It was still dark when Apocrypha arrived at the docks to find not just the Task Force 58 preparing to launch, but a second Eagle Union fleet preparing to sortie at the same time. A flash of red hair on the deck of one of the ships gave her the answer to what the other fleet was, though she'd thought Augusta was supposed to be undergoing repairs. At the same time, it seemed like Augusta had noticed her, too, pausing a moment to wave.

Apocrypha made her way over, raising an eyebrow. "What happened to having repairs done? And I wasn't told about Task Force 34 sortieing for anything today."

Augusta shrugged. "Engines just needed some percussive maintenance. Nothing unusual. And I decided that if 58's going to do exercises, it wouldn't hurt those of us in 34 to stretch a bit, too, since 58's exercise got pushed earlier. We're usually in completely different areas and don't get to try our hands against each other."

Apocrypha glanced over her shoulder at the Task Force 58 ships being prepared, then again at the Task Force 34 group. "58's got you pretty outnumbered, don't they?"

Augusta snorted, turning back to finish making last preparations on her ship. "If you should have learned anything in Charleston, it's that numbers don't always mean the better force. You have a meeting this morning, anyway, don't you?"

"Uh… Yeah," Apocrypha admitted. Even if she tried to lie, Augusta was someone who had ways of finding out whether she wanted her to or not. "Dupleix invited me to join her group for breakfast, as an apology for Gloire's actions yesterday."

Augusta paused again, and Apocrypha could tell she was being careful in how she chose her words. "Dupleix isn't a bad one for that group. I'm not sure how she got caught up in that mess with the Templar Knights." She sighed, leaning against the rail and watching the rest of her fleet prepare. "You'll miss the end of the match here, probably. Just be careful while you're with the Vichya ships, alright?"

Apocrypha nodded, thinking back to Gloire's mention of making "plans" for previous Commanders before her and the air of danger carried by the group. "I'll be careful. On another topic, who is the flagship of 34?"

"You're talkin' to her right now," Augusta answered proudly. "You think carriers and battleships are the only ones who can carry flagship status?"

Apocrypha stared in stunned silence, letting that sink in. How all this time Augusta had let it seem like she was just another ship in the fleet. "So when they said Jean Bart and Primauguet couldn't come because of extenuating circumstances, they meant…?"

"They meant because I'm here," Augusta confirmed. "Casablanca and what happened there is all water under the bridge to me. They're still sore over it. That's all. At least they had the sense to let others handle things here before they show up and ruin everything. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a fleet to lead in battle here."


"So this is where you got off to. Who's winning?"

Apocrypha flinched when she felt someone's arm suddenly come to rest on her shoulder, but a quick glance beside her revealed it was only Gloire. She took a step away so that the girl was no longer touching her before answering, "Intrepid and a few escorts went down already. Augusta's taken a few hits but -"

"She shrugs them off like nothing?" Gloire finished, raising an eyebrow. "It's pretty weird how easily she does that. So, breakfast? Dupleix and Algérie cooked~"

Apocrypha allowed herself to be led away by Gloire, the smell of food and fresh-brewed coffee wafting into the hall as the pair neared the Vichya common room. Gloire darted ahead to open the door for the commander, and although Apocrypha eyed her suspiciously, she stepped into the room, carefully observing her surroundings. A table sat off to the side of the couches with plates of still-hot food and a large pitcher of coffee set on it, steam rising from the opening.

While Gloire wasted no time in loading a plate with food and stretching herself across one of the couches, Apocrypha was still trying to make sense of what she was seeing. If she recalled correctly from her French studies, although that had been some years ago, breakfast was usually a rather small, quick affair, but this appeared to be anything but. "This is… a lot, isn't it?"

Dupleix smiled, even as she plucked the fork from Gloire's hand to stop her from already beginning to eat. "You know the rules when I'm around, Gloire. No eating yet," she reprimanded, before addressing Apocrypha. "Usually it wouldn't be so much, but now and then it doesn't hurt, and I fear Gloire may have given a poor first impression of us. Consider this my apology on her behalf and an invitation to sit in on our report home, if you would. Help yourself to any of the food and coffee. We'll eat in just a moment."

"How come she gets to just go for it and I'm stuck praying?" Gloire muttered. Despite her complaints, she left her utensils sitting on her plate once Dupleix had handed them back, though not without throwing a sulky look in her direction.

