Iron Blood Headquarters, Berlin
September 18, 1942
8:00 AM
The meeting room was cloaked in a dim, somber atmosphere, filled with hanging red flags emblazoned with an etched iron cross at their centers. Lines of sunlight, piercing through high windows, illuminating the gray floor, the constant anxious tapping of shoes belonging to the figures seated around an elongated meeting table sounded at the earie silence.
The high-ranking officials of Iron Blood sat there, their faces a mixture of expressions, decipherable only to those who knew them well. Some clearly resented the sudden, unannounced meeting, which had pulled them away from their various activities.
Side glances were exchanged, as if another heaven-shattering revelation were about to descend upon them like a divine cannonball.
At the peak of their prolonged impatience, the double doors swung open, and Bismarck herself strode in, the sharp click-clack of her boots echoing on the polished floor.
The 'Big Heads' in the room immediately rose to attention upon her arrival, rendering crisp salutes. Their anxious expressions quickly vanished, replaced by military decorum.
"At ease," Bismarck commanded, with a slight motion of her hand. They all promptly reseated themselves.
Graf Zeppelin and Dr. Stein then entered, taking their respective seats for the meeting. Bismarck settled into the chair reserved exclusively for her, and the room fell silent, awaiting her to begin.
She cleared her throat, her gaze sweeping over them. Her eyes conveyed a complex blend of determination and disappointment—a challenging read for anyone.
"Gentlemen..." she began, her voice resonating through the room. "I know many of you have questioned the reason for my sudden call for this meeting, and some of you, regarding your activities, I wish I wouldn't have to expose."
The high-ranking officials who had been pulled from their personal activities let out a silent groan, shifting slightly in their seats.
"Your personal activities matter not," Bismarck continued, her voice gaining a steely edge, "because we now know that Azur Lane can conduct amphibious warfare against the Sirens... and I believe their capabilities in that area are rapidly growing."
One of the military heads cleared his throat and spoke. "Herr Bismarck... it is indeed a problem we desperately need to address."
She turned her head toward him, followed by the others present. "And what is your proposal for hindering the Azur Lane Alliance's growing capabilities?"
He and his accompanying entourage nodded at one another before turning back to her. "The news of successful armored warfare has reached our ears, so we have drafted a weapon we could use to destroy their armors before they even hit the beaches of Mainland Europe."
The man proposed, then slid a stack of papers across the table, along with the drafted blueprints for a Super Tank they had conceived. Beads of sweat trickled down their foreheads as Bismarck glanced at the drafted sketch of the Super Tank and the accompanying papers. Having seen enough, she passed them to Dr. Stein.
Dr. Stein, ever the brilliant mind, visibly cringed and grimaced at the papers in his hands. The sheer idiocy of the proposed plan made him facepalm in utter distress.
"Dr. Stein... your thoughts?" she inquired, seeking his intellectual assessment.
Dr. Stein, having lost all hope in humanity after reading the proposed plan and the ridiculously "OP" capabilities detailed in the papers, let out a gruff sigh before he spoke.
"To be honest... this is crap," he declared bluntly, as was expected of him.
He continued. "The capabilities would be good if we were only facing the tanks produced by Azur Lane... and the imposing appearance might indeed instill shivers in the enemy."
Everyone nodded at his initial assessment, but they were abruptly jolted by Dr. Stein's next words.
"One problem, though."
Graf Zeppelin then interjected. "Have you forgotten that Azur Lane has Missiles in their inventory?"
"Yes, Graf is correct," Dr. Stein affirmed. "The Azur Lane Alliance possesses Missiles in their inventory via their Modern Kansens. Those Missiles could take down a Siren ship in a single hit, and what you've proposed is a landship with minimum protection from planes and air attacks, let alone facing Azur Lane's missile inventory."
The man who had proposed the 1,000-ton tank lowered his head in shame, along with his entourage. Some of the other 'Big Heads' muffled chuckles and discreetly laughed at the disastrous decision he had made.
