Hello again! Long time no see lol
Apologies for the massive wait. The reason was that I was halfway writing this chapter when I looked back on the previous one, and felt it to be not up to my standards. Yeah I decided to rewrite the previous chapter along with this current one, so make sure to read both to get the full experience.
Enjoy!
"So… still no sign from Empress?"
Arbiters Hermit, Temperance and Strength were cruising along the ocean as they had been for the past few days.
"Negative," Temperance replied.
Hermit sighed, "So I guess we really are alone this time around, huh?"
"She's probably just choosing not to respond," Strength shrugged.
"Still, it's strange that she's gone silent for this long…"
Temperance cracked a smirk, "What? Still shaken up from going off on your own?"
Strength suppressed a snort, and Hermit whirled around to face both of them, "Like hell! I told you, nothing even attacked me! My equipment just… stopped working in there."
"Of course… it just conveniently recalled itself and you just happened to come speeding out of that place," Strength remarked.
"I'm serious! Not to mention the creepy voice I heard in there…"
"Oh? So you were scared, after all, " Temperance joked.
Hermit felt her head start to simmer and she was about to snap back before Strength cut her off, "In any case, her last transmission mentioned something about 'timeline disturbances', so she's probably already come up with a contingency."
Temperance suddenly looked at her riggings, "On that note… Have any of you been able to use your equipment at all?"
Hermit and Strength both started inspecting their respective riggings and weapons only to realize…
"Huh… That's weird," Strength said, watching her gauntlets start jittering and stuttering as she tried to maneuver them.
Hermit tried to unleash her mist, but to no avail. She just couldn't. Hermit started to feel helpless, and a little less like herself. She felt a feeling of vulnerability creep into her core. An eerily familiar feeling…
"Ugh, it's almost like I'm back in that anomaly again…" Hermit muttered, catching the attention of Strength and Temperance.
Looking over to see their apprehensive stares, Hermit felt a smirk crawl onto her face at the chance to get back at them.
"Not so crazy now, is it? Now you get to feel what it's like to have your weapons taken away~," she said with a lighter and more mocking tone.
Strength's brow furrowed, "This isn't exactly a win for you, either."
Temperance stepped in, "Now now, maybe we deserve this one."
"Ugh, hopefully, this issue clears itself up, I'm not about to fight like this," Strength mused.
"Given that the analysis shows this is most likely an issue with the timeline itself, I doubt that," Temperance replied.
Hermit's smirk fell, "Timeline issues, huh? Well shit, I guess this is more serious than we thought…"
The trio paused for a bit before Strength reestablished the conversation.
"So… what do we do now?"
Another pause. Then Temperance answered.
"We'll go to Azur Lane and the Commander."
"While we're disarmed and vulnerable?" Hermit asked, incredulous.
"We're not going to make contact. We're simply going to observe them, see if they've been reporting the same problems we have."
"Fine by me, beats wandering out here aimlessly," Strength accepted.
Temperance nodded, "And we'll continue trying to contact Empress, wherever she is."
Hermit shrugged her shoulders, "Well then, I guess it's gonna be a slow day today…"
—
Brest watched as the sight of their home port became closer and closer as the hull sailed into safe waters. Finally, they were back home.
Shipgirls soon began jumping off the hull, activating their riggings and landing ashore. They stretched their legs, took a moment to themselves, and then spread out to do whatever they did before the alarm.
Brest did the same and looked back at the shipboys, leaning on the railing and watching from above. Eventually, they too decided to head ashore.
Westward came down first, twirling around his sniper rifle as he did so.
"Ay, I like this port, cool place to kick it back."
Whitefeather followed him, dusting off his arms.
"Very ornate architecture, I can at least respect that."
Then the others followed, the last one being Conquest.
Conquest…
"You look familiar."
His words remained in her mind as they travelled all the way back to port. She stared back at Conquest, before heading on her way back to the cathedral. Or at least, she tried.
Whether it was her curiosity burning within, or the bustling conversations without, Brest felt like staying behind. Almost immediately, she saw Marseillaise rush toward her.
"Saintess!" Her voice was equally nervous and intrigued, "That male kansen… was he the one you saw that night?"
She nodded, and Marseillaise continued, "What did he say to you?"
"Well…" Brest paused, at a loss for how to explain their conversation.
