Chapter 01
The Dawn of Day
Marinestation der Ostsee Kiel
3rd of May, 202X
0514 hours
Dawn had just cracked over the Iron Blood base. The waters of the Baltic glittered like gold as the sun rose on another day. The man was already up and about alongside everyone stationed in the facility. He had found out long ago that an early morning air raid was a surefire way to wake someone up, doing a much better job than even the strongest coffee Mainz could brew.
The cool Baltic breeze blew over the shipyard, fanning the small flames that still burned somewhere over his base. Despite this, the man, dressed in an olive drab flight jacket with his officer's uniform underneath, was inside a lone glider, which was also being propelled by the wind. From here, he got a clear view of the situation down below.
Lodged within the end of the Kiel fjord, Kiel harbour's facilities were scattered towards the south and southeast of the body of water. The biggest one, Ostuferhafen, was his main port of call, and from here, he could see the ships under his command, berthed alongside each other and ready to obey their respective girl's will. In the south, the scattering of slipways and dry docks housed ships and U-boats being built from the ground up, all in the name of victory for Iron Blood and the Crimson Axis.
Because of this, the area had become a prime target for the Royal Navy's extensive bombing campaign, almost receiving a nightly battering courtesy of Her Majesty's bombers. The flyer sighed deeply; from here, he could see the full-scale destruction made to the base tonight, with one of the mass-produced Z-class destroyers listing heavily and leaking oil. Next to it, another ship burned where it floated. On the shore, one of the warehouses was still on fire, with Manjuu firefighters using hoses to douse the flames.
Despite this, however, the man remained resolute; he knew that with courage and a little bit of luck, he'd surely win this damned war for the Fatherland and be the finest admiral the Baltic had ever seen sail its seas.
Vizeadmiral. He corrected himself, but it was only a matter of time. With his able fleet under his wing and his own years of experience, it was a foregone conclusion. He manipulated the instruments in the panel, kind of like how a pianist would play the piano, producing magnificent concertos, but in his case, swift and elegant manoeuvres were made as the glider pushed itself through the air, leading him to fly over the other side of his base.
On the west side of the fjord were his headquarters and the girls' dormitories, all arranged in a semi-circle that could be seen from this high up. In the middle of it all, a massive golden anchor, rumoured to have been made from melted-down ingots recovered from a sunken Royal Navy light cruiser, was placed on top of a marble fountain, which, for the time being, was turned off to conserve water. Surrounding it were a series of sad-looking blossom-less kirschblüte courtesy of their Sakura allies.
Scattered between the trees and buildings were the acht-acht anti-aircraft guns that served to protect the base and its facilities, which ruined the landscape. However, he and the ship girls who lived there tried their best to make the place look less hostile. Bushes of cornflowers have been planted around the guns, treading the stone walkways that one could use to reach the large beer hall by the southwest.
The place, which officially only served alcohol to light cruisers and above, thus, at least in theory, rendered all but a handful of his fleet sober (he knew the likes of Lebe thought they were being sneaky behind his back), was a place of respite in this militaristic facility. Outside, in a patch of clearing of oak trees, a dozen picnic tables dot the grassy field, with strings of light tied to the trees, giving it all a gemütlichkeit feel.
And beyond it was the city of Kiel itself, with a population of roughly 250 thousand, the pearl of the Iron Blood Baltic Coast and the longtime home of maritime tradition, with himself just another link in Iron Blood's centuries-old rich naval history. It hadn't taken him long to adjust to the city itself, which was all too similar to his own. Scanning the city's landmarks, he quickly found the Laboe Naval Memorial and its ginormous Iron Blood banner, which fluttered magnificently in the wind. Looking at the flag for guidance, he made proper adjustments and shifted the heading of his aircraft to the north. Crossing the grand Kiel Canal below and the multitude of ships crossing it that supplied the war effort, he flew his way further north and made his final approach to the aerodrome, levelling the glider at one of the runways. Gingerly, he guided its sleek airframe for what could only be described as a controlled crash as the wheels made contact with terra firma once again.