(If you want this waste of potential to see the light of day, and only get clapped by a missile? Please comment)
Bismarck coughed, a subtle gesture to redirect the 'Big Heads'' attention back to the looming danger at hand.
"My Führer would not greenlight such a waste of materials. Currently, our production of V2-Rockets and its variants, along with the researched weapons that could match the Modern Kansens' capabilities, is our priority."
She glanced, expecting the next 'Big Head' to present any ideas they had gathered regarding Azur Lane's recent successes.
The other man produced papers, just like the previous one, but these were far more practical, made more sense, and involved less resource allocation.
Bismarck looked at their proposal; it was far more intriguing and fascinating than the previous one. A small, curved smile subtly touched her lips as she passed it on to Dr. Stein.
Dr. Stein took a look at the separate papers. The capabilities were indeed amazing and well within the scope of resources available for the Ground Forces they commanded.
In the papers he held were illustrations of the Panzerkampfwagen E-100 and the E-79 Panther III—a new generation of Heavy Tanks for the Iron Blood Army.
"Quite a fascinating concept... these Armored Machines certainly would supplement our Armored Divisions. The added designs and some upgrades to the existing King Tiger and Panther Hulls are noteworthy."
He lowered the papers to the desk and faced them. "The only thing I can say is that... it's impressive."
They all sighed in relief that their project proposal had been accepted and not mercilessly criticized like the previous one.
Dr. Stein continued, a hint of his characteristic sarcasm in his tone. "It seems that you folks do read the data and information that Agent Yukari has reported about Azur Lane Armor."
The expressions of the military 'Big Heads' soured. Dr. Stein never missed an opportunity to mock their shortcomings.
Dr. Stein's existence was of utmost importance, ensuring that no one dared lay a finger on him, as he was one of the geniuses behind Iron Blood's innovations, and Herr Bismarck held him in exceptionally high regard. He possessed immunity at this point.
Groans and frowns rippled among the men at the Doktor's blatant scorn for their oversights.
Graf Zeppelin and Bismarck ignored the distress of the 'Big Heads,' as Bismarck was solely there to gather their proposed ideas and counter-plans against Azur Lane's growing amphibious warfare capabilities and advancements in armor.
Bismarck turned her gaze to the Naval 'Big Head' among the other Army 'Big Heads'. "Kommandant Hanz, is there something from your aspect you would like to propose?"
Z-23 quickly fished some papers from her bag and immediately handed them to him with professionalism and haste. Kommandant Hanz then slid the dossier across the table toward Bismarck.
"I am planning to revise the plan of equipping our U-Boats with rockets on their decks," he said, his tone low and deliberate.
Bismarck looked at the papers, her hand thoughtfully cupping her chin. "This idea was previously shelved as one of our failed projects. We tried this before, but firing it requires our submarine to surface for bombardment. What do you propose to revise?" she asked him directly, her gaze fixed on him.
"Ja, Agent Yukari took a photo of a supposed rocket launcher on the deck of an Azur Lane Submarine. I noticed that the launchers were all air-sealed... and that might be the reason why they were able to fire underwater."
Dr. Stein took the papers and examined them himself. The idea was brilliant—a small modification, but with profound implications.
"We will be able to fire rockets underwater, just like the Azur Lane Shipgirls do..."
"I approve of this modification to our current fleet of U-Boats," Bismarck stated, a curved line of satisfaction gracing her lips.
"Gentlemen, I do believe that's all for today... I want your proposals to reach the Führer's table to get further approval from the research department," she concluded, and everyone gave a curt nod before departing.
As everyone was debriefed and left the room, only a few remained, preoccupied with other problems stemming from the revelation of the Sirens' true capabilities. Only a handful knew of Agent Yukari's most unsettling findings. The Sirens' ability to transport ground forces inland.
"It was quite disturbing to know that," Dr. Stein began the quiet discussion.
"Hiding it from the public is a greater threat than leaving it out of the knowledge of the people," Graf Zeppelin remarked.
Bismarck remained seated, her head resting on her clasped hands. The stacking problems had become her everyday headache, a mundane occurrence that no one could alleviate as they simply left her to rest. But the Siren capabilities, in particular, had intensified this pervasive headache.
In the hallway leading out of the room, the sound of ragged breaths and skidding shoes echoed, followed by startled Staff Members.
Through the double doors, Hipper emerged, papers clutched in her hand. She looked, as always, like someone perpetually running a marathon, unlike the others.
After gaining the attention of the three still in the room, Hipper walked forward with haste, holding the papers tightly.
"Herr Bismarck," she began, her tone respectful. "Our Wolf Pack conducting war patrol off the North Sea has submitted a report."
She handed over the papers. Bismarck raised her head and took a look at the report given to her.
"Herr Bismarck. The Wolf Pack reported that it spotted a Modern Kansen sailing along with the Royal Navy Home Fleet, accompanied by Battleship Wales and Battlecruiser Hood."
That caught the attention of all three, as they immediately understood the implications of their heading.
"Are they heading to...?" Dr. Stein exclaimed, his voice tinged with a mix of surprise and concern.
"Northern Parliament," Graf Zeppelin added, finishing his thought.
"They're going north this time, huh?" Bismarck muttered under her voice, a new strategic puzzle forming in her mind.
...
North Sea
The towering waves of the North Sea crashed against the hulls of the various ships that sailed through it. The ships themselves were almost entirely covered in ice, as the relentless cold and harsh weather conditions froze both the air and the water.
The bows of the ships bobbed precariously on the rising and falling waves. The surface was a torrent of enormous, crushing waves, while beneath, a serene calm prevailed in total darkness where silent attackers lurked. The unpredictable weather and crushing waves hindered any pursuers lurking beneath, forcing them to halt their desperate pursuit.
The U-Boats on their war patrol off the North Sea spotted a convoy of Royal Navy ships heading north. In the middle of this armada, a boxy silhouette stood out against the backdrop of the harsh wind and rain. Their patrol in the North Sea had been utterly mundane until this point, as the turbulent seas made the inner hulls of the U-Boats feel gloomy and oppressive.
After spotting the unusual sight, they contacted HQ with their findings. HQ ordered them to trail the spotted Azur Lane Fleet, and there they remained, submerged for the duration of the violent storm above, with only their periscopes occasionally poking above the surface.
Battleships and cruisers cut through the rising waves as if forcibly pushing their mass against the unstable weather. The decks were coated with ice, but the guns remained unscathed by the freezing temperatures of the north. The ships, covered in ice, resembled floating icebergs with their icy exteriors.
In the midst of the big-gun ships, a boxy ship sailed along. Its design differed significantly from the accompanying ships, with its frozen guns raised high.
USS Bunker Hill CGN-76, a Nuclear Cruiser sailing amongst the big-gun capital ships at the middle of the storm.
On the Nuclear Cruiser's bridge, the rest of the Shipgirls gathered, watching the pitching and yawing of the other Escorting Ships. Hood, Wales, and the accompanying Maids.
Bunker Hill-76 stood near the console, overseeing the various Manjuus operating the navigation and steering of the Nuclear Cruiser. Meowfficers, with their protractors and rulers, meticulously measured their path on the navigation table and console. Their paws hovered around the screen, tapping the navigation controls with accompanying meows and squeaking noises.
Hood strolled along the bridge, noticing the relatively settled pitch and yaw of the nuclear cruiser compared to the turbulent waves. She glanced out the window and observed the other ships, which, despite being comparable to the nuclear cruiser in length and tonnage, bobbed heavily on the rising and falling waves.
