Rome, Sardegna Empire
July 1, 1942 – 08:00 AM
The meeting room was in chaos. Heated voices overlapped, echoing off the high ceilings as every official present tried to make sense of the rapidly evolving situation—events were moving too fast for anyone to keep up.
And now, there was more bad news.
"Can someone explain why we still have no leads on the attack at Taranto Harbor?!" Mussolini roared, slamming his fist on the long oak table. The investigation had stalled, going nowhere.
"And now this! Azur Lane all over the headlines again with their so-called Modern Kansen." He slapped a newspaper onto the table. The front page screamed:
AZUR LANE CAPTURES SIREN BASES IN THE SOUTHERN PACIFIC.
Everyone in the room understood what that meant. If Azur Lane kept winning, the Crimson Axis would start bleeding international support. Partner Nations would shift their loyalties. Nobody bets on a losing horse.
Cmdr. Marco raised his hand. "What if we forced Clemenceau to join us?"
Littorio shook his head. "She's refused every offer we've made. Clemenceau insists on maintaining neutrality. She's taken a hard geopolitical stance - no alliances."
Roma leaned forward. "But do you think she'd take a side now? I mean... she has supported both us and Azur Lane in the Mediterranean, especially in operations against the Sirens. Now that Azur Lane holds the upper hand..."
After the collapse of Iris Orthodoxy, Clemenceau had withdrawn from the conflict entirely, choosing instead to remain in Casablanca, Morocco. From there, she could keep her distance physically and politically from the chaos engulfing Europe.
Morocco had become the new Switzerland: staunchly neutral, independent, untouched. Libya and Algeria had also distanced themselves from the conflict not out of principle, but out of fear. They'd tangled with Eagle Union ships once, and learned their lesson the hard way.
Now they just minded their own business and kept the trade lines open with both factions.
And now? Now the Eagle Union had the bigger schtick.
"That makes sense," Mussolini muttered, rubbing his chin. Then he looked up and pointed. "You three."
His finger swept toward Cmdr. Marco, Littorio, and Roma.
"I want you to convince her. We need more allies than ever before. Azur Lane is gaining momentum—in the battlefield and in the hearts and minds of nations across the globe."
Cmdr. Marco spoke cautiously. "What about Iron Blood? They're... selective. Supremacist. They might not like the idea of bringing a neutral faction into the Crimson Axis. Could spark friction."
Mussolini waved it off. "No. Iron Blood can read the writing on the wall. They'll support it—maybe not publicly, but strategically. They know we need more partners."
The three officers stood in unison. "Si, Il Duce."
As they exited the room, the tension began to lift from their shoulders, like a storm cloud finally clearing. They walked together down the ornate Renaissance-style hallway, decorated with gold trim and crimson banners.
Cmdr. Marco sighed. "How the hell are we supposed to convince her? We haven't won a single major battle in weeks."
"I know," Littorio said, equally dispirited. "We'll have to find a different angle."
Roma gave him a sideways look. "Why not use your usual strategy? Charm her. You've always been good at convincing women."
"That won't work," Cmdr. Marco grunted. "She's a cross between Richelieu and Jean Bart - impossible to read, harder to sway. Even I know my limits."
He winced slightly at the memory. "Tried it with Jean Bart once. She responded with a low-blow. Literally."
Littorio chuckled dryly. "Let's just hope we get there first. Azur Lane's probably aiming for her too. If they succeed..."
He didn't finish the sentence. Cmdr. Marco and Roma nodded grimly. They didn't need him to.
Everyone understood the stakes: If Azur Lane convinced Clemenceau to join their side, the Crimson Axis would be choked off in the Mediterranean. Cut off from key trade routes. Surrounded. Suffocating.
This wasn't just a diplomatic mission. It was a race.
Hospital, Port Alexandria
Lafayette sat quietly in the hospital room, the sterile hum of machines filling the air. A Meowfficer entered, carrying a sealed folder marked with multiple security stamps. It looked like an intelligence dossier adorably compact, and deadly serious.
The Meowfficer squeaked, placed the folder into Lafayette's hands, then immediately turned aside.
