Chapter Twenty-One

"As you can see, at approximately zero-eight-fifteen hours, we lost the signal from the weather monitoring station at buoy A-12. About ten minutes after that, we lost the signal from the neighbouring buoy, and then after another ten minutes, we lost a third signal."

It didn't take long into the new day for my temporary working arrangement with Captain DeWolf to start bearing fruit. With the unfinished work from yesterday, plus the new work for today, we had a busy schedule ahead of us, and it would've been impossible for DeWolf alone to make a dent in his workload given the steady flow of traffic in and out of his office. By helping out, I could at least continue the work on some of the paperwork while the captain spoke with visitors and played telephone tag with the various departments. To an extent, I was even able to help with the burden of the visitors, as concerns with scheduling, staffing, or just interpersonal quarrels were something that I could resolve using my years of experience looking after the Sakura Empire's fleets. This meant Captain DeWolf could focus his efforts on the more administrative decisions that required an official stamp of approval. Even then, though, it seemed like there was always some minor issue around the base that needed to be run past him, from approving emergency funding requests to food stores going bad. So many of them came off as needless and trivial, but for a naval port to function, they needed to be addressed. When he said it could be dull work, he did not say that in jest.

In a strange way, he was almost delighted when Admiral Hipper arrived in the mid-morning to report an honest-to-goodness problem; the sort with actual serious considerations and ramifications. In other words, a problem that actually required the base commander to make an executive level decision.

I watched as the captain was briefed by the two kansens, who were using the nearby map that was pinned to the wall, which showed the port and surrounding waters. Even sitting from across the room, I could see the cause for concern as he marked the affected buoys with bright red pins.

"One or two relays going on the fritz isn't out of the ordinary, but three in the span of ten minutes? That could be a bit more worrying," DeWolf said, having reached the same conclusion I had. "What do the last readings we have from them indicate?"

Hipper, with clipboard in hand, flipped through a few pages before answering. "All signs point to a storm system, and it's possible the stations were just knocked out by bad weather, but…"

"But the data doesn't suggest the weather had reached that level of severity yet," DeWolf finished the sentence for her. He stood and stared in silence at the map for a good half-minute before he turned to me. "Miss Nagato, what would you make of this situation?"

I wasn't sure if he genuinely needed my advice, or he simply wanted the perspective of another kansen. It hadn't been made clear that I should've been paying attention to the discussion, but I was thankful that I had the good sense to do so. "Well, the Sirens have been known to use weather formations to mask their operations, so it would be unwise to leave a blind spot in our sensor net for an extended period," I answered, drawing on past experience. Back at the home port, it felt like every other day had a buoy fail for one reason or another.

"I agree. It could be an unlucky coincidence, but it's better to be safe than sorry," DeWolf said, nodding in agreement. "Admiral Hipper, I'd like for you to assemble a team and see about getting those monitoring stations back online. We don't know if they'll need replacement or can be repaired in the field, so you should prepare for both possibilities."

Hipper looked surprised to have been given the responsibility, albeit it was only a momentary flicker in her expression. "Shouldn't you assign someone from the Azur Lane to take charge? It's their sensor net, after all," she suggested.

"If you need someone for technical advice, then you're free to assign them to your team, but you brought this to my attention, so I would like for you to handle it. You're a capable frontline commander, so this should be well within your capabilities. Plus, it makes for a gesture of goodwill that we can entrust security measures to the care of the Crimson Axis."

"Hmph, flattery will get you nowhere," Hipper scoffed. "But… if you want me to take charge, then I guess there's no helping it." She shrugged in feigned indifference, but I could tell she was excited at the prospect. "Field repairs could take a while—I'll have to take Akashi with me. And I haven't done many patrols there, either. I'll want someone who's more familiar with that sector."

With a nod, Captain DeWolf returned to his desk and picked up the phone. After a brief exchange of words and a five minute wait, a knocking from the door heralded the arrival of a spectacled, red-headed girl in a bright white-and-blue uniform.

"Excuse me, I'm told that the captain wished to speak with me," the new arrival greeted as she stepped into the office.

"You're familiar with this sector, right Fletcher?" Hipper said, wasting no time as she directed the destroyer's attention to the map behind her.

Fletcher, one of the Eagle Union's most experienced destroyers, stepped over to the map and took a good, long look at it, humming to herself as she adjusted her glasses. "Not much to say, really. It's always been a fairly quiet sector. No major land masses to speak of, and the seabed is part of a deep basin."