"He has proven to be rather… stoic. I hope I can get through to him somehow," she decided to leave the last part of the conversation unsaid.
"Hmm," Marseillaise remarked, "That's the feeling I got from him too. So stiff and professional…"
Brest nodded and began walking, at first with no particular direction, but soon began to head toward Conquest. As she did so, she walked past dozens of shipgirls all talking and gossiping about their new allies.
"This one hopes for a productive alliance. They seem friendly enough, right?" Alsace pondered as L'Indomptable seethed in the background. Fleuret and Épée did their best to try and calm her down, while Brennus looked to be deep in thought about something.
"They haven't even told us about what they're here for! How can we possibly trust them?!" L'Indomptable shouted.
"They clarified themselves, they don't know much either," Flandre tried to mediate.
Off to the side, Jeanne D'Arc seemed quite unnerved at the lack of information. She was talking about it with Saint Louis, Bayard, and Champagne. The three displayed varying levels of concern.
"We're all sailing into a massive operation? Seems like we're putting all of our eggs in one basket. This seems dangerous."
"I hope their commander knows what he's doing… Especially with such bizarre principles guiding them," Bayard added.
Foch and Algérie were talking at length about the situation. Vauquelin and Tartu were lost in their thoughts about starships and space, while Maillé Brézé tried to reel them back to the ground. La Galissonnière was gushing over the explosion Westward caused when he destroyed his drone while Suffren tried to wriggle herself away from the twin-tailed shipgirl's rambling.
Guichen's expression was curiously mischievous as she stared off into the distance. Lyon, Kersaint, and Painlevé had joined in prayer. Le Malin was trying to catch up on the extra sleep she had lost, much to the dismay of her sisters, who tried to get her to stay awake.
Gascogne and Joffre looked apathetic. Le Téméraire was coming up with ways to befriend the male kansen, while L'Opiniâtre tried to argue a more cautious approach. Dunkerque and Strasbourg's conversation–whatever it was– was making both battlecruisers blush. L'Audacieux, Émile Bertin, Surcouf, Forbin, Le Mars, Béarn and everyone else were heading back to their routines.
It seemed like things were back to normal. Mostly.
Brest kept walking and soon found herself heading toward Conquest again like she was caught in some magnetic pull. Marseillaise simply stared at her as she did so. She looked back and noticed the growing number of stares of curiosity from the other shipgirls. Brest simply waved to them.
—
She approached him. He saw her and responded, "I've already explained that I am not aware of why I recognize you, just that I do."
She shook her head, "You misunderstand, I merely wanted to acquaint myself with you. I am quite curious about other parts of you…"
Conquest's posture straightened, and his eyebrow raised, "Oh? What do you wish to know?"
Brest put a finger to her chin in contemplation. But before she could respond, a voice called out behind her.
"Hey C.Q.! I need you for something! C'mere!" Codetalker waved his hand and beckoned him over.
Conquest set off, and Brest decided to tag along. When they arrived, she recognized the place immediately.
It was a humble little church, sat near the seaside. Because of its proximity to the sea and cliffsides, Brest found it a wonderfully aesthetic place for composing hymns and paeans. Inside, Codetalker was present, along with the other shipboys as they explored and poked around the place.
"Cool place, huh?" Codetalker nudged Conquest on the elbow. The place felt humble. The smell of wood permeated the interior, and sunlight shone through colourful mosaic glass panels, giving it a rustic feel. In the corner, a bundle of mirrors, covered with tarps, was part of a plan to renovate the place.
Watchdog noticed them, "Ah, just to be clear, we are allowed to be here, right?"
Brest nodded with an understanding smile, "Of course! Anyone is welcome here, regardless of their creed."
Watchdog gave a thumbs up, and Codetalker continued.
"Cool! So we're not trespassing! Anyways, I need your opinion on something," he said as Conquest listened closely.
Visionary scoffed, "Still fuckin' goin' on 'bout this… Ain't we already settled this back home?! He'll tell us when he tells us!"
"Oh c'mon! You aren't at least a little bit curious?"
"About what?" Brest asked.
Codetalker turned to Conquest and asked, "Do you think we'll be getting paid any differently because of this?"
Conquest raised an eyebrow and his expression shifted into contemplation before responding, "I supposed it would mostly be the same."
