The source of their dread had been scouring the vicinity of their island since this region changed hands years ago. Ever since then, their new overlords had been on a relentless quest to hammer any nail that sticks out. Even though the island's inhabitants had not ventured down the same zealous path as their more 'motivated' neighboring regions, they found themselves living on the edge all the same. They should have seen this coming, and seen this coming they did. But the feeling of regret was still there anyway.
While the day was still very young, a scene unfolded from the barely-lit horizon. Multiple dark metallic lumps emerged, belching forth internal black smoke from towering smokestacks that loomed like a row of tombstones amidst the boundless sea. Marching across that day's calm waters in a single file, these were gun-toting manmade constructs functioning as harbingers of destruction—warships, albeit ones smaller in scale compared to the iron-clad terrors that prowled the oceans. They eventually came to a halt in a position parallel to the shoreline.
And then, hellfire.
Following the leading light cruiser, its four single guns blazing, the quartet of smaller destroyers following her aimed their three single guns at the quiