Глава 14

Sixty-eight hours into the operation...

Smoke and thick fog tug and tear at one another.

The deck of the Gastrell is teeming with the seeds and withered branches of the Nachzehrers. Seventy percent of the guns that once breached countless fortresses have now fallen silent.

Its teeth almost completely pulled and its talons whetted smooth, the logical next step is for this prey to be dismantled and devoured.

However, the Nachzehrer's throne has also been pierced by dozens of chain-ladled fortcrackers.

With just one move, the God of War could be pulled from his throne.

You have proven to me... that war marches on.

Two hundred years ago, no Victorian would have come even this far.

Heh... And you, Sarkaz. You've proven that you're not just some decrepit old shadow.

You are indeed a threat to this great land. Perhaps my warship should've paid you a visit sooner, after I tore Gaul apart.

You would have been afforded no such opportunity.

None of you.

A Confessarius transmission.

Yes... In the direction of the Blood of Teekaz.

The Nachzehrer King takes in the entirety of the battlefield.

The enemy is trying to halt the storm. This might change the flow of battle, but it is hardly decisive. Even without the Catastrophe, his warriors are just as savage, just as unrelenting.

Wellington is a worthy opponent, but the fetters of time will soon drag him away. He has no place among the future's wars.

The true threat comes from elsewhere. It comes... from behind.

Theresis and the Confessarius have reminded me that this is not the only battlefield.

Will you attend to it personally?

I have already received the wars promised to me by the Military Commission, present and future.

The Nachzehrers must also fulfill their pact with the Regent.

But before I leave, I must sow some seeds of decay on this battlefield for me to reap upon my return.

A thick haze rises.

Upon the battlefield, only the throne remains.

Is that Nachzehrer... running away?

No. In a real war, there is no retreat.

Wait, General! Look at the throne!

There's some kind of mist pouring from it...

*cough*... *cough*... That isn't any ordinary mist! It's... eating me from the inside!

General, your body–

Soldier, status report on the Gastrell.

Damage to the cabins in excess of sixty percent. Per your previous orders, propulsion capabilities are largely intact! As for weapons–

Remove anything that's basically unusable and discard it on the spot.

Roll out the Originium cannons from the lower deck.

Those are already...

Obsolete. But still enough to kill.

Yessir!

Notify the Gastrell to retreat to G-0 high ground according to the plan, and continue to consolidate defenses there.

We will also follow at speed, while ordering all current battle lines to fall back.

Next, we'll send these Sarkaz over to Caster and Gododdin to handle.

Any news from Shay?

The captain and Lady Eblana have captured most of the Nachzehrer altars in this area!

Yes, I saw. Her flames are... very vivid.

*cough* *cough*.

Medic!

No need.

General?

...Heh.

A battle with no decisive conclusion... will not be my last.

'Alliance Fleet Command Emergency Transmission–'

Three minutes left.

We should be able to hear gunfire from our current position.

Yes, Your Grace. Wellington's column is not far from ours, ensuring we'll be able to provide mutual support.

This battle will determine Victoria's fate.

Indeed, if all goes well–

Then we'll be able to end this meaningless stalemate as quickly as possible.

Those eyes truly burn with a lust for battle.

Do you think he has any ulterior motives?

For two decades, my desk has been filled with intel related to him, along with its response proposals. As of late, these reports have been updating a dozen times a day.

The true struggle begins after the Sarkaz have been dealt with.

But at this moment... Wellington isn't the only one who needs a decisive victory.

The time has come. The assault is about to commence, and he has never failed to be punctual.

Ahh, do you hear that?

The Gastrell's full broadside... Such a different timbre it is compared to our ships.

But after this battle, Caster's name will shine alongside Wellington's in the annals of Victorian military history–

'Anomaly, anomaly. 00 and 01! Repeat! 00 and 01!'

Drat, the comms have been cut?!

Your Grace, all signals from the Duke of Wellington... have vanished.

A group of Sarkaz suddenly emerged from the Catastrophe and have engaged in battle with our frontline troops!

What the hell is Wellington doing?! Acting alone at a time like this... that vainglorious fool! Has he gone senile?

Impossible.

I do have a conjecture, though. Do you think he deceived Caster? Or rather, everyone?

That... doesn't make any sense. This is the Iron Duke we're talking about. Why would he abandon the other, more easily-manipulated dukes to go ally with the Sarkaz?

It's a game of prisoner's dilemma among the dukes.

How would the Duke of Windermere, a warrior, treat her foes?

...She'd kill them all.

And wipe the last speck of their blood across their seized spoils.

Before he became first among the Victorian dukes, Wellington had already been leading troops for decades longer than your mother.

As a noble among nobles, Caster was used to everyone playing by the same set of rules.

After spending too long seated in front of the card table, she might've forgotten that some unreasonable people, such as us gangster types, have a penchant for flipping the entire table.

Hypothetically, if the Iron Duke truly saw all of Victoria as enemies rather than competitors – he'd never even give Caster a single chip to bargain with.

Catastrophe!

The next wave of Catastrophes struck far sooner than any of the Catastrophe Messengers predicted – all our comms have been knocked offline!

How long for repairs?

Fifteen minutes. No, we'll make it ten!

...Your Grace.

You came back on Wellington's orders.

Indeed.

You're heavily injured. Who's responsible?

Not any of the Iron Duke's men.

He... lost to that Sarkaz?

After the Gastrell opened fire, the Nachzehrers' advance brigade emerged from the fog.

They moved extremely quickly, using already-deployed altars to destroy a small warship – Abercorn's infantry had already engaged them for a spell.

We expected the Gastrell to aid this ship.

But...

He retreated instead.

That's right. The Gastrell has turned back.

All of Wellington's other ships are covering the flagship's retreat. Their casters... have also changed targets, relying on the covering fire from our ships to secure their own vessel's retreat.

What about Abercorn and Ashworth's ships?