March 18, 1640, Central Calendar
RNV Praeclarus
Altaras Strait
Field Marshal Edgardius Preator strutted like a peacock. His army set out for a swift war, a war in which he would show those savages from... what was the name of that wretched country? Ah, Louria. Preator would show those savages what the art of war truly meant.
A bunch of inept imbeciles, the only thing they excelled at was banging their heads against the wall. He would show them how to break through those Poles.
Speaking of Poles, finally a worthy enemy. An enemy that his cowardly Emperor feared. For Preator, it was a good sign. According to the old Parpaldian principle, an Emperor who is incompetent or weak must step aside. How? It didn't matter, although the most popular method was a simple military coup, which is what Preator wanted to achieve through the war with Poland.
He didn't understand why Supreme Commander Arde was so frightened. Flying machines, steel dragons spewing fire, is that something they're unfamiliar with? They are just airplanes, tanks, or mechs. Infantry armed with machine guns? They are simply heavy machine guns! They know all of this from the West. Nothing new, and they even have prepared plans and appropriate spells in case of war with them.
Implementing them against Poland should be sufficient! What's the problem? Well, Preator concluded, Arde apparently needs to be hanged like an ordinary murderer. That's how it ends for an officer who is unfit for his role. A Parpaldian officer must be proud, serious, and above all, maintain composure regardless of the situation.
Speaking of composure, Preator looked at General Cius, a man so cold and detached from people. If it weren't for the fact that he is frighteningly pragmatic, he would probably send thousands to their deaths without hesitation just to capture any position. Fortunately for his subordinates, he adhered to the principle of pragmatism taken to the extreme, which meant achieving the greatest effect with the least effort and losses. Mass slaughter in the name of gaining any position is not his style, and pragmatism has as much in common with him as a chair with an electric chair.
Not that he had a problem with sending people to certain death or issuing the infamous order of decimation to restore discipline in the ranks. However, he did so rarely and only when other choices resulted in significantly worse overall outcomes.
Preator suspected that only a serious psychological shock would turn him into a complete lunatic.
"General Cius," he called out to his subordinate, who turned towards him.
"Yes, my lord?" Cius asked in an icy tone.
"We have beautiful weather today, don't we?"
Cius raised an eyebrow slightly but quickly returned to his grim expression. "Indeed, Marshal Preator."
"Exactly," nodded the Marshal. "Thanks to it, we will be able to spot the enemy fleet from afar."
Cius silently nodded his head. "You're right, Marshal, you're absolutely right," he added after a moment when he turned back forward and slightly raised his head. "It's particularly useful that the sky is exceptionally clear."
"What do you mean?" Preator was surprised, but the general simply gestured upward with his hand. The Marshal followed the gesture and shivered. High in the distance, thanks to the lack of clouds, several dozen airplanes could be seen.
"What the hell?!" he exclaimed loudly, drawing the attention of the bridge crew. The Marshal cleared his throat. "Nothing, gentlemen, carry on with your work," he reassured them.
Once the sailors resumed their tasks under the stern gaze of their Superior, he whispered to Cius, "What the hell, it's impossible for any aircraft to fly so far and so high."
"Apparently, the impossible has become possible," Cius replied without delay.
Marshal Preator didn't want to agree with him at that moment, but the problem was that reality didn't care about his desires, as he was about to find out. But that's the story of another man, a man who accidentally saved Parpaldia from a civil war and died without ever knowing it.
Who was he?
Captain of the OKP Kaszub. A small and modernized prototype corvette of the Kaszub class. His name was Michał Głuś, and to Altaras, he remains a hero to this day, the one who saved their island from invasion. You see, the first stop of the Expeditionary Army on its way to Preator's rise to power, against the will of Emperor Ludius, was supposed to be Altaras.
Why? To have a forward base in both the civil war and the first triumph that would honor his head.
March 18, 2021, Anno Domini
OKP Kaszub
Altaras Strait
"How many contacts do we have on the radar?" asked the commander of the corvette, Captain Michał Głuś. He was an older man, in the prime of his life. He still lacked the title of a grandfather, but his best years were already behind him. Kaszub was supposed to be his final assignment before retiring, mainly returning to his family estate to engage in agriculture, as befitting a nobleman. Although Polish nobility rarely enlisted in the navy, mainly comprising townspeople, it should be noted that in the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, it was relatively easy to become a nobleman. So easy that over 32% of the current population is of noble status. Of course, provided you want to.