Even the doctors and staff quietly exited the room, leaving only Lafayette and the unconscious Unicorn behind.
The folder's contents were marked Top Secret . Lafayette opened it.
"The news of Azur Lane's victory against the Sirens should now be spreading across the African continent. We want you to seize this moment. Clemenceau is currently residing in Casablanca, Morocco. Convince her to join Azur Lane. Take Valiant and Duke of York with you. This mission is top secret. If word gets out, the Crimson Axis will move to secure her as well. The success of this mission depends on you three."
Lafayette closed the folder slowly and exhaled. "Diplomacy. Again."
He leaned back in his chair, running a hand down his face. "Another diplomatic mission, huh? I wish Belfast were here. She was always better at diplomacy than me..." he muttered.
He turned to the Meowfficer still standing silently nearby. "When?"
The small creature squeaked and gestured with its stubby paws. Tomorrow.
"Tomorrow, huh... Alright. Contact them. Mission confirmed." He handed the folder back. The Meowfficer saluted with its tiny paw and scampered off toward the ship.
As it disappeared down the hallway, the others entered the room again. Javelin, Laffey-459, and Valiant
stepped in, sensing something had changed.
"Another mission?" Valiant asked arms crossed.
"Yes," Lafayette said, looking up from his seated position. "And I want you to come with me."
"Me?" Valiant blinked, surprised.
From the corner of the room, Laffey-459's expression didn't change, but a subtle shift in her eyes suggested quiet curiosity - maybe even concern.
"I believe diplomacy is one of your strengths," Lafayette said plainly.
"Hmph... I guess you'll be needing my advice then." Valiant gave a sly smile, trying to mask her own concern.
Lafayette nodded slightly, acknowledging both her confidence and her value.
"What about us?" Javelin asked, stepping forward. "Are we going with you?"
Laffey-459's gaze fixed on him. She said nothing, but the question was already in her eyes. 'why are we being left behind?'
"No. You three will stay here and look after Unicorn," Lafayette said. "Valiant, Cheshire, and Duke of York will accompany me."
Javelin opened her mouth to protest, but Valiant cut her off gently.
"You'd just get in the way. This is a highly classified and dangerous mission. Only Cruisers and Battleships are authorized."
Lafeyette spoke. "I want you three here. If Unicorn wakes up... she'll need you."
Laffey-459 spoke quietly, "Laffey understands." Her voice was flat, but there was a trace of emotion beneath it. The others caught it.
That flicker made both Duke of York and Valiant pause. 'Is she always like that?' both wondered.
Breaking the silence, Duke of York asked, "When do we depart?"
"Tomorrow morning."
"Be careful, then," Laffey-459 said, her tone still neutral—but her eyes briefly shimmered with something unspoken.
Lafayette noticed it. "I... I will," he said softly, more to her than anyone else.
Abandoned Warehouse
Deep in a dusty, derelict warehouse, Sardegna Empire spies gathered around a wooden box, cobbled together with mismatched wires and oddly bent antennas sticking from every side. Various switch knobs of different sizes gave the device a Frankenstein-like aura—clearly built for one thing: receiving encrypted transmissions.
A garbled voice crackled through the box:
"In response to the attack on Taranto Harbor, you are ordered to sabotage any port infrastructure that could hinder Azur Lane operations in the Mediterranean. Priority targets include facilities aiding Modern Kansen."
The room fell into uneasy silence. Operatives glanced at one another, some with wide-eyed disbelief, others with fear.
Everyone had heard what happened to the Sakura Empire's ninja unit. Fifty elite operatives had been deployed to sabotage a Modern Kansen by planting explosives beneath their hulls.
None made it back. And reports said a third of them had been decapitated before even reaching the hull.
One Sardegnian spy muttered, growing frantic, "Have the higher-ups lost their minds? This is suicide! I'm not going anywhere near that thing!"
Panic rippled through the room.
The Lead Operative raised his hand. "Calm down. Our mission isn't to engage the Modern Kansen, we're targeting infrastructure only. Docks, Cranes, Storage, anything they need to operate."