"Excellent," replied the Iron Blood cruiser, a contented smirk on her lip. "The captain has tasked me with the repair of a series of monitoring stations in the sector. I would like for you to lead picket duties."

Fletcher looked surprised at the request, or rather whom the request came from. "Me? But wouldn't you rather have your Z-series destroyers with you?"

"Normally, I would, but the captain clearly wants to make this a multinational affair." Admiral Hipper made no attempts to hide the disapproval in her voice, or the fact that she rolled her eyes hard enough to almost make them fall out. "We'll see if you Union girls are as capable escorts as I've heard." That was about as close to a compliment as one would likely get from the infamously temperamental Hipper.

"But sir," Fletcher continued, but switched her focus over to the captain, "now isn't a very good time for me to sortie. I have to—"

"This takes priority over your schedule," DeWolf was quick to interject. "If there's scheduling issues, talk to Miss Nagato, and she can help make arrangements to cover any responsibilities in your absence."

As dismissive as it sounded, the task was delegated to me so that Hipper and the captain could continue discussing the finer details of the mission. They both turned their attention fully to the map and their clipboards while Fletcher joined me at the desk. "Are you sure this is necessary? I have to look after my sisters this afternoon," she explained to me.

"Is there anybody else that you could ask to assume this responsibility?" I inquired, although I suspected we wouldn't be having this conversation if the answer was yes.

"I'm afraid not," she answered with a resigned sigh. "Everybody's so busy with their new schedules, almost nobody has the time. Normally I'd be okay to leave them on their own, but it's their designated study time. Somebody needs to be there so they don't ignore their work."

Being an older sister myself, I could understand the responsibilities that came along with it. If she could not find someone to watch over her sisters, the knowledge alone would weigh upon her, and could even be a distraction during the mission. Her duty to the fleet did take precedence, but there was no reason why we couldn't find a way to a satisfactory arrangement for everyone involved. In fact, if it was just a matter of watching over destroyers, then it mattered little as to who was involved, just so long as they were responsible enough. As a former flagship, I had more than enough experience managing younger vessels, and ensuring that everyone adhered to their duties.

"In that case, you could leave them with us," I suggested to Fletcher. "Between the captain and I, we should be more than sufficient to supervise your sisters."

"Really? You don't mind?" Fletcher's expression held a mixture of surprise and relief. She looked to the captain for a moment. "Captain DeWolf, are you sure you're okay with this?"

"Yeah, it's fine. Don't worry about it," he answered back. Given how quick his response was, I wondered if he even paid attention to what had been discussed, but I was too focused on solving Fletcher's problem to fret over the captain's opinion. As long as it didn't interfere with his duties, I was sure he would be okay with it.

Fletcher didn't sound entirely convinced by the captain's response, but given a lack of alternatives, she decided against disputing it. "If the two of you are sure about it, I'll go get them."

As she hurried on her way, Admiral Hipper called out to her, "Just don't take too long. We meet at the docks on the hour to sortie!"

While Hipper and the captain finalized the last details of the assignment, I returned to handling my share of the paperwork, which involved more expense reports. Eventually, she left as well in order to prepare for her assignment, but not before giving the captain and I a quick glance, and a parting 'good luck'. And it didn't sound like the sincere form of well wishes, but rather the kind of tone and dismissive chortle that conveyed a sense that they were glad that they weren't in your shoes. While it didn't come off as needlessly malicious, it was clear that she knew something that I didn't. Could it be because I was working alone with the captain now? Were it Akagi or my sister, some teasing could be expected, but again that didn't fit the reputation that Admiral Hipper carried. She was too serious and work-orientated to play such games.

"Right, back to the reports," DeWolf said, sounding almost disheartened as he dropped back into his seat.

"For someone who held apprehensions towards assuming command, you do appear to take a strong interest in the process involved," I commented idly. It was a stark contrast to the man who admitted to me not too long ago about doubting his ability to handle a command of this size.

"It's hard to deny the satisfaction that comes with command," he admitted as he picked up the nearest stack of paper. "It's just dealing with the burdens that's always been difficult for me." He started flipping through the pages of the report in his hand, and while I was content to leave the conversation as it was, he appeared to feel it was necessary to continue. "When I started out, I was part of the Intelligence and Special Projects division. I was always more comfortable reading reports and crunching numbers. Data and calculations don't confront you or challenge you, they just are and you only have to make sense of it, which was easy because it ultimately followed predictable logic and rules. I always thought I'd stay in that line of work my whole career."