Another gentle landing
The glider came to a stop long before he knew it and left it to a team of ready-waiting Manjuu mechanics. What did take a long time for him to adjust to was the yellow-feathered birds that practically ran the entire base, from line cooking to sorting the tech boxes to maintaining their equipment, including his own personal glider. Removing his aviator helmet, he took one good look at the hustle and bustle of the airfield he landed on.
The aerodrome, a commandeered regional airport that had declined in use after the Cold War ended, had a row of hangars filled with a flight of top-of-the-line Iron Blood planes alongside antique Second World War ones, Eurofighter Typhoon multirole fighters were parked alongside Messerschmitt BF-109T fighter planes and Junkers Ju-87C dive bombers, the last two of which were modified to be launched from sea-based carriers and were temporarily used for the defence of the naval base until their rightful owner claimed them so.
A Kubelwagen suddenly sped in front of him and stopped. One of its doors swung open, and a white-gloved hand patted the leather passenger seat. "Hop in, Herr Admiral!" a small, short-haired girl called, her blonde hair tucked underneath a beret with a distinctive Iron Cross as an ornament.
"I don't know where you learned to drive, Z23, but I must say I'm impressed," he said as he closed the door, with the Iron Blood destroyer immediately gunning the car away.
"I still can't understand why you like flying in that thing so much. It's so dangerous. You could end up like Admiral de la Perière," Z23 complained, her short blonde hair flew as the open-topped Kubel picked up speed.
As a flyer, he knew all too well the story of his fellow Vizeadmiral, who died in the early days of the war, not in combat but in a plane crash in France just as he was about to assume command of Marinegruppen Süd, cutting both his career and life short.
"Stop painting everything grey in grey. I have a parachute just in case when things get nasty. Besides, I've been doing this since I was your age," He finished, opening the car's glove compartment and finding amongst the knickknacks a half-eaten disk of blue-tinned milk-flavoured Scho-Ka-Kola, and began scarfing some wedges down.
"You do know that age is a touchy subject for us schiffsmädchen," the destroyer complained as she shifted gear, speeding the car up along the road.
"Tschuldigung, Z23, my bad," he immediately replied, knowing well to admit when he was wrong and not to stick too much to his ego, a fact lost on many men his rank.
Looking down, he saw the destroyer dressed in her usual figure-hugging spats as well as her sleeveless vest and wondered if those were enough to block out the cold Baltic spring.
"It's a bit chilly this morning. Are you sure about driving an open-top with so little clothing on?"
The destroyer started blushing madly, her cheeks turning as red as a bowl of rote groutze; whether this was from the cold or from embarrassment, he couldn't tell.
"Danke schön for your concern, Herr Admiral, but the Arctic was much colder…" the blonde replied, still a bit flustered, and it took a while for her to regain her composure.
"Sir, I've managed to complete a damage assessment of last night's air raid," Z23 started, turning towards his direction, allowing him to see her purple-tinted eyes show concern.
"Let's hear it then."
"The warehouse that was hit was the stockroom for our spare anti-submarine weapons, so nothing of importance was lost," she reported, casually overtaking a convoy of Opel Blitz trucks carrying a stream of vital supplies for the base.
"For the ships, thankfully, most of the fleet has been out commerce raiding or commissions. A few production cruisers and destroyers got hit, with one of the mass-produced Type 1934s severely damaged and possibly needing to be scrapped. In addition, an oil tanker got sunk, and its contents spilled into the harbour," The destroyer rattled off, obviously memorizing the report to the last letter.
The Vizeadmiral breathed an internal sigh of relief. He only took minimal losses from this raid, and he damn well knew it could have been way worse. Just last month, his newly commissioned pocket battleship, Admiral Scheer, had to return to Wilhemsaven for repairs to patch up the damages caused by an airstrike.
Fortunately, her shipgirl went through the ordeal unscathed and without injury, only leaving her thoroughly annoyed and her elder sister, Deutschland, to reportedly throw an ape theatre performance. The strike itself was peculiar in that it was so well-coordinated that the bombers caught her crossing the Kiel Canal, and, had it succeeded, it would have resulted in the vital canal being blocked. It wasn't outside the realm of possibility that they had insider information about the crossing, and he had made a mental note to look into it.