The others hesitated, weighing their chances. Eventually, they nodded in agreement.
"We move under cover of darkness," the lead operative said. "In and out before they even know we were there."
Later That Night — Port Alexandria Hospital
Lafayette hadn't moved from Unicorn's bedside. His eyes were tired, darkened by the weight of war and sleepless nights.
His escorts, Valiant, Cheshire, and Duke of York stood nearby, concern growing with each passing hour.
Finally, Valiant snapped. She stormed forward, grabbed him by the collar from behind, and yanked him off his chair. He hit the floor with a grunt.
"Hey! What are you doing?!" Lafayette barked at the sudden pull.
Valiant glared down at him, voice sharp and irritated. "I've had enough of this. Sitting here like a fool won't help anyone. You've got a major mission tomorrow. I won't follow a mentally broken leader into something that dangerous."
"But—"
"No buts. You need rest."
Lafayette stared at her, stunned into silence. Valiant didn't wait. With her usual forceful flair, she dragged him out of the hospital wing. Before he could resist, she hurled him onto the deck of his ship like a sack of gear.
The Manjuus aboard immediately rushed to assist him, but stopped mid-step. Valiant's presence was terrifying an aura of royal wrath made even the bravest of its kind. Freeze.
Lafayette groaned as he pushed himself off the cold, hard steel of the deck. "Alright, alright. I get it."
He began walking toward his quarters, dragging his feet. But when he glanced behind, Valiant was following him. "...Why are you following me?" he asked.
"Just making sure you actually get to your Quarters and not somewhere else, we have mission tomorrow. Remember?" she said with arms crossed.
He opened his mouth to reply, but an ear-splitting alarm wailed through the ship. Red lights flared to life.
*WAAAAAANG!* (Don't tore me apart with the siren alarm)
"Perfect timing." Lafayette bolted for the exit.
"Hey!" Valiant shouted, sprinting after him.
~5 minutes earlier~
10 Sardegna Operatives slinked through the darkness, weaving between cargo containers stacked like walls. They'd infiltrated the harbor without triggering any alarms, so far. They froze as a lone guard passed within meters of them. Not a sound escaped their lips.
Once the guard moved on, they peeked out from behind crates just in time to spot a UGV (Unmanned Ground Vehicle) rolling silently across the pier. Its chassis hummed with mechanical menace, turrets pivoting in their direction as though sniffing the air for prey.
Every operative ducked instantly. One of them whispered through clenched teeth, trembling, "That thing... I swear it can see in the dark."
Another nodded slowly. "Yeah, I've also had the same too."
The UGV paused... then turned away after the scan, humming as it disappeared into another sector of the harbor. Only after the sound faded did the group exhale. They scattered into position.
One operative crept toward a Warehouse storing aircraft parts and ammunition. He slid along the wall, found the structural supports, and began strapping charges at the foundation each on a delayed timer set to go off just past midnight.
Elsewhere, more agents moved quietly, planting explosives at key supply depots and military stockpiles.
Two operatives moved toward the Port's Cranes, massive metal beasts that loomed over the harbor like sentinels. Their target: the legs.
Carefully, they crouched at the base of each Crane, unzipped duffel bags, and began planting their charges. Their movements were methodical, precise, but rushed.
The first operative glanced over his shoulder, then he froze. A bright Searchlights engulfed them. A UGV had rounded the corner and spotted them placing explosive beneath the Crane.
UGV's AI to scan and classify the shapes: human... bomb... threat. The UGV's internal alarms blared. "INTRUDER DETECTED. HOSTILE ACTIVITY IDENTIFIED."
"Run!" one of the operatives yelled, and bolted out.
Too late. The machine's .50cal. turret swung into place. Gunfire erupted in brutal bursts. One operative was shredded instantly his torso obliterated in a splash of gore across the pavement.
The second agent that dove away. The turret swept to follow him, but one of its stray rounds struck a planted explosive at the crane's structural leg.
BOOM!
One of the crane legs exploded violently, rocking the entire structure. Metal shrieked as the crane began to tilt... directly toward the moored Royal Navy Cruiser, Cheshire.
