Chapter 19: Lloegyr Principality

Efnysien - Lloegyr Principality

Darkness enveloped Prince Zoltan El Barton like a suffocating shroud as he languished in the depths of the dungeon beneath the trade city of Efnysien. Time had become a meaningless concept for him, as each passing day merged into an endless void of despair. His mind, once filled with dreams of a prosperous future, now echoed with the haunting memories that had led him here.

Zoltan's father, King Zoltan the XXIII, had ruled over the Lloegyr Principality with wisdom and compassion. Lloegyr had known peace and prosperity under his reign, as the land flourished with bountiful crops and abundance. But three years ago, tragedy struck when the king met his untimely demise under mysterious circumstances. Zoltan's step-mother, Queen Alycia, ascended to the throne as regent, claiming to have his best interests at heart. Little did he know, her true nature would reveal itself in due time.

Leaning against the cold, damp walls, he thought back to the day he had stumbled upon the twisted secret of his step-mother and her sadistic brother. Hidden within the castle corridors, Zoltan had inadvertently stumbled upon a secret chamber, accessible only through a hidden passage. The room's door creaked open, revealing a breathtakingly horrifying scene. Queen Alycia, stripped of her regal facade, was on all fours, wearing a humiliating collar around her neck. Beside her stood Duke Durham, his eyes alight with perverse pleasure. In a twisted display of debauchery, she begged her brother, Duke Durham, for carnal gratification. Zoltan's innocence shattered as he heard them gloat about their malevolent plot to poison his father, extinguishing the last flicker of hope in his heart.

But Duke Durham, driven by his own twisted desires, discovered Zoltan's presence in the shadows. For a moment, death loomed before the young prince, promising a permanent silence to his torment. But Queen Alycia, in her twisted desires, insisted on keeping him alive as her toy—a constant reminder of their power over him, both physically and morally.

The young prince clenched his fists, feeling the true weight of his family's betrayal. His father, King Zoltan the XXIII, had fallen prey to their treachery. Their actions had shattered his world, and now they held him captive, seeking to silence him forever.

The sound of creaking hinges echoed through the dimly lit dungeon as the metal door burst open, casting a beam of light onto the dusty floor. Prince Zoltan, chained in the corner, shielded his eyes from the sudden brightness, his emaciated form trembling with a mix of fear and anticipation.

"My Prince!" The voice pierced through the darkness, carrying a mix of relief and determination. Zoltan's heart skipped a beat as he recognized the voice. It was none other than Knight Captain Budi Susanto, his loyal sword art teacher from the past.

"I come to rescue you, Your Highness," Budi declared, his voice filled with unwavering loyalty.

Zoltan's eyes widened with disbelief and a flicker of hope ignited within him. "Master Budi, I thought Durham had killed you," he whispered, his voice hoarse from years of neglect.

"Your Master will not die that easily," Budi replied with a grim smile. "We don't have much time. Durham is preoccupied with the Tyranid attack on Efnysien. We must escape to the Alba Federation."

A surge of determination coursed through Zoltan's veins, replacing his despair with a newfound resolve. "Yes, my older sister, Princess Anne, married the High Chancellor of Alba. She will help me reclaim the throne from those who have wronged us."

With a fluid motion, Budi unlocked the chains that had bound Zoltan for far too long, their clinking sound a symphony of freedom. The prince, weak but determined, rose to his feet, leaning on Budi for support.

"We must move swiftly," Budi cautioned, glancing down the dimly lit corridor. "There will be guards and obstacles to overcome, but we will prevail."

Their steps were silent as they navigated the labyrinthine passages of the castle, hiding in the shadows to avoid any unwanted attention. As they stealthily made their way through the dimly lit halls, Zoltan couldn't help but recall the darkness he had witnessed, the corruption that had consumed his family.

"Master Budi," Zoltan whispered, his voice heavy with unshed tears. "I saw... I saw Queen Alycia, my step-mother, crawling like a dog, her dignity stripped away by Duke Durham's perverse desires."

