AZATHOTHoth
༼ つ ☀️_☀️ ༽つ
None of them have fabulous abs.
Noblesse Oblige [Znt/SI]
Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Eight
- Location
- https://discord.gg/z9tBvbh
Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Eight
The port city of Rosais had held a small garrison, bolstered due to the letter sent to them, but no way near the full fighting force one could expect from an army. As a messenger arrived with news that the fleet of Gallia had successfully pulled out of the bombarding run for Dartanes, denying the Reconquista forces the port itself, it was clear that the strength of the Albion's fleet wasn't a no-show. Of the sixty ships sent to face off forty, Albion had lost thirteen before pulling back, but Gallia had lost twenty-two. This was mostly due to the ships that had been burned to ashes by Menvil and his men, which couldn't be repaired on time.
Still, as the port city of Rosais filled with the men that had been on the ships themselves, the city filled with life and Gallian flags after a few hours.
The pleasure of scouting was given to Agnes, who had the fastest mean to do so -and was also the only one capable of making the Zero Fighter work.
The people were wary, but even they wouldn't say no to free food. There were people who gave the stink-eye, of course. Mostly those we had destroyed the houses of, or that had lost their family members who were in the guard, but at the end of the day, it was surprising what some good propaganda could do.
We had forewarned of our arrival -and thus it was Reconquista's fault for not making them evacuate.
We had asked them to surrender before beginning our invasion -and Reconquista had chosen to fight us.
We brought food, the good stuff, and things that these people needed and now saw only in their dreams.
There wasn't a proper merchant fleet in Gallia any longer, and even if the shipyards of St Marlon worked only on it, they wouldn't have the first ships available until at least a year had passed. It was why we had appropriated the ships docked at Orlais, even if most of them belonged to the local nobles and weren't fit for cargo displacement, placed a nice Gallian flag over them, and sent them back to get the first batch of goods from the mainland.
Albion had two different types of weather. Towards the coast, it was mild with a hint of freezing breeze, but within the mainland it got progressively colder -thick all-year round snow on the mountains- and the altitude wasn't something to scoff at either.
I could have had the men march, but they needed time to get used to the abrupt change in altitude. This was the main reason assaulting a place like Albion took time. It was one thing to come here on vacation and not move so much, it was another to exert oneself so shortly afterwards. Point of fact, a good number of the troops that had actively participated in the assault were down for the count, being treated for the lack of oxygen.
On the other hand, I hadn't used the full brunt of my forces to conquer the city specifically so that they wouldn't all be utterly useless during the incoming days. Men marched and patrolled the streets with a sedated gait, getting used to the air, the sights, and ensuring troubles were kept to a bare minimum. It was an orderly thing. If not for the broken buildings, nobody would have realized the city had been conquered. Well, that and the Gallian flags, and the posters.
Though saying posters was a bit of an error. Affixed against walls were drawings of Gallian soldiers clutching the banner of Gallia, pointing their chins up to the rising sun as one among them had its finger pointed at the reader, with the words The Army Wants You! Join and enter the family! Join and find purpose in life! written below.
This wasn't to say that there weren't riots of course, some Reconquista-fanatics, some rabble-rousers, some people who simply wanted to try to rob shops and start problems. they all were quickly and swiftly brought to a heel.
"Your highness!" Agnes spoke as she returned from her last scouting trip, entering the meeting room with a firm gait, "Reconquista troops have moved back into Londinium and seem to be reinforcing their positions." She took a small breath. "Lord Chesty wasn't in his rooms," she added, to which I nodded and pointed at a corner of the meeting room, where Lord Chesty Mac Chester, an Albion refugee noble turned Gallian, was sitting at a nearby table and scribbling something while, every now and then, looking at two young officers with a leer that made me feel cold and angry inside.
The two young officers in question were also quite worried, but didn't say a single thing due to the far more pressing matters at hand.
"Oh? That's good," I said with a nod, "It means there will be less troops elsewhere," I drummed my fingers on the table, the map of Albion upon the table in a room of the inn The Pretty Windflower, a nice and spacious place ideal as a command center after the palace's partial demolition. Agnes snapped a salute, and then moved by the side of Chesty, glancing down at the parchment and then flatly looking elsewhere, trying her hardest not to let her eyes come down on the parchment again -and failing miserably in doing so in at least a good dozen of occasions. "Montpassant, take ten thousand men and march to Dartanes. Bowood, you'll have ten thousand others and march for Saxe-Gotha. We will come with nineteen thousands to reinforce the ones attacked by Londinium's army. And if they won't move, then, well, a pity for them-we will conquer and consolidate our hold-"
"Sir!" a messenger rushed inside the war room, not even bothering to knock. He was a dragon knight, and judging by the light blue strip on his chest, he belonged to the scouting division. This could mean two things. The first, we were under attack. The second, something absolutely horrible was going on. "There's a messenger of Tristain who claims to come from Dartanes! Tristain has captured the port!"
I belatedly widened my eyes. I also, quite frankly, narrowed them. The windows rattled from an unseen wind, the officers by my side clutching on to their hats and some courageous young ones holding the maps down on the table.
"Is that so?" I hissed. "They wish to play the carrion feeders, then?" I growled. "We, who lost so many men-they wish to confirm their conquests on the bones and corpses of Gallian men?" I slammed my right fist against the surface of the table, making more than an officer growl. "Who the hell does she think she is!? She thinks this sort of thing will be tolerated!? She thinks she will achieve anything from it!? The only thing she will achieve is to bleed her country dry." I clenched my fists to the point where my nails dug into the palm of my hands. "We lost forty-seven men to claim this city! We lost hundreds to bombard Dartanes! Will those hundreds be paid back? Will they return to us!?" I slammed my right hand against the table again, the windows rattling even more. "Very well," I snarled. "if this is how she wishes to play it, then send the messenger in. Let us hear what he has to say! And if I don't like it, I'll personally send the entirety of Tristain's forces back into the mainland on a hurricane! This is our conquest! This is our war!"
I took deep, shuddering breaths as I pushed my fingers through my hair the next moment, the rattling abating. "Send for the messenger," I said as calmly as I could, locking eyes with the scout who was scared out of his wits. "And then go get yourself something warm to drink. It's chilly up in the air, isn't it? Tell the innkeeper it's my treat. And get something on your bones-you're skinny. Can't be healthy."
"A-Ah, y-yes your highness!" the scout said as he saluted, before rushing off.
"This must make his highness' heart bleed, coming from Tristain-" Montpassant began, but I raised a hand to quiet him down.
"Please," I said, "let us not dwell on this. The less it is mentioned, the best," I shook my head. "I also must apologize for my unseemly behavior. Are you all fine? The winds didn't hurt anyone, did they?"
"No your highness, of course not!" the officers all practically said, setting back into place the stuff that had gone right and left.
"My chapter!" Chesty said instead, grabbing the parchment doused in ink with a look akin to pure shock. "It's completely ruined!" she exclaimed, her voice a mixture of grief and rage. "You ruined my chapter! Now I have to write it all over again!"
"I am sure you will manage something," I said with a nod. "Though I do apologize for it."
"Argh, you-fine, it's fine," Louise huffed. "This...biography will be quite interesting with this," she mumbled as she folded the ruined parchment and took another one. Louise's cover was that she wasn't just a fallen noble, but also someone who had to write the story of my conquest of Albion to be recorded for posterity.
It was as good of a cover as any other.
I steeled myself as the messenger from Dartanes entered, a dragon officer in the middle of the road of his life.
He delivered his message with calm and poise.
He left untouched.
"Everyone. Out."
Everyone hesitated.
"Out."
They left.
They also brought out the maps, the parchments, and everything else. As soon as the door closed, my fists began to slam on the table one after the other, splintering and cracking the wood as I roared and screamed and yelled.
The Princess had, in her freeing of Dartanes, found the Prince Valiant imprisoned by Reconquista agents in the cells of the city. The Prince hadn't run away, he had been captured, so, of course, he would join the battles to come to free his kingdom.
The windows shattered as the wind picked up, and as my eyes narrowed to thin pinpricks, I watched the form of Raven fly on the windowsill, and then land nimbly inside with his gauntlet-wearing fist touching the floor, his body kneeling right in front of me.
His beaked helmet looked up at me.
"Shall I shank the bitch, master?"
I bared my teeth.
And then I groaned as I slammed both of my fists against the surface of the table. "No." I managed to grit out. "No, we shall not shank the bitch, though it's the most tempting offer I've heard from you. What we will do..." I took a deep breath, "Is claim our due and leave."
I smiled.
I would be the better man.
Good luck, Princess.
Bleed your country dry, bleed your coffers dry, let Germania aid you and let her bleed herself too.
We're out of this.
Oh, let us see what tune you'll sing next to get us to stay aboard.
Let. Us. See.
