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Chapter 69 - XII - Is Silence Supposed to be Loud? - 1.1

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Hierd woke up impossibly early. It was impossible because he slept at twelve. Looking at the watch; it said that it was one in the morning. Something must be happening.

Weak and groggy. Hierd crawled out of his bed, the cold wooden floor hit his core fast, sending a bit of electricity in his brain. Made his way to the window, blanketed by a thick black curtain. The thin slit that split the two parts of curtain in half was just enough for a red glare to peer through and illuminate that part of the room with a sinister red glow.

Hierd broke sweat. The room was impossibly hot now and getting hotter by the second. He felt something heavy upon his hands. It was a book, hardback and thick in volume. The intensity irritated his whole entire body, but he made it an effort to look at the book upon his hands.

The book's cover contained the words; "Auferstan." The name of the world? Why? Hierd thought to himself (in heat-induced rage). Swiftly he felt as if his life, his conscience was leaving his body. Before this force could take him, he unraveled the book's contents.

There was a flash of words, pages, things of that nature that were unintelligible under the fast flipping of pages. His eyes felt heavy, his head swirling, he was fainting. Just as the world collapsed upon Hierd, his eyes focused upon one word. One singular word from an otherwise long block of black-inked words.

"Failure."

( * )

Captain Jack moved on from the Atago. He was quite reckless with the Atago, "a rough girl to handle." He'd say. But the Atago wasn't at fault twenty percent of the time. The other eighty was because of him. But that was alright, he was a great captain.

Today was the 9th of October. And Germany was busy. Too busy to matter with any thing else. In three days, there was to be a massive attack upon Lottidenty. Whether Germany wins or Germany loses is not certain. Nothing is truly certain.

It does not matter if the Japanese had three more carriers in Midway. It does not matter if the Germans used the Scharnhorst. Even with a great emassed power, nothing was truly certain. The Americans would have still won through a narrow margin just by some human error. And the Scharnhorst would have been sunk by the British by some uncalculated mistake not seen.

"Nothing is truly certain." Jack flipped the new German coin. It was the standard currency now for the whole of the German Alliance. Called the Germanicie, though a shorter nickname would arose in just a day, a Germie.

It landed on heads, the side that had a steel eagle spreading it's daunting wings upon almost the entire area of it's space.

Just off the distance was Germany's newest battleship, and Jack's ship. He was officially named Admiral just two days earlier. And his newest ship was the big bad SMS Richelieu. Her tall castle-like bridge. Elegant lines, that beautiful swept and long hull. And those two quadruple-barreled turrets upon it's bow.

But he would not be able to admire it fully. A telegram. Brought by an officer of his, only the name of the chancellor was written upon the paper, as well as the location of this meeting. The White Manor.

( * )

Hierd looked at ten black and white photographs. Each equally disturbed Hierd. He was already distressed from the nightmare he went through that morning. Now he was looking at a destroyed Hesian Melrose Perci. Capsized, burning. And the culprit?

"The Lazaro." Hierd dropped to his seat. "The Kingdom of Lazaro. Of the Middle Continent. This is huge. Hugely bad. We have someone out there that can sink a modern ship. Well around that. This was the first of the Melrose Perci-class cruisers. But! It still underwent a modern refit.

"Even with all that, and the ship had still sunk, what lay for our future endeavors in the middle continent makes me fearful. And I cannot afford that. Not at all. I will mobilize our Ferris Sea Fleet. Headed by Adm. Jack." -His eyes darted for a soldier- "You! Please contact the Hesians and Betelions. Tell them to assemble a sizable fleet of their own. And for the Hesians, tell them I want information. Anything about this."

Could it be? He thought to himself nervously. Could this be connected to that nightmare? Had I witnessed a premonition? What is failure? Failure here? Or failure in the North? What is the play! How should I continue?!

His board of Generals and Admirals sat silently. "Well? What are you all waiting for! Go to your respected posts! Especially you Jack! The Richelieu will be Germany's flagship. And I want the army stationed and ready to act in Lottidenty. Get the Landship here as soon as possible and I want the Midway moved closer to Lottidenty as well! Now go!"

