Central Calendar May 27th, 1640
Some hut, somewhere in Louria, United States of America
"I need more explanations," Santiago said. "Why are we doing so badly?" he asked.
"'Sir, if I may?'" an underling asked. Santiago nodded, which prompted the underling to continue."'The Americans are just so much more advanced than us in all aspects. There is literally nothing we can do if we fight head on. For instance, their air power is far too overwhelming. Our stopgap tactics have no effect on their jets, which is a big problem. On the ground, the american tactics are overwhelming us and we are not able to fight them head on. If we continue like this, we would definitely lose.'"
Santiago looked like he aged 10 years throughout the entire explanation. The confidence he had disintegrated and all his charisma vacated the premises. He slumped into his chair, eyes full of despair. Just days ago, he was more than confident that he might secure some form of victory. Now, he realized that he had made a large mistake. All the planning he had had long been thrown out of the window. Fighting head on is now complete suicide.
""Is there any way left for us?"" One of the captains asked. ""I refuse to keep sending out troops if it would mean near 100% casualty rates. It's pointless. Some of my men are already deserting. Troop morale is insanely low at the moment.""
""'Cowards and traitors, all of them,'"" another captain said. ""'They should be honored that they are being martyred for the Lourian restoration!'""
""Yeah, let me guess, you have started shooting your own men to stop them from fleeing, truly a disgraceful act.""
The other captain banged the desk. ""'Desertion is more disgraceful. Those who desert deserve to be shot.'""
""Shooting your fellow Lourians? No wonder nobody is supporting us. Your dumb ass will get us to lose faster!""
"BOTH OF YOU SHUT UP!" Santiago yelled, trying to maintain order. "Is there…even any way to win?"
"'Not possible if we keep fighting head on like this. We have to drag it out with guerilla warfare, maybe then we can slowly exhaust the Americans.'"
Santiago sighed. Deep down, he knows that even this is not an easy win. If the support for their cause falls low enough, they won't even have ammo for their rifles, much less all the other equipment. He knows the chances of winning are low, and that is really depressing. He had completely underestimated the enemy, and now he is facing the consequences. It isn't the glorious war he wanted, but a slaughter. Alejandro de Tastramana was correct. Even with his limited understanding, he predicted it to not end well. Oh how he wished that he had listened. Santiago realized he was a fool, and had led his men to the darkest gates of Sheol.
The cabin was silent. Nobody knew what to say. They didn’t even know if winning was a possibility. In the first few days of the war, even with the use of modern weaponry, they couldn’t hope to beat back the American onslaught head on. The silence lasted until they were dismissed.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
50 nautical miles off the west coast of Rodenius
A single ship sailed towards the Rodenius continent. The ship is oddly angular. It has 4 triple turrets with medium caliber(6-inch) guns. The ship had weird towers, and the lack of guardrails and the somewhat smooth deck would make anybody working in health and safety get a heart attack. The ship also lacked any visible smoke stacks.
Onboard the ship, Captain Thomas Henderson was concerned. The Americans, being one of the two nations that popped up on the map recently, have been making headlines for quite a while. He had been sent to determine the attitude of the Americans towards the Empire. He wasn't too sure how sending a warship to some new nation would be allow for a good indicator to other nation's attitudes to the empire. It was ridiculous in his mind.
As the ship entered 100 nautical miles of the coast, his ship's radar detected aircraft approaching his vessel at an incredible speed. In fact, it is indicated that they are approaching at about Mach 1.2, a feat no Milishial aircraft have achieved as of yet. The crew could only watch the displays in awe as the aircraft flew by, amazed by the incredible speed of the aircraft.
It was at this time that their radio went off. This radio was made for communications with non-magical nations, mainly Mu. However, at this point, they weren't surprised to have to use this contraption anymore, especially due to rumours that the Americans do not use magic. However, they always thought that the rumours of American tech prowess were exaggerated, for they themselves had not achieved supersonic flight. The closest they had come is when an Alpha-4 went into a dive and reached an incredible speed of 92 percent the speed of sound. Never had they seen any aircraft do it in level flight.
