Chapter 6. The Rodenius Massacre. Part 1.
Calendar from the New World, Year 0001, April 22nd
Council of the Lotus
The evacuation from the border town of Gim had been successfully completed. The Louriian army lost twenty thousand soldiers in the bombing by the Russian Air Force, yet despite this, they were able to seize Gim, casting a grim shadow over the halls of the Council of the Lotus. The elders and leaders had gathered in the beautiful garden surrounding their traditional meeting place, but even the blooming greenery around them could not distract them from the impending disaster.
— Please, read the report, — Kanata, the leader of the Council, ordered in a flat tone.
The military attaché, pale as a ghost, with trembling hands, opened the folder and pulled out the snow-white A4 sheets purchased from the Russian Federation. After finding the right document, he cleared his throat nervously and began to read:
— The border town of Gim has been captured by the Louriian forces. Currently, the Eastern Army of Louriia numbers eight thousand nine hundred fifty soldiers, though the total size of their army reaches four hundred thousand. Our fears have been confirmed: Parpaldia is providing military aid to Louriia. They have five hundred wyverns and a fleet of four thousand ships, which has already left port, and its current location is unknown. The report is complete, — the attaché carefully folded the documents, barely suppressing a sigh of relief.
A deep silence fell over the room. The faces of the elders and leaders darkened as they tried to process the news. Four hundred thousand soldiers! And on top of that, five hundred wyverns and a fleet of four thousand ships. Louriia had revealed its true intentions — to conquer all of Rodenius. Unease, like a thick fog, hung over the beautiful garden, mirroring the sense of helplessness and the looming threat.
This tense silence was broken by the head of the Department of Foreign Affairs, Rinsui. Raising his hand, he gathered his thoughts and calmly spoke:
— Elders and colleagues, the Russian Federation has provided invaluable assistance by evacuating our people from Gim and destroying a significant portion of the Louriian forces. We must not forget that under the terms of the treaty, in case of an attack, we are entitled to their protection.
Kanata, still lost in dark thoughts, nodded, recalling the terms of the agreement, but before he could say anything, Rinsui continued:
— Additionally, before the meeting began, we received a message from the Russian Federation, — he paused, shifting his gaze from one council member to another, — They have offered their help on an even larger scale.
— What exactly did they say in their message? — Kanata asked, now slightly more relaxed.
— The Russian government has requested our permission to conduct a joint military operation on our territory. If we agree, they are ready to send their armed forces to neutralize the threat from Louriia, — Rinsui took a deep breath and added, — This is the exact wording of the message, recorded through the manacom.
— Are they really willing to send their troops?! — Kanata exclaimed, unable to hide his surprise.
— Exactly, — Rinsui confirmed, maintaining his calm, though a surge of joy bubbled up inside him.
Kanata paused for a moment, then nodded resolutely.
— Contact them immediately! Tell them that we accept their help. We will provide them with everything they need to the best of our ability. I authorize them to move freely across the seas, land, and air for the duration of the war and give them full operational freedom. Send orders to all our knights and wyvern rider squadrons to cooperate with the Russian military!
Finishing, Kanata took a deep breath and, as if proclaiming the start of a new chapter in the history of his people, solemnly added:
— This meeting is adjourned. You are all dismissed.
Calendar from the New World, Year 0001, April 25th
Port-Maihark
The Second Fleet of Qua-Toyne was preparing to set sail. Fifty warships had gathered in the harbor, each with masts raised high, sails furled, and battle-ready decks. Sailors meticulously checked the boarding ladders for boarding actions, monitored supplies, and ensured combat readiness. Unused oil-soaked arrows were carefully stored in the warehouses, ready to ignite at the right moment. Pavises, designed to shield against enemy arrows, were fastened to the sides of the ships at regular intervals. Each vessel was equipped with ballistae, giving the fleet an imposing appearance of military might, despite its small numbers compared to the enemy.
Admiral Pancare, standing on the deck of the flagship, gazed at the horizon with bitterness and anxiety in his eyes.
— What a magnificent sight... — he exhaled, looking over the rows of his few ships. — The Lourians have four thousand of them... How many of my sailors will I be able to save? — the words escaped his lips almost accidentally, and the admiral immediately scolded himself for speaking such an indiscreet thought aloud.
His musings were interrupted by the voice of the senior officer, Breweye, who approached him with an official dispatch.
— Admiral, we have received a message from the Navy headquarters, — Breweye reported, standing at attention.
Pancare nodded slightly, suppressing a sigh.
— Read it, — he said without enthusiasm.
Breweye unrolled the scroll and began to read:
— This evening, six military ships of the Russian Federation Navy will arrive to support our fleet. They request an observer aboard one of the ships so we can witness the capabilities of their fleet.