Budi's grip tightened on his sword hilt, his face transforming into a mask of fury. "Their deeds are abhorrent, my Prince," he growled. "But rest assured, justice will be served. We will make them pay for their atrocities."

A glimmer of hope mingled with the darkness within Zoltan's eyes as they continued their perilous journey through the castle. The weight of the betrayal and his father's tragic demise weighed heavily on his young shoulders, but the thought of reclaiming his rightful place on the throne fueled his determination.

They reached a hidden passage, known only to a few trusted individuals. Its worn stone walls seemed to whisper secrets of the past, giving Zoltan a fleeting sense of security in this forsaken world.

"Almost there, Your Highness," Budi encouraged, leading Zoltan down the narrow path. "Once we reach Alba Federation, your sister's influence will aid our cause."

Zoltan clung to the hope Budi offered, clinging to the image of his sister, Princess Anne, who had always been his ally. The thought of her unwavering support was a beacon of light in the darkness that permeated his soul.

As they emerged from the hidden passage into a moonlit courtyard, Zoltan's heart fluttered with a mix of trepidation and excitement. The night air whispered promises of freedom, urging them forward.

But their escape would not go unnoticed.

Just as Zoltan and Budi made their way toward the castle gates, alarms blared throughout the city, their piercing wails filling the night. The uproar of battle and the screeches of Tyranid insects filled the air, a chaotic symphony signaling the approaching conflict.

"We have to hurry, Your Highness," Budi urged, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of danger. "The city is under attack, and our opportunity for escape is dwindling."

With renewed determination, Zoltan pushed himself forward, his frail form propelled by the will to survive and reclaim his birthright. The echoes of his mother's voice, lost to him long ago, whispered in his ear, giving him strength. Together, Prince Zoltan and Knight Captain Budi raced through the streets of Efnysien, dodging crumbling buildings and evading patrolling guards. The chaos of battle provided a small window of opportunity—a chance for the prince to rise from the darkness and take back what was rightfully his.

As they neared the city gates, Zoltan's heart pounded in his chest. The embers of hope glowed brighter within him, fueling his spirit with newfound determination.

"I will not let them destroy everything," Zoltan vowed, his voice carried on the winds of change. "Alba Federation will be our refuge, and with my sister's help, we shall reclaim what is ours."

Budi's steady gaze fell upon the young prince, filled with equal parts pride and determination. "Indeed, Your Highness," he affirmed. "Together, we shall forge a brighter future, where justice prevails and the darkness is banished."

With their resolve strengthened, Prince Zoltan and Knight Captain Budi disappeared into the night, leaving behind the prison that had held them captive for far too long. The journey to reclaim Lloegyr had begun, and with every step, the young prince's determination grew, fueled by the emotional bonds of loyalty, love, and the unyielding desire for justice.

160km North from Efnysien

North of Trade City Efnysien, within the borders of the illustrious Lloegyr Principality, the stage was set for a remarkable encounter that would forever etch itself in the annals of naval history. With the brisk wind carrying the whispers of anticipation, Rear Admiral Hsidori issued a fateful command that would set in motion a sequence of events both awe-inspiring and mysterious.

"Activate the tear of the wind god!" declared Hsidori, his voice resolute and unwavering. The word spread like wildfire through the fleet, and the crew swiftly carried out their orders, unveiling a peculiar contraption nestled in the stern of their magnificent vessel. As the ancient incantations resonated within the device, an enthralling transformation occurred - the very essence of the wind was effectively captured, coursing through a network of intricate tubes that funneled its power towards mighty propellers. With a resounding hum, the ship surged forward, slicing through the watery expanse at an astonishing speed, reaching a breathtaking velocity of 170 knots.

The vessel propelling through the waves with such majesty and might was none other than the revered 130-gun Magic Ship Pima, the flagship of Lloegyr's esteemed 2nd Fleet. Adorned in enchanting armor, every member of the crew exuded an air of fierce determination, fully prepared for the imminent clash that lay before them. The sky above them was filled with anticipation as the Pima raced toward an unidentified ship that dared to trespass into their territorial waters.