( * )

It was the fifth of October when it had happened. The Hesians were prowling the Green Sea. It was a light fleet, consisted of ten destroyers (their newest of classes) with a sizable research-converted liner to act as this small fleet's flagship.

According to the maps they had, they were pretty close to the Kingdom of Lazaro. What they knew about the Lazaro was just as little as what the Lazaro and the rest of the middle continent knew about the West. Absolutely nothing.

The fleet had split up and a flotilla of two destroyers were left to escort the research liner back home to refuel. While the rest of the fleet continued with their exploits.

It was getting late, the sun was setting. But nothing out of the ordinary. Until Cpt. Ginshaw, of the HS Dante I (DD) had spotted something at portside. It was the sillhoeute of a ship. It was quite distinguishable in the horizon, for it's sails and tall masts were quite tall. And those wing flaps making it levitate in the water made it more prominent a figure.

It was alerted and quickly acted upon. Twenty minutes later, the two ships made observational contact. They were ten kilometers of each other. And one another could see quite clearly what the other looked like. Cpt. Ginshaw noted in the telegraph that the ship's levitation made it rotate faster, and he estimated that it was going twenty knots. Which was only eleven knots slower than the HS Dante I. "I had made considerable effort to communicate via known flag signals and through broadcasting my voice, however the difference in language made it hard." Cpt. Ginshaw said in the telegraph, noting that they had also tried to communicate.

With the research liner, the HS Dante I observed as the HS Dante II (DD) moved towards the warship (evident by her broadside guns). "Ano ang inyong ginagawa sa aming territoryo?" Said a magic-powered voice. The language was foreign. Not anything from the West. Nothing that the both captains knew and understood.

Then again, "Kayo ba ang mandidigma? Kikilanin namin kayong bilang mga pirata kung ito ay totoo. Kinakailangan rin namin kayong lumuwas sa mga barko niyo at mapakulong samin dahil sa inyong paglakbay sa aming territoryo!"

The message went in no one's ears. No one understood anything, and the guys in the sailing ship sure wasn't getting a response from the destroyers.

Cpt. Ginshaw saw the sailing ship raise a red flag. What it meant he did not know. But he and the fleet would quickly find that out.

Without any warning, the warship quicky (and succesfully) fired five shots that landed into the destroyer. Cpt. Ginshaw's heart turned sideways. Immediately calling for the rest of the fleet to hi-tail it to his position. The liner's captain quickly responded, rushing to the pre-set destination. Leaving Cpt. Ginshaw and the HS Dante I to fend for this ship.

The HS Dante II didn't go down without a fight. Ginshaw was just as surprised as the crew of the HS Dante II when the supposed cannonballs penetrated fourteen millimeters of hard steel. The five cannonballs landed midship, and the ship was quickly flooding. The sailing ship quickly turned towards Ginshaw's ship after the shooting.

Both destroyers made quick their predicament and shot the main guns without hesitation. Firing a bit of their machine guns and yelling a few bits of insanity here and there. The warship, safe to say, didn't survive.

---

But that was four days ago. At October 8 was where it all went down. A Melrose Perci was crusing around Loreal Island. Which is very very close to the Hesian Mainland and very very far from the Lazaro Kingdom's.

Ginshaw's words of the event baffled the Melrose Perci's captain, a certain Mr. Zubin. A fanatical ballsack. Didn't take privy to a lot of things. Didn't like people. And had an inflated ego. But that should be alright. Zubin can be hated as much as Zubin wants to be hated. But Zubin must not, by any means, fail at his job.

The Melrose Perci was at cruising speed, eight knots to be exact, when it encountered at around four-o-five AM the sillhoeute of a relatively large ship. Cpt. Zubin was sure that it was a merchant vessel. Since there were still many companies who used sailing ships. And it was still dark out, so he couldn't get a good glimpse.

But the sailing ship, which should be affected by the harsh drag of the sea, just like any ship, had quickly turned it's broadside. Even Zubin knew that that was impossible, even for a German-made vessel, that was impossible.

Zubin's cruiser would soon burn. His crew along with it. And sink to the sea.