"Over four hundred!" replied radar operator Andrzej Tworek, a Petty Officer, greatly surprised by the number of enemies.
"Don't bullshit me," spoke up the deputy commander of Kaszub, Deputy Bartłomiej Farbiś, a peasant by origin, which matters in the social structure of the Commonwealth, which is still a class-based society, although not in the stereotypical sense of the word. Nonetheless, this mostly applies to civilian life; in the military, only skills matter.
Although it is a fact that nobles are expected to meet higher requirements in the military compared to other social classes, ironically, it is easier to advance in the military hierarchy coming from any other class except the noble class. There's nothing strange about it because it is a tradition that every Polish noble, upon reaching adulthood (that is, 18 years old), must join the military for a few years, starting as an enlisted soldier. It is believed that the duty of defending the country rests upon Polish knights, as nobles consider themselves to be. If other social classes have to join the military in large numbers, it is a sign that the situation is as dire as during the Revolutionary Wars.
During that time, the situation was indeed dire and, incidentally, it had a revolutionary impact on the nobility. Specifically, it broke the nobles' aversion to serving in the infantry and artillery because the Polish military simply did not need as many cavalrymen as there were nobles. (And it was from that moment that the provisions of the May 3rd Constitution, which extended noble rights to the rest of the nation, finally began to take effect.) It should be known that in old Poland, it was cheaper to recruit cavalry than infantry, which was the complete opposite of the situation in the West!
No wonder, on the vast expanses called steppes, or more precisely the Eurasian Great Steppe, infantry was mainly useful for defending fortresses and cities or attacking them. Apart from these exceptional situations, they were the fifth wheel that cavalry easily overcame.
As a result of this geographical location on the world map and the resulting military traditions, there is paradoxically a strong and positive influence on the navy. Battles on the former Ukrainian steppes, Wild Fields, and along the Great Steppe had much in common with naval warfare on seas and oceans.
Therefore, when the Revolutionary Wars gave birth to the Polish military presence on various maritime waters, it turned out that Poles knew how to fight at sea no worse than on land. Thus, they often gave a hard time to the Revolutionary Navy of France, Germany, and above all, the Netherlands, ironically the main source from which the Commonwealth drew when building its presence on seas and oceans.
The terminology, ship and vessel construction, management style, and command structure were all borrowed from the Dutch, who were brought in as settlers to Poland, giving rise to the Crown Navy and the rest. The Dutch influence can already be seen in the main port of the Commonwealth, Gdańsk. It bears a striking resemblance to Dutch cities.
And let's not forget Arend Dickman, who was a Dutchman in Polish service. It was he who, with the victory at Oliwa over the Swedish fleet, initiated the serious existence of the Crown Navy, demonstrating the usefulness of maritime forces for Poland. Although it was very small until the Revolutionary Wars and relied mainly on two permanent fleets stationed in Gdańsk and Władysławowo, it was supported by so-called privateers, or pirates in the service of the King of Poland.
All of this led to the traditional situation for Polish sailors, where they are often outnumbered by the enemy. Hence, Captain Głuś and his crew were not concerned about the enemy's superiority in terms of vessels, even if they were equally modern. They simply did what is always done in the Crown Navy in such situations.
"No cursing, Farbiś. This is a cultured vessel," Głuś said calmly.
"Oh, so I should speak like the way naval curses are presented in children's fairy tales?" Farbiś began jokingly, ironizing. "Okay, I can do that," he added after a moment, clearing his throat, and started, "To a hundred barrels of salted codfish! They take it seriously!"
The bridge crew involuntarily burst into laughter. Even Głuś succumbed to Farbiś's charm. This allowed everyone to relax and approach the matter more calmly.
"Alright, what's our plan, Captain?" Farbiś asked once everyone had calmed down.
Głuś looked at him silently, then walked over to the navigation table and quickly updated the map, marking the detected enemies on it. Then, with a few more clicks and finger tricks, he laid out the entire plan.