"The Commander is a guest," Dupleix explained, sighing. "Unlike you. This is nothing new. Or have you forgotten what your name means after everything?"

"That was before we submitted to the Iron Blood. It doesn't mean the same thing anymore," Gloire argued. She raised an eyebrow when Dupleix appeared ready to make a retort, a beeping sound emanated from a laptop sitting open just below the wall-mounted TV. "You should get that."

While Dupleix went to answer the call on the laptop, Algérie took the opportunity to take over handling Gloire on her behalf. "You could show her some respect, Gloire. Is it so bad that she still wants to give us some sense of who we were before?"

"She can hold out on her delusions all she wants. I'm just saying I don't want to be dragged into it. We can't rely on some higher power that's done nothing for us anymore."

"Mind your words, Gloire," Joffre spoke up, at last silencing the cruiser just as the video call coming in projected onto the TV.

Apocrypha quietly found a place to sit, taking the chance to observe the brown-haired woman on the other side of the screen while she and Dupleix exchanged pleasantries. She recalled two names that had been mentioned as the Vichya Dominion's proper leaders - Jean Bart and Primauguet. Based on the pirate-like look of this woman, she assumed this would be Jean Bart. And in short order, that question was answered.

"Apocrypha," Dupleix called, voice still as subdued and gentle as ever even when snapping her out of her thoughts, "I'd like to introduce you to Jean Bart."

Apocrypha found herself unsure how to properly greet the battleship, ending up awkwardly waving while mentally kicking herself for failing to manage even such a simple thing. "It's nice to meet you, Jean Bart, even if it's not in person."

A long silence drew out between them before Jean Bart sighed, addressing Dupleix again rather than Apocrypha. "I doubt this one will last. Has Gloire been any trouble?"

"Hey! Why is that the first question?!" Gloire shouted. "Your lack of appreciation for my talents does not equate to me causing trouble, I'll have you know!"

"Well?" Jean Bart pressed, looking among the group expectantly.

"I've been a perfect angel like you told me to," Gloire mocked, rolling her eyes dramatically.

"Have you now?" another voice asked, and Apocrypha noticed two more women enter the room Jean Bart occupied.

The one who had spoken had pale ash-grey hair, though the ends of her bangs held a faint red hue while the ends of her longer hair were faintly black. Like Algérie, her dress was white and red, with a black coat over the top and tall black boots, a rapier sheathed at her hip. Despite being somewhat shorter, the other woman with her was no less impressive, her fair blonde hair still reaching her lower back even in spite of the intricate braid and bright red ribbon that wrapped around to fasten it in a low ponytail. The red dress she wore clung tightly to her form, the right side of the skirt slit high to reveal black tights underneath, a matching black shawl around her shoulders and black gloves on her hands.

With the appearance of the two women, Apocrypha noticed an immediate change in Gloire's demeanor. It wasn't fear, but something more like a child hoping for candy if they could fool the teacher into believing they were on their best behavior. That didn't make the lie any less blatant when she answered, though.

"Dunkerque! When am I not the shining example of good behavior?"

"Most of the time," the grey-haired battlecruiser answered, taking a moment to offer Jean Bart and the other woman some sort of baked goods before once again addressing Gloire. "I will be leaving for Azur Lane in a couple of weeks. You won't mind a couple of days without any baking once I'm there, of course?"

Gloire winced, but seemed intent on holding her ground still on some level. "Okay, in my defense against whatever Dupleix told you, I looked it up and lying by omission does not count as kidnapping," she said. "They're not even remotely the same thing! So see? Everything's fine!"

The silence in the room suddenly became smothering, Gloire looking around as realization dawned on her. Dupleix covered a laugh under a cough, though failed to hide her smile at the light cruiser's blunder. "I hadn't said anything about what you did. And it would appear that was the right choice so that you would rat yourself out."

"Gloire?" Dunkerque pressed. "Would you like me to have arrangements made for Essex to do your cooking for the next week?"

Gloire instantly paled at the threat. "You win. I maaaaybe swiped the Commander from Augusta's nose yesterday. But that's all! I swear on the Holy Iris, I've kept the trouble to a minimum here. I kinda like this one, y'know? In a weird way. She's spineless, clueless, but doesn't really complain. I don't think she'll really last, but it is what it is. I'll take a coward that stays out of the way over some scumbag who treats us like their toy guns any day."

