As he strode through one of the many halls of one of the many buildings he owned, he took a moment to take in the detailed gilding that surrounded him. He was sure one of the many sycophants he was surrounded with could have told him all about the historical significance of the person who had made, commissioned, or paid for the delicate gold that arrayed the room.

He was certain they could have gone on about its significance to some Germanian King or Francois aristocrat or Ostrian artist…

And he would have hated every moment he was forced to listen to them prattle.

He shook his head and continued walking forward. The guests he had summoned had not been told exactly what he was meeting them for – nor that they would be meeting each other. He was a few minutes late to his meeting with them, which should mean they were all shouting at each other at this point.

He resisted the urge to sigh. He had no fear of his Imperial Guard hearing him – none of these people, regardless of their opinions of him, would escape the chopping block if they harmed him – but it was best not to build up bad habits.

He scowled to himself anyway. It had been quite the struggle to ditch the entourage the General Staff – his General Staff – insisted he travel with, but he had managed.

For as inevitable as his latest victory would be, they might try and obstruct him if they learned of where they and their precious military would fit into his plans.

Finally, he arrived at the largest tea room of this estate. It had a wonderful view of the gardens as well as absolutely no way for anyone to grab a handful of roses in an attempt to bludgeon each other…

Though, once he explained everything, he hoped that they could put aside their animosity enough to at least appear united when they began making demands of the General Staff.

His scowl became a snarl. The precious Empire his father and grandfather had built had fought enemy after enemy and proven what he had known in his heart of hearts: that it was the most powerful country, second to no single nation…

But not under his rule.

The military, the General Staff had slowly taken control of everything. Cuisine was reduced to calories, art was reduced to propaganda, and he was reduced to a mere figurehead at the head of a nation he held no real sway in while his precious Empire met its match against the full weight of the world.

He took a deep breath and steadied his shaking arm as he walked into the room and a wall of noise assaulted him.

"To even sit at the same table as you blue-blooded boobie-"

"Silence your wagging tongue, you ingrate-"

"The Kaiser will recognize the work we have done, or I swear-"

He slowly walked over, allowing their arguing to fall off on its own. Ending it faster might have been more efficient, but he had time until his next meeting, and this felt more…

Appropriate.

When they did realize he was there, they stopped and rose and addressed him formally, giving him his proper respects…

Respects the General Staff barely saw fit to even pretend to care about anymore…

Not that these people's names really mattered. No, what mattered more was what they represented. One was the head of the aristocrats, whose ranks filled most of the executive officer positions in the Empire's three navies. He was dressed gaudily and wore almost as much gold as he had medals, most of which he had given the man over his long – and loyal – service.

One was the nominal representative of the engineers and deck officers, who coveted the favor and opportunities the aristocrats received as a consequence of their prestigious bloodlines, though he was sure that this one would be gone within the month, just like the last dozen.

The third man was not here. He was a believer in everything the General Staff said, taking their words and doctrines and goals as gospel. He and a small minority of people at all levels of the Imperial Navy did, and any of them that were found inevitably found themselves serving in the Inner Sea, doomed to obscurity for their loyalty to the other branch of the Empire's military.

The fourth was a man with an eye-patch and a peg leg and, obviously, represented the pirate faction of the Empire's navy.

"Gentlemen. I am sorry to spring this meeting on you all so suddenly," he lied. Oh, he held no animosity towards them, but trying to arrange this with the three of them knowing the other two were coming never would have happened on such a short time scale…

And considering the Empire's… situation, speed was incredibly important.

"You are all aware of the Empire's sudden change in geography," he began. The pirate sitting to his left snorted, while the aristocrat to his right glared daggers at the man. The middle-man across from him said nothing at all, but the three did eventually nod, acknowledging his statement. "While the exact cause of this incredible occurrence has no explanation, we must adapt to changing circumstances in order to face the future."

And oh, had circumstances been changing. The south was somehow becoming colder than the north with none of the associated rain, while the north was warming. The already stretched food situation was being worsened by the changing weather, and the giant cliffs where the political borders of the Empire had been were a major safety hazard, in addition to the thousands – or in the case of the eastern border, millions – of people that suddenly appeared with no logistical support.

But those circumstances had little to do with the situation he was involving these three in.

"It has been one week since the entire country was transported to this vast ocean. Barring the attack on Kopenhyagen by the unknown force, we have yet to encounter anyone."

He knew they knew all of that. The High Seas Fleet, what was left of the North Seas Fleet after the attack, and the Inner Sea Fleet were all doing their best to aid what few commercial vessels still existed to try and find anything besides a vast expanse of blue.

He let them contemplate the miraculous circumstances they were now in, and perhaps possible answers, though the only two that he gave any credit to were that either God or the devil had moved the country, either to save it or to save their enemies.

"Gentlemen, what is the purpose of the army?"