The crane crashed onto Cheshire's superstructure. Radar arrays shattered. Firing directors crumpled like tin. The deck was torn open under the crane's collapsed arm, rendering key systems beyond repair.
Alarms blared throughout the base. The moment the explosion rang out along with the sudden burst of .50cla., the entire port was plunged into chaos.
Sirens wailed. Lights blazed across the harbor. Royal Navy Shipgirls poured from their quarters, armed and alert. Royal Army troops assembled with practiced urgency, rifles in hand.
Even the Heavily Armed Manjuus, those stout yellow marines, took up M4s and first to rush in the line of fire.
The remaining Sardegna operatives cursed from behind their hiding spots. "Damn it! Those two got caught!"
"We need to get the hell out of here!" another barked.
Realizing there was no clean escape, the Operatives raised their Beretta Model 38s and opened fire, initiating a chaotic firefight with the base defenders.
Manjuus returned fire, their discipline unexpected as they laid down bursts of suppression. UGVs rumbled onto the scene, unleashing .50cal. fire at the fleeing agents. Royal Army infantry joined the fray with M1 Garands, their volleys hammering down like thunder.
"Shit! We're being cornered!" an operative yelled, bullets chipping away at their concrete cover.
"This barrier won't last long!" another said. The concrete they huddled behind cracked with every round from the UGVs, each shot gouging it closer to collapse.
"What do we do, sir?!" one panicked operative cried to their leader.
The Lead Operative scowled, gripping his weapon tightly. "We don't surrender. You've seen what happened to those Sakura agents. I'm not ending up like them."
But before he could finish, one of the youngest among them stood up, trembling, hands raised. "I surrender!"
Rounds zipped by him, one grazing his cheek, but then... the gunfire ceased. The battlefield quieted, save for the humming of UGVs and the clinking of spent casings. Heavily Armed Manjuus and Royal soldiers began closing in, weapons trained, but not firing.
"What are you doing?!" the Lead Operative shouted, grabbing the boy by the collar.
"Sir... maybe surrender is an option," the young man said. "They're not shooting. They're giving us a chance."
The Lead Operative hesitated, his eyes moved over the terrified faces of his comrades—once fanatics, now just tired men who wanted to go home. Protocol clashed with survival.
"...Damn it all," he muttered.
He slowly lowered his Beretta. "I surrender," he said aloud, dropping the weapon. One by one, the others followed suit, raising their hands.
The mission had failed, yet minimal damage was enough to hinder any operation.
The Royal Army quickly secured the operatives, while explosive specialists moved in to disarm the remaining charges across the harbor. The only major damage: a toppled crane and a single wounded ship.
Nearby, Cheshire stared up at her damaged hull, a solemn look in her feline eyes. "I guess... I can't go with you anymore, Master," she said quietly, ears drooping.
Lafayette placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You're still part of this team. Look after Unicorn for me. That's just as important."
Cheshire blinked, the sadness in her expression giving way to loyalty. "Thank you, Master."
Further down the dock, Duke of York approached Lafayette. "Is the mission still proceeding after this... mess?" she asked calmly, the hint of steel in her voice.
Lafayette stood tall, fire burning behind his tired eyes. "Yes," he said without hesitation. "Now more than ever, I'm making damn sure it succeeds."
Port of Casablanca, Morocco
July 2, 1942
8:00 AM
The Port of Casablanca bustled with activity. Cargo ships moved in and out, their hulls creaking as they were guided by tugs through the harbor entrance. The rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the breakwater filled the air as French WW2 warships, docked in defensive formation, stood guard over the peaceful port city.
The people of Casablanca went about their day without concern, the weight of the world's conflicts distant from their minds.
Inside a grand building, designed in the style of classic French architecture, a woman sat by the window. Her black mermaid dress shimmered in the soft light, and a delicate crown adorned her head. In her hand, she gripped a staff, its yellow sapphire gleaming.
Her name was Clemenceau, and she observed the harbor with a steady gaze. The silence was broken by the frantic sound of a door bursting open behind her.
A young girl, white hair styled in double buns, entered the room. She wore simple white cloths and carried a rapier at her side.