<<Unknown vessel, identify yourself. You have entered territorial waters of the United States of America. State which nation sent you, and your purpose here.>>
The crew flinched at how…terrible the accent was. It was only barely understandable. However, there was still a minor debate on the bridge over what response should be given. Answering honestly will obviously arouse suspicion, especially since they came in on a warship. On the other hand, was it really worth it to lie? If they are to be future tools, wouldn't it be better if the tools learnt to trust them from the start? The debate went on for a while until the radio came to life again.
<<Unidentified vessel, please respond. If you do not, we would be forced to take action against you with anti-ship missiles. Please respond, over >>
The captain quickly headed over and responded through radio.
<I am Captain Henderson of the Prince of Lot, a ship from the Holy Milishial Empire. We are on a diplomatic mission from the empire.>
There was silence for a moment, then the pilot responded.
<<Very well…ships will escort you to shore. However, you are approaching the territories ownes by Louria, which has been designated unsafe. Instead, a few ships would escort you into a safer port. Try anything funny, and we will be forced to retaliate.>>
The captain was unsure what to make of it. On one hand, their ship wasn't blown out of the water by an…anti-ship missile? He only heard of them being in the experimental stage, nowhere near being adopted. And yet, here he is, listening to some foreign nation talk about it like it is something they just have in their arsenal to throw at their enemies. It truly is bizarre. And yet, he could almost believe it. Perhaps the rumors aren't too far-fetched after all.
On the other hand, there is the part about former Lourian territories being unsafe. He wasn't sure what that meant, though there were news that the region was dealing with some unrest. He took note of it, it would be something his higher-ups would find interesting. He made sure to remember to bring it up later during talks with the Americans.
<Understood,> the captain replied. On his displays, the American aircraft broke off and flew away at breakneck speeds. Captain Henderson looked forward to see what kind of people the Americans are.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Oval Office, White House, New Washington, United States of America
President MacPherson once more listened to the briefings on meeting a new nation. He is starting to get sick of meeting nations who send a warship for basic diplomatic meetings. Could these bastards stop sending fucking warships? he thought internally. Why does everyone practice gunboat diplomacy? However, he kept his silence. No point asking it out loud.
"So…this empire. Are they hostile?" The president asked. "I know they sent a warship and all, but since this is how things are done here, are they actually hostile?" The president asked again.
"'Well…we…we don't know, Mr. President,'" the secretary of state said. "'So far, they haven't done anything to indicate hostility, except sending a warship into our waters…'"
President MacPherson stopped for a moment. He then asked: "Why are they all empires?"
The secretary of state scratched his head. "'I don't quite follow what you are asking.'"
"Why do all the major nations here have the title of Empire in their name?" the president asked. "Where are the democracies?"
"'Apparently it is mostly frowned upon, and one nation has fallen to Fascism due to failed democracy.'"
President MacPherson is silent again. He decided not to ask too many questions. He just could no longer be bothered at this point. Instead, he decided to wait for his underlings to report about the stances of this Empire to him. He only hopes they won't have to fight another war.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Onboard the Prince of Lot
Captain Henderson looked at the ship escorting them. It was large, at least 900 feet in length. For guns, it only had a single twin-mount gun. However, it had a bunch of missile launchers, be it box launchers or arm launchers, they had it all. Likewise the ship carries an impressive array of minor AA guns, which looked like gatlings. The ship was menacing to even look at. Captain Henderson noted the ship's advanced weaponry. His higher-ups would likely be very interested.
The ship escorted them at a slow speed of 17 knots. However, Captain Henderson assumed the ship would be much, much faster if they were to use full speed. However, something made him feel odd. The Americans are a non-magic nation, and all non-magic nations he is aware of have smokestacks on their ships. The Americans, however, do not. There were no other outlets for smoke either, which confused the captain. How else would that ship be powered, if not by steam or oil?
He is starting to doubt the claims that the Americans are not a magical nation. He does not know of any non-magic nation who has ships that do not have smoke stacks. He is now curious as to how the ship even gets propulsion and powered. However, he doubts that the Americans would reveal that information.