Pancare furrowed his brow, looking at Breweye in confusion.
— Six? Only six? Why so few? This must be a mistake, — he said, as if trying to process the words and make sure he hadn't misheard.
— Not at all, sir, — Breweye replied, shaking his head in the negative.
Pancare closed his eyes, resigned to the realization. Six ships to support a fleet of four thousand warships seemed like an insignificant force. Yet, he continued to think, carefully choosing his words.
— Send an observer aboard their ship... They're insane. With such little support, this is like a suicide mission. I can't send my sailors there, — Pancare fell silent abruptly, as if trying to hold back a flood of emotions.
An awkward pause followed. The sailors standing nearby exchanged uneasy glances, avoiding the admiral's gaze.
The silence was broken by Breweye, who showed unexpected courage.
— Then send me, Admiral, — he said firmly, moving closer to his commander, and added: — I'm an experienced combat officer of our fleet; I have a better chance of success. Besides, this flotilla is coming from the Russian Federation. I don't think they're as crazy as you think.
Pancare looked intently at Breweye, weighing his words and beginning to trust in the officer's confidence. A hint of respect flickered in his eyes, followed by a weary acceptance.
— Alright, Breweye. I'll send you, — Pancare finally relented, his voice soft yet resolute.
Breweye merely nodded, prepared for the trial that awaited him aboard one of the Russian ships, which now carried hope for salvation. For a moment, their eyes met — a silent promise to remain loyal to their people and their fleet.
The Evening of the Same Day
Breweye stood on the deck, stunned as he gazed at the silhouette of the ship he was about to board. The size of the vessel, as described in the dispatch, seemed unreal. He had thought the staff was exaggerating, trying to impress him, but reality surpassed even the boldest expectations. Before him stood an absurdly large warship, more akin to a moving fortress than a mere vessel.
Barely had he taken in the enormity of the colossal ship when something approached him from afar. It resembled a mini-dragon, but instead of wings, this machine had a huge propeller spinning on its back, propelling air at an incredible speed. A helicopter, Breweye remembered, having read the strange word in the dispatch. The unfamiliar term hadn't explained much to him, but now, seeing the machine up close, he was filled with curiosity.
As the helicopter approached and, hovering for a moment, descended onto the deck, a powerful whirlwind rose, causing Breweye to instinctively step back a few paces. A man in green armor, resembling a cuirass but with a peculiar helmet and armor that differed from the familiar gear Breweye was used to, emerged from the helicopter.
The man shouted over the roar of the rotors:
— Are you the military observer?
— Yes, that's me! — Breweye nodded, trying to shout over the roar of the rotors. — Please, calm this whirlwind!
The soldier smiled, and with a wave of his hand, invited Breweye aboard:
— Welcome, comrade observer!
Inside the helicopter, he was seated in a comfortable, soft chair, in stark contrast to the wooden benches on the ships of the Qua-Toyne fleet, which seemed like real torture by comparison. As the machine lifted into the air, Breweye felt a slight dizziness, but soon adapted, noting that despite the vibrations and noise, the helicopter was remarkably comfortable and stable. Unlike the live wyverns, the helicopter flew at a steady speed, maintaining perfect balance despite the wind and air currents.
At one point, Breweye caught sight of their destination through the porthole — the colossal frigate. The officer's eyes widened in surprise, and his jaw nearly dropped: the ship was truly monstrous, like a floating fortress capable of taking on an entire army.
— If the other five ships are like this, then the military power of the Russian Federation is unshakable. We can win, — Breweye thought, feeling a timid spark of hope rise within him.
When the helicopter touched down on the deck, he was escorted to the captain of the ship. There, in the spacious officer's mess, he met a man whose presence exuded confidence and strength.
— Good day. Captain 1st Rank Nikitin, — the man introduced himself, shaking Breweye's hand firmly.
— Military observer from the Principality of Qua-Toyne, Second Military Fleet. Here to witness the capabilities of the Russian Federation Navy. I also want to express my gratitude for your support against the Lourian Kingdom, — Breweye replied, maintaining a businesslike tone, though emotions were bubbling inside him.
Captain Nikitin nodded coolly, as if this was just another ordinary day at work, and got straight to the point:
— We've established that the enemy fleet is five hundred kilometers to the west. They are moving slowly towards us at a speed of five knots. Tomorrow morning, we'll head out to meet them. We'll politely ask them to retreat. If they don't comply, we'll open fire to destroy them. Be calm.
Nikitin's words sounded so confident and calm, as if they were just heading out for a routine check, not to face an enemy armada. Breweye had a hard time processing what he had just heard. Four thousand Lourian ships against six vessels of the Russian Federation.