He did appear very comfortable and in his element when he was discussing the statistics and data that drove his decisions yesterday. It was curious to see a man who was apparently more of a data analyst by trade to have taken such an aggressive, frontline job like commanding a kansen naval port, or commanding a destroyer crossing treacherous sea lanes. He was even at the Siege of New York Harbour, which was not the kind of environment command would typically send a data analyst.

"You were the flagship for a long time, did you ever feel that sense of disconnect?" he asked. "Unable to decide whether you wanted to stay comfortable in port, or lead a daring mission against the enemy?"

It was a sentiment I knew all too well, and I agreed as much with a solemn nod. "As a kansen, I was created to fight the Sirens, so it's only natural a part of me yearned for battle. Yet at the same time, now that I am no longer burdened by the responsibilities of the flagship position, a part of me misses that life as well. It has left me with a feeling I have trouble putting into words."

"Like you're adrift at sea?" he suggested.

"That is… an adequate metaphor."

It was curious to find so much commonality with a human officer. Though the causes were different, we both found ourselves adrift in our lives. For me, it was because fate took away my purpose as flagship; I found myself wondering what the world took away from him to leave him in such a state.

Just as I was about to inquire further, the office door suddenly burst open and our peaceful atmosphere fell victim to a cacophony of rambunctious chatter and giggles. Through the open door came a precession of young girls carrying backpacks and notebooks, all busy talking amongst themselves. It didn't escape my notice that quite a few of them wore the same white-and-blue uniform and even had matching berets adorned with a peculiar set of feathers. The similarities didn't escape me, and my suspicions were confirmed when the parade concluded with the arrival of Miss Fletcher, who was herding them along like an elementary school teacher.

"Okay girls, now I need you all to behave yourselves, and listen to everything Captain DeWolf says, understood? I'll only be gone for a few hours," Fletcher instructed her flock of fellow destroyers. "Radford, I'm counting on you to keep on everybody while I'm gone. Thatcher, no playing any pranks on your sisters, and Potter, no lazing about."

"Excuse me!" DeWolf exclaimed, taking everyone by surprise with the sudden rise in volume. "What is the meaning of this? Who are these people?"

"Oh right, of course, introductions," Fletcher replied, clearly misinterpreting the captain's meaning. "These are some of my sisters: Charles Ausburne, Foote, Aulick, Bush, Jenkins, Radford, Spence, Thatcher, Nicholas, and Stephen Potter."

"But—"

"I'm sorry, I really need to hurry. Don't worry, I've already told them which chapters they need to read, and what worksheets they need to fill out. There's juice boxes and pudding in this bag here, but be sure not to give it to them until after they've finished their work." Fletcher gave no chance for a rebuttal as she tossed the loaded backpack to me. Then, she turned to leave. "Now you all behave for your big sister, okay? I'll pick you all up in a few hours, I promise!"

In unison, all the other Fletcher-class destroyers waved and said their good-byes, and when the office door shut, despite the number of occupants increasing several folds, it fell dead silent. The captain, bewildered by the sudden development, just stared at the pack of girls, who all stared quietly in return, broken only by the sudden pop of a pink bubblegum balloon being blown by the girl that I believe was introduced as Stephen Potter.

"Nagato, why is there a flotilla of Fletchers in my office?" DeWolf asked.

Realizing that this situation was clearly the product of my own ignorance, I had to remain truthful. "I told her that we would look after her sisters in her absence."

"Do you have any idea how many sisters that kansen has?"

"At least ten?"

"It's a little bit more than that," DeWolf said with a sigh. For a moment, I worried he would order something drastic, such as for all of us to vacate, but after a few, silent seconds, he appeared to accept the situation as it was. "Okay people, just don't make too much noise. This is my office, not a classroom. Understood?"

"Yes, sir!" the girls chimed in unison, or at least most of them did. The limited furniture in the office meant that the various Fletchers had to disperse around the office in order to have enough room to work. Several managed to crowd around the coffee table to use as a desk, even if it meant sitting on the floor, while a few others were content to just sprawl across the linoleum. Though it was crowded, which made walking in and out of the office like walking through a proverbial minefield, we were soon all hard at work. Despite my initial misgivings, the young sisters appeared to all be well-behaved.

For a time, the atmosphere in the office was actually very peaceful. There was the occasional murmur and giggle from the sisters, but one couldn't put that many destroyers together and not expect some whisperings. I gave it little heed, but I did notice every time the ambient noise rose a little, DeWolf would look over to the offending girls.