"Ma'am, you need to see this," the girl said, holding out a newspaper. The headline read: Azur Lane's Recent Victory Against the Sirens in the Southern Pacific.
Clemenceau took the newspaper, reading the article with a furrowed brow. She murmured to herself, "So, they managed to defeat the Sirens and push them out of the Southern Pacific."
Her gaze shifted toward the young girl, Le Malin, standing by her side. "Ready the port."
Le Malin tilted her head, confused. "Ready the port, Ma'am? Everything seems in order."
Clemenceau met her eyes with a calm resolve. "The port will soon be busy with visitors."
Le Malin's eyes widened in realization. "Visitors?"
"Yes," Clemenceau replied, her tone grave. "Azur Lane and the Crimson Axis will both come to this port, one to offer their alliance, the other to prevent it. Azur Lane will arrive emboldened by their recent victory, while the Crimson Axis will seek to sway me to their cause."
Le Malin nodded. "Understood, Ma'am. I'll make the preparations."
As the young girl hurried out of the room, Clemenceau returned to the window, gazing at the busy harbor below. She continued reading the article, her thoughts swirling.
'With the help of the Modern Kansens, Azur Lane has gained a strategic upper hand. The Sirens have been driven out of the Southern Pacific, clearing critical sea routes. The next logical target... Madagascar.'
She frowned, tapping her fingers on the armrest. 'Madagascar. That's where the last concentrations of Sirens were spotted months ago.'
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of two Sardegnan Warships on the horizon. Two Vittorio Veneto-class battleships, their angular hulls cutting through the waves. They were heading toward the harbor.
'Crimson Axis is early. They must be desperate after Azur Lane's victory,' Clemenceau thought.
At the harbor
Le Malin sailed out to intercept the vessels. As she drew near, she raised her hand in a clear signal to halt. "Halt! You are entering Moroccan territorial waters. State your purpose," she called out, her voice steady.
The radio crackled, and a voice came through. "This is Littorio, speaking on behalf of the Crimson Axis. We seek diplomatic talks with Clemenceau."
Clemenceau, from the comfort of her office, gave a simple order at the transmission "Let them in."
She turned to the radio once more. "You're free to enter. Follow one of the patrol boats for guidance."
Moments later, the Vittorio Veneto-class battleships slowly moved through the harbor entrance, escorted by Patrol Boats armed with torpedoes and machine guns of various calibers. The docks were still bustling with activity, but a tension hung in the air as the ships drew closer.
Standing at the bow of the Littorio, Cmdr. Marco surveyed the scene below. He noticed the tranquility of the harbor, the way the city went about its business, seemingly untouched by the larger war brewing outside its walls.
"This is the second time I've seen this harbor so peaceful," he remarked, his voice tinged with both awe and frustration.
Littorio, beside him, nodded. "The people of Casablanca care little for the politics of war. They simply live their lives."
Roma like any other officer aboard the ship, scanned the harbor, looking for any signs of modern warships. The rumors of strange, angular ships spotted crossing the Gibraltar Strait had spread like wildfire.
"Looks like the Modern Kansens aren't here," Roma murmured.
"No, I don't see any Azur Lane ships either," Littorio added, her eyes narrowing slightly. "But it doesn't matter. Whether they're here or not, we must convince Clemenceau to join us."
Cmdr. Marco clenched the railing at the ship's bow, his knuckles white. "We'll do whatever it takes."
The two battleships nodded in agreement, their engines thrumming as they moved deeper into the harbor, their mission clear.
Atlantic Ocean – Approaching Moroccan Coastline
The sleek, angular silhouette of FFG-65 USS Lafayette cut steadily through the Atlantic waters, the hull slicing the waves with precision as she drew closer to the North African coast. The bridge was calm, yet focused an air of purpose lingering in the recycled air of the command deck.
Lafayette sat relaxed in the captain's seat, legs casually crossed as he watched the approaching coastline of Casablanca's harbor growing larger with each nautical mile through the wide bridge windows.