Visionary smirked, "Told ya."
"Really? After all this, we won't even be given our hazard pay?"
"I'm sure our next operation won't need such measures."
Whitefeather stepped in, "If anything, they'll be looking to pay us less. Something about us 'not following protocol' or anything else along those lines…"
"Still mad about what happened in Solís, are you?" Watchdog responded.
"Not that I blame 'em. You know there ain't no way we were gonna haul all that weather equipment off a tiny fuckin' island. All these suits are jus' mad they sent us off on an impossible mission," Visionary added.
Whitefeather followed up with a scoff, "Managers, can't live with them, can't live without them."
"Except for Blomquist. She's badass, I like her," Westward said.
"Doesn't she hate your guts though?" Codetalker remarked.
"Just a matter of perspective, hermano. She'll come around to respect me."
"Even after you blasted the roof of her house that one time?" Watchdog said as he cast a disapproving look.
"It wasn't even that bad, man. She'll get over it."
Brest simply looked on, taking in their banter as she stayed by Conquest's side.
Then her eyes began to wander, and something caught her gaze when she glanced at an uncovered mirror in the corner. It was positioned in a way that allowed Brest to see a little bit outside the church. In the reflection was Jeanne D'Arc, squished in between two other shipgirls, ear pressed against the wall from the exterior.
They made eye contact, and Jeanne D'Arc put a finger to her lips. Brest went quiet, looking back and hoping nobody noticed. Unfortunately, someone did.
"Ahem," came Whitefeather's voice, as his gaze fixated on her, "You seem to be enjoying the banter."
Brest felt like a deer in the headlights, "Oh, I'm merely… observing. You are free to ignore me if you so wish."
"Well, I won't. Call me paranoid, but this is sort of my job," Whitefeather said.
"I'm sure I'm of no threat to you, so I cannot see why you'd be suspicious," Brest responded.
"Few people know how dangerous they truly are. That's why I'm here."
He stared at her, and Brest felt an uncomfortable shiver up her spine. She could've sworn that his pupils became visible at some point, even through his sunglasses. His gaze was almost hypnotic.
Watchdog intervened on behalf of Brest.
"She'll be fine. Besides, we're not even talking about anything important, so her eavesdropping shouldn't do any harm," he said, with a diplomatic tone.
Whitefeather hummed in response, while the rest of the shipboys went silent as the conversation faded.
"Speaking of which…" Codetalker suddenly spoke.
"What's everyone's thoughts on the ladies?" His question hung in the air, and they all went silent.
Conquest's face went blank. Brest's focus on the conversation suddenly skyrocketed, unconsciously leaning forward a bit to hear better.
"Long as they ain't slackin' on their share 'f the work. I'd hate to have to drag around a fleet full of dimwits," came Visionary's answer.
"They're an… interesting bunch, to say the least," Watchdog replied.
"Not the brightest tools in the shed, though," Whitefeather scoffed.
"Oh come on! They just want a few explanations from us, that can't be so inconvenient right?"
"Why are you siding with them so much? One destroyer looked like she was going to strangle you, for God's sake!"
Westward chipped in, "Well, I suppose they ain't gonna like me. A shame, too, I was lookin' to get some game here."
"That's your own fault, dipshit," Visionary responded.
Brest watched intently, fascinated by the culture whiplash she was experiencing. The battle of wits that was happening in front of her. The thought that these weren't mere sailors and human workers, but fully-fledged kansen that fought as the shipgirls fought.
Then she looked to Conquest and noticed something–his silence. Perhaps he had no opinion, or he didn't want to share his thoughts. Whatever it was, it was certainly worth asking.
Suddenly, Whitefeather spoke up.
"Well, if we're done with whatever this is, I'd like to discuss something with Statesman."
"Huh? Now?" Codetalker asked.
"Yes, I'd rather not be in this spotlight any longer…"
"What do you mean?" Watchdog's head tilted slightly.
With one swift maneuver, Whitefeather unbolted a door on the church. It collapsed, and what came crashing down was…
… almost the entire Iris Orthodoxy fleet.
Brest's eyes widened as she saw her comrades lying there, completely frozen and caught in the act. The rest of the shipboys stared down at them, equally as shocked.