"Excuse me, Captain DeWolf," one of the destroyers, a beret-capped redhead named Aulick, said with a raised hand. "Can I ask you a question?"

Not expecting to be addressed as though he were a teacher, the captain looked a little confused for a moment. "Um, sure. Of course, ask away."

"Are you a cop?"

If he wasn't confused before, he definitely was now. In fairness, I, too, was a little perplexed as to how such a question even came to be. "I… what? Why would you even think that?" he replied.

"I heard one of the girls say that the admiralty only sent you here to police us kansens, so that would make you a cop right?" Aulick explained in a manner that made her reasoning approach the cusp of being logical.

Another destroyer, Charles Ausburne, threw in her support as well. She leapt to her feet and pointed an accusatory finger to the captain. "If you're a cop, you have to tell us the truth. Justice never lies!"

DeWolf sighed to himself. "No, I am not a cop. Please get back to work." As the girls heeded his instructions, he turned to me and whispered. "A cop? Seriously? What kind of leap in logic is that?"

"They're children, sir; it was just a misunderstanding," I reminded him.

"They're supposed to be kansens," he murmured back. He sounded unsatisfied, but reluctant to push the issue any further.

Before any of us could get much further in our work, another girl raised her hand. This time it was the blue-haired Thatcher. "Captain DeWolf, are you a pervert?"

"Excuse me?" the captain exclaimed, understandably alarmed by the question.

"I heard from one of the girls say that only a pervert would accept a posting here," the young destroyer explained. She seemed almost oblivious to what she was accusing the captain of, which given her age, was entirely possible.

"If you're a pervert, you have to tell us!" Once again, Charles Ausburne lent her support to the issue, much to our dismay. "Justice demands the truth!"

"I am not a—" DeWolf stopped himself before finishing his denial, perhaps because doing so would only lend credibility to such a wild accusation. I would've jumped to his defense, but given some of our encounters in the past, I couldn't be entirely sure where the truth lay. "Okay, who told you that? I'll—"

"Sir, please," I spoke up before the captain could get too worked up. "Any kind of retaliation would not look well upon you. They are just baseless rumours. The wisest course of action is to ignore them, and let your own deeds prove them wrong."

Though disturbed by Thatcher's inquiry, after a few deep breaths, DeWolf calmed himself down. "You should form your own opinions rather than pay attention to such drivel," he suggested in a return to his normal mannerisms. He went back to his paperwork, but I could see him mouthing words to himself all the while, none of which looked positive.

The quiet barely lasted five minutes before another destroyer, Spence, raised a timid hand. "E-excuse me, captain?"

Through no fault of her own, the girl's timing struck a nerve with DeWolf. An exasperated groan just accompanied the resonating thump of his fist, like the final drop in the bucket of his patience. "Yes, what is it?" he asked, although it sounded vaguely more like a demand.

Clearly a skittish girl, Spence just shrank back. "I… uh, I-I don't understand the question in the book…" she murmured, her voice dropping almost as quickly as her gaze.

The captain didn't answer at first, with his only reaction being a lengthy exhalation, like a boiler bleeding off excess pressure. Once he had sufficiently simmered down, he gestured to me. "Nagato, could you give her a hand?"

As my work was of less importance, I was more than happy to oblige. Years spent watching over the Fourth Combined Fleet required being familiar with combat doctrine and theorem, even for matters that may have been outside my personal capacity to carry out. Spence, who seemed to tremble every time the captain looked in her general direction, looked to be more at ease when it was I who approached her.

"Did I make the captain angry?" she whispered as I sat down beside her.

"No, no of course you did not," I offered as reassurance. A few pats on her head helped convince her of this truth, and she slid her textbook over for me to read. Despite their apparent youth, as I read through the pages, it was clear they were still required to learn a lot of complex subjects and battle tactics. It was reassuring to see that the eldest Fletcher was doing her due diligence in ensuring her siblings were being properly taught. However, as I flipped through a few more pages, I began to realize an unsettling truth: the Eagle Union's doctrines were a lot more complicated than what I was familiar with.

With great reluctance, I was soon forced to raise my hand as well. "Um, Captain DeWolf… I believe we might require your expertise as well."

"Seriously?" he sighed.

