language.
"The fact that we serve our country doesn't mean we share their ideals."
"Then why serve them?"
That question seemed to throw Jeanne out of the loop, as she stuttered for a few seconds trying to find an answer. That prompted me to finally stand up.
"Shall we go back to shore? We are finished here."
"Of course. Get in the boat."
I did as the woman asked, followed by Jeanne a few seconds later. The boat smelt like salt and old humid wood. The screeching sounds it made when meeting the slightest of waves were less than calming. Maybe it was for the best that Scapa Flow was little more than a lagoon.
Why was I focused on such menial things? It wasn't like me.
"Pray tell, how did you intend on getting to the middle of the bay, if not with a boat like mine?"
I wasn't in the mood for chatter, for some reason. Jeanne looked at me, and I just nodded in response. She summoned part of her rigging. Just one of her turrets, floating in front of her praying hands.
"A shipgirl, I see. Two of them, rather."
"You don't seem surprised in the slightest."
"Of course not. At least, not after seeing one around here for the past few days." her eyes oozed some strange sadness "Prince of Wales."
My eyes widened a bit. I didn't exactly expect to fail in my search for her, but to find confirmation of her presence through our prayers… Truly must have been the blessings of the Lord.
"Sudden as this may sound, we have been tasked by Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth with retrieving her. If you could point us to where…"
"Not so fast." the woman smiled weakly "A Lady such as yourself surely wouldn't expect me to simply answer a question without getting something in return."
Answering her question couldn't be harmful in any way, I supposed.
"That much is fair. What is your question?"
"Those eyes of yours, are you hurting?"
The boat came to a stop as we hit the shore. Yet nobody moved. The woman didn't get off the boat to moor the ship. I realized she was giving me the option whether or not to answer her.
I got off the boat, walked a few steps on the wet sand, and answered without turning around.
"You could say so, yes. I am hurting, for many different reasons."
"Have you lost someone?"
I knew Jeanne would try to intervene there, she always did, for my sake. But not this time. I signalled her to stay quiet.
"I… don't know if I have."
"I'm sorry for your loss. Or at least, I hope it's not a loss." The woman finished tying the noose to keep the boat from sailing away on its own "The most important thing though. If you had that person in front of you, what would you tell them?"
I had hoped nobody would tug at my heartstrings. Some things I just wasn't ready for.
But this must have been the Lord's will.
This must have been my punishment.
"That I am sorry. And that no matter the outcome of this war, I will never be able to forgive myself for the time I've made ourselves lose."
Jeanne d'Arc
The boat trip back to the shore had barely taken us a few minutes, but the exchange with the woman had been rather intense. By her face ever since we left for Westray, Richelieu had taken it worse than I had. I had tried to intervene when the questions got personal, but she just stopped me. Maybe it was her way of self-imposed penance.
Everyone had been on edge since quite a while back. After Toulon, something died inside of us. Hearing from our fellow Knights being forced to do that to themselves was… I remember crying for a few days. Even in my devotion and discipline, I couldn't keep the tears in. But Richelieu didn't cry. She kept pushing us to better ourselves, to put an end to this god forsaken war in this godforsaken sea.
That was why I had decided to make everything easier for her. So that she wouldn't have more reasons to have anxiety on top of her sister being in the hands of the Ironblood. SO that she could focus on being the leader we all admired and followed.
It wasn't easy. My prayers took time from it. So did my practice. And regrettably, I was incredibly clumsy. Something I had tried to improve upon, but never really managed to. Just a few days back, I accidentally misplaced some documents and all she had for me was a smile and calming words. Truly the perfect image of virtue.
"Jeanne, where is this place we are heading to?"
I took out a map. We both would have liked to go through the sea, but the locals had mentioned the cliffs being to steep to access, so we had to walk through the island.
"The easternmost spot of the island, to Noup Head Lighthouse."
"What would a member of the Royal Family be doing in a place like that?"
That was the second issue we were dealing with. According to the Queen, we were looking for Prince of Wales, and she wasn't in a particularly good state of mind herself. At least she hadn't deserted yet. She made sure everyone knew where she was staying.
Part of me thought I needed to hate the Royal Navy. My namesake was burned in a stake by England. And my friends, fellow Knights and warriors, had been shot at and attacked by them. Bretagne had sunk. A few others had been damaged. They had turned their guns against us…
But it didn't take long after exchanging words with the Queen and her servants to change that point of view. I realized how close I had come to blind hatred. How unbecoming it was of a woman of God, supposed to preach forgiveness above everything else. Even in her eternal pretence, I could hear the Queen's pain in her words when Lady Richelieu brought Barham's name up, intending to give her condolences. I also felt George's, York's and Howe's concern about Wales and her whereabouts.
I didn't know about my namesake.
But I despised war.
Before long, we could see the lighthouse in the distance. The locals weren't wrong when they said the cliffs were impassable. Maybe thirty or forty meters high, with rock awaiting for anyone who fell down. The lighthouse itself proudly stood on the very edge, like a giant bearing witness to the Northern Atlantic.
When we arrived at the door, Lady Richelieu didn't wait long before knocking on the door. A few voices rang inside, one man and one woman. They seemed to be arguing, though not in a violent way. Whatever they were saying, it ended after the woman interrupted him.
The door opened shortly after, an old man, maybe in his seventies, peeked through it. To me he looked like the typical grumpy grandfather, the same on whose lap children would sit to listen to his stories.
"Who are you?"
"Good day to you, monsieur." started Lady Richelieu "Our names are Richelieu and Jeanne d'Arc. We were told an important member of…"
"She isn't here."
"Excuse me?"
"What I just said, lassie. She ain't here. If you came to deliver the oil for the lamp, I'll take it, but…"
"Edward."
The voice came from inside the house. The woman from before. I could of course guess who it was.
"I told you it's a bad idea, Bessie."
"Let them in. I'll at least listen to them. I owe them that much."
"It's a bad idea."
"Edward."
The man looked at us for several seconds, until he sighed in disappointment.
"Get inside, it's going to rain soon."
I followed Lady Richelieu inside. I had been guided to a port by a lighthouse before, but had never been inside one. The room was circular in shape, with some stairs up to the right. This floor at least had no windows, only being lit by the electric bulb in the middle. Other than that, a sofa, a table and a radio.
"A simple life."
"Sometimes, it's even better than the Palace."
Both Lady Richelieu and I faced the kitchen. To the right, on a hanger, was a Royal Red coat, with a few emblems and medals. But the woman it belonged to was wearing a modest wool turtleneck sweater and long trousers, with old leather boots.
"Heh, speak for yourself, lassie. I wish I could stay at Her Majesty's place."
Wales smiled weakly.
"I'd take you there if I could, Edward. Now, I hope you are fine with sausages and beans, Lady Richelieu, Lady Jeanne. Cooking was never my forte."
We headed to the table and sat down. Wales put the plate in the middle. A respectable amount of food for four people. It's as if she had been expecting us. I bit into the sausages. A bit too crisped up for my taste. Too dry. The beans also were too soft, they were almost a pulp at that point.
"Your cooking is still lacking, lassie."
"I'm trying, Edward. I'll get there."
After the etiquette in London, it felt unnatural to see someone address the Royal Family so… casually.
"If you don't mind the question…" I asked "What is your relationship?"
"Don't get yer hopes up for some old novel romance, lassie." The man downed a glass of water and another spoonful of beans "The lighthouse is just empty these days. The wife passed away, and I'm alone."
"I came across him while looking for a place to stay." Wales smiled weakly again "He offered me to stay in exchange for cooking and someone to talk to." she chuckled and faced Edward "I honestly don't know how you haven't kicked me out with how bad I cook."
"Don't sweat it, you can stay as long as you want."
Something about them made me think I was looking at an old couple. Those lovely old couples that you would see hugging in some of Brest's coffee shops, or in the church when I went there to pray daily.
Yet there was this… sadness to the air when near them.
"I know what you came here for." Said Wales, with a more serious tone "Before I send you back to London, I will at least hear you out."
"We should go straight to the point then." Lady Richelieu carefully laid her glass and fork back on the table "We are here on the behalf of your queen, Elizabeth. We offered ourselves to come and try to convince you to come back to England."