Farbiś examined it before bursting into laughter. "Seriously?" he added incredulously after a moment of disbelief.
"What's wrong?" Głuś replied. "There's no room for fancy tactics here. We'll approach them at the horizon's edge, unleash laser fire until the gun overheats or the battery runs out. Then we retreat beyond the horizon and wait for the gun to cool down or the battery to recharge, and repeat the process until we set the entire fleet on fire."
"What about their dragon mounts? I heard they use some kind of aircraft carriers with dragons instead of planes," Farbiś inquired.
"Just like any other flying target, we'll shoot them down with anti-aircraft guns or Pioruns. Although, we'll probably set those carriers on fire first to cook up that problem right from the start," Głuś replied.
Farbiś nodded, and then teasingly added, "Roasted Dragon Meat, cooked with lasers in a wooden pot. I like this plan." Intrigued, he further remarked, "I wonder what dragon meat tastes like?"
"Probably like lizard meat," one of the sailors on the bridge chimed in.
After some contemplation, Farbiś nodded. After all, dragons were just enormous reptiles, right?
"Alright, enough chit-chat, let's get to work," Captain Głuś said, putting an end to the relaxed atmosphere. The Polish sailors then went about their tasks. Kaszub surged forward, accelerating to its full speed of about 30 knots, heading towards the approaching fleet from the north.
Of course, Głuś himself was unaware of the fleet's true objective. He believed, just like Ludius and the Polish Intelligence, that Marshal Preator was sailing towards Roderius. That was the official goal, but neither Ludius nor the intelligence expected Preator to disobey orders.
The Marshal wasn't so foolish as to walk into a trap willingly. It was his actions that drew the expansionists to his cause, not overzealousness or bravado. He carefully selected the most obvious rebels to lull Emperor Ludius's vigilance. In reality, within the shadows of Parpaldia's capital, Preator's supporters prepared for the triumphant entry of the "future" Emperor.
Ludius believed he had successfully outmaneuvered his recent followers, but it was Preator who set the game in motion from the beginning. Preator had been planning a military coup for many years, believing that Ludius was unfit to be Emperor and desiring power for himself. He was only waiting for the right opportunity to strike.
The conflict that erupted on Roderius and the leniency shown by the Emperor towards the matter was the opportunity Preator had been waiting for.
Firstly, the delicate treatment he extended to the new players could be sensed. Contrary to many of his supporters, Preator understood the essence of the situation. In his youth, when he was a mere non-commissioned officer serving as an aide and servant to his mentor, he was sent to the Center and the Second Zone.
His mentor, Aureliusz Baliseus, was sent as a Military Attaché. The timing was significant as it was during the Fourth Civilization War. Preator himself had the opportunity to witness the birth of airplanes, tanks, mechs, and other technological advancements in warfare. What he saw during that time, on both sides, as Parpaldia barely maintained neutrality towards the warring factions, left a lasting impression in his memory.
For years, he yearned to initiate his own similar projects using the remnants of the Black Sorcerer Empire's military equipment and sought solutions to combat them.
Furthermore, this personal familiarity with modern technology differentiated him from the Supreme Commander, Arde. While the Supreme Commander had only heard secondhand accounts, when Preator learned that Arde had been demoralized after witnessing a demonstration of analogous military equipment in the Commonwealth, it only added to his contempt for Arde and his protector, thanks to whom he had been assigned his role—the Emperor Ludius himself.
Not that Arde lacked basic competence; Ludius was not a complete idiot to appoint a fool as the Supreme Commander when he aimed for conquest. Nevertheless, Preator believed that there were many other more competent individuals for that position, although contrary to appearances, he did not desire it for himself. He considered himself only the ninth person among the top ten best candidates for the role.
Unfortunately, he shared a common trait with the rest of the candidates—he did not kiss Ludius's ass like Arde did. Preator looked at Ludius with severe aversion because Ludius was more concerned about not losing his crown rather than the future of the Empire.
Ironically, fate would have it that the one to overthrow him would be the one who, although also desiring power, initially focused on the fate of the Empire and was willing to relinquish power for a better offer. The problem was that Preator didn't see a better offer, so he would take it for himself rather than give it to the jackals.
