Author Notes:
Recently, I have been under a time crunch so bad, with some quite unfortunate disheartening results, and I am fearing that my writing quality could have been severely affected. I want to ask whether or not my writing has lost its luster, and I need to take it a bit slower, just to improve it. At this point, I have little to no hope that I will be able to pay rent on time, so I decided to focus my thoughts on the stories instead. Is it unhealthy? Possibly, but I don't know what to do other than that and taking care of my Mom.
We are bleeding budget due to circumstances neither of us can control, so any morale boost is much appreciated for Mom and I.
https://www.patr-eon.com/Heartbreak117
https://ko-fi.com/heartbreak117/goal?g=0
Income goal 733/880 USD (Right now, we can really use some help to cover rent and medical fees. Any and all forms of morale and monetary support are welcome.)
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"No, you won't be going anywhere." Langley shuts down Kallen's request.
And before the S-rank Crusader or any of her subordinates in the Knight Hospitaller can protest, the handler of this motley group adds.
"Do you all have any idea how much of a clusterfuck the Mediterranean Ocean is right now? The whole region is a big powder keg, just moments away from a catastrophic explosion. Ustio is now solely under the ruling of its new Queen, and so is the nation's Navy. Since Queen Bonaparte is such a close ally to the Reich, you can imagine where that very Navy, with most of its force in Ustian Algeria, will be directed at next. This is not mentioning the fact that the Inquisition Navy doesn't even have the spare naval vessels to escort your transport. The risk of your vessel being mistaken for an Erusean commerce ship is too great to ignore."
"We can always go by air..." Natasha interjects, only to wilt under the full-force glare from the Shadow Company's Night Witch.
"Need I remind you all that our cargo planes are already overworked as is? Spaniard Libya, and East Africa won't endure without a single one of them dedicating themselves to ferrying relief supplies night and day. And before anyone is stupid enough to say that you all will travel by land in one big, happy convoy, think again!"
Langley slams the table, where a map is laid out. Highlighted on it are regions that are still mired in Demonic incursions.
"We have nowhere near the same level of motorization or mechanization back in Spain to support your Westbound trip! And unlike the big guys slugging it out in Europe, we don't have enough firepower to keep all of our territories intact if you all leave elsewhere! Libya and East Africa have just been rebuilt, I will not have all of our work go to waste because some of you have too much of a bleeding heart for your penpals in Ustian Algeria!"
Frankly speaking, the Crusaders and the Knight Hospitaller really don't hold that much importance in the governing of the Spanish Inquisition's African territories. However, a certain degree of flattering and subterfuge is required in handling these remnants of the Sardegnian Papacy. After all, a core part of their fighting power came from the Crusaders, magic-capable supersoldiers in all but name. It's unwise to have them out of ONI's control, even if the Sardegnian remnants don't know it.
Although some of Kallen's subordinates want to speak up in support of their Saintess, most hold their tongue, understanding the difficulty the Coalition government is facing. Kallen herself shows a wry, comprehending smile. "It's just... I don't want to disappoint the refugees who asked for our help..."
Langley frowns before sighing.
"Look, neither do I, Kallen, but this is really not the time. The Months of Demons are ending, meaning it's now the most opportune moment for the Zombies and Demons to spring out from their spawning areas. And since this is Africa we're talking about, there will be a lot of those nests in everyone's territories. The moment you start taking commissions from other nations, like the Adventurers, is the moment when we will be stretched much too thin to do anything else but take an undeserved beating. Your group has already earned a lot of goodwill from the people here, don't go squander it by being everyone's heroes but someone else's killers. But if you really are worried about that village you heard of, then..."
Langley leans back on her wooden chair, closing her eyes and massaging her temple. "Damn my bleeding heart... Fine, give me all the details you have about the place, and I'll see if I can't commission the actual Adventurers to take up a recon and security task for it. That's fine with you all?"