The Nuclear Cruiser itself moved through the turbulence like a knife, its bow shaped to cut through the waves, a design feature she had previously noted at port. But what particularly captured her attention and curiosity was the lack of harsh pitching and yawing; she didn't have to hold onto various panels to stabilize herself amidst of the turbulent storm outside.
With a subtle curve of her lip, she began, "Tell me, Miss Bunker Hill, I've quite noticed that your ship appears remarkably stable amidst this storm. There's a slight pitching and yawing, certainly, but it's not nearly as pronounced as on the other ships."
She inquired, genuinely curious as to why the Nuclear Cruiser remained so stable in such turbulent weather.
Wales looked down, realizing that she felt only a faint vibration. If she were on her own ship, her "sea legs" would be working overtime. "Yes, indeed," she affirmed, "I've noticed the distinct lack of harsh pitching in this turbulent storm."
The Royal Navy Shipgirls turned their full attention to Bunker Hill-76.
Bunker Hill-76 maintained her cold, stoic expression, simply turning her head to meet their gazes. Like a programmed machine, she spoke in her typical, understated, secretary-like tone.
"The active stabilizer beneath the hull counters the harsh pitching and yawing of the ship. Similar to traditional fins on the side hulls, the active stabilizer is an automated system that keeps the entire ship stabilized throughout violent storms."
The Shipgirls were all genuinely amazed by the advanced technology of the Modern Kansen. They immediately recognized the active stabilizer as precisely what they needed, given that they were frequently stationed in the North Sea, facing turbulent storms almost constantly.
"Impressive..." Hood murmured, as she continued to walk along, viewing the storm outside the windows. In a corner of the panels, out of everyone's immediate sight, she caught a glimpse of a familiar device: a wooden exterior combined with modern electronics.
What she was looking at was a stereo, a blend of retro wooden framing and advanced digital components. The design was undeniably retro, yet the electronics were cutting-edge.
That stereo belonged to one of the Meowfficers. Beads of sweat trickled down its fur as it noticed Hood touching the device with interest, clearly uneasy.
Following Hood's movements, Bunker Hill-76 watched her walk toward the discreetly placed stereo, her expression still unreadable, showing no hint of concern.
"Tell me... Miss Bunker Hill..." Hood began, her tone reflecting contained curiosity, "what kind of music do you play on this stereo?"
Bunker Hill-76 maintained her impassive expression. "Modern..."
Hood slowly nodded her head, her finger hovering over the touchscreen 'play' button of the stereo.
"Rock and Heavy Metal," Bunker Hill-76 continued, completing her thought.
That statement completely surprised the usually composed Royal Navy Shipgirls. They had never imagined that a woman of Bunker Hill's caliber would listen to such genres, especially given their own experiences with rap songs that often contained "colorful" words unsuitable for younger audiences.
Hood was silent for a moment before continuing. "...Okay... that's quite unexpected of you, Miss Bunker Hill. Such a strange taste."
Bunker Hill-76 paid no mind to what Hood might stumble upon in the stereo's playlist. She simply stood there, waiting to observe Hood's reaction if she delved further into the songs.
Hood meticulously examined the screen displaying the selected songs. She leaned in closer as she noticed a particular track, with 'Bulldog and DMX' prominently featured on the song's cover.
"Odd," she murmured, leaning in for a closer look at the screen. She then pressed the 'play' button to initiate the peculiar song.
To her utter surprise, the song contained far more explicit lyrics than she could have ever anticipated. The track began with an immediately ear-catching beat of drums and guitar—then came the lyrics and their incredibly vivid, unfiltered delivery.
She was utterly taken aback by the explicit words emanating from the song and its raw presentation. She certainly didn't expect the song to be about the "Hood" as in "neighborhoods" of America and its gang culture.
"That's quite a mouthful..." Hood was left momentarily speechless by the unexpectedly unpleasant surprise.
The Meowfficer who had left that particular song open in the playlist buried its face in the table, paws clutching its head, its tail stiff as if being electrified.