He knew of several. It was a tool to be used for expansion, a way to keep the masses occupied by wearing or being crushed by the boots of the military…

It was the vehicle the General Staff had driven to usurp power from him and everyone else in the country.

He didn't let them answer – even if it was obviously a rhetorical question, he doubted the three would agree on an answer, or even give the answer he had in mind, which would mean correcting someone and kicking off a power play that he didn't have the patience for.

"The army's purpose is to defend our country."

The Empire.

"Or, rather, the military's purpose is to defend the fatherland."

His Empire.

All three nodded, while he fought the urge to smirk as looks of dawning understanding – well or poorly hidden – rose on their faces.

He could barely keep the mirth out of his voice. "Gentlemen, I am inviting all three of you to a meeting I am having with some other who believe that the army has gone… too far."

They'd pushed the war too far. They'd pushed the political framework of the Empire too far. They'd pushed their control over the country too far.

They'd pushed too far.

And while the three of them agreed that something should be done – What did the Empire need such a large army for when you didn't share a land border with your enemy? – he knew the next meeting would be even more arduous.

Getting the heads of the Empire's largest political parties, along with representatives from trade unions and corporate conglomerates and the few parts of the aristocracy uninvolved in the army, together in a single room had been even more back-breaking than arranging this.

He would have to make concessions. Oh, he knew that, and he hated it…

But he would be back in control, and that was what mattered.

He snapped his fingers, and their conversation, tepid but not antagonistic, ceased. A waiter brought him some of his personal best wine, and drinks were poured. He saw the pirate grimace, but even he had limits, and drinking something as disgusting as rum was one of his.

He raised his glass. "A toast, gentlemen?"

They nodded, and before he could say anything, they shouted, "Loyal to your Emperor, Loyal until death!"

He blinked and then smiled. The refrain that was so common in the mission of so many of the Empire's ships…

He nodded, repeated the phrase, and swallowed the glass. The first step of his plan was complete.

-OxOxO-

Something was wrong.

Jonathan Smithe may not have been the oldest or most combat experienced member of the navy of the United States, but he felt the anticipation of trouble in his bones.

"Commander…?"

He tried to force a smile to put the mind of the shipgirl at his side at ease. She'd been terrified to stand before the Congressional hearing he was being forced to attend, and it was only his assurances that her demure attitude was exactly what they needed that had convinced her. He didn't want her to be any more skittish than she already was…

But his reassuring smile hadn't hidden all of his anxiety, and he sighed as she began to worry over how she was dressed, yet again. He just sighed. "Sorry, Quincy. If I'm being honest, this new timetable has me apprehensive…"

This was supposed to be a review of Azur Lane. Whether paying to keep the infrastructure of the organization that had once claimed to unite all of humanity under its banner was worth the expense when bilateral treaties with the United Kingdom and the Northern Parliament and 'all the rest' would 'do just fine.'

He was there to help prove that it was, and he'd been given the opening and closing slots.

But there wasn't going to be a closing spot, anymore. Nor were any of those opposed going to be given time, either. He'd said his piece yesterday, and it seemed the committee had already reached a conclusion.

"Umm… Keep your chin up! Maybe they were really convinced that Azur Lane is worth it?"

He nodded and smiled at her and tried to keep that thought in his mind…

As the doors opened and they were allowed into the room, he felt the thought being washed away. There weren't many people around that still thought Azur Lane was worth the effort, and even he, at the head of the organization, was starting to have his doubts.

Still, if Quincy could put on a brave face, then he could too.

"Commander Jonathan Smithe," began the stern-faced man who'd been heading the commission. Every time he had seen him, he looked like he'd sucked on larger and larger lemons, and this time was no different.

"In light of recent discoveries, this commission and the question it is trying to answer are being closed for the time being, to be reopened at a later date."

That was all he said as people began to file out of the room. He opened his mouth to ask why in the world the commission was being closed… when an officer barged into the room from the doors he'd come in from and grabbed him.

He could only look over his shoulder as Quincy was escorted out another door, and he could only scowl at the man pulling him along.

His attempt to express his anger didn't make it past his lips. "Finally. I thought they'd never get that circus act done with. You're going back to the main Pacific base."

"What?" he asked. "What about the commission? I spent-"

"We don't care, 'Commander,'" the man ground out. "You likely weren't going to convince them anyway – if they actually cared about what you thought, they would have asked away from all the attention or just pulled your file."

As he was hurried towards a car, the man pulling him along gave him a sharp, toothy grin. "Chin up. You've got a chance to prove yourself now, though. A whole new country just popped into existence in the south pacific… though from what I heard, everyone on the commission thinks it's either made up or it was kept hidden until now to help your case."