At least, that's what Preator believed when planning his coup. Unfortunately, fate can be very malicious to everyone.
Now we come to the second reason why the Marshal saw an opportunity in this—Ludius's withdrawal from the plans to conquer Altaras. To put it succinctly, it was an unpopular move, so Preator concluded that it should be exploited to gain the favor of the elites and the population of the Empire right from the start.
He wanted to show that this war could be used to benefit Parpaldia, to seize Altaras for himself while demonstrating to everyone in Philades that attempting to negotiate with the new players independently would result in punishment.
In this way, Preator aimed to kill two birds with one stone: expose the weakness of the Emperor while ensuring his agents would prevent Ludius from using it for his own purposes and intimidate everyone in the Third Zone.
If Preator wasn't confident in the success of the conquest of Altaras, he would have skipped that step and immediately headed to Roderius to defeat the pretender. In the latter case, although Preator was convinced of victory, he wasn't 100% certain it would succeed. That's why he took over half a million people, four hundred warships, and two thousand transport ships trailing behind the Fleet, along with the best mages with advanced defensive spells and the latest experimental weapons.
In short, he brought with him the New Model Army. If this force were to be used against any of the previous superpowers, Preator believed he had a chance to win. Although there were some shortcomings in the details, thanks to Magic and Biomagic, he would be able to prevail against an army from the time of the First World War in a decisive battle, which was Parpaldia's only hope of repelling the invasion from the West.
The problem was that he never had to face such an army, and what could effectively work against the ships from World War I might not necessarily hold up against the attack of a modern vessel. Unfortunately, Preator did not realize this difference until he saw Polish transport planes flying towards Ethirant.
It was only then that he realized that Poland had been playing in a different league from the very beginning. Unfortunately, the driving force, even of a Great Man, can only be effective when it goes with the flow, not against it. That's when even Napoleon would fall.
Therefore, when the news of the sighting of an enemy ship reached his ears, Preator was terrified. How did it sneak up on them? Madar should have detected every ship before they saw it! And that was true; Madar is capable of detecting any object under one condition—it contains even a trace of magic. If something lacks magic, it remains invisible to Madar, which is not necessarily a disadvantage in Arcadia.
Because, yes, Madar is the cousin of Radar, only it doesn't use radio waves to detect objects but magic. More precisely, it utilizes a series of seeking and sensing spells that emit magical waves into the ether, similar to electromagnetic waves, as magic itself has a structure that closely resembles electricity.
These waves collide with a source of magic, such as an average person, an animal, or a magical device, mutually interacting and creating something that scholars explain to the average person as a firework explosion. The location of the "explosion" is displayed on Madar.
Unfortunately for Parpaldia, the Poles lack magic. Considering that, unlike Milisia, Parpaldia never had to find a way to detect non-magical objects using Madar, they couldn't possibly notice the Poles in an obvious manner. Although this is a significant drawback, it can be compensated for by reversing what needs to be sought, namely through an unnatural non-reaction to magic, as everything essential in Arcadia possesses magic. However, this requires prior research and modification of Madar to have such capabilities, which Parpaldia lacked.
Although Radar is much more versatile, it doesn't mean it dominates over Madar. Madar itself has two incredibly useful advantages over Radar—it is frighteningly precise, much more so than Radar ever was because the only way to deceive it is to make your magic stop reacting to another, which is genuinely challenging as it requires a specialist sorcerer with incredible control over magic.
Another advantage is the absurd simplicity in constructing such a device. Madar is much simpler than Radar to the extent that when the method of building such devices was discovered, knowledge of it quickly became widespread. Such devices are even standard in the most primitive societies of the civilized part of Arkadia. Moreover, even a non-magical nation like Mu is capable of building them on their own.
That's why Preator was terrified by the sudden appearance of the enemy. He had absolutely no idea how the Poles managed to infiltrate them! If someone had told him they hadn't done it at all, he wouldn't have believed it. Nevertheless, although he was aware of the real danger, he remained calm and composed.
