"Battlements?"

"Operational and up to standard."

"Ammunition?"

"Full supply. Passed maintenance checks."

"Hidden armaments?"

Pacing back and forth, I hum in the dim lighting. Communication consoles and holograms lights the darkened room. Right now, standing above the metal platforms were three figures proportioned to their real size and height. Holograms flickering faintly.

Standing at attention, the studious book worm, Z23. The destroyer gives me much needed surveys about the southern portion of the base. Contacting me from one of the warehouses containing spare parts and munitions. Her clear crisp posture enhances the sharp straightforward aura. Thumbing through her clipboard, the destroyer clears her throat.

"Everything passed inspections. Looked over twice by our teams. I had Z1 carry the physical reports to the office as we speak."

"Thank you, Z23. You may return to your duties," I salute to her and she returns the action. Transmission disappears.

"Gneisenau, report."

Nodding, the battleship pushes up her glasses as she reads from her yellow notepad. Her hologram fizzes out of view. Reaching over, I adjust knobs on a terminal to clear up her connection. Image stabilizes, removing static from the volume.

"Scharnhorst and I gathered all the reports from surrounding patrols. Weather readings coming from my sister shows Mirror Sea sightings. No signs of known fleets or further movements from accounted fortresses in red zones. Along two sea lanes, we've had several sightings with no engagements."

Promising, "What did you see out there?"

"Siren mass production hulls that surfaced," the battleship describes, "We've fired shots and they've retreated. No confirmed hits or sinkings."

"Any sign of Eagle Union or Royal Navy convoys? Other Azur Lane forces?"

She shakes her head, her purple hair shakes with it, "No, Herr Kommadant. Noting else to report."

"Thank you, you are dismissed." Another salute and one last figure left standing, "Graf Zeppelin?"

"Kommadant."

"How are the supplies in the mess?"

Holding a clipboard, in the most bored tone, reads off a summary of gathered information, "Six months. With the incoming shipment arriving, we will be able to fill up our stocks on essential nutritional foods. While we may not be facing any shortages for the time being, we may need more meats and vegetables."

Shouldn't be. I swear I made sure we were up to standard. Thinking back, the last time I inspected it was around the time I came down with my stress induced fever. The meats should be expected, it is hard enough to get it out here without losing them to Sirens raids. Vegetables were another subject. Fruits normally would be lacking, then again, our limited space made it hard to grow needed supplies.

"Given that we are currently in a ceasefire with Azur Lane," Contemplating what should be done, I breathe out my nose, "Gather the invoices and bring them back to the office. I'm not worried on running out of food any time soon, yet I'll need you to make a detour. Stop by the greenhouse and get a survey what is being grown there. Hipper should still be there. Whatever we need, I will notify the staff at Kiel to send in more supplies."

"It will be done." Graf replied, scribbling a onto her notes.

"Good…good." An awkward moment passes. There was nothing else I can think of that requires direct attention. Before I dismissed her, Graf Zeppelin clears her throat.

"Herr…Kommadant. Will you be coming back down for the rest of the evening?"

Past the grated window, this moment of contemplation slows the pace. Time passed over me today. Playing with estimation, I answer unsure, "Soon. Bismarck is waiting for my report."

She purses her lips.

"…is there something else you need, Graf?"

"I, want to see if we can play another game this evening." Hasty in her words. Understanding the second half of the statement.

Work never ends. Licking my lips, it's been a good five days since I last played. Mainz and Friedrich were quite strict on keeping me from getting up from my bed after my brief weakness. Beyond the inspections, there is nothing that needs my attention right now. Most of my base's fleet has docked for the evening and are prepared for the battleship's arrival. Bare minimum of patrols maintain the waters.

"If we can get our work out of the way, then I can squeeze one game in." Answering hopefully, "I promise I won't be long. Stay in my office and wait for me to come down."

The hologram glitches slightly. I swear I see her smile before she rises from her chair.

"Thank you, Kommadant," She salutes.