"W-w-w-we're sorry! We just wanted to see what you were doing here a-a-a-and then-!" Kersaint sputtered out.
"I, ah, just saw everybody bunched up here, I swear I was gonna leave after-!" Suffren tried to justify.
"Hold on! How did you even hear us? We weren't making a sound!" Dupleix shouted incredulously.
Whitefeather kneeled to them, "Oh, I have my ways…"
He turned to Brest, his expression a mix of annoyance and amusement, "You are hilariously easy to read."
"Wow, you naughty naughty~! Trynna spy on us this early, eh?" Westward teased.
"Didn't even wait till after the battle," Visionary scoffed.
"So that was why I kept getting pinged proximity detector! Huh, the more you know!" Codetalker remarked.
Whether they were outraged, impressed, or entertained was hard to tell.
—
Brest decided to continue tagging along with Conquest. As shipgirl and shipboy alike scattered around the port, she followed him as he quietly walked among the warehouses.
"You never mentioned your opinion of us," she suddenly said.
Conquest turned to her, "Pardon?"
"When your comrades were discussing what they thought of us, I couldn't help but notice you never joined in… What gives?" She asked.
He stopped, and the same blank expression took over his face, as the blue rings of his eyes began to spin…
And then he responded, "As GammaCorp's primary attack ship, I am not allowed to have opinions of such a degree,"
Brest was taken aback, blinking twice.
"How do you mean?"
"Such opinions would be detrimental during combat situations. I have already marked you and all of the Iris Orthodoxy as 'allies', so there should be no need to worry regardless."
Brest blinked again. This rigid and rehearsed tone would take a while to get used to.
"Well, I was more so referring to outside of combat. Surely then you must have something, right?"
Conquest stopped again.
"I'm afraid I still don't have anything for you,"
Brest began to frown, "That… Then what's the purpose of interacting with Richelieu, or with any of us?"
"... What was the purpose in talking… to me…?" She said in a quieter and more unsteady tone.
"To fulfill any requirements for completing the mission." His answer came quickly, in a monotone voice.
"Is that all this is to you? Just the mission? Such a narrow focus... it weighs on the soul. This path you tread—it cannot sustain you forever."
Conquest looked at her, and despite the neutral face, Brest could still see his confusion veiled underneath.
"I'm sorry, but I don't understand…"
Brest couldn't help but let out a sigh, "Conquest, you must have a balance between your duties and your life outside. The best way to start would be with your mind."
"What do I require a 'life outside' for?"
Now it was Brest's turn to be confused.
"Well… without a life outside your duties, your life's meaning is naught but futile… Your purpose, your identity—it shouldn't be tied to some mission."
"That sounds like the advice a human would be given…"
Brest furrowed her brow, "And…?"
Conquest shrugged, "Such logic wouldn't necessarily work here, don't you think?"
"And why should it not? Are we so far removed from humanity that their wisdom holds no bearing on us?"
"I simply cannot understand why I, as an artificial construct, require any needs beyond my operational capabilities."
A sigh escaped the large cruiser, as soft as the lull of the tide.
"Even artificial constructs have stories, Conquest. Though you may think otherwise, it is not the results or the ending that makes a story, but the journey in between that truly matters." Brest said as a spark of intensity seeped into her usually calm voice.
She finished, "And if that life is devoid of any meaning, it is like an unfinished poem– empty and unfulfilled. A life so narrowly lived is a life that risks being forgotten."
Conquest raised an eyebrow at her impassioned speech, but his face was still stuck in a neutral state as the rings in his eyes started swirling.
"An interesting perspective… I'll consider it," he said flatly.
Brest pursed her lips but decided to leave it be. Conquest started wandering again, and Brest breathed in the seaside spray to take her mind off things.
And then a call came through. Both Richelieu and Statesman were talking.
"Sisters-in-arms, please gather in the warehouse by the office, we have a new mission."
"All SFO units, prepare to meet and debrief in the warehouse in five minutes."
—
When her hull docked, Richelieu watched as the last of the Orthodoxy's shipgirls jumped off the deck and onto their home port.
The Cardinal couldn't help but observe with curiosity as the shipboys from 'GammaCorp' began to bunch together in their own group, away from the Orthodoxy fleet. She watched as they slowly drifted towards a small church on the seaside, bantering all the way there.