The other Meowfficers looked at the offending Meowfficer, their dotted eyes squinting at him accusingly.
"Unexpected song of choice, Miss Hood," Bunker Hill-76 spoke, breaking the eerie silence after the song finally ended.
"Pardon?" Hood inquired, still somewhat dazed.
Hood quickly recovered after reeling for a moment. "Oh, my apologies... the song was quite—explicit, to say the least. I apologize, I couldn't comprehend any of the words after my mind became lost in the sheer vulgarity of the lyrics."
"I know," Bunker Hill-76 replied calmly. "People sometimes just want to express their thoughts and feelings, and... the vulgarity and explicitness are simply there."
Hood nodded, now understanding. Even a woman as reserved and strict as Bunker Hill seemingly had a rebellious side that yearned for expression, but the rigid status she upheld prevented her from truly being her authentic self.
"I see... like the song, you wished to lash out about your secretary-like personality, and longed to be free," Hood stated, a newfound understanding in her voice.
Bunker Hill-76 slowly nodded her head.
Moments later, everyone on the bridge remained vigilant. The radar and navigational maps clearly showed them nearing the territorial waters of the Northern Parliament. Accompanying this approach were various rumors circulating within the Alliance, most of them unfavorable.
In the Nuclear Cruiser's CIC (Combat Information Center), Meowfficers and Manjuus meticulously examined the various monitor screens. These displays showed the surrounding area, swept by the Aegis Radar and surveyed by the bow-mounted sonar.
The underwater threat posed by the U-Boats that had been trailing them was now gone from their sonars. The U-Boats had halted their pursuit, seemingly having lost track of them in the turbulent storm. With the absence of their pursuers, the crew's attention shifted to surface and air threats.
At this time, the Northern Parliament was attempting to act like Switzerland at its worst and the Soviets at its best. This stance caused significant concern among the Alliance heads, given the secrecy and constant espionage they were conducting against both Azur Lane and Crimson Axis.
Then came the startling revelation that a Siren Facility sat idly by in the Siberian Region, hidden from the prying eyes of those in the Kremlin.
On the bridge, Hood, Wales, and Bunker Hill-76 stood watching as the thick clouds began to part, their gazes fixed on the horizon. The surface of the sea was covered by thin sheets of ice, allowing ordinary ships to sail through without needing an icebreaker to clear a path.
The eerie silence of the bridge was broken by the comms. A junior Meowfficer called out, "Ma'am, call from the CIC! We're receiving a transmission from a single ship hailing from the Northern Parliament."
"Put me through," Bunker Hill-76 ordered calmly.
The junior Meowfficer then connected the comms to the transmission from the lone Northern Parliament Ship that was attempting contact.
After confirming the connection, Bunker Hill-76 proceeded to make contact. "This is USS Bunker Hill CGN-76 of the US Navy. Northern Parliament Ship, we have received your request for open communication."
"It seems the Northern Parliament has sent an escorting ship to greet us kindly." Hood remarked, a hint of anticipation in her voice.
Everyone on the bridge waited expectantly for a reply. The silent comms then crackled, and a hesitant, stuttering voice sounded.
"Umm... this is Kamchatka. I received you loud and clear," the voice on the other side of the comms sounded unmistakably like a child's.
"Kamchatka?!" the Meowfficers echoed, their distress evident in their collective cry.
...
Port of Murmansk, Northern Parliament
At the Port of Murmansk, three figures stood and clothed distinctively from the Parliament Soldiers arrayed behind them. The soldiers' rifles rested on their left shoulders, muzzles raised in attention, their gazes fixed on the vast open sea.
Among the three leading figures, one woman, with long white hair, a thick coat, and a staff, stared intently at the approaching visitors, her red eyes unblinking, their gaze as intensely hot as always.
The next figure resembled a "Graf Zeppelin Vodka edition," her red eyes and cynical smile mirroring the first woman's, but any similarity ended the moment she spoke in Slavic. One might easily mistake her for Graf Zeppelin's long-lost twin sister.