Duke of York and Valiant both leaned forward slightly, observing the digital nautical chart projected on the central table. Several small fishing boats blinked on the map of local vessels keeping to their usual routes, unaware or unconcerned by the military presence nearing their port.
Lafayette broke the silence. "Can you tell me about this... Clemenceau?" he asked, his voice curious. "I've never had knowledge nor intel about Shipgirl by that name."
He tapped the side of his temple thoughtfully. "I thought Clemenceau was an aircraft carrier from the '70s. Richelieu-class only had two ships. Richelieu and Jean Bart. There's no record of a third."
Duke of York turn to face him. "Clemenceau is... peculiar. She stands between Richelieu and Jean Bart. A bridge between the two, if you will."
Lafayette blinked. "What?" His mind flashed back to Richelieu, her serene demeanor, always quoting bible scripture while gripping his face like it were a stress ball. The memory was too vivid. A shiver ran down his spine. Without realizing it, he raised both hands and protectively cupped his cheeks.
Duke of York and Valiant noticed. "Is something wrong?" Duke of York asked, her tone neutral but faintly amused.
Lafayette snapped out of it, lowering his hands. "Ah—no, no. Just muscle memory," he muttered.
He cleared his throat. "So if Clemenceau's the middle ground... does that mean she reads full passages of the Bible before shooting?"
"Sometimes," Valiant replied dryly.
"And Jean Bart?"
"She's worse. A tomboy delinquent with the tact of a cannon blast," Valiant added. "More Iris Orthodox brawler than saint."
Lafayette smirked. "A delinquent, huh..."
Before more could be said, Valiant straightened. "Port in sight. Prepare yourselves."
The silhouette of Casablanca's harbor loomed clearer ahead—docks filled with merchant vessels and patrol craft, cranes pivoting like mechanical giants. Radar blips began appearing more frequently on the screen.
Then, a rapid squeaky chirp echoed from the bridge. One of the Meowfficers, a stubby, round-furred creature with a tiny cap and tie waved its paw from the radar station. Its tiny claws danced across the control panel with military discipline.
Lafayette turned to the screen and narrowed his eyes. "Got something?" he asked.
The Meowfficer squeaked again and tapped a small blip accelerating toward their position one moving at over 30 knots, human-sized, and heading straight for them.
"Shipgirl incoming," Lafayette said, reading the data. "Fast moving."
Valiant leaned in, arms crossed. "That'll be Le Malin. Clemenceau always sends her to intercept foreign ships near Moroccan waters. Expect something more orthodoxy."
Sure enough, the Frigate's Comms crackled to life an assertive voice coming through, laced with an unmistakable French accent. "Halt! You are entering the territorial waters of Morocco. State your purpose."
Lafayette reached for the comms unit then hesitated, and slowly extended it toward Valiant with a sheepish grin. "I think you'd better handle this one."
Valiant accepted the handset without missing a beat and pressed the transmit button. "This is Valiant of the Royal Navy. We are here on behalf of Azur Lane to conduct diplomatic talks with Clemenceau."
There was a pause, static hissing faintly over the bridge. Then the voice returned, slightly more formal.
"You are free to enter. Follow one of the Patrol Boats at the outer ring. Do not deviate from the designated path."
A moment later, a pair of small, fast patrol boats emerged from behind the breakwater, each bristling with torpedo tubes and multiple mounted machineguns, their crews composed of a mix of Human Sailors and Manjuus in tiny vests and helmets.
"Escort's here, Standard protocol." Duke of York noted.
The patrol boats took position to either side of USS Lafayette, guiding the frigate toward Casablanca's harbor mouth. From the bridge, Lafayette observed the French colonial architecture hugging the coast, buildings with pale walls, red tile roofs, and arched windows that framed a city untouched by the chaos beyond the sea.
"Place looks like it's frozen in time," he said quietly.
Valiant nodded. "The people of Casablanca live their lives as if the world isn't on the verge of collapse."
"Let's hope they keep it that way," Lafayette replied.