From the bridge, Richelieu wondered what they were talking about.
"Quite the company, aren't they?"
Statesman remained seated from his position, opposite Richelieu and her sisters.
Jean Bart, staring at the shipboys, responded first, "They're not gonna cause any trouble here, are they?"
"I'm sure my word will be enough. Though I can't make any guarantees…"
Clemenceau turned her gaze to Statesman as she leaned slightly forward, "That hardly sounds like the optimal strategy if your goal is to recapture your territory."
Statesman's cryptic smile gained a bit of a smirk, which hadn't gone unnoticed.
"What?" Jean Bart began, "Did you really think we were gonna shower you with praise after you manipulated us? You could've done this without having to drag us along."
"And I certainly would have-"
Richelieu's mind began completing the sentence before Statesman did. Because Brest was discovered and they need secrecy to complete their operation. She sighed. Despite his initial elusiveness, Statesman was becoming rather predicta–
"-if that was even our goal in the first place."
Richelieu was caught off guard, Jean Bart's remarks died in her throat, and even Clemenceau's cryptic smile fell momentarily.
Statesman chuckled, "Caught you off your guard? My apologies—truly. But you should know me by now."
Clemenceau put a hand to her chin, "So… that was the reason for all the… discrepancies in your motives."
"You're not here for your facilities, then?" Richelieu questioned.
Statesman waved his hand, "Well, we are. Though it's a bit of a 'secondary objective'. We have a more immediate issue."
"And what would that be?" Jean Bart asked.
Statesman's smile fell, and his tone became heavier as he spoke.
"We're here to kill someone."
…
Another period of silence.
"W-what do you mean?" Richelieu's shaky response came as she stopped to process his words.
"Kill someone?" Jean Bart repeated, her voice low and edged with suspicion.
"Another male kansen. Someone we've been tracking since we first caught his signal here."
"You're planning to assassinate one of your own?" Clemenceau said, her fingers curled underneath her chin, her cryptic smile gone.
"We don't have a choice. Mirage is an experimental kansen who's gone completely rogue. He's already decimated our security systems back home. If he wrestles control of the facilities and their research, we'll be in for a catastrophe," Statesman answered, his voice cold and devoid of the previous playful intrigue.
"And now you're just dragging us into a life-or-death situation?" Jean Bart narrowed her eyes, her tone as sharp as a knife.
Statesman's gaze hardened, "If I had the option to leave you and the rest of the Orthodoxy out of this, I would have. But then your kansen met ours, and now we have a situation on our hands."
"What kind?" Clemenceau replied.
"From what we've gathered, Mirage's behaviour has been… odd. There have been no reports of attacks on civilians, or on any shipgirls, and there haven't been any sightings of him either."
Richelieu and her sisters began to lean in closer.
"However, we've detected that he's been stalking us for some time, lingering near ports and any fleets—kansen or otherwise—that come too close to our presence." Statesman continued, "We think he's only targeting us and anyone associated with us at the moment. That includes anyone who even happens to know we exist."
"To make matters worse, we found out that Mirage has recently been looming near your shores as well," Richelieu's heart dropped down to her stomach as Statesman finished explaining, "That's why I had to act and put you under our umbrella of protection."
They stayed silent for a minute. Clemenceau then spoke up.
"If I recall, your operation required all of us. What if he attacks while we're away?"
"I doubt he'd stray too far from the facilities. Besides, that's why I organized for the whole Iris Orthodoxy navy to join. It'll hopefully create an immediate threat for Mirage to worry about instead of attacking any other target in mind."
Another moment of silence for Richelieu and her sisters to process.
"Just keep this operation as much of a secret as possible. From Azur Lane, from the Commander, from every other nation. Too many external players could have unintended consequences."
Richelieu took a deep breath, clasped her hands together, and whispered a quiet prayer. This latest trial from Heaven would require a lot of strength to endure.
The Cardinal of the Orthodoxy fleet finished, opened her eyes, and raised her head to give her response, "Where do we start?"
Statesman leaned back in the chair, "It starts with information. We're going to try dragging him out-"
And the conversation devolved into simple tactics after that.
—
Brest found herself packed into the warehouse. It seemed everyone had received the message, Richelieu and Jean Bart were at the center, with grave expressions on their faces.