Onboard the Pima, the atmosphere was charged with anticipation and anticipation. The crew had transitioned into a state of combat readiness, ensuring their every move was purposeful and swift. Armed with shimmering blades, the sword-armed crew stood poised on the upper deck, their magical bows drawn and ready for action. Along the ship's railings, sturdy shields crafted from magic-enhanced steel formed a formidable line of defense against explosive magical arrows. And as if these defensive measures were not enough, towering 128mm anti-air guns had been strategically placed at the ship's sides, loaded with high-explosive shells, primed to unleash devastation upon any aerial assault. The Pima awaited the call to arms, prepared to plunge headfirst into battle at a moment's notice.

Despite the preparedness and the valor of the crew, a sense of apprehension gnawed at the core of Rear Admiral Hsidori. As his ship drew nearer to the elusive trespasser, his eyes widened, a pale hue overcoming his countenance. The sight before him was truly a sight to behold, defying all expectations and surpassing every known measurement of grandeur. An unidentified aircraft carrier loomed on the horizon, its sheer size casting a colossal shadow upon the seascape. The rear admiral's awe-stricken gaze attempted to comprehend the scale of this behemoth, its magnitude rendering his fleet minuscule in comparison. With a tentative estimation, Hsidori concluded that the sheer length of the enigmatic vessel was equivalent to at least ten Lloegyr warships, while its towering height stood at least thrice that of his own flagship, mast included. Furthermore, the width of the vessel dwarfed his ship, spanning a space akin to three or four of his own.

A wave of bewilderment washed over Hsidori, compelling him to turn to his trusted comrades for insight. "Do any of you possess knowledge of any nation capable of constructing such a colossal ship?" he inquired, his voice tinged with a mix of astonishment and curiosity.

A seasoned sailor, well-traveled amidst the maritime realms, stepped forward, his brow furrowed with contemplation. "This vessel must be in excess of 600 meters in length," he contemplated aloud. "During my naval training in the esteemed Jostedalsbreen Empire, I had the privilege of witnessing their awe-inspiring Tempest-class living metal aircraft carrier, a true marvel of engineering. But even in comparison to that legendary vessel, this unidentified ship dwarfs them all in size and magnitude."

As the mysterious ship drew near, Hsidori's amazement only deepened when he observed several beings, astonishingly human, aboard the metal behemoth, vigorously waving in a friendly manner. Responding to their overtures, Hsidori and his crew waved back in greeting, their confusion mounting. The humans aboard the colossal ship then directed their attention to something unseen behind their metallic hull. Within mere moments, the massive vessel glided past the Pima, escorted by a fleet of smaller metal ships that encircled the gargantuan marvel like loyal sentinels.

Determined to quell the rising tensions and unravel the enigma before them, Hsidori addressed his crew with an unyielding gaze. "We shall send forth an inspection party to request permission to board that ship," he declared firmly. "Until further notice, and unless provoked, we are to refrain from any act of aggression. Let it be known that we are navigating uncharted waters, and this vessel could very well belong to a newly emerging nation. It is in the spirit of international cooperation and exchange that I implore each of you to maintain an attitude of utmost respect and restraint."

A resounding chorus of affirmation echoed through the decks of the Pima as the crew pledged their unwavering obedience. And so, guided by the crew of the colossal ship, Rear Admiral Hsidori embarked upon a momentous journey, leading his inspection party towards the mysteries that awaited them

Beyond the expansive platform lay a cavernous hangar, its vast expanse adorned with an array of winged objects and illuminated by a mesmerizing display of magical lighting. Along the walls, sturdy crates were neatly stacked, hinting at this area's purpose as a storage facility. Rear Admiral Hsidori couldn't help but marvel at the sight before him and found himself contemplating whether this colossal space could even accommodate the thrilling spectacle of a Terrorbird racing match. The sheer enormity of the deck left him and his men awestruck, their whispered remarks echoing a shared sense of astonishment.