While Gloire and Dunkerque bantered, Apocrypha leaned over toward Dupleix to quietly ask, "Is there something about Essex's food I should be aware of? Gloire seemed pretty freaked out when Dunkerque brought it up, and I figured she'd be the type to love having someone else cook for her."

Dupleix laughed quietly behind her hand. "How do I put this nicely? Essex has some… interesting concepts in her cooking. I believe there's a story about her giving shrimp tempura chocolates out for Valentine's Day one year."

Apocrypha raised an eyebrow. Certainly an odd choice, but… "I think chocolates in the shape of other things is a pretty cute idea. What's wrong with that?"

Another laugh from the priestess. "You've misunderstood. What I meant was she gave out shrimp tempura covered in chocolate."

"Oh. Ew. Now I get it."

"If the two of you are done whispering between yourselves?" This time it was the blonde who spoke, the only one of the three on the other side of the screen still standing now that Dunkerque had taken a seat in the background. "Commander."

Apocrypha was instantly on her feet, saluting the unknown ship. "My apologies. You may refer to me as Apocrypha if you'd like."

The woman narrowed her eyes in suspicion, scrutinizing Apocrypha and sending chills down her spine even despite the entire Atlantic Ocean separating them. "Are they resorting to fellow shipgirls as Commander candidates now?" she asked. "I don't remember any ships with that name, though."

Apocrypha shook her head. "I'm not a shipgirl," she clarified, fidgeting where she stood. "Because of my life before I came here, I needed to adopt a new identity. I don't… I can't risk them finding me."

"Primauguet, I don't think there's anything malicious to it," Algérie spoke up.

"I promise I don't mean any harm by hiding it," Apocrypha added. "You don't have to trust me, but please believe that I need this to work out for all of us. So if there's a problem, just say something. I want to do what I can so we can all get along."

Primauguet scoffed, leaning on the back of Jean Bart's chair. "Do you understand just who you're talking to, 'Apocrypha'?" she challenged. "I'm not so gullible."

Apocrypha smiled nervously. "Of course not. Duguay-Trouin class light cruiser Primauguet, one of the Vichya Dominion flagships. I've read about you, and what happened at Casablanca, and what had happened at Mers-el-Kebir and Toulon as well. I know it probably isn't something you care to hear, but it amazed me to read about how you and Jean Bart faced Task Force 34 while incomplete. That's the sort of tenacity I want to learn from."

Apocrypha saw Primauguet's lips move in some sort of answer, but whatever she had said was drowned out by Gloire shouting some obscenity in French and the clatter of dishes as a sword and spear crossed to stop her. The other Vichya girls were just as quick to close ranks, Apocrypha finding herself pushed behind Dupleix, who herself was shielded by Algérie and Joffre at either side of Gloire. She heard someone shout Jean Bart's name, but a glance toward the screen showed that the call had abruptly been ended.

She was just able to make out four new women that had just come through the doorway. The two who had drawn their weapons to stop Gloire's approach were almost mirror images of each other, with silver hair and dressed in fine knight garb colored blue, white, and black with accents of gold. The only immediate differences she could note between them was that the one who carried the spear had darker silver hair that, while long enough to reach her lower back, was still shorter than the platinum silver of the other's hair that fell to her knees. And while their eyes were different colors - one pair red, one pair a light purple - they both held the same intense, silent warning that no one would be allowed past them.

The two women who stood behind them seemed as shocked at the abrupt explosion of chaos as Apocrypha and Dupleix had been. The blonde wore a white dress, a piece of red fabric covering her midsection and connected to black that also attached the red half-skirt trimmed with white fur, her thigh-high socks and the cover of the Bible she carried both an equally bright red. The pink-haired woman with her similarly carried a Bible, the cover of this one appearing to be made of silver and clutched to the chest of the pristinely white dress she wore, decorated with red and gold filigree patterns on the dress itself while the half-skirt was left plain.

"What are you doing here?" Gloire demanded, not even fazed by the weapons obstructing her path forward and directly speaking to the pair at the back of the group. "You're not welcome here."

"We were told that we would find the Commander here," the blonde answered calmly. "I apologize for being unaware that you were holding a meeting with my sister and Primauguet and had no intention to intrude. Saint Louis, Vercingetorix, please lower your weapons. Let us not aim that at our own countrymen any longer."