"They are studying anti-submarine warfare. I fear that my grasp on the subject matter is limited at best," I explained, holding up the textbook to showcase the various diagrams and charts involved. As a battleship, the extent of my anti-submarine tactics were: adjust bearings, adjust speed, and pray vigorously that the submarines targeted somebody else. As simple as it could seem at a glance, defending against and countering submarine attacks required a great degree of coordination between destroyers and other elements, including aerial surveillance. "Could you lend some of your expertise, sir?"

For a moment, the captain had the look of a man who wished I had asked for anything other than for him to stop working, layered under a thin veneer of polite reluctance. "Very well, let me see it." The girls all cleared a space for him, although it was equal parts out of respect and worry. "Okay, now listen carefully and save your questions for the end…"

Though the captain had been reluctant at first to spend his time teaching, once he got into it, even I could tell that he was giving it his full attention. Much like how he explained at length the data and figures used to shape the new schedules, he was thorough and kept it easy to understand. And the girls listened intently, taking notes and holding onto every word. For a while, I hoped and prayed that this helped further cement the captain's standing among the kansens, many of whom still barely knew him beyond a few speeches and brief meetings. If people were still whispering that he was a degenerate or some kind of spy, then he still had a lot of work ahead of him.

Those hopes, though, burned up faster than a direct hit to the magazines when Aulick suddenly held her notebook up to the captain and exclaimed, "Lookie what I drew, captain!"

Scrawled across the pages of her notebook was a large, crude image of a warship with a stick figure man standing atop of it. He had the look of an officer given the figure had an oversized hat on, and was waving around what I could only presume to be a sword of some variety. The words 'sail me closer, I want to hit them with my sword' framed the entire scene, giving it a childishly heroic angle.

"And… who is that supposed to be?" a confused DeWolf asked.

"It's you, silly!" she said, her voice filled with a mirthful giggle.

The captain sighed, again. At this rate, he was going to deflate like an old balloon. "That's… nice, but you're supposed to be working on your assignments, Aulick."

"Aw, but that's boring," the young destroyer bemoaned. "We've been working at it for like an hour now." Unsurprisingly, there was a round of murmured agreements from everyone else, save for myself as I felt it better to remain neutral in this impending dispute.

"I'll think about it. But for now, get back to work," the captain instructed.

"But I'm thirsty. Can we have some of the juice?" Foote inquired.

"Fletcher said the snacks were for afterwards," DeWolf reminded them.

Undeterred, Foote frowned and pointed an accusatory finger to one of her sisters."But Radford's already eating some of the pudding!"

Confused, everyone turned to the aforementioned destroyer, who was clearly in the middle of a snack. She tried to hide the evidence, but in her haste to hide the pudding cup, she left the spoon in her mouth. "No I'm not," she insisted, even if the muffled words were evidence to the contrary.

"Not. Until. Afterwards." The captain plucked the spoon from her mouth, then held out a hand in a silent demand for the rest. With a whine and pout, Radford surrendered the snack to him. "Seriously, you girls are supposed to be kansens. If a few academic assignments are too much for you, how do you expect to handle the Sirens?"

Unfortunately, despite the measure of truth in his words, sometimes rational arguments just didn't make a dent with people, and rather than yield to the captain's authority, the numerous Fletchers decided to just dig their heels in further. A few of the girls just got up and abandoned their notebooks, deciding that it would be more interesting to look around the office. DeWolf was about to get up to stop them when Nicholas dropped her head straight into his lap.

"Hey! What are you—"

"Tired," Nicholas said in a weary murmur.

"My leg is not a pillow," the captain replied.

"Potter's hogging the couch."

While he was unlikely to care about the 'hogging' part, he nonetheless turned his attention over to the bubblegum-blowing Fletcher-class who was stretched across the couch like a slumbering feline. "Stephen Potter, you're supposed to be working," he called out to her.

Her reaction was a sloven hand-wave, barely even able to muster up the motivation to use full sentences. "Later," she grumbled, then rolled over to put her back to him.

It was a flagrant act of disrespect, and while I could understand the girls wanted to take a break, I couldn't agree to their methods. "Girls, please, your sister wanted you to all work on this first, and then—"

The conversation was abruptly interrupted by a loud and sudden burst of static, which drew everyone's attention towards the wall-mounted display. Foote and Bush had somehow found the remote control for it and were randomly pushing buttons on it. "Hey captain, can we watch cartoons on this?" Bush asked, continuing to cycle through the channels. I was skeptical that the device could even receive cartoons, let alone the slim chance the captain would agree to such a proposal.