( * )

That was an impossible story. Hierd was sure that the Melrose's thick armor for a heavy cruiser was enough to take on a cannonball. But if even those cannonballs were powerful enough to puncture such holes into that vessel... Hierd was rethinking a whole lot of things. He was even considering spawning a thousand Yamatos. As it was one of the thickest (in armor) and most modern.

Upon his seat in the Venit Ille military HQ. He carefully and quietly awaited the movements of his giant multi-nation combined fleet.

( * )

[ 2:04 PM - Somewhere in the Green Sea ]

The SMS Richelieu led the grand fleet into the Green Sea, bearing it's arms towards the horizon. Everyone was already at their battlestations. The turrets were ready to fire at any second, and tensions rose at every kilometer passed.

The Combined Fleet had twelve destroyers (four from the Hesians, and the other eight from the Betelionic Navy), eight cruisers cruisers, and four battleships (which included the HS Hesia, the HS Guilio Cesare, and the BSS Betelionic).

Adm. Jack was nervous. And he should be nervous.He's had a lot of experience at sea, even before he was in the German Navy. And his years with the Atago had taught him all that he needed. But why did it seem like those years were for naught? Even inside the confines of the SMS Richelieu, he thought to himself as a bit too weak. That this battleship would sink at the strike of one bad decision.

He tried to brush it off his mind, but it still lingered through and through. A call came through from the HS Guilio Cesare. There was a certain signature being picked up from South-East. This kind of signature was the type that would be emitted from a vast amount of magicules being used. The sensitive radio equipment was good for that.

The HS Dante I, with her captain, Ginshaw was able to corroborate this and began speeding down that general direction. And a few minutes after, Adm. Jack received a stern radio. "Enemy contact, ironclad."

His officers of the bridge quickly rushed to their positions, the radiomen in the radioroom began frantically calling every ship in the fleet to notify this discovery. Jack made his way to the conning tower, his officers in tow. "I'd be damned if we didn't give a message! Fire our main guns at 030!"

"Yes, sir!"

The message was relayed quickly through the telephone inside the conning tower.

-10 degrees-

-15 degrees-

-20 degrees-

The eight barrels simultaneously raised, like it were some coordinated gun salute.

-9 degrees-

-27 degrees-

-45 degrees-

Jack's word was the trigger. And he didn't waste any time pulling it."Fire!"

( * )

Ever since that fated day, the fifth of October, the Kingdom of Lazaro's navy had been on a frenzy. After their famed ironclad, the Marilliano, had sunk. This was the pride of the nation, and it had simply sunk. There were fifteen survivors, and all told the tale of the "Castle Ships of the West."

What they saw was no battleship. It was the research liner, and the two destroyers escorting the liner they mistook for a whole fleet because of their almost invisible image upon the red-orange horizon.

Even so, this prompted a nation wide campaign to the West. At the eighth of October, a small fleet of two Aerial Cutters, and one battleship, flew their way towards Loreal Island at morning, before dawn. The name of the battleship who sunk the Melrose Perci, was the Sampaguita. Whose weaponry and style of ship was similar to the Marilliano.

They didn't trek forth further into Hesian waters, as they recounted that they saw a big fleet of ships coming for the Melrose Perci.

A letter from their captain, a certain Cpt. Cortez. "For they dared take our ship, we avenged and took theirs. This is a victory for the kingdom, but do not be fooled. We shall remain vigilant, and we shall fight those who dare encroach upon our waters."

The small flotilla was anchored to the ocean floor, maintaining a malfunctioning wing. It was the ninth of October. And for Captain Cortez, it was a peaceful afternoon. The sun's shine was immense, but such was the sun. He had just finished writing his letter, kept it in a wooden drawer. Stretched, yawned, and went outside his quarters. "Afternoon, Kapitan!" Said the midshipmen.

"How are the repairs?"

"It'd be done by dusk," said the ship's engineer. "It's a bugger, this. The cogs are too worn, probably wasn't replaced from the last maintenance week. Reprimand them kap!"

"Sure will, sure will." he smiled, patting the engineer's shoulder and making his way to the railing. He eyed the wing that was being worked upon. Scaffolding was made around the mechanism that made it go up and down and act like that of a bird's.