Upon sighting the enemy ship, he immediately ordered the vanguard to charge at full power towards the lone enemy vessel. As for the rest of the fleet, considering the firepower with which Mu and Milishiant ships were struck, he ordered them to disperse. Furthermore, he commanded all squadrons of dragon riders to take to the skies immediately. He made sure that the enemy ship did not have a clear field of fire and covered the aircraft carriers with other ships.
Then he watched as the vanguard formation advanced to engage the enemy. Preator had a burning red alert in his mind the entire time because the fact that the lone enemy simply charged at them was unsettling. Where were the other enemy forces? And with what force was this opponent coming that they did not fear a fleet of four hundred ships?
As a result of this chaos, he completely forgot about the Polish planes soaring high in the sky. Only he and General Cius noticed the planes by chance, but shortly after, a real enemy appeared, causing Preator to forget what he had initially wanted to communicate to the radio operator.
In this way, the capital of Parpaldia only learned about the encounter with the enemy at sea, remaining completely unaware of the impending airborne threat. It's no wonder Preator forgot, to be honest.
Shortly thereafter, the lone Pole attacked the vanguard, intentionally luring them closer. The speed at which he eliminated the entire formation horrified Preator, as the defensive spells designed to protect against high-caliber kinetic projectiles didn't even have time to react.
Barely had the Marshal blinked, and one of the ships burst into flames. He blinked again, and four more joined its fate. In less than five minutes, nothing was left of the vanguard.
Preator opened his mouth in shock, but he couldn't say anything. Fortunately, Cius, who had also been stunned, spoke up and voiced what he was thinking.
"What the hell happened?" he barked, surprising the nearby sailors. "How did they wipe them out so quickly?" Cius began to ask himself, "It's impossible. This is the Fleet of the New Model, built to deter the Western empires. Even Milishiant should have taken much longer!"
It should be known that these ships, although resembling sailing vessels from the late 18th and early 19th centuries, have fewer naval artillery pieces than their era counterparts. However, they are powerful enough to damage or even sink a small vessel from World War I. Of course, the price Parpaldia had to pay to achieve this capability was enormous, which is why Ludius reluctantly sent Preator to what seemed like certain death. In the end, he was spectacularly disposing of the main force of the Navy. The remaining ships were comparable to 18th and 19th-century sailboats, rendering Parpaldia practically defenseless against any force other than its own neighbors.
Combat Compartment of the Kaszub
And how did the crew of Kaszuba react? Well, they were no less astonished than the Parpaldians.
"That..." began Laser Gun Operator Seaman Konrad Muzyka, "was incredibly fast."
"It was an execution, Muzyka," his compartment mate, Seaman Mat Michał Feld, responded, terrified.
"Yes... you're right," confirmed Muzyka. He never expected that his first combat action would involve mowing down the enemy's vanguard. He had indeed prepared himself for a confrontation with enemy ships in battle, but he had imagined it to be a war between more or less equal powers.
"Continue the fire!" ordered Chief Petty Officer Jan Beck, the laser gun's operator, providing the gunner with new coordinates. Kaszuba had maneuvered to have a clear shot at new targets.
"Yes, sir," Muzyka replied, concealing his emotions, and once again he began aiming at the enemy ships. As soon as he aligned his sights, using his acquired experience, he fired a short series, although it's hard to speak of series with laser weapons. As soon as a fire erupted, he shifted his aim to the next target.
He continued like this for a while, losing himself in the targeting. It was only a firm grip on his arm that brought him back to reality.
"Cease fire, son. There are no new targets for you," Chief Petty Officer Beck spoke up. Muzyka had the impression that Beck was scared by his lack of emotion when it came to shooting.
"Understood, Chief Petty Officer," Konrad replied, detaching himself from the sight. Instead, he looked at the screen beside him, where there was only a wall of fire visible. Without realizing it, he turned all the visible ships into floating torches. Nevertheless, he didn't feel proud. It wasn't a fight; it was an execution. The enemy didn't even have a chance to react.
"Why the hell did they come here?" Muzyka asked. Nobody bothered to answer him.
RNV Praeclarus
The Praetor looked in shock at the scale of the losses. The vanguard was already sinking, and the nearest ships were ablaze, destined to meet the same fate soon. What's more, even the Praeclarus itself was on fire, with its bow engulfed in flames, and many burning sailors jumping into the water in desperate hope.