"Although the damage had been superficial, this raid still proves that the Royalists have air supremacy over us," the destroyer finished, displaying the classic signs of worry that he had seen on a daily basis in the mirror.
"Don't worry, Z23, once the Oberkommando finally delivers those carriers, we'll give them a run for their money," he told her and, in the process of reassuring her, placed his hand on top of hers that was on the gear level.
Immediately, the Kubelwagen swerved into oncoming traffic, causing a symphony of horns. However, Z23 corrected herself at the last possible moment and returned them to the proper side of the road, looking quite abashed.
"Sir! Don't you ever do that again. You could have had both of us killed!" Silence ensued between the two for a few miles before the shipgirl spoke again.
"Before I forget, there's mail for you." The blonde pointed to the suitcase on the back before. "You sure are popular," Z23 said, still flustered from the incident earlier, as evidenced by her blushing cheeks.
The Vizeadmiral immediately grabbed the suitcase from the rear seat and perused its contents, finding a white envelope. Taking a moment to inspect the Iron Blood cross pressed onto red wax, he pulled out a penknife from his pocket and slipped the envelope open, reading the contents of the mail.
Notice of Ship Transfer
Bremen, Iron Blood
Dear Herr Hildebrandt,
This notice of ship transfer is sent to you, as the Commander of Marinegruppenkommando Ost, to prepare for the upcoming transfer of one (1) Weser class light aircraft carrier shipgirl in a week's time. Frau Weser had just been launched last week and is now attached to your Marinegruppen, and she would fall under your command. Please be prepared to accommodate both her vessel and Frau Weser herself.
Respond with a safe transfer confirmation once received.
AG Weser Bremen
He must have remained silent for a while as Z23 got worried enough for her to throw a question his way.
"Good or bad news?" she asked, doing her best to not show worry on her face.
"Real good, wunderbar news! They're passing on one of Iron Blood's capital ships to my command!" he replied, knowing very well that there was glee in his voice and made no attempt to hide it.
"Great! Guess we should give her a warm welcome!" the blonde cheered, still keeping her eyes on the road, but her countenance became noticeably lighter.
"Perhaps it is the end of the beginning…" he whispered.
The car abruptly came to a stop in front of the headquarters, and the two hopped off, walking to the entrance, where a grey-haired lady briskly approached them. The shipgirl wore red-rimmed glasses, a window to her piercing purple eyes, which analyzed the two of them. Her maroon robes and light grey hair were the only indication of her being a Konigsberg class light cruiser.
"Welcome back, Herr Vizeadmiral. Here is today's schedule. Please look it over," Koln said, handing over her green clipboard to him.
A quick glance through the attached typed-out paper had already told him it was just the usual: More training records, more requisition forms, and more equipment write-offs, all of which needed his signature one way or another.
"Thank you very much, Koln," he said as he noticed a Manjuu by his feet, chirping away while holding a brown envelope that was much larger than the yellow bird.
The cruiser noticed the fluffy little bean and went down on her knee to get a closer look. Not before long, the shipgirl listened to what the yellow chick was saying. Despite his years at the navy, his grasp of the 'Manjuu chirp' was abysmal at best; it was great that the feather balls could understand Ironblood well. As such, he had been relying on the girls under his command to communicate with the feathery beings, something that seemed to come naturally to them.
"Yes, that is Vizeadmiral Hildebrandt. What business do you have with him?" Koln replied before paying attention to the chirping reply of the delivery Manjuu.
"A telegram from Berlin, you say?" the cruiser asked, "Very well, I'll give it to him then. Danke schön for the delivery," she took the delivery off the bird and gave it a head pat before the chick went on its merry way. Due to the disruptions of the global satellite systems by the Siren as well as the risk of Azur Lane intercepting their communications, the Ironblood High Command decided that the old methods, while not as fast, were the way to go.
"Berlin? Must be the Oberkommando der Marine," he thought as he received the envelope, emblazoned with the word 'Dringend!' or 'Urgent!' in bright red letters.
And he was right.
Vizeadmiral Hans Hildebrandt
Schweriner Strasse 17a D-24106 Kiel
The Großadmiral requests your presence in a meeting with other Marinegruppenkommandos at 0600 hours.