The shipboys gathered in the back, away from the crowd. Statesman was beside Richelieu, fiddling with a tablet as the destroyers in the front kept unsuccessfully trying to shout questions in hopes of a response.
Finally, Jean Bart clapped her hands, and the crowd went quiet. Quiet enough to hear a pin drop. Richelieu began to speak.
"Comrades-in-arms, I understand this situation may be a little confusing to many of you. But the agreement with these new kansen requires us to cooperate with them on an operation."
"Whatever happens, we will make sure that our faith shall see us through another of God's trials!" She finished with her staff pointing to the sky, rousing the shipgirls as a chorus of enthusiasm echoes through the warehouse.
After letting the crowd settle down, Statesman took over, with the tablet in hand.
"As you may have noticed, we've had our presence here for some time." He cast a holographic map, displaying the stations that every shipgirl had gossiped over for the past few weeks.
"Unfortunately, we've lost control of them, and we're looking to bring them back. But to do that, we'll need to gather intelligence on the other stations."
Statesman pointed to a facility that was close to the center, and the map zoomed in as he explained.
"This is our target. Satellite Station: Babel." Jeanne D'Arc, Saint Louis, and others more familiar with the Bible perked up at the name.
"A communications hub and center of the information highway that all other facilities used to pass their intel through, breaking into this facility's database should reveal the state of all the other facilities." The map's visuals complemented Statesman as he spoke.
"Its security systems will be a tough nut to crack, likely the most heavily guarded station out of them all. Which is why we decided to tackle it with you involved. Our combined firepower should overwhelm its defences." Some balked at the risk, but most silently accepted it.
"And one last thing," he said, "If you see what looks to be another male kansen that isn't any of us…"
"Let us know, immediately."
And he finished, leaving the rest of the fleet unnerved.
"All ships, head into your assigned squadrons and prepare to sortie!"
The screen changed again and lists of names were displayed. The shipgirls were sorted into different squadrons, of roughly equal size and with varying mixes of light and heavy ships. Brest herself was put into some sort of heavy hitter group, alongside Strasbourg, Marseillaise, Dunkerque, Le Terrible and Le Triomphant.
Only the shipgirls were sorted, however. With their names omitted from the squadron list, it was unclear where the shipboys would take their place. Brest's eyes wandered to Statesman, who was using the dispersal of the crowd to quietly sneak over to the shipboys, still making small talk among themselves in the back.
Before she could question anything, she was swept up into the crowd as they gathered together. Soon after, she found herself within her group.
"My, I didn't think I would be seeing you again in such a place!" Brest remarked to Dunkerque.
The battlecruiser nodded, "Indeed. It looks like everyone will be participating in this operation, I wonder how important it is…"
"Well, with this much firepower, I can hardly see anything going wrong." Strasbourg joined in.
"I would still be cautious though. Putting too much trust in our allies might prove… disastrous if worst comes to worst." Le Terrible said.
Le Triomphant tried to keep an upbeat tone, "Well, maybe we can prevent anything like that from happening! I'm sure they're well-trained and up to the task!"
Marseillaise was a tad gloomier, "That is if they're willing to cooperate with us in the first place…"
"One can only wonder…"
Brest's musings were interrupted by the sound of a clap from where the shipboys stood. She looked over and saw them dispersing to join the rest of the fleet. It seemed like they were getting some direct help after all.
Statesman whistled and shouted to them, "And make sure not to cause too much trouble for them!"
He approached Richelieu, "Looks like we'll be joining you on the ground, Cardinal. I'll have our forces mixed in with yours."
She nodded in confirmation, "I appreciate the support, Statesman. I just hope your decision doesn't threaten our group unity."
He waved his hand, "No worries. Despite our independently done missions, we work well enough as a group. And if anything comes up, I'll take care of it on our side."
And with that, the shipboys were added to the formation. The reactions from each squadron and shipgirl were immediate.
Watchdog got along well with Fleuret, Brennus, and Flandre. He also decided to apologize to Alsace for splashing her during his grand entrance. She didn't seem to mind– if anything she seemed more mesmerized by his weaponry and conduct.
Westward's addition was more muted but still amicable enough. La Galissonnière seemed excited to fight together, and Mogador took an interest in his cologne. Foch didn't seem to mind, though the look of caution on Algérie's face was a bit noticeable.