Kallen perks up, but she soon hesitantly says. "But... Won't that also inconvenience the Coalition's already-strained budget? If I recall correctly, didn't the government recently invest heavily in land reclamation efforts?"
Langley gives Kallen a deadpan stare.
"Yes, dear Saintess, and you still have the nerve to suggest moving a chunk of our security force to a whole different nation altogether right when we need you the most."
Kallen coughs before looking away, not at all willing to acknowledge that she forgot to account for all the details about her faction's importance in Spain's overseas territories. However, it's Natasha herself who pushes Kallen's face back into view of Langley's admonishing face. The Saintess maintains a wry, apologetic smile now, but underneath the table, her fingers move to pinch Natasha's thighs. The Crusader with the moniker Raven easily hides a flinch, but is secretly smirking inside when she sees Kallen is having her comeuppance for not listening to her advice that their handler will not grant them passage out of Libya.
Out of all the Crusaders, perhaps it's only Natasha who understands their position in the world the most, and how precarious it actually is. The Crusaders and their Knight Hospitaller paramilitary group are completely dependent on external funding and public perception. They can't live without the world, but the world can surely live on without them just fine. As discussed in the Stockholm Conference, only the Coalition of Spanish Inquisition and Shadow Company is amicable to host the Crusaders and Knight Hospitaller. Without them, Kallen's faction will be starved to death, if not targeted and outright killed by the rest of the world that still has a hate boner for the Sardegnian Papacy. Natasha has the unfavorable thoughts that maybe, just maybe, they will be hunted down by the very group of supersoldiers employed by the Reich Marshal. Natasha, for once, doesn't see any chance of them surviving that.
In a way, confining them to Libya and East Africa is also a way of protecting the Sardinian remnants.
"You can rest assured that I will not be touching the public funds for this matter. The money will be coming out of my pocket, so you all will be owing me big time. The commission rate ain't cheap, you know?" Langley scratches her head in exasperation.
Seeing this, Kallen chuckles wryly before putting her hands together in a prayer. "We'll be counting on you then, and we're sorry to have made you worry so much."
Natasha adds with a wink. "And we'll be sure to repay you in, well, a couple of years. Our salary ain't much nowadays."
Langley rolls her eyes. "But it's honest work, so deal with it. Now, anything else, or can I finally continue handling my paperwork?"
Both Kallen and Natasha look at each other before shaking their heads. Langley is just about to dismiss them all when the door to the meeting room is kicked open by a floating, pale figure.
"Langley! Emma Planck is trying to get Camila into another one of her coffins again!" Shout the floating, totally friendly Lich.
Langley feels her head banging on the table. Groaning, she says. "Ana... Can't you all not cause me trouble... For five minutes!?"
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Force H, that's the name for the Erusean naval formation in and around the Mediterranean and African theaters. Comprised of mostly old and reactivated warships, one needs only a glance before sparing them a derisive comment about floating rust buckets. By contemporary standards, Force H is obsolete by at least a decade, two and a half if you measure their capital ships against those of up-and-coming nations like the Rusviet Union. In their upcoming task, Force H is also laughably undergun. Their four capital ships, three Revenge-class and one Queen Elizabeth-class battleships, versus the eight capital vessels Ustian Admiral Gensoul has, three Richelieu-class, three Dunkerque-class, and two Bretagne-class battleships. This does not take into account the fact that both sides' escort fleets are in no way comparable. The Royal Navy's Force H only has two cruisers and eleven destroyers, whereas the Ustians are bringing to bear twice the number.
So, not as serviceable, not packing enough guns, not to mention the utter lack of numerical advantage... What's the point in sending a meager Force H to seize the fearsome Ustian Mediterranean Fleet? How will they come about achieving such a seemingly impossible task? The answer is simple: Surprise.
...
...
...
Which Force H is unlucky enough to never have in the first place, thanks to a certain Reich on the other side of the ocean.