Similar to the other magnificent metal vessels they had encountered, this particular ship boasted a towering structure with windows and slender metal spires that reached towards the sky. From these heights emerged a figure dressed in pristine white, radiating an aura of authority. Accompanying him were several armed men, their black 'muskets' firmly grasped, and a gentleman dressed in a distinguished shade of dark blue, his attire embellished with a fashionable pin. Hsidori's attentive gaze identified the emblem on the pin, one unfamiliar to him, mirroring the flag that fluttered atop the tower.

Turning to his men, Rear Admiral Hsidori issued a command in a hushed tone, emphasizing the importance of maintaining a poised and honorable demeanor as representatives of the illustrious Lloegyr Navy Second Fleet. With steely resolve, he stepped forward, offering his salute as a gesture of respect. "Greetings, I am Rear Admiral Hsidori of the Lloegyr Navy Second Fleet. You have navigated into our territorial waters, and it is with great curiosity that we seek to ascertain your vessel's affiliation and its ultimate objective within our realm."

One of the men in dark blue, a black officer named Lieutenant General Alan Brook, sighed softly before taking a step closer to offer a handshake to Rear Admiral Hsidori. "I am Lieutenant General Alan Brook, and the distinguished gentleman beside me is Admiral Stephen Moorhouse," he indicated, extending his hand towards the white-clad figure. Admiral Moorhouse reciprocated the gesture with a salute before warmly grasping Hsidori's hand. "Welcome aboard the HMS Queen Elizabeth," he greeted with composure.

"Now, in regards to our affiliation, we hail from the Franco-British Union," Moorhouse clarified, his words accompanied by an air of sincerity.

Hsidori's disbelief was palpable as he tried to absorb this unexpected information. His features contorted into a mixture of amazement and puzzlement. "Franco-British Union? I must confess that I am not familiar with such a nation," he admitted candidly.

Moorhouse offered a patient and understanding smile. "That is understandable, Rear Admiral Hsidori. You see, we come from a world known as Earth, a realm different from your own."

Confusion danced within Hsidori's mind, evident in the way he absentmindedly scratched his head. "Earth, you say? This is truly remarkable. Pray tell, what brings your vessel to our shores, and what is your objective in these waters?"

Clearing his throat, Lieutenant General Brook assumed a composed posture. "Our objective is to establish contact with local civilizations, such as your illustrious nation of 'Lloegyr,' and to initiate diplomatic relations."

Hsidori nodded, his expression shifting from perplexity to one of understanding. "I comprehend your purpose, Admiral Moorhouse, and I assure you that I shall faithfully relay your intentions to my superiors. However, before we conclude, I have one pressing question. The 'Flame Arrow of Destruction' that played a pivotal role in obliterating the Hive Tyrant during the recent Battle of Efnysien, can it be attributed to your esteemed country?"

A flicker of recognition crossed Moorhouse's eyes, and he responded with a note of confirmation. "Ah, the 'Flame Arrow' you speak of is better known as our formidable Storm Shadows hypersonic anti-ship missile. Indeed, it was our nation's firepower that came to your city's aid when it was on the precipice of being overwhelmed by the Tyranid horde. For that act, I humbly request you extend our formal apologies."

Hsidori took a moment to absorb this revelation, his expression growing more contemplative. "I see, Admiral Moorhouse. I appreciate your candor and offer my gratitude for your timely intervention. I shall make sure to convey your apologies to the appropriate channels. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must diligently report this intriguing encounter to my superiors."

"Of course, Rear Admiral Hsidori, your diligence is commendable," Moorhouse acknowledged warmly.

With a final nod of acknowledgement, Rear Admiral Hsidori turned to his men, signaling for them to maintain their honorable presence before making his way to fulfill his duty in documenting this extraordinary meeting with the representatives of the Franco-British Union.