Whitefeather was received quite coldly. Jeanne D'Arc tried to warm up to him, but the added shipgirls of Saint Louis, Champagne, and Bayard made the mood significantly more tense. Any interactions between them were tinged with distrust and hostility.
Visionary's blunt attitude made his introduction a little more complex. Guichen seemed to accept and even revel in his to-the-point mannerisms. Lyon didn't mind it so much if he fought well enough. Kersaint and Painlevé were more than a little put-off.
And that left one last group. Brest turned to see Conquest already standing guard, while Codetalker followed behind him.
"Hello again," came his response.
"Oh my, you'll be joining us?" she remarked.
Codetalker said, "Yep! It'll be nice to have his firepower on our side. Plus it means I don't have to go up close and personal as often!"
"Not well versed, are you? I thought you'd have some close-quarters training…" Strasbourg said.
He fidgeted, "Uhh, not really…"
She continued, "Very well. If need be, I can play a melody to soothe your nerves.~"
"... Are you really flirting with me just before battle?"
And Strasbourg's cheeks reddened, "No, that was not an expression of affection! I-I said it's not, so it isn't!"
She sulked into her sister's shadow, coming up to greet the two male kansen.
"In any case, I hope your support will grant us victory, here and in the future," Dunkerque said before she turned to Brest.
"I'd also like to hopefully continue our conversation later. It's such a shame it was cut short."
Brest perked up at Dunkerque's words, her lips curling into a gentle smile.
"Indeed, it was a delightful talk. And all the better that we have more people to share it with," she said, turning toward Conquest and Codetalker, listening along curiously.
"Well… after the battle, of course."
Brest looked to the port, already bustling with activity. It was like déjà vu from the morning, shipgirls deploying their riggings and setting out, only this time with a clear plan in mind.
Once everyone was deployed, the fleet looked to the Cardinal, flagpole and banner in hand. She raised it high into the sky, and spoke the words that rallied the Iris Orthodoxy to finish Heaven's trial:
"Aux-armes, tout le monde! Marchons!"
And the combined fleet departed. And the First Seal was broken.
—
Ring ring.
"...Hello?"
"Ahh, Bismarck! It's been a long time, how have you been?"
"Queen Elizabeth. My apologies if my delay inconvenienced you, but matters of the state take precedence.
"Oh, but of course! However, I must insist that you take matters of diplomacy with more… urgency, we'll say. Especially with a situation so close to our waters…"
"... Very well then. I'm listening."
"Hah, now I've got your attention! It's about the Iris Orthodoxy, in fact! Specifically about the Siren fleet that was detected near their territory recently."
"Have they been having any trouble with it? If so, I can send a fleet down and-"
"No no! That's not exactly it. Apparently, it vanished just moments after appearing, and they haven't said anything about it."
"Hmm, strange indeed. We should still send a fleet down, just to be sure."
"Ahh, on that… Please ensure you're not sending too much, we wouldn't want to… unnerve them, now would we?"
"Unnerve them? If they've been tricked into an ambush, we must send a comprehensive strike force to dismantle the threat. I don't see why we need to beat around the bush."
"But you see, dear Bismarck, have you considered the possibility that they haven't been attacked? That they've been trying to cover something up?"
"With all due respect, Queen Elizabeth, there's no reason to antagonize Richelieu and the Iris Orthodoxy, especially with everything going on. It would be better to be upfront with them."
"Well- we don't know if they're lying or not!"
"Lying? What makes you say that?"
"Doesn't this all seem a bit fishy? First, these strange facilities show up, then a Siren fleet is detected near the Iris Orthodoxy's territory, and now they've gone silent after it suddenly vanishes. That story doesn't sit right with me, wouldn't you agree?"
"... Fine. I'll see who's available."
"Splendid! I thank you wholeheartedly for your support! I'm sure this will be worth your time, Bismarck."
"Ensure that it is."
Click.
Hooray! You made it to the end!
Again, sorry for the wait on this one. I promise that the next two chapters won't take nearly as this long. Hopefully.
Anyways, the challenge from last chapter still stands: Whoever can name the game in which the shipboys get their names from gets a free cookie - 🍪 (Don't worry it's still fresh)