The next morning, Yamato hurriedly submitted the negotiation report and placed the draft agreement on the table.
Other shipgirls quickly copied the document into multiple copies for everyone at the meeting to review.
Yamato pretended not to notice when someone carried a copy of the agreement out of the room.
That copy clearly wasn't being sent to the Eastern Command—it was meant for Nation's military headquarters.
But Yamato understood. On this matter, the East Asia Division of the shipgirls absolutely had to coordinate with the military, and this collaboration with Hikaru was clearly being pushed forward by the entire Country itself.
It was almost laughable. Hikaru had only recently been a mere captain under commission, counted as one of their own, and now the higher-ups were spending enormous effort to win him back. Yamato couldn't help but sigh inwardly on their behalf—why put yourselves through all this?
At the head of the round table sat a woman in her forties, frowning.
She looked older than her features suggested—perhaps because of the archaic crimson court dress she wore, or perhaps because of her slow, deliberate movements.
Every motion carried the air of someone long past her prime, her very presence radiating an aura of age and weariness.
This was Warspite. In terms of seniority, she was practically grandmother-level. Her strength was unfathomable, and within the East Asia Division she was the highest authority.
"These terms are harsh. And they didn't even bother to show up in person—how arrogant," Warspite finally spoke, her voice drawn out and deliberate. "We'll stall. We can't let them think we're easy to deal with. Internally, we also need sufficient discussion to reach consensus."
That "sufficient discussion" clearly didn't just mean internal. If she emphasized it specifically, it meant they would be sharing information with the other East Asian countries, and with the other regional shipgirl divisions as well.
At this rate, whether the agreement could be signed was uncertain—but the process alone could drag on for months.
Yamato grew anxious. "Senior, I—"
"Yamato," Warspite interrupted her, still speaking in that maddeningly slow tone. "You rushed in here all flustered—the impatience of youth. You're still in a damaged state, aren't you? Go back, take a proper bath, light some incense, get a full night's rest, and come back tomorrow in your best condition. That's my life experience for you."
Yamato forced herself to stay patient, waiting for Warspite to finish before finally saying, "Kuramoto Hikaru currently has at least five shipgirls on par with his Tirpitz."
The room fell silent.
Warspite adjusted her glasses. "Have the aircraft bring in those fellows from the East Sea—immediately."
Yamato rose to her feet. "You continue the discussion here. Hikaru's shipgirls are still waiting at sea—I'll deliver some supplies to them first."
"Fleet Admiral, a classified telegram from the Southern Command," a voice suddenly reported.
Gorou had been resting with his eyes closed in his chair. At the words, he opened them, put on his reading glasses, and studied the messenger.
A new face.
The adjutant beside him glared fiercely at the young man, snatching the telegram from his hands before handing it to Gorou.
Gorou frowned. "What kind of attitude is that?"
The adjutant turned away. "Fleet Admiral, you haven't slept for days. Watching you exhaust yourself pains me."
The young officer froze, suddenly realizing his voice earlier had been too loud and disturbed the Fleet Admiral's rest.
He stammered, "Fleet Admiral, I—"
"It's not your fault. You did well," Gorou waved him off, then said coldly to the adjutant, "Obstructing communications—report yourself to Military Discipline for punishment."
The adjutant opened his mouth, then left in dejection.
The young officer shivered, too afraid to speak further.
Obstructing communications was a very serious charge. That adjutant's good days were over.
Gorou shook his head. He was far too old and experienced not to see through the man's intent.
Feigning concern for the Fleet Admiral's health, putting on an act of bluntness and honesty—many commanders fell for such behavior, believing adjutants like that had no hidden agenda.
Pathetic. Gorou's eyes might be failing, barely able to make out the words on paper, but his insight was still sharp as ever.
Silently crossing the adjutant off his mental ledger, Gorou opened the telegram without dismissing the young officer. His brows slowly furrowed as he read.
"Duration: six months. Each month, 1,000++ resources. 1 billion procurement budget. Abyssal Suppression Development Fund: for every 100,000 Abyssals destroyed, an additional 200 million bonus. For each Abyssal flagship under level 100 destroyed, 100 million bonus. For each level 100 Abyssal flagship destroyed, 2 billion bonus."
"Outrageous!"
Gorou slammed the table, his face dark with fury.
[End of Chapter]
[100 Power Stones = Extra Chapter]
[Check out my Patreon to read 20+ chapters ahead]
[[email protected]/BellAshelia]
[Thanks for your support!]