— To face four thousand ships alone... without the help of the Qua-Toyne fleet! — Breweye shuddered inwardly, but looking at the confident captain, he felt a strange sense of calm. With this man and his powerful fleet, the chances of victory no longer seemed absurd to him.
The Next Morning, Early Morning
Two ships had fallen behind the flotilla. Bravei was in a panic, but he was quickly reassured that the amphibious assault ships (Landing Ships) wouldn't be useful in this situation. The remaining four ships headed west, reaching a speed of twenty knots. At that moment, the Lourian fleet appeared on the horizon.
Meanwhile, aboard the Lourian flagship, Vice Admiral Sharkun stood at the helm, unable to suppress a wide grin. His eyes sparkled with anticipation as he surveyed the powerful flotilla sent to blockade Port-Maihark.
— What magnificence, — Sharkun murmured contentedly, spreading his arms wide, as though pointing at the fleets lined up in perfect battle formation. — Look, this is our greatness! Now even Qua-Toyne will tremble before the might of the Lourian Kingdom! With a fleet like this, we could challenge even Parpaldia itself!
But as he caught himself in this thought, he hesitated. The fiery emotions stirred by the sight of the flotilla slowly cooled, giving way to cold logic. He remembered the Parpaldian "hundred-gun ships" — legendary battleships capable of destroying entire fleets with a single broadside. Suddenly, the magnificence of his own fleet seemed modest and vulnerable before the might of the superpower of the Third Civilized Earth.
At that moment, Sharkun's attention was drawn to something strange on the horizon. Through the spyglass, he saw something flying toward them, producing a sound like blows against the air. The vice admiral furrowed his brow, trying to figure out what kind of creature this was.
— A wyvern? No… Some strange, rumbling insect… — he muttered, feeling a vague sense of fear tightening in his chest.
The rumbling craft soared over the ships and suddenly a loud, commanding voice boomed:
— You are in the territorial waters of the Principality of Qua-Toyne, under the protection of the Armed Forces of the Russian Federation. Immediately change course, or fire will be opened! I repeat!
A frightened archer aboard one of the Lourian ships shakily loosed an arrow at the strange craft, but it immediately veered off and disappeared to the east, leaving the crew stunned and anxious.
After a while, the sailors noticed something terrifying. On the horizon, an island had appeared... and it was moving toward them.
— Is this… an island? But it's moving?! Impossible! Is it… is it a ship?! — one of the sailors whispered in disbelief, watching the giant object.
The mighty ship, resembling a floating fortress, approached at an alarming speed and stopped just three hundred meters from the Lourian fleet. A voice from the ship rang out again, heightening the tension among the Lourians:
— Change course immediately, or we will open fire to destroy you! I repeat!
But Sharkun, outraged by the audacity of this unknown ship, simply smirked and ordered an attack. His fleet of ships advanced to within two hundred meters, and with determination, they unleashed incendiary arrows and bolts.
On board the Russian frigate, the first officer sarcastically addressed the captain:
— Comrade Captain 1st Rank, these savages might damage our paint!
Captain Nikitin merely nodded, holding back a smile, and ordered them to move back two miles.
The Lourian sailors were ecstatic, watching as the enemy ship turned around and sailed away. Shouts of triumph filled the air:
— They're running away! Ha-ha-ha! Look, they're afraid!
Sharkun felt a wave of relief. He wiped the sweat from his brow, but that relief proved to be premature.
A command for target acquisition rang out on the bridge of the Admiral of the Soviet Union Isakov. The mighty 130mm A-192M artillery unit rotated toward Sharkun's fleet, freezing like a predator preparing to pounce. Sharkun noticed the movement, and feeling a chilling fear, didn't have time to even order a retreat before the deafening blast rang out.
In the next instant, the lead Lourian ship exploded into the air, shattered into pieces like a toy smashed by a giant fist. The explosion was so powerful that wooden debris and bodies flew into the air, then crashed down onto the surrounding ships. The terrifying force of the impact made everyone aboard hold their breath.
— Direct hit! — the gunner reported calmly. Shocked Lourian sailors stood frozen in place, realizing that their fleet had just been on the brink of annihilation.
— What's happening?! — Sharkun shouted, grabbing a communicator to call for reinforcements. — Requesting wyvern support! We've been attacked by an unknown ship!
Captain Nikitin, watching the enemy fleet, quietly whispered:
— Well, how long do you need to be convinced? It's time to turn back.
But even in this dire situation, Sharkun didn't lose hope. He sighed heavily and gave the order to prepare for the arrival of the wyverns. This was his last chance for salvation.