The port city of Rosais had held a small garrison, bolstered due to the letter sent to them, but no way near the full fighting force one could expect from an army. As a messenger arrived with news that the fleet of Gallia had successfully pulled out of the bombarding run for Dartanes, denying the Reconquista forces the port itself, it was clear that the strength of the Albion's fleet wasn't a no-show. Of the sixty ships sent to face off forty, Albion had lost thirteen before pulling back, but Gallia had lost twenty-two. This was mostly due to the ships that had been burned to ashes by Menvil and his men, which couldn't be repaired on time.
Still, as the port city of Rosais filled with the men that had been on the ships themselves, the city filled with life and Gallian flags after a few hours.
The pleasure of scouting was given to Agnes, who had the fastest mean to do so -and was also the only one capable of making the Zero Fighter work.
The people were wary, but even they wouldn't say no to free food. There were people who gave the stink-eye, of course. Mostly those we had destroyed the houses of, or that had lost their family members who were in the guard, but at the end of the day, it was surprising what some good propaganda could do.
We had forewarned of our arrival -and thus it was Reconquista's fault for not making them evacuate.
We had asked them to surrender before beginning our invasion -and Reconquista had chosen to fight us.
We brought food, the good stuff, and things that these people needed and now saw only in their dreams.
There wasn't a proper merchant fleet in Gallia any longer, and even if the shipyards of St Marlon worked only on it, they wouldn't have the first ships available until at least a year had passed. It was why we had appropriated the ships docked at Orlais, even if most of them belonged to the local nobles and weren't fit for cargo displacement, placed a nice Gallian flag over them, and sent them back to get the first batch of goods from the mainland.
Albion had two different types of weather. Towards the coast, it was mild with a hint of freezing breeze, but within the mainland it got progressively colder -thick all-year round snow on the mountains- and the altitude wasn't something to scoff at either.
I could have had the men march, but they needed time to get used to the abrupt change in altitude. This was the main reason assaulting a place like Albion took time. It was one thing to come here on vacation and not move so much, it was another to exert oneself so shortly afterwards. Point of fact, a good number of the troops that had actively participated in the assault were down for the count, being treated for the lack of oxygen.
On the other hand, I hadn't used the full brunt of my forces to conquer the city specifically so that they wouldn't all be utterly useless during the incoming days. Men marched and patrolled the streets with a sedated gait, getting used to the air, the sights, and ensuring troubles were kept to a bare minimum. It was an orderly thing. If not for the broken buildings, nobody would have realized the city had been conquered. Well, that and the Gallian flags, and the posters.
Though saying posters was a bit of an error. Affixed against walls were drawings of Gallian soldiers clutching the banner of Gallia, pointing their chins up to the rising sun as one among them had its finger pointed at the reader, with the words The Army Wants You! Join and enter the family! Join and find purpose in life! written below.
This wasn't to say that there weren't riots of course, some Reconquista-fanatics, some rabble-rousers, some people who simply wanted to try to rob shops and start problems. they all were quickly and swiftly brought to a heel.
"Your highness!" Agnes spoke as she returned from her last scouting trip, entering the meeting room with a firm gait, "Reconquista troops have moved back into Londinium and seem to be reinforcing their positions." She took a small breath. "Lord Chesty wasn't in his rooms," she added, to which I nodded and pointed at a corner of the meeting room, where Lord Chesty Mac Chester, an Albion refugee noble turned Gallian, was sitting at a nearby table and scribbling something while, every now and then, looking at two young officers with a leer that made me feel cold and angry inside.
The two young officers in question were also quite worried, but didn't say a single thing due to the far more pressing matters at hand.
"Oh? That's good," I said with a nod, "It means there will be less troops elsewhere," I drummed my fingers on the table, the map of Albion upon the table in a room of the inn The Pretty Windflower, a nice and spacious place ideal as a command center after the palace's partial demolition. Agnes snapped a salute, and then moved by the side of Chesty, glancing down at the parchment and then flatly looking elsewhere, trying her hardest not to let her eyes come down on the parchment again -and failing miserably in doing so in at least a good dozen of occasions. "Montpassant, take ten thousand men and march to Dartanes. Bowood, you'll have ten thousand others and march for Saxe-Gotha. We will come with nineteen thousands to reinforce the ones attacked by Londinium's army. And if they won't move, then, well, a pity for them-we will conquer and consolidate our hold-"
"Sir!" a messenger rushed inside the war room, not even bothering to knock. He was a dragon knight, and judging by the light blue strip on his chest, he belonged to the scouting division. This could mean two things. The first, we were under attack. The second, something absolutely horrible was going on. "There's a messenger of Tristain who claims to come from Dartanes! Tristain has captured the port!"