The two knights reluctantly lowered their weapons but remained firmly planted in front of the other two, ready to act again at a moment's notice. In front of Apocrypha, something was whispered between Dupleix and Algérie, then from Algérie to Joffre. At a nod from Joffre, Dupleix broke from the group to retrieve the laptop, but stopped in her tracks when the pink-haired woman questioningly called her name.

Algérie immediately came to the rescue, smiling sweetly despite the overwhelming tension in the room. "I'm sure we would love to sit and catch up another time, Richelieu, Duquesne, but we should be going. The Commander is all yours. Dupleix, are you coming?"

"Ah… I'm -"

"Let's go," Gloire insisted. "They're making me feel sick just standing here. Wallow about your traitor of a sister later."

"Right… Commander, I apologize for our meeting being cut short, but thank you for coming. I'm looking forward to working with you properly going forward."

Apocrypha stood in shocked silence while Dupleix and the other Vichya ships vacated the room in something of a hurry, before glancing at the newly-arrived group. "Um… What… What was all of that about…?"

The blonde woman sighed, gently touching the pink-haired woman's arm to draw her attention away from staring down the hall where the others had left. "That is a long story, but for now what you need to know is that Vichya Dominion and Iris Libre, which we represent, were once one nation. It has been years since such a time, though."

"And who are you all…?" Apocrypha asked.

"Oh! Right, of course. I am the Cardinal of the Iris Orthodoxy, Richelieu. The battleship that Vichya answers to, Jean Bart, is my younger sister." She gestured to the pink-haired woman at her side after introducing herself. "Duquesne here is the name-ship of her heavy cruiser class and the head priestess of the Iris Orthodoxy. She also acted as the Orthodoxy's foreign delegate prior to the split, and still does so since our establishment as Iris Libre. Vichya Dominion's Dupleix is Duquesne's youngest half-sister. And finally, our two knights here are the Saint Louis-class heavy cruisers Saint Louis and Vercingetorix. Saint Louis has darker hair and red eyes, Vercingetorix the lighter hair and purple eyes."

Apocrypha only nodded, unsure of how exactly she was expected to greet them and not wanting to risk offending them. She glanced around her at the mess of knocked over drinks and food trays from Gloire's outburst, simultaneously cringing and celebrating inside at the mess. Even if it shouldn't have happened, it gave her an excuse to not awkwardly stand around any longer.

She knelt down to pick up pieces of broken dishware, freezing when she reached for a piece and found someone else's hand reaching for it. She raised her eyes slightly to meet Duquesne's golden ones, the priestess offering a reassuring smile. "We're partially at fault for the mess here. Allow us to help clean up."

Even if they looked rather different from each other, Apocrypha could see the family relation between Duquesne in the similarity of their calm, gentle demeanors and soft way of speaking, although Duquesne's lacked the shyness Apocrypha had already learned to expect from Dupleix. By contrast, Duquesne's held a quiet confidence in it that could set anyone at ease while still commanding their full attention.

"Um… Thank you…" Apocrypha said, returning to picking up the mess again. "I'm sorry if this is rude, but… is there some title I should be using for you all…?"

Duquesne laughed, shaking her head. "For me, no. I don't really care. Just using our names is fine by us. 'Cardinal' if you really insist for Richelieu, but even we don't use it all that often."

Apocrypha let out a sigh of relief, noticing that both of the knights and even Richelieu had started helping clean up the mess. "Thank you, for being the first ones who don't seem to already think I'm a lost cause. Just being normal in general. I was beginning to get a little worried."

"We believe in extending a fair chance to everyone, regardless of our experience with the previous holders of your position," Richelieu explained. "It's unfair to ourselves and to you if we set you up to fail from the beginning, and then of course you'll be forced to fail."

Apocrypha forced a smile and nodded in agreement. "I'm still not really sure that I'm cut out for the job," she admitted. "But I'm glad you're willing to give me a chance to try. Thank you."

"Ooh, we even get a thank you?!" Duquesne teased. After picking up the last of the mess in her reach, the priestess got to her feet, extending a hand to help Apocrypha up. "Teasing aside, what Richelieu said is right. So long as you're trying honestly and intend to treat the girls here with the dignity and respect they deserve, we can promise that you'll have the support of Iris Libre. And you can come find us if you ever need someone to talk to. It's not easy being forced into a position you weren't prepared to be in. We're all too familiar with that. Welcome aboard, Commander."