"Is that all?"
"We can't tell you anything you don't know already." it was me who spoke this time "The war rages on. Both sides are losing people. Our land is still under the hands of the Ironblood, and their land based aircraft are bombing London again."
Wales raised an eyebrow "I thought they had stopped last year."
"Apparently German high command gave the order after developing new siren technology. The situation is dire."
Wales evaluated her chances for a few minutes. Outside, the storm started to pour, with some occasional thunder shaking the lighthouse.
"Listen, Bessie. Maybe you should…"
"No."
My heart sank to the floor when she spoke those words. Lady Richelieu intervened.
"If I am to be so bold, Lady Wales, the situation requires of…"
"The situation doesn't require my presence, Lady Richelieu." Wales responded, more forcefully this time "This entire war has been nothing but a disaster."
"Then more reason…"
"What is a leader to you, Lady Richelieu?"
I could see it in her eyes, the question had caught her off guard.
"A leader must be someone strong. Someone who doesn't falter and doesn't let the circumstances drag them down even in the most dangerous of scenarios." I said with my hand over my heart "That is why we follow Lady Richelieu. Because she is the one our Lord appointed, and the one that leads us."
"I can't be that, not anymore."
"If you were to return and explain, then surely…"
"Of course I can return. But I don't want to." Wales sighed deeply and grabbed something from her pocket. A hip flash, which she opened and took a sip from. "Being part of the royalty isn't a walk in the part. You have so many people looking up to you. You can't afford to look weak, to anyone. And I don't want to be that, if it doesn't allow me to mourn for Hood."
The room fell into silence. Of course, Wales must have known of our relationship with Hood. How she spearheaded Mers-el-Kebir.
"When I first came to be, she was there. Hood was the one who taught me proper etiquette. She was the one that told me what tea parties were and how we were supposed to behave in them. Always so elegant, so immaculate. You could never find a more perfect display of what it means to be a Lady."
The change from dignified to depressive had taken place in a mere instant. I had personally never lost someone. Not someone *that* close. I was older than many of the Iris girls who were built right before or after the war started. And we had always been told about the proud Royal Navy. To think that losing someone could do this was… terrifying.
"As I said, I don't want to be something that doesn't allow me to cry. Because I want to. The inability to show weakness eats me. Being here with Edward has been a blessing I probably don't deserve. I imagine it must be similar to you, Lady Richelieu."
Lady Richelieu shook in place slightly. Not too much, but enough for me to notice.
"How so?"
"I'm aware of what happened to the Toulon fleet. And your sister. And for it, I am incredibly sorry." Wales's expression felt much more genuine than the one the Admiralty had offered Lady Richelieu back in London. "I know you have your duties. And I won't intervene in them, you can be certain of that. But if you don't take some weight off your shoulders, if you don't allow yourself to be Richelieu, and keep being the Cardinal, it will break you before the war ends."
Lady Richelieu opened her mouth to say something, but the words simply didn't come out. Wales stood up and helped Edward, giving him his cane and a trench coat.
"Where are you going?"
"We have a lighthouse to tend to. A storm is coming. If Edward is fine with it, you can stay for the night."
Author's notes:
Third chapter of this thing of mine. This was a bit harder to write because I didn't really have anything prepared like the previous two, and only had my mental script to go off of.
About historical references, you will note a few things. This takes place after the attack on Casablanca, evidently. Which is why Elizabeth mentions how she refused to send any of her knights to the pacific in this story. Wales sank in 1941 in the South China Sea IRL, so I kinda had to do it to continue the story with her on it.
Also, the mention of Barham. She sank in 1941, a month before Wales, IRL. That still happened here. And like IRL, Valiant was right there, meters away, when it happened.
Probably should clarify a few quirks of mine. When a character mentions the in game factions, they mean their navies. The countries are named as countries, i.e. Germany, France. Also, George's particular way of speech. "Your Majesty" always refers to Elizabeth, while she uses "Lady" for Warspite and other fellow nobles. "Miss" is for the rest of shipgirls without nobility status.