I belatedly widened my eyes. I also, quite frankly, narrowed them. The windows rattled from an unseen wind, the officers by my side clutching on to their hats and some courageous young ones holding the maps down on the table.
"Is that so?" I hissed. "They wish to play the carrion feeders, then?" I growled. "We, who lost so many men-they wish to confirm their conquests on the bones and corpses of Gallian men?" I slammed my right fist against the surface of the table, making more than an officer growl. "Who the hell does she think she is!? She thinks this sort of thing will be tolerated!? She thinks she will achieve anything from it!? The only thing she will achieve is to bleed her country dry." I clenched my fists to the point where my nails dug into the palm of my hands. "We lost forty-seven men to claim this city! We lost hundreds to bombard Dartanes! Will those hundreds be paid back? Will they return to us!?" I slammed my right hand against the table again, the windows rattling even more. "Very well," I snarled. "if this is how she wishes to play it, then send the messenger in. Let us hear what he has to say! And if I don't like it, I'll personally send the entirety of Tristain's forces back into the mainland on a hurricane! This is our conquest! This is our war!"
I took deep, shuddering breaths as I pushed my fingers through my hair the next moment, the rattling abating. "Send for the messenger," I said as calmly as I could, locking eyes with the scout who was scared out of his wits. "And then go get yourself something warm to drink. It's chilly up in the air, isn't it? Tell the innkeeper it's my treat. And get something on your bones-you're skinny. Can't be healthy."
"A-Ah, y-yes your highness!" the scout said as he saluted, before rushing off.
"This must make his highness' heart bleed, coming from Tristain-" Montpassant began, but I raised a hand to quiet him down.
"Please," I said, "let us not dwell on this. The less it is mentioned, the best," I shook my head. "I also must apologize for my unseemly behavior. Are you all fine? The winds didn't hurt anyone, did they?"
"No your highness, of course not!" the officers all practically said, setting back into place the stuff that had gone right and left.
"My chapter!" Chesty said instead, grabbing the parchment doused in ink with a look akin to pure shock. "It's completely ruined!" she exclaimed, her voice a mixture of grief and rage. "You ruined my chapter! Now I have to write it all over again!"
"I am sure you will manage something," I said with a nod. "Though I do apologize for it."
"Argh, you-fine, it's fine," Louise huffed. "This...biography will be quite interesting with this," she mumbled as she folded the ruined parchment and took another one. Louise's cover was that she wasn't just a fallen noble, but also someone who had to write the story of my conquest of Albion to be recorded for posterity.
It was as good of a cover as any other.
I steeled myself as the messenger from Dartanes entered, a dragon officer in the middle of the road of his life.
He delivered his message with calm and poise.
He left untouched.
"Everyone. Out."
Everyone hesitated.
"Out."
They left.
They also brought out the maps, the parchments, and everything else. As soon as the door closed, my fists began to slam on the table one after the other, splintering and cracking the wood as I roared and screamed and yelled.
The Princess had, in her freeing of Dartanes, found the Prince Valiant imprisoned by Reconquista agents in the cells of the city. The Prince hadn't run away, he had been captured, so, of course, he would join the battles to come to free his kingdom.
The windows shattered as the wind picked up, and as my eyes narrowed to thin pinpricks, I watched the form of Raven fly on the windowsill, and then land nimbly inside with his gauntlet-wearing fist touching the floor, his body kneeling right in front of me.
His beaked helmet looked up at me.
"Shall I shank the bitch, master?"
I bared my teeth.
And then I groaned as I slammed both of my fists against the surface of the table. "No." I managed to grit out. "No, we shall not shank the bitch, though it's the most tempting offer I've heard from you. What we will do..." I took a deep breath, "Is claim our due and leave."
I smiled.
I would be the better man.
Good luck, Princess.
Bleed your country dry, bleed your coffers dry, let Germania aid you and let her bleed herself too.
We're out of this.
Oh, let us see what tune you'll sing next to get us to stay aboard.
Let. Us. See.
- Location
- UP!
She won't be expecting that. Not at all.
Worst comes to worst just go nuclear with the reveal of the elf.
HarakoniWarhawk
Striking from the Skies
- Location
- Holy Terra
- Pronouns
- She/Her
I'm quite certain Chesty is male, did you perhaps mean Louise in the first paragraph?