"No, thank you, Graf Zeppelin, you are dismissed."

Closing down on local comms. I get up and stretch my back. Touching the terminals, I input codes into the system. Rerouting links to more private servers. Siren hacking was a large issue early in the war. This system survived those times. Outdated and still effective.

Checking connectivity, I made sure the direct link to the specified location is secure. One directly to the capital of the Iron Blood.

In her regalia, the unmistakable visage of our nation's flagship stands. Even in her holographic form, she exudes this strong physical presence. Blond hair and piercing eyes. Dressed in her fur lined uniform, the battleship is less imposing without her banner in hand. Nevertheless, she still carries the image of the fatherland. Her expression, otherwise, tells of bored disinterest. Reminds me a little of Graf Zeppelin, without the nihilism.

"Lord Bismarck." I salute her.

She eyes me up and down. "Kommadant Weber. How are you feeling?"

"Better," my hand falls, "Friedrich told you?"

She deadpans, "Be thankful the Admiral is away on other business, he would have more choice words for your condition."

Grimacing, externally and internally, I agree wholeheartedly, "Yes, he would. Thank you for stepping in."

"A pleasure," Bismarck goes back to business, "I'm sending Weser and Peter Strasser back with escorts. Under the terms of our ceasefire, we may have to send assistance to Azur Lane forces to hold back any potential Siren incursions and they will send aid to us in return. I prefer we keep to our terms to the best of our abilities."

"Are you expecting Azur Lane to break the ceasefire?" I ask bluntly. Causing Bismarck raise an eyebrow. Thankfully, she doesn't take it as a slight.

"No," She states, "Based on your reports, Siren attacks may be rising soon. So I sent extra reinforcements. Weser with Peter Strasser. Both to provide additional support, while Peter will be directing our new research department on the island. Your base is an artificial wonder of engineering, she is an excellent asset to rediscovering what the Iron Blood lost before the Sirens destroyed much of our research into terraforming."

Yes, what the one of many of the world's bright futures. A discovery made by the Eagle Union and the Northern Parliament on fixing environmental issues. It was in its prototype stages, even entering small scale use prior to the war. When the Sirens attacked, they targeted all the facilities holding the personnel and know how. Plenty of good environmental scientists were killed, ending our development.

This island was the product of this research. Or what's left of it anyways.

"Yes, Lord Bismarck. Is there anything else?"

"There is." Bismarck softens, she pauses, "Does the word 'Níðhöggr' make sense to you?"

In the back of my mind, a thought snap at that name.

I drop all the formalities, "You read the files."

"I know, I know," Bismarck starts, then begins again with a more calmed explanation, "Admiral Winkler strongly advised against my inquires. Even Tirpitz. But I needed to know. I wanted to know what drove you and the rest of the Bundeswehr to ruin. To avoid what had happened before."

"We told you that it was better to stay away from such things," I hold down my own contained worry, "Look, Bismarck, there is a reason why we burned most of those files."

"And I thought you rebelled because of the lack of transparency," she fires back passionately, as if she knew my reaction, "Hypocritical of you to think you can hide this from us. To figure out how we came to being. How can they do this to you? To any of you? I thought we learned from that last war…"

"It's a complicated thing," conflicting emotions muddied my words, "I wished we would never repeat the past, yet we were desperate. Humanity was at its breaking point. Countries were retreating from the waters. The Baltics were evacuated, refugees spilled over our borders from the north. The Royals abandoned us and the Orthodoxy's civil wars threatened to destabilize what order we had left. We had to rally ourselves against the encroaching tides."

I didn't think we'd veer into this territory…

This conversation. Brings back the faintest memories. Ice upon metal, blood pouring from bloated bodies. Frost laden shores filling up with the smoke of dying ships and screaming people. Barking words over intercoms and communications drown themselves in maelstrom of panic and honor.

Winters are painfully long in those lands. Summer being as brief as the lands that expended themselves to save it. I breath in and out. Reminding myself of the sharpness filling my lungs. I am not there anymore.

"Kommadant Weber," Bismarck begins again, "I'm sorry, I didn't intend-"

"There is so much out there you don't understand," I speak, painfully nostalgic in my tone, a frown ruins my mood, "I wanted to prove my purpose. Reclaim a marginal sense of victory over the endless odds. We were the Iron Blood's finest. Their best. I let my past delusions of glory fill my head, with you girls at our sides, I was too arrogant. My poor judgement costed the Iron Blood their first PR ship, and it costed me the first person to understand me."

Bismarck steps back. She fights with herself on what to say next, trying not to stumble of her words.

"She wasn't the only one to have fallen when I staged my coup," Bismarck tips her head low, her conviction dims, "Disgusted with the how the Iron Blood have fallen once more. I was too willing to discard our sins and redeem ourselves for century old injustices. If you allow yourself to claim fault, let me bear my burden. Roon is gone, the High Seas Fleet is no more and the Bundes-"

"Is dead, alongside the rest of those old men. Such a deserving fate for their crimes. We lost Scandinavia because the Bundeswehr was a joke. And it costed us too many good men and women."

Trepidation wells up, I push through the anxiety and muster the courage. Knowing what I wanted to say for a long time, "And Yggdrasil…he lost his mind long before we realized what they were doing to him. To us. It was a mercy for him and the silenced souls who sank never knowing why they lost their minds. And I will never regret fighting against the leadership that failed us. As for Roon, her death is my responsibility. I was arrogant and short sighted. And I live in agony because of it."

I swallow back my pain, straightening enough not to let my emotions get the best of me, "So, no, I refuse to let you carry that burden. Leave it to me. Leave it Admiral Winkler and those that still walk this earth…how few of us are left. That is why we burned those files. Let sleeping dogs lie, Bismarck."

The battleship gawks at my words. Failing to react quickly she reaches for her cap and lowers it, "You are far stronger man then I thought."

"I'm just human, Bismarck. At least I like to think I still am," I loosen the tension in my shoulders, "This…this was relieving. I needed this."

"I don't know, Weber. I hoped I didn't open old scars. Now I know how you and Winkler feel about this."

The corners of my mouth barely making a grin, "That doesn't matter anymore. And hearing you say this only puts my worries to rest. Thank you."

One rare and brief moment comes. Bismarck smiles through the hologram. Bowing in respect, "And thank you for indulging me. I must take my leave. Farewell, Rene Weber. It is nice to speak to you again. This talk was…enlightening."

"To you too," I tip my hat, "And send my regards to the old Winkler, will you? I would like to hear from him again."

And she logs off.

Back in the office, I swiftly set to work finishing out the rest of the day's work. With renewed vigor, I read through the remaining reports. Locking up my desk, before I move over to the waiting Graf Zeppelin, someone enters the office.

"Kommadant, Graf Zeppelin," Odin greets us politely, "May I?

"I mean," I ask, hiding my apprehension, "I don't see why not..."

Bringing a third chair over to where we usually play. Part of me wanted to question the two, as if they planned this out. But with Odin not being able to do anything for the better half of a few days, I figured why not.

"You okay with this Zeppelin?"

In her usual fashion, with the calmest face, shrugs, "She can watch."

I pull up one chair and offer it to Odin. Taking the side as I occupy white. Graf Zeppelin keeps to her black side, already glaring at her first move. After dealing with Bismarck, I feel drained emotionally. Graf Zeppelin doesn't know it, but I think I'm going to change strategies on her today. With Odin watching, its time to have a little more fun then usual.

I move up my king's pawn and immediately Graf places a pawn in front of it. Briefly exchanging glances between the three of, Odin watching passively at the board.

I've been miserable for the past few days…I believe it is time to change it up a notch.

I move my king forward.

Falling upon us is a dense cloud of quietude. Moments pass even as I raise my eyes to see their reactions. The white-haired carrier ogles the king. Odin on the other hand, leers at me. Disgust deep in her expression.

"Kommadant…you're cruel."