The last figure was peculiarly different from the other two. Her slick, thin clothing, combined with cat-ears and green hair, seemed utterly out of place in the Northern setting. She had the appearance of a cat-girl, yet her name hinted at Russian origins.
--Damn Soviets, they're ahead of Cat-Girl Technology--
"Kamchatka radioed that she made contact with the Azur Lane envoys, and they are currently en route," the woman in the thick coat said, her gaze never leaving the horizon.
"Quite an odd move for Azur Lane," Graf's twin remarked. "They usually contact their embassy if there's a problem with us. Them sending their envoys gives me unease about its significance."
The woman in the thick coat slowly turned her gaze, her red eyes piercing. "Aren't you supposed to be patrolling the Baltic Sea? Why are you here, Gangut?"
Graf's long-lost twin/Gangut, chuckled. "Ha, ha, I'm on my leave, a small favor I made with the Kommandant." She said with a glint of glee.
"Right... A favor..." Her tone trailed off, indicating that the 'favor' she spoke of was likely a rather substantial, perhaps illicit, business deal conducted under the Kommandant's table.
Gangut cut short her laughter as the tone of the other woman's voice registered. "Hey, it was a favorable deal!"
"Ahem"
The Green-Cat coughed to catch their attention. "Comrade Ivan is approaching."
The two momentarily ceased their tense staring match and shifted their attention to the man running toward them. He wore his Army Uniform beneath a thick winter coat, his breath visibly misting in the cold northern air.
"Good to see that he made it; it seems he didn't get a good night's sleep," Gangut said cynically.
"Or just missed the train by a large margin," the Green-Cat added dryly.
"Good to see that you made it in time, Comrade Ivan," the woman in the thick coat greeted the running officer.
Comrade Ivan panted heavily, his visible breath clouding in the cold. "Apologies, Rossiya, I missed the train. I had to wait for the second one to arrive," he said, his voice ragged from exertion.
Sovetskaya Rossiya lifted a hand. "No need... everyone here arrived earlier than the proposed plan... the envoys haven't arrived yet."
That news gave Comrade Ivan a glimmer of self-assurance, relieving him that he hadn't missed the arrival of the Azur Lane envoys—a blunder that would have been unacceptable for an officer of the Northern Parliament.
"Take your time; we'll wait," she said, as Comrade Ivan regained his composure.
"So..." he began, his tone reverting to a professional officer's cadence. "Status about the envoys?"
The Green-Cat spoke, placing her hand close to her ears. "Kamchatka reported that they are currently heading toward the Port."
Comrade Ivan nodded his head. "Who do we expect in this envoy?"
"The usual," Gangut said sheepishly.
Rossiya elaborated. "The Royal Navy's Shipgirl, Hood and Wales, on behalf of Azur Lane..."
Comrade Ivan nodded. "I see..."
She continued. "And there's a Modern Kansen representing the United States of America. We don't know her appearance precisely, but the description says her length is comparable to a heavy cruiser, and her shape is entirely angular. But the one detail that truly baffles me is that single 5-inch gun mounted on her deck."
"Quite lacking in guns; what is it for?" Comrade Ivan murmured, puzzled.
"I laughed at first," Rossiya admitted, her tone now serious, "until I read that her primary weapon isn't the 5-inch gun mounted on the deck, but rather the Guided Rockets she launches at her opponents. The report claims that even an Arbiter succumbed to one."
"That woman does have secrets," Gangut said, her tone almost childish. "I mean, no one can go toe-to-toe with an Arbiter, let alone an Elite-Siren. Other Humanoid Sirens are easy to deal with, especially when we outnumber them."
"That's the logical conclusion if we use our own understanding rather than theirs," Comrade Ivan replied, thoughtfully cupping his chin.
"Intelligence reports that the guided weapon she uses flies at greater speeds than any of Iron Blood's V-2 Rockets," Rossiya stated, pausing to gauge their reactions before continuing. "We don't know what Azur Lane is trying to pull. She might be a direct message to us, or there's something more at play."
"That's a terrifying thought," Comrade Ivan admitted. "She has bested an Arbiter, and intelligence wisely states her personality is as cold as ice. She would be terrifying."
"Oh... the Kommandant is afraid of that kind of woman," Gangut teased, giving Comrade Ivan a playful squeezing hug.
"Hey! Gangut, cut it out!" Comrade Ivan demanded, struggling at Gangut's playful antics. At the absurdity of the hug and the two 'cushions' pressing his back he couldn't help but to turn red.
"Aww... Comrade Ivan is turning red." Gangut said squeezing him more tightly.
"Let go off me, Gangut!!!"
"That's enough you two, you're making yourselves unpresentable." Rossiya said in a commanding tone.
The Green-Cat then received a transmission from Kamchatka. She placed a hand close to her ear to listen intently.
"They have arrived," she announced.
Gangut immediately stopped and released Comrade Ivan. Both snapped to attention, looking toward the open ocean where thin sheets of ice covered the surface. A hazy fog obscured the distant view, allowing them to see only the closer vicinity.
The Green-Cat and Rossiya both gazed at the billowing dark smoke rising from the hazy clouds. There, Kamchatka's silhouette emerged, and following closely behind was an oddly shaped warship with a distinctly different design and function.
Both of them gawked and stared at the incoming Nuclear Cruiser.
Rossiya squinted her eyes, meticulously assessing the weaponry on the deck. She noticed some guns: an Mk-38 Mod 2 25mm Machinegun system and various M2 Browning .50 calibers, along with a single AGS (Advanced Gun System) mounted at the front of the deck.
Other boxy contraptions were visible, at the rear were 8 Naval Strike Missile Box Launcher, and 2 RIM-116 Rolling Air-Frame Missile, and R2-D2s with laser pointers (CLaWS).
The sloped design of the superstructure and its hidden radar arrays confused her. She wondered why such a large superstructure was needed, one that even dwarfed existing battleships with their raised bridges.
"Quite an odd design... the ship's superstructure is even bigger than a Battleship's," she remarked, her tone devoid of amusement.
Comrade Ivan squinted. "Da... I noticed the lack of large-caliber guns. The only guns I saw were those single mounts and the 5-inch cannon on the bow."
"Let's go greet them," Rossiya said, moving forward to the pier.
"Right..." Comrade Ivan then motioned to the soldiers behind them to move forward in formation, along with the Shipgirls.
The soldiers raised their right feet in a marching motion, turning left into a rhythmic formation march, their boots pounding on the solid concrete like a stoic, synchronized beat.
At the pier, Manjuus on the deck of the Modern Warship quickly threw the mooring ropes down to the pier below. There, the Port Manjuus (Manjuus with fur hats adorned with the Northern Parliament emblem) received the lines.
The Port Manjuus swiftly secured the mooring ropes to the pier bollards, while the rest began setting up a gangway for the disembarking visitors.
Hood and Wales, accompanied by their Maids, gracefully descended the gangway to greet the welcoming Northern Parliament Shipgirls and the lone Naval Officer.
Hood exuded her usual diplomatic persona. Her regal poise was undeniable, clearly demonstrating her status as a representative of the Royal Navy and a High-Ranking Lady of the House.
The Parliament Shipgirls greeted them warmly, despite the harsh and unwelcoming northern weather. Nevertheless, the greetings were heartfelt and welcoming.
"Greetings, Mistress Hood, I appreciate your visit. I apologize about the weather; this month is not quite warm," Rossiya said, matching Hood's regal posture.
"Oh, no need for apologies, the weather is just fine," Hood replied, a slight shiver running through her, even though she wore a decorative thick coat. She skillfully concealed her discomfort with a warm smile, diverting their attention.
"Yes, the weather is just fine," Wales affirmed, accompanying Hood down the gangway.
"I see... I hope you ladies had a good sailing trip here," Comrade Ivan interjected, joining the conversation.
"Oh, it's been quite a long time, Commander Ivan. How's everything on your side?" Hood asked, recognizing the man.
Comrade Ivan was one of the Northern Parliament's commander representatives within the Azur Lane Alliance. However, ever since the split and the Northern Parliament's withdrawal from the Alliance, Comrade Ivan had become merely a footnote in Azur Lane Commander documents.
"Da... it's been quite a long time, Miss Hood." Comrade Ivan scratched the back of his head, flustered by her unexpected earnestness.
Gangut and the Green-Cat exchanged glances, having never seen him so flustered before.
"Is he?" the Green-Cat whispered, intrigued.
"Don't ask about it," Gangut quickly cut her off.
"Oh, I remember..." Comrade Ivan suddenly recalled something. "Where's the Shipgirl of the ship?" he asked, noticing that the only figures disembarking were the Maids, not the Modern Kansen.
Hood turned to look back at the ship, and the others followed suit, their eyes darting to the lone figure on deck looking down at them.
Bunker Hill-76, still on the deck of her ship, observed the lively greetings happening on the gangway below. She, on the other hand, did not participate. She waited for the friendly chatter to die down before making her descent to the pier.
She fixed her gaze on the Northern Parliament Shipgirls, their eyes interlocking like gun sights aimed at one another, creating a tense "Mexican standoff" with each side anxious for the other to make the first move.
Their gazes lingered, burning like furnaces in the midst of winter. No surrounding cold or snow seemed to penetrate them because of the extreme heat their gazes produced. The Cold War ignited between them, no words nor action, just tensed standoff and penetrating sharp gazes.
Comrade Ivan, the only human caught between the Shipgirls, knew he needed to do something before this tense staring escalated beyond mere gazes.
"Umm..." He stammered, unable to speak properly due to the palpable tension. Like a drunk Russian, he chose the most awkward path. "Welcome to the Northern Parliament, I hope you like the weather."
The tension abruptly ceased as his words cut through the strained silence. His delivery was undeniably awkward, and he hadn't intended to sound like an idiot in front of these distinguished ladies. But, to his relief, he had achieved his immediate goal of stopping the tense gazes both sides were throwing.
Bunker Hill-76 then stepped down the gangway, followed by her security detail: Manjuus conspicuously strapped with American taxpayers' dollars.
"I thank you for your warm welcome, Comrade," she said, her tone remaining harsh and dry, with no hint of amusement—just straight to the point.
This surprised Comrade Ivan. He had never expected her to speak; he would have thought she was one of those silent and deadly types. "I-I appreciate it," he stuttered, still taken aback.
"The snow is about to fall; we had better continue our conversation inside," Rossiya said, gesturing toward an awaiting train near the harbor. She returns to her normal greetings and ignores the intense stand-off the moment past.
"Yes, the weather seems to worsen with each passing moment. We had better continue our conversation inside the cabin," Hood agreed, a visible shiver betraying her, though she tried to hide it from everyone's sight.
Wales nodded. "Indeed, we don't want ourselves to fall ill from the cold."
"Yeah, sure." Comrade Ivan guided them toward the train cabin.
The soldiers, who had been standing poised at the cabin door, both opened it for the envoys to pass through.
Bunker Hill-76 entered, accompanied by her Security Manjuu, strapped with American dollars, that ready to spread democracy – in case.
The train's horn blew, its sound echoing through the harbor, signaling its departure. The conductor onboard bellowed their departure time, followed by a sharp whistle.
Steam hissed from the pushing pistons, propelling the train forward. Thick smoke billowed from the smokestack as fuel was fed into the steam engine. The metal wheels screeched against the metal rails of the train track as they slowly gained momentum, gradually accelerating, accompanied by the familiar sound of a "chugging" steam engine.