- Location
- https://discord.gg/z9tBvbh
Chesty *is* Louise. So I play around with name and pronouns to make it clear that they're the same person.
HarakoniWarhawk
Striking from the Skies
- Location
- Holy Terra
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Derp, should have noticed that.
The name should have given it away.
Retreat. Tactical retreat.
- Location
- sweden
Every adversity is an opportunity yet to be realized.
After all
Turnabout is fair play.
After all
Turnabout is fair play.
SKsniper128
22050 kg of ordinance per minute
Well the original plan was for Gallia to 'liberate' Albion effectively by themselves. Thus when the war comes to an end, the only people at the negotiating table would be Gallia and Albion, which would make it incredibly easy to set up Matilda or Tiffa as the rulers.
With the inclusion of Tristain and the 'fortuitous' discovery of Wales, there will be another faction at the table and a more legitimate option for a ruler.
But he knows that Henrietta's army is undermanned, undertrained, and out gunned compared to the Gallian forces and would likely stand aside and allow the Gallians to do most of the fighting and dying, while at the same time taking a disproportionate share of the credit.
The easiest solution? Pull Out. If Henrietta wants her precious Wales on the throne so badly, she can just bleed her country dry to do it. Once the losses start mounting, she would inevitably request that Gallia join in, to which Shade/Henry can say 'fuck off' or 'go home'.
-SK
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Mizu
Software Developer
- Location
- Victoria, Australia
strength of Albion's
problems, they all
brought to heel.
good dozen occasions
Top Kek.
Oh Henrietta. You're playing politics with the man who went from trophy-husband to 2nd in command just by asking nicely.
Just pray that Karin doesn't die. Or Tristan will get nuked.
He won't even have to ask.
Note: He should probably find a way to keep his family out of the war.
Wardes,Matilda, and the half-elf included.
Oh Henrietta. You're playing politics with the man who went from trophy-husband to 2nd in command just by asking nicely.
Just pray that Karin doesn't die. Or Tristan will get nuked.
He won't even have to ask.
Note: He should probably find a way to keep his family out of the war.
Wardes,Matilda, and the half-elf included.
Not really sure what Henrietta tried to achieve with this manouver, in the end she will have fucked herself over no matter what. All her options led her to marrying the Emperor since there was no way in hell Henry would even think of helping her after getting shanked like that.
And if she tried to take Henry's family a hostage, not only would have to deal with Heavy Wind but also Galian Blitzkrieg.
Oh and on the off chance of her killing her fiancé, that would be also just telling Galia to create the holy empire.
She already lost before she even began.
And if she tried to take Henry's family a hostage, not only would have to deal with Heavy Wind but also Galian Blitzkrieg.
Oh and on the off chance of her killing her fiancé, that would be also just telling Galia to create the holy empire.
She already lost before she even began.
Though in some way I could understand Henry's anger but... retreating after lives have lost to take the port down. Their sacrifice would be in vain. I guess Bleed Tristain and her supporters ==>>> value of his soldiers lives.
Unless he's not going to even budge from the port at all and just going to stay there, or pull a treaty or a truce between Reconquista somehow.
Unless he's not going to even budge from the port at all and just going to stay there, or pull a treaty or a truce between Reconquista somehow.
EmpirePlayer
Anyone need some chaos?
- Location
- Penang
Hmm... I might guess that Karin and the Valliere family paid the fine and stayed out of the war, if only because local faith in Henrietta's ability to rule will be most likely quite poor.
Of course she will. It was clear from the beginning that Gallia was only in on this to conquer Albion for themselves. Now that there is no legitimate way to do that anymore with Wales miraculous rescue them dropping out of the war should be expected.
- Location
- England
"About a hundred of my men died, so I'm going to let thousands of men from my home country die! Perfect solution!"
Henry, you're doing it again!
To be fair, they might win if Louise joins back up, they don't have the mind control ring and there's literally no reason Louise wouldn't if Albion leaves, she's best friends with the princess regardless.
Henry, you're doing it again!
To be fair, they might win if Louise joins back up, they don't have the mind control ring and there's literally no reason Louise wouldn't if Albion leaves, she's best friends with the princess regardless.
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- Location
- Germany
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Isn't that one of the "don't throw good money after bad money" situations? And having a truce with Reconquista? Seriously?
It's highly unlikely really considering Tarbes, but just saying if Henry's not budging from the port and not wanting to divert major force towards him to make Henrietta's job easy.
But this is an unhonourable vindictive Henry, which right now he's being one, albeit lesser in just withdrawing instead.