"Valid move," I revel in her comment, still, being semi-serious, "You've seen it before."

"She's still new to the game!"

"If Graf Zeppelin intends to get serious about playing me," I said, giving up on hiding my grin, "She's going to have to get used to every play and anything thrown at her. Even the worst ones."

Odin folds her arms, disgruntled and muttering, "Bongcloud is a cruel tactic to use on newbies…"

"She is picking it up quickly though, we'll see."

"I'm still here you know," Exasperated, Graf Zeppelin doesn't remove her gawking eyes, "The game's not over, I've made my move."

"Sorry, let's continue, Odin is distracting me."

"Kommadant!"

Ignoring another glare, and potential pout, I hunker down. I can see her determination. Zeppelin is taking this quite seriously, so I must do the same.

She develops her knights, moving them up to begin attacking the middle and hoping to open it up. Granted, I did put myself in a horribly disadvantageous position. But I know Graf Zeppelin's skills. If I am correct, she's only ever been able to play Mainz and Odin, both of whom are good players in their own right.

White queen's pawn comes supporting the one stranded in the middle. Baiting her, albeit poorly. Luckily, the gamble pays off as she moves her queen's pawn to attack the center. Ignoring the potential take, I develop my knights instead. Graf, to her credit, takes the aggressive approach. Sending her queen's pawn into the ranks, taking a pawn, and threatening my knight.

Using a pawn, I retake the position, opening up my queen and exposing it to hers.

I wait. See her dart around and considering her options. She should see that I haven't developed properly. My king is in a terrible position and I have left my most important piece vulnerable. Graf Zeppelin sits back and taps her fingers on the table. Sparing one glance at me then at the board. She shakes her head and for the first time towards the midway part of the game, she grabs her queen.

"Are you sure about this?" Gripping her queen, "You must be aware of your position."

"Do it. I accept this."

She plays with the piece in her hand, idling. Closing her eyes, she lowers it. Putting it back down and taking my queen. With a heavy heart, I let the carrier pull her aside.

"…Check," Graf says with mild emotion.

I take her queen with my king. Odin stays silent during this exchange.

The game is afoot. She finally moves up her bishops, with no other viable options besides developing her pawns, she swings one over to threaten my knight on my left side. Plugging the gap where my king lies open, I move a bishop to prevent the position from being exploited. She then brings the other bishop to do the same as the previous. And I pull my king back.

Now well protected by a wall of knights and bishops, I consider my next move.

Graf Zeppelin has most of her pieces knocking down my door. All of them in good positions and a king now castled to my left side. She learned the basics, mostly through Mainz, but her aggressiveness must be from Odin. Excellent, I applaud the two for being able to influence her style. Combining forward ides with a solid foundation.

With my setup, I put myself into a corner. I can only really move one knight and a rook that won't immediately mean I lose them. Playable and difficult. With such a terrible opening, I'm impressed by her tenacity. Perhaps, Graf could win if she doesn't make one mistake.

Playing it a little safe, I pull my rook towards my king, sandwiching him between each other, but supporting the bishop above it. Wanting to support a possible assault on my right flank, she moves a pawn to back up the bishop on that side. Allowing me time to set up my suicidal attack. Throwing my left knight forward, she sends a pawn down. Weaving the lone knight through, I place my first-

"Check."

Graf nods and takes it with her knight, no hesitation. A good sign for me. For taking one of my most important pieces, I snipe it instantly with a bishop. Shifting the balance of the board.

With no knight supporting the black pawn in the middle, I take a more solid control by removing it from the board. To my favor, she develops the rook on my right, hopefully endangering it. Only to watch as I pull the knight back to kill the bishop that was once holding its life.

"Crafty." Odin comments on the side.

We both hum simultaneously.

Displeased with the go around, Graf Zeppelin removes my last knight.

Down with my most useful pieces, I have reduced myself to a mess. Only bishops and rooks now. Queens off the table. Leaving me with only the slight prize of two pawns, a knight and bishop. This game still can go either way. Whatever it goes to, I know what the results will be.