"That is not a toy!" the captain snapped at them.

Our once tranquil atmosphere had fallen into disarray and anarchy as the destroyers just started chatting and giggling amongst themselves, forgetting all about their work assignments. It was the thing that DeWolf had confided in me as being the thing he worried would happen: the kansens just simply wouldn't listen to him, and what could one man do to get so many unruly destroyers under control? Under normal circumstances, he should've been able to rely on the more senior members of the unit to hopefully keep the rest in check, but the kansen responsible for that was even less helpful, as she rose instead to defend her sisters.

"As leader of the Beaver Squad, I won't let you talk to my sisters like that!" Charles Ausburne declared, jumping onto the table to strike a defiant pose.

"As a leader, you're supposed to be setting an example," he shot back.

"Even justice needs to take a break once in a while, or justice gets tired and cranky!"

I swear I could see his blood pressure rising from the other side of the table. I feared the worst and was just about to interject when Thatcher's voice heralded yet another headache in progress. "Hey, what's with all of these jars?" she called out to nobody in particular. I remembered the jars, and the same realization struck me as it did the captain. The only way for someone as small as a Fletcher-class to reach the captain's jar collection would be climbing up the shelf, something that I knew from personal experience was a dangerous prospect.

"Get down from there!" I had never seen a man spring into action so quickly. There was no anger in his voice, rather his tone and expression spoke of fear, of panic. He jumped to his feet with such force that the slumbering Nicholas on his lap was thrown into the table, which in turn knocked Charles Ausburne off balance and sent her crashing down atop of the nearby Spence. Despite the captain's haste, though, our fears came to fruition as the shelves tipped over under Thatcher's weight, and she tumbled over backwards. Worse, she had picked up one of the jars, and so it got flung into the air as she fell. It tumbled through the air with a haphazard elegance, the office lights refracting through to create a twinkling effect that drew everyone's eyes to it, so that we were able to bear witness as it crashed into the ground, turning into a starburst of sand and glass fragments. The captain was just a second too late, and could little more than just stare in disbelief at the fragments between his outstretched hands.

Needless to say, the giggles and merriment came to an end. Even the destroyers realized that they may have taken their lackadaisical attitude a step too far.

Silent with eyes fixated on the pile of sand and glass, DeWolf slowly rose to his feet. "Everybody out," he stated, his voice drained of emotion.

"Sir, it was just an accident—"

He would have none of what I had to offer. "I said out!" The sudden outburst took the destroyers by surprise, one of whom even burst into tears before running out of the office.

"Ah! Spence!" The sight of her sister fleeing left Charles Ausburne fuming. She was practically glaring daggers at the captain as she shouted, "You big jerk! Come on, Beavers, we're leaving!" She and the others then fled the office as fast their legs could carry them, if only to avoid any retaliation. I wasn't sure whether to stay or leave, but as I watched the captain begin to tidy up the mess using some sheets of paper as an impromptu brush and dustpan, I was compelled to stay. I did not see a tiger to be fearful of, but simply a wounded man.

"Are you okay, sir?" I asked.

"I'm fine. It's just glass and sand." Despite what he said, the hollow ring of his words conveyed his true feelings.

"Where was that sand from?"

"Just a beach, near where I grew up. A little piece of home, that's all." Though his efforts to clean the mess managed to get most of it, especially the pieces of glass, there were still bits of sand on the floor, much of it having worked into the cracks and tiny crevices. The sand he did recover was now mixed with chunks of glass as well as dirt and detritus from the floor, so while he could put it into a new jar, it would never hold the same purity as it did before.

"It was just an accident, sir. Please do not be upset with them."

"I know, and I'm not," he answered before unceremoniously collapsing back into his chair. The way he groaned and sighed conveyed frustration more than anything. "I guess I'm still no good with children…"

"It is difficult when you cannot just talk to them like an officer, is it not?" I remarked, more confident in my answer now that I've observed him in multiple interactions.

"Is that such a ridiculous expectation to have in a naval port?"

I shook my head. "No, that would be a normal expectation," I answered. Hopefully, with a bit of time, both sides would be able to cool their heads, and I could mediate a peaceful resolution. Of course, that required all the Fletchers to be present, and while they only left just a few moments ago, I was willing to bet they took the opportunity to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the captain. I'd need to track them down, which hopefully wouldn't be too difficult. I turned to leave, but just before I departed I left the captain with one last message. "But please remember, captain, this is far from a normal naval port."