Oberkommando der Marine
"Seems like the OKM wants to have an urgent meeting later at 6," he said aloud to his entourage, stuffing the telegram inside his uniform.
"Should I readjust your schedule to account for this?" Koln asked, staring at him with her violet-tinted eyes.
"That would be most kind of you," he replied, handing back the green clipboard.
"Oh, and the other girls will be arriving back from their commissions in a bit. Would you like to greet them?" the cruiser asked, graciously reminding him of the return of ships he had sent out hours ago.
He looked at the watch on his wrist, a Rolex GMT Master II, an oyster steel Swiss watch built for pilots like himself and capable of keeping track of two different zones at the same; an expensive gift from a special someone. The timepiece showed that it was 5:36. Yeah. He had time.
"Sure, lead the way," he replied, walking outside by the waterfront. It didn't take long for him to spot the silhouettes of the steel hulls of reborn warships of old make their way from the bay into the empty slipways across to the east.
Once properly docked, he watched as the girls under his command jumped into the water. Instead of plunging into the cold sea below, their footwear turned into rudder shoes, allowing them to cut across the fjord's water, effortlessly gliding on its surface as if they were winter figure skaters. The handful of girls came to a halt and hopped onto the pier, their water shoes seamlessly transforming back into proper land ones.
Holding back two shipgirls as reserve, the rest of what little he had was divided into two flotillas. Fortunately, with the utter destruction of St Petersburg, the Baltic had become an Ironblood Mare Nostrum, so he could get away with having mass-productions patrol his area of operations instead.
The First Kiel Flotilla, with two destroyers, the bookish Z2 and the frigid Z21, bolstered by the, to use a Sakura term, 'tsundere' Admiral Hipper, a temporary replacement sent in by the High Command to fill in the gap left by the damaged Scheer. The blonde was already sporting her signature pout as she handed over the mission "rewards" - usually recovered parts, boxes full of gear, and, on rare occasions, weisheitskubus or the so-called wisdom cubes.
The other one, the Second Kiel Flotilla, while significantly weaker in firepower, all but made up for it with sheer enthusiasm, led by the playful light cruiser Karlsruhe, accompanied by the industrious Z19 and the bird-loving Z28. Both flotillas had been deployed at 2000 hours, the first one serving as the third prong of a three-way ambush on an Arctic Convoy, while the second one made a milk run to the island of Gothia, procuring much-needed anti-aircraft guns as well as shipments of steel ingots that fueled the war machine.
"Morgen, Herr Admiral!" the cheery cruiser greeted, her hands always behind her neck in that carefree pose of hers, "Mission complete! Hurry up, and let's collect those rewards!"
A loud cough from her sister was enough to bring not just her but everyone else present to heel, and all stood to attention. Both groups proceeded to give him salutes of varying degrees of decorum before the air of military formality was dropped as almost all the girls crowded around him, drowning each other out, either asking for hugs or praise.
And he was more than happy to oblige with their requests, cheering, giving hugs, and congratulating each member of the flotillas, and in turn, receiving a blow-by-blow account of events from some of the flotilla members. Even Hipper, the known antisocial, tolerated his presence at the very least, which was already a major Ironblood victory in his eyes.
The Vizeadmiral looked around at the girls, all happy to see him, and he had even heard the rumours that some might be romantically interested. And so, it panged at his heart that they wouldn't know he harboured a deep dark secret…
He, a Vizeadmiral in the Iron Blood Navy, was already a married man.
Author's Notes: Hallo! This is my first ever fic outside my main fandom and I've been sitting on this one for quite some time now. I'd like to make it clear now that I'm sure I wouldn't be able to make regular updates to this story, though I'm halfway through the second chapter so we have at the very least.
If you're interested in seeing my other writings, then I highly suggest checking out Speedster and Spymaster, as most of my efforts have been poured into that one and it's by far the work I'm most proud of. Nevertheless, fav and follow the story if it tickled your fancy and if you have any suggestions like characters you want to make an appearance in the story, feel free to leave a review!
For now, Auf wiedersehen!