Time for minor gains. A pawn moves to attack the bishop. She makes the apt decision, transitioning it two spots in front of the rook guarding the king. I inch my bishop up to stare at a pawn, distracted with moving up the furthest pawn from me – an odd move that would prove useless – I use the bishop to kill, yet again, another pawn.

Shoving a rook to take it, I go for my second-

"Check."

"Hmm."

With no safe option, and realizing what I was doing, she is forced to move a rook to cover the king. Expecting me to take it, a rook for a bishop, I instead move the bishop dangerously close and-

"Check."

Graf Zeppelin curses under her breath.

No where safe, I move the bishop away, sniping her last knight. Once again-

"Check."

Shuffling in her seat, Graf must've crossed her legs in anticipation. I guessed that since her leg bouncing under the table stopped tapping against the floor. Frustration is seeping and I decide not to press my pride. Even Odin sense's it and choses to drop the banter.

From this point on, she moves her king over only for it to get wedged between a no-go zone and her remaining rook. She tries to scramble whatever she has left as I move my bishop up, killing another pawn. Only able to move pawns without risking the only specialized piece left, I quickly move pieces along. Graf Zeppelin sits back and watches as the last stages of the game plays out. Aimlessly putting up a defense as I once more place her into two more quick checks.

"Checkmate."

I corner her piece up in front of the rook finally ending. Looking defeated, crimson eyes scans the carnage. Slouching and defeated. She grab the same notepad she used from before. Flipping through carefully drawn diagrams. Our watcher and commentor, Odin is silent and neutral. Studying the pieces that were lost in this match.

Seeing my handiwork, I place my elbows on the table. Studying the moves, the reactions, and the exchanges, I have to give it to the carrier. She's learning.

"You almost beat me," wanting to dispel whatever foul mood came, "Impressive."

Gone are any reservation or frustration, life sparkles in those crimson eyes of hers, "You're only saying that."

"Believe me," I chuckle, "Seriously, I really enjoyed this one, this was a great challenge."

"For you, challenging," she doubts, "Certainly was a difficult fight. As for me, I didn't like the opening."

"Bongcloud."

"What?"

"Bongcloud," Odin repeats tiredly besides her, "He uses it when he considers you a true opponent. A sign of respect. I should know, he did it to Mainz and I when he first taught us."

"Exactly," chiming in, helping Odin put the pieces away, "And you learned from experience. With Mainz and, I'm guessing, Odin's help, I'm quite glad to see your improvement. I can see you can get better, maybe be the best here."

"Oh," Her normally cold face turns faintly red, "T-thank you, Kommadant."

"Weber," I correct her, "We're among friends and off duty."

"…I see, then, I will make do." Brightening in a way, "Thank you, Weber."

"Get a room you two," Odin scoffs, breaking our eye contact, "Anyways, I'll be off, sir. Zeppelin. My headaches are coming back…I'll need more rest for tomorrow. With Weser and Strasser arriving to port."

"Certainly, go ahead, and good night to you to."

Ducking and leaving faster then I expected, Odin's departure perplexes me. Maybe that concussion is getting to her? I'll have to ask Nurnberg if she received anything else from her results. I begin to close up the office. Putting up the board in its usual place, I see Graf Zeppelin sitting still. Processing. Deep in a trance.

"Zeppelin?"

"Hmm? Yes, sorry." she coughs into her sleeve, getting up, "Pardon me, but did you say Strasser was coming here?"

"I did," I answer, tilting my head to the side, "She's being reassigned by Bismarck's orders. Sorry if I didn't say anything, I didn't know the details until today. Is there something wrong with that?"

"Not really," looking away, "I'm just…nothing."

Right now, I have a bigger priority of getting back to my bed and sleeping. This is my first night back and I would rather not see Friedrich's or Mainz's rigging floating outside my door…again.

I should've asked her. I should've pressed further. Because it would come back and haunt me sooner then I thought.