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
Central Calendar May 28th, 1640
New Washington Naval Shipyards, New Washington, United States of America
In this shipyard, the Italia was present. It has been discovered that for all the good condition it was in, the italia's main weapons and engines were completely worn out. The ship's engines were so far beyond service life, trying to use it is just a waste of resources. The gun barrels were also completely worn out. The 381mm guns were so worn out that trying to aim it would be useless and praying that it would hit the target would be far more useful due to the potential dispersion of shots. The secondary guns practically don't have a breach either due to how worn out it was. The naval search radar is also completely broken, turning it on does absolutely nothing. Despite how well preserved the ship is, it is not in the best condition.
At the moment, the ship is currently being stripped of weapons, engines and radar. This is due to the bad state and the outdated nature of everything onboard. None of them are worth using. However, there have been some issues. Work on the ship has been completely halted due to the discovery of a bomb on the hull. It is unknown who placed it there, so all the workers are now being held in custody for questioning. So far, nobody admitted to planting the bomb.
The shipyard is now sealed off from entry. No one was allowed in, and construction was halted. An extra contingent of securitrons were stationed on site to deal with any more potential saboteurs. They di not want to have to deal with any more issues that will cause further delays to the construction of the ship.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Some prison, Esthirant, Empire of Parpaldia, Philades Continent
Remille waited for the warden to finish up putting her visit to the log books. The man still had that surprised look on his face. He probably never thought that an empress would ever visit the prison, Remille thought. She doesn't blame the man. Which empress before her would visit some cage of scum and villainy? She thought that she had probably made history. However, she did not visit out of the kindness of her hearts, there's something she wanted to do.
"'A security profile will be assigned to you, your imperial highness. While this humble servant does not understand why you would visit this prison, especially the one who-'"
"Say no more, unless you too wish to be demoted to the rank of prisoner," Remille said. "Now, I will need a few things," Remille said, handing a note to the warden.
The warden took a look, and his eyes instantly widened. It was as if he did not expect someone of her status to request such things. "'B-but your majesty, are y-you sure?'" the warden asked.
"I am completely sure. Now, take me to the cell before I start considering your replacement," Remille said.
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
Remille walked down the hallways of the prison. It was dark and damp, the complete opposite of Paradis Palace. The place smelled horrible, and she is trying her best to not throw up. Eventually, they reached cell number 132. One of the guards walked ahead of her and pulled out a set of keys. He took a while before finding the right one. Inserting it into the rusty keyhole, he twisted the key clockwise. A 'click' sound can be heard. He then pushed the door open.
Inside was a thin young woman with red hair and green eyes, about 16, wearing a palace maid uniform. She had been arrested after being caught by royal guards trying to murder members of the imperial family. Now she is chained to a chair which is welded onto the floor. Remille wondered why so many of them wanted to kill the imperial family. It wasn't like they had done anything to these people.
The girl looked at Remille with a look of hatred. The hatred in the girl was so strong, it radiated even through the walls of the prison. Remille, however, does not pay attention to the hatred. Instead, she decided to ask questions.
"Alright, I take it that you already know who I am so I'll get straight to the point. Judging by your face, you clearly have a hatred against me and the imperial fam-"
"'You fuckers got my family killed!'" the girl yelled. "'It was the imperial family that ordered the arrest or killings of all suspected socialists, that act that got my father killed!'"
"And for that, you joined the socialists?" Remille asked. The girl did not answer. However, there was a small grin that gave the answer away. It was a resounding 'yes'. "Alright. Tell me which cell and where they tend to hold meetings."
"'As if I will tell you, imperial pig!'" the girl said. "'Even if I know the answer, that is.'" the girl added.
Remille sighed. "I was hoping we could do things the easy way," Remille said. She pulled out her revolver and pulled the hammer back, cocking it. Thankfully, because she was the empress, she could do whatever she wanted.
"'You won't do it. No royalty would like to get their hands dirty. You wouldn't dare to pull the trigger.'
Remille quickly aimed down at the girl's left kneecap and pulled the trigger. A loud bang rang out, followed by screams of pain. The room is now filled with smoke from the black powder explosion. "Now, tell me who sent you."
The girl did not answer, merely continued whimpering in pain. Remille shifted her aim a little, aiming at the girl's right kneecap. "Last chance, give me the info," Remille said. The girl still did not answer.