"Marshal!" shouted Captain Martinus of the Praeclarus, "You must evacuate!"
"Yes, you're right," the Marshal replied, heading towards the lifeboat. Furious as a bull, General Cius followed behind him. The Praetor noticed that Cius was exerting all his willpower not to curse.
"Hurry, Marshal, get on board!" urged Captain Martinus, pointing to a partially crowded lifeboat.
"Wait!" said the Praetor, who had just regained his presence of mind. "Is the Madio still functioning?" he asked the commanding officer.
"It's working!" responded the radio operator.
"Transmit to all units, break contact and evacuate to Parpaldia on your own. In case of questions, answer that it's the order of Marshal Praetor."
"And what about those stranded in the water?" the captain asked.
The Marshal sighed and slowly replied, "We stay here and wait for the Poles to capture us."
The captain fell silent; he knew well how difficult it was for the Marshal to say those words. To become a captive was one of the most shameful things a Parpaldian could do. Yes, it happened sometimes, but for any officer, it meant the end of their career. For an enlisted soldier, it meant being stuck as a common soldier forever. It's no wonder, as all their neighbors were much weaker than them. Getting caught meant admitting defeat and surrendering instead of fighting to the last.
The only way to erase this disgrace was either a daring escape from captivity or death in battle.
"Message transmitted, Marshal," the radio operator spoke up.
"Good," said the Marshal, then boarded the lifeboat, followed by General Cius. "Aren't you getting in?" he wondered, seeing that the captain was ordering others to leave the lifeboat.
"The captain goes last," Martinus replied.
"I understand," nodded Marshal Praetor, knowing well that the captain wasn't going anywhere. And indeed, the captain organized the evacuation until the very end, finally giving his place in the last lifeboat to an ordinary sailor.
For this act, many years later, Captain Martinus was considered one of the few bright moments in the Battle of the Strait, as the massacre came to be called in official historiography. He received his own monument, poems, epics, and even plays were performed about him.
Of course, everything was exaggerated and embellished just to sweeten the pain of the defeat on that day.
But is that surprising?
OKP Kaszub
Meanwhile, on the bridge of the Kaszub, Captain Głuś looked in astonishment as the enemy fleet began to disperse and sail northward on their own. The battle had just begun, and already the enemy was fleeing in panic. But it was not surprising, as within a quarter of an hour, they had managed to set fire to and sink nearly a hundred ships.
The entire vanguard and a portion of the core of the fleet had been destroyed, including the enemy's flagship, as confirmed by the drone footage. However, one problem remained.
"Captain, enemy air forces are approaching!" he was informed.
"How many?" Tworka asked.
He waited a moment for a response. "It looks like about fifty, the rest are attempting to escape to Parpaldia on their own."
"That's not a lot," Farbiś chimed in.
"Nevertheless, enough to pose a threat," Głuś pointed out. He then issued orders to cease fire on the enemy ships and prepare to open fire on the aerial targets with all available cannons.
The crews of all the guns, two anti-aircraft Wróbel turrets of 25 millimeters caliber, one regular Tryton cannon of 35 millimeters caliber located at the rear of the ship, and the laser cannon at the bow, prepared to repel the enemy.
Upon the captain's command, the Kaszub closed in on the enemy. However, they waited to open fire until the enemy was about three kilometers away from the ship.
As soon as the adversaries reached the appropriate distance, a barrage of fire erupted. The destruction of the enemy was swift, each gun performed its task quickly and efficiently. The Triton cannon tore through the enemy in the air, forcing them to break formation. Whatever remained of the formation was riddled with holes by the Wróbels, and any target that evaded artillery fire through maneuvering was incinerated alive by the laser cannon.
The enemy flew a kilometer and a half before the last one plunged into the water.
"Not much of a 'threat'," Farbiś taunted. "We wiped them out before they could do anything."
Głuś could only roll his eyes at his deputy's snarkiness. Instead, he ordered a request for assistance to be transmitted. From what he observed, there were many surviving sailors, most of whom came from the burning ships. There were too many for the Kaszub to accommodate them all. The war may have ended for these Parpaldians, but will it end for everyone?