This was revolutionary ten years ago. And now, it seemed so normal and day-to-day, that it's become less renowned. Even if it was the same mechanism as all those years ago.

I wonder what Cruz felt, thought Cortez. He's a prideful man, the sinking of the Marilliano should have killed him mentally. Him drowning didn't kill him. The sinking did. I pray for you in purgatory.

Was it just a mirage? Loreal Island? Whatever it was, Cortez saw something from the horizon. "Spotmen, spotmen! I need someone up there! There's a ship, broad port bow!"

He yelled out ship but he wasn't sure if there was a ship there. He was anxious, he had just thought of Cruz and the Marilliano. And the Marilliano was a battleship. The same class as the Sampaguita. If that had sunk, what of this ship? What ship would be able to sink such a ship? Did it encounter a fleet? The survivors told us they did! But what if... What if it was just one ship! What if only one ship sunk the Marilliano! And what if... What if the sillhouete out there... What if that ship out there. Was the one that had sunk her?

He didn't need the confirmation of the man up on that mast to tell him that there indeed was a ship there, he acted on impulse. "Battlestations! Battlestations! To positions!" He ran towards the wheel, "slack away! Heave away the crosswind! Run the wings!"

"But, kap, we've yet to repair the one wing!"

"No need! We need to get out of here, and fast!"

The cannons below deck were exiting the wooden doors that hid them. Signals were being made to the two cutters beside them. And the battleship had begun to turn Lazaro-ward.

Cortez's heart was beating too fast. It wasn't out of his chest yet, but it was certainly about to burst out. Then, a light.

It was impossibly bright. And from the distance of that sillhouete. That ship he called it. The light was an explosion, he knew because he's seen many explosions before. Too many. But what was that explosion for? No ship can shoot that far off the distance? Did the ship explode? Was that really a ship? Cortez's mind was rambling too many hypotheticals to think of a factual reality.

BOOM!

The cutter, the ship just one kilometer away from the Sampaguita. Exploded. The crewmen exploded in shock, many frantically running to safety. Where ever that safety was. Cortez instantly understood what situation held them.

"Full speed!" He yelled. "I need all our men working to get speed! Speed! Speed! Speed! Speed gentlemen, speed!"

The cutter simply exploded into a brilliant fireball. The shattered iron plates had simply melted and flew out in shards like it weren't metal. Like it had been made out of wood and cedar and nothing more. What the Westerners had used was effective enough to melt the cutter's (albeit) thinner metal plating.

There were many howls, scowls, and shouts, men running this yonder to that yonder. What were they thinking at that moment? Cortez didn't want to know. What he wanted to know, was how to escape from this situation.

How would one escape an enemy who's guns can reach them. Where they could not even see them?

( * )

The explosion was visible enough from Jack's conning tower to see that a ship had exploded. The HS Hesia I ran towards the site at a full thirty one knots. It's guns trained front and center.

The movement triggered a cascading command and the Betelions assumed their own formation away from the main fleet. Diverting themselves with the BSS Betelionic to act as a counter-attack force. If ever the enemy responded with a frontal attack. Which could happen. Can it happen?

The Richelieu's main guns were reloading. The other battleships of the line readied theirs in response. The cruisers and destroyers assumed their own in line and started to quicken their pace. The wind had picked up just the same way.

"Enemy is fleeing!" Radioed the HS Hesia I.

Richelieu quickly responded to all ships: "Pursue! Pursue! Pursue!"

The iron hunks of steel steadily held their speed and trained their guns yonder that direction. The Hesians set up a curfew around the area that fishermen were not able to fish here, plus this place is too far away from Loreal Island. He couldn't have just smitten some innocent lives. "Damned no that is!" He assures himself. "Wha' am I thinkin'! I shouldn't be beatin' me up like this, I'm the captain of the Richlieu! Captained the Atago er'self. No's ways I failin' myself now!"

Adm. Jack. Who's last name was always omitted. Huntsman it was. There, Adm. Jack Huntsman, complete now.

Admiral Jack Huntsman coughed.

-+-

The Lazaro language is Filipino. If you want to, you can translate them yourself! But it won't affect that story all that much.

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