Another shot rang out, causing all the guards to wince. More blood-curdling screams of pain followed as the bullet entered the girl's right kneecap. Remille smiled as she heard the screams of the girl, she utterly enjoyed every moment of it. "You forgot that I used to love torturing people. I now remember why I loved it."
"'Y-you monst- monster'"
Remille's smile grew even wider. "Oh yes, call me that. Whatever helps you remember where the cell is usually gathered."
The girl, however, decided not to talk. Remille sighed. "You really want more torture? Alright."
Remille gestured for a guard to hold the girl's head back. She then asks another guard to hold a piece of dirty cloth over the girl's face. "This could have been avoided, but thanks for being stubborn. To say that this wouldn't be enjoyable would be lying," Remille said in a gleeful voice. She then holds up the bucket and started pouring some water down onto the cloth.
Muffled noises can be heard. Remille poured for a bit, stopping at the right moment so the prisoner does not die. She has done this before, so she knows at what point to stop. She removes the dirty cloth.
"Want to talk yet?" Remille asked, smiling cruely. It is as if she was hoping that the girl would say 'no'.
"'Pl- please stop! I- they didn't tell me that info! I was contacted by one of th-their agents. PLEASE! THIS IS THE TRU-'" the girl's words were cut off by the piece of cloth going back on her face.
"Nu uh, I am not stopping until I get what I was asking for,'" Remille said. "Seems like you want more water."
Remille started pouring more water. There were some more convulsions and more muffled noises. She stopped far faster than the last time. "So, has that boggled your mind yet? Have you remembered anything?"
The girl did not say a thing. "Huh, you really do want to give me a good evening. Suit yourself."
Remille took out something else. It was a black metallic rod. On the end where Remille was holding it, it had a different material. Remille was still grinning. "This…" Remille said, "is a shock baton. It will give the one on the receiving end an electric shock, and you, young lady, would be my first test subject." Remille then jabbed forward with the button, her palm pressing down the button to keep it active. The batton came in contact with the prisoner's skin.
Instantly, the prisoner started convulsing. Remille watched it happen with glee. She even started laughing. The guards looked at each other, but remained silent. After a few seconds, Remille pulled the baton back. "In the Holy Milishial Empire, they say that 'electroshock therapy' is an effective means to deal with mental illnesses. I wonder if that helped you with your memory."
The girl did not respond. She was still alive, somehow, but not talking.
"Very well…maybe it isn't as effective as I hoped it would be." Remille said. She then pulled out something else from the large bag that she had asked to be brought over. This looked similar to the one she had used earlier. However, Remille can be seen putting on some type of gloves. Her smile is still present. "It's about to get a bit hot in here. Guards, expose a bit more of her skin."
The guards were already uncomfortable, but their empress had ordered it, so they did as they were told. They ripped the top part of the maid uniform open, revealing her bare skin. Remille pressed the button on the handle of the rod. There was silence for a moment. Remille then turned her gaze from the rod to the girl.
"Be patient, young one," Remille said. "This takes some time." Some heat can be felt radiating from the rod.
Slowly, the rod turned red and started to glow. Remille looked at it gleefully. "Glowing hot tungsten. Now this will be fun." Remille then jabbed the rod towards the girl's chest.
Instantly, the prison was filled with the blood-curdling screams of the prisoner. Despite the decent soundproofing measures, the screams could be heard by other prisoners in the block. Remille was laughing maniacally, she was having the best afternoon of her life. The guards looked at each other, barely clinging on to their sanity as they watched the empress commit the atrocity. Remille pulled the tod back every twenty seconds, then picked a different spot on the skin and jabbed it.
The warden finally stepped forward. ""Your imperial grace, I- I don't think the prisoner has the information you were searching for. Please, I beg you, stop.""
Remille continued jabbing, completely ignoring the warden. After a while, the girl's screams grew weaker and weaker, it went from a scream to a whimper. The girl then went completely limp, her face locked in eternal horror and agony. Remille looked at her face, almost disappointed that the girl had died.
"I knew that she didn't have the answer after the whole schock baton part, but I couldn't resist," Remille said. "Still, an absolutely fun afternoon."
The warden looked at the empress with horror. Remille looked amused. She then left the prison, leaving everyone in the building gawking in a traumatized manner.