He felt the blood draining from his face, trying to figure out what the hell he was talking about and how exactly he should be feeling. "They're pretty pissed about it, too. If they drag you into that room again, I'd kiss Azur Lane goodbye."

He slammed the door shut, and Jonathan Smithe began to look through the satchel of files – all varying levels of classified – trying to figure out if he should be more terrified that the Sirens could apparently summon countries out of thin air or of how irrelevant he would wind up being if the organization he'd dedicated a large portion of his naval career to disappeared.

-OxOxO-

"BB-35."

"Stargazer, you know we don't like getting called by our numbers."

"It is important."

She breathed in deeply, wishing desperately that she could smoke…

But being stationed in the Antarctic meant she didn't have access to stuff like cigars, so the most she could do was remember when she had coal-fired boilers and try and find some solace in that.

With a sigh, she adjusted her hat and looked up at the tiny shipgirl and raised an eyebrow.

What little face the once-tiny girl had left scowled. "Texas."

She sighed again. Sometimes she hated being stationed out here at the ass-end of nowhere. The Sirens were never much of a threat to humanity out here – more out of a lack of care on the part of the Sirens than any abilities humanity had – so they often used worlds like these to conceal their movements between more important places…

Although, in her case, she was mostly here to hide.

Before she could say a word, Stargazer spoke again. "Yuudachi is only tangentially related."

Muttering under her breath, she finally got up, stretching as she did so, an eyebrow raised. "Then what's the problem?"

Yuudachi… wasn't like them. She was here because she kept getting in the way of the others…

Not on purpose. But the lust for battle that that wolf felt meant she sought out the Sirens where they were strongest, which often coincided with the place where various META ships were trying to stop the Sirens.

So she had been stuck out here, and Texas and Stargazer had been told to keep her in line.

"We can't leave."

Texas felt her brow furrow. "What do you mean? Yuudachi tried to get out again?"

Stargazer nodded as much as she could. "Yes. But she wasn't teleported to the south pole again. It didn't work."

Texas rolled her eyes. She was up and off the stool she'd been sitting in in the tiny, remote base one of the human nations had set up before the arrival of the Sirens had meant there were much, much bigger things to worry about than inconsequential bases in the middle of a vast, frozen desert.

Maybe she could go skeet shooting again? "You know that thing better than I do-"

"Yes. And I can't fix it. It… isn't broken."

Texas pinched the bridge of her nose. "Hell, then wait for resupply-"

"They missed their opening."

That…

Texas looked up, her boredom and carelessness fading into nervousness. "But… they never miss resupply." She began to pace, a pair of white-knuckled hands gripping her shotgun as she began to pace around the room. There shouldn't have been-

"Texas."

She stopped, her eyes widening as she detected a hint of a German accent that was usually absent from the girl's robotic voice.

She turned towards Stargazer.

Towards the single eye of Admiral Graf Spee.

She'd never met the girl in her own world, before everything had been destroyed, but she'd seen a few pictures of the girl from some of the more open German – or Iron Blood or Nazi – shipgirls.

The claws that had dominated the figure in those pictures had grown to encompass almost the entire figure that stood before her, with only half of her face peeking out from inside her monstrous rigging.

Despite that, when she thought too much about her own… fate, she couldn't help but admire her.

Stargazer. Even though, encased in that behemoth, she concluded that humanity would always fail, time and time again, she kept searching. She'd even cast her gaze out beyond the worlds where the laws of the reality that allowed for the existence of shipgirls broke down or didn't exist, all in hope of finding something that would allow humanity to thrive in the face of their inevitable doom.

"I can't see outside anymore."

BANG!

Texas couldn't help but jump as Yuudachi burst into the room. "We've got contact! It ain't Siren, but I don't care! It's been so fucking boring I'll take anything-"

Texas fought the urge to admonish the girl for her language as she stepped out of the building, her own sensors spinning into action. Who in the world would be sailing down to Antarctica…

She blinked. What? That wasn't a flag she recognized.

Yuudachi tried to speed past her, but she gripped her long, dark gray hair with a force she hardly knew she possessed. "Stargazer. Who is that?"

She didn't need to turn her head to know that she wasn't just spinning up her normal sensors, and the ebb and flow that characterized the machine she was encased in began to grow louder and louder and-

The noise hitched.

Texas heard her exhale. "Something new."

-OxOxO-

A/N 1: I'm really enjoying writing this story so far, especially combining the absolutely convoluted lore of Azur Lane with the convoluted way Tanya ends up in difficult situations.

A/N 2: If you'd like to donate to support me monetarily, gain access to the monthly poll, and gain access to my (very long) summary of the KonoSuba Light Novels, search for Sugarcane Soldier on the website of the Patrons.

A/N 3: Thanks to lekille for being a Basic Patron.

Many thanks to Afforess and Twin for being Super Patrons.

A big thank you to WarmasterOku for being an Ultra Patron.