As the Frigate advanced under escort, one question lingered in his mind. 'What kind of person is Clemenceau... and which way will she tip the balance of this war'
Clemenceau's Office
The warm glow of morning sunlight streamed through the arched windows of the office. The room, adorned in a stately blend of French colonial elegance and naval minimalism, was calm on the surface like the sea before a storm.
Clemenceau stood poised behind her desk, her arms crossed as she addressed the three Sardegnans before her: Littorio, Roma, and Cmdr. Marco. Their expressions were courteous, but strained masking the same weariness these negotiations always brought.
"I know why you're here," Clemenceau said coolly. "Again. To convince me to side with the Crimson Axis. And again, I ask... do you bring anything new besides the usual song and dance? Besides invoking 'Il Duce' or Herr Bismarck herself?"
Littorio took the lead, his voice smooth but firm.
"We are aware. The only reason this port hasn't been turned to rubble by either side is because you don't pose a threat to anyone—yet."
"And I intend to keep it that way," Clemenceau replied, her tone even but resolute. "I've avoided geopolitics for one reason: to protect this nation. If I choose a side, I paint a target on Casablanca. Azur Lane and Crimson Axis both claim to fight the Sirens... yet now they're too busy tearing each other apart like squabbling children. I won't sacrifice my people to serve their pride."
There was a pause. Then Cmdr. Marco spoke, dropping subtle diplomacy in favor of quiet threat.
"If we fail this mission... the Iron Blood will come next. And they won't bring offers they'll bring demands." His voice carried weight. A quiet warning.
Clemenceau exhaled slowly, brushing a strand of white hair behind her ear. "Iron Blood already forced one of my sisters to her knees," she said with barely restrained bitterness. "Do you think that will convince me?"
Roma leaned forward, frowning. "Are you not afraid for your own safety?"
"I'm not," Clemenceau replied bluntly. "And I don't make decisions based on fear."
Silence settled like dust in the room. The Sardegnans knew this conversation had reached its end.
Littorio gave a shallow bow. "Then we'll report your decision as it stands."
Without another word, the trio turned and exited, boots tapping across the marble tile.
Hallway Outside Clemenceau's Office
The mood had shifted. The moment the door shut behind them, Roma's fury slipped through her controlled facade.
"What's wrong with her?" she hissed. "She knows the Crimson Axis is mobilizing after the Azur Lane victory in the Southern Pacific. She's going to be caught in the crossfire!"
Littorio ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. "I don't know what's going on in her head, but she must understand, when Iron Blood arrives, they won't negotiate. They'll torch this entire port if she continues playing neutral."
"She's burned both bridges," Cmdr. Marco muttered. "And when you insult both factions, no one comes to your rescue."
As the Sardegnans rounded the corner arguing in hushed but angry tones they halted. Coming down the hallway from the opposite direction were three Azur Lane representatives: Lafayette, flanked by Duke of York and Valiant.
The two groups froze mid-step. A heavy silence fell over the hall. It was like watching two duelists step into an old Western standoff. Tension crackled. Like Fingers itched a little too close to their trigger. Eyes narrowed reading each other, daring someone to make the first move.
"Acts of hostility within this building are strictly forbidden." The voice was crisp. Followed by a loud clap. Le Malin had escorted Azur Lane Representatives, her expression unreadable.
Her words cut through the tension like a blade, and everyone turn silence as the tension was cut.
The Sardegnans hesitated, then grudgingly stood down. They stepped aside, clearing the path. The Azur Lane trio passed without a word, exchanging tight, burning glares with the departing Crimson Axis envoys.
Staff members lining the corridor held their breath, watching as two rival factions brushed shoulders without drawing blood. The air remained heavy, like a powder keg that had barely avoided a spark.
Lafayette, for his part, muttered under his breath once the tension eased. "...Remind me to leave this place before someone blows it up for the sake of pride."
Valiant smirked. "That's assuming we're not still inside when it happens."
Duke of York said nothing, but her eyes lingered on the backs of the Sardegnans as they disappeared around the corner.
Inside the Office
Clemenceau turned toward the door as it opened once more, now welcoming a different delegation.
Her gaze sharpened slightly, but she offered no smile. Only calm neutrality.
"Azur Lane...ever the present, as expected," she said.