The plan is to either forcibly capture or at least terminate the Ustian warships so that they won't fall into the hands of an ally of the Reich. To this end, the Eruseans bring along a host of transport filled with armed sailors and Army soldiers. This motley group is pulled directly from the off-duty sailors and colonial military units. Their effectiveness in actually running a prize warship notwithstanding, they do bring along enough numbers to overwhelm any ship's crew in brutal corridor battles. However, their means of transportation is quite suboptimal, wooden rowing boats for a silent boarding action. Such boats are slow and vulnerable and can only carry so many of them at a time. It's during this ferrying process that the Erusean boarding parties are the most vulnerable. For them, in particular, surprise is key. It's why nightfall is the chosen time for the deployment of the boarding parties, with the rest of Force H staying behind at a distance North of Mers-el-Kébir.
The future of Erusea's dream of naval domination now rests on the men who are now rowing their arms off in the middle of the night. While, ironically enough, the ships with actual guns stay behind, either to wait for their news of success or absolute failure. Still, at least the morale is good, at least for the colonial soldiers who accompanied the sailors. While some of the soldiers got seasick and started throwing up their dinner overboard, none of them, regardless of their colors, shied away from a chance at glory. Taking down warships as flesh and blood ain't no small feat to write off, after all. However, these colonial soldiers never got to taste the bitterness of dealing with anything involving the Belkan Reich and her ally. The actual veterans have either perished or been captured by the Reich in Europe, leaving only the greenhorns being used for this dastardly operation. Frankly speaking, only the sailors have an inkling of what's about to come down, and they don't like their odds in the coming moments. Rather than being eager to seize a booty to call their own, these experienced sailors are eyeing the colonial soldiers, aiming to have them be the first to board and the first to be shot at. Other than being their meatshields, the colonial soldiers have no other use for the sailors. Even their officers whispered instructions on how to best use these disposable colonial troops. It goes to show how divided opinions are about this part of the operation.
Erusea is once again banking everything on another miracle. They're wishing to Heaven and the stars above that the Ustian Navy won't notice their fleet movement and force deployment. They're hoping that their combatants can overwhelm the defenders and capture the ships. They're desiring to use these very ships in yet another hopeless battle against the Reichsmarine... Ok, that's a lot of miracles the Eruseans are asking for, not just one. Now, just how many of these expectations will be reciprocated with kindness and acceptance? The answer may or may not surprise everyone.
The wooden boats carrying the Erusean boarders first have to navigate past the line of naval defense boom, a treacherous piece of work given that some portions of it are mined to counter divers and submarines. Afterward, in low lighting conditions, the boats have to find their designated Ustian vessels to be boarded. This is harder said than done, as under the cover of the night, all of these warships look basically the same. So, without much ado, the wooden boats head haphazardly to either the nearest or the largest vessels without any regard to their standing orders. Safe for the silence of the waves and the biting cold of the night winds, the boarding parties see no cause to be alarmed, as only scant lighting in the piers can be seen.
Just when the spirits of these Eruseans are starting to be uplifted by the fact that the Ustians failed to lock their front door, reality hits them like a tsunami wave to the face. The searchlights from the many warships in Mers-el-Kébir light up in a searing light, seemingly wanting to burn straight into the souls of these dishonorable Eruseans. Then come the sounds, a wide variety of sounds, that bombard the eardrums of the dazed and frightened Eruseans, now stuck in the middle of the very awake and very armed harbor. Bolts of rifles being slammed home, motor boats being deployed with machine guns strapped onto them, even the Ustian warships have their turrets turn and point in the direction of the infiltrators' wooden rowing boats.
Then, under the disbelief of the Eruseans, the voice of Admiral Gensoul can be heard from the namegiver of the Richelieu-class of battleships, the Richelieu herself.
"Alright, you dishonorable scalywags, it's five minutes till midnight, so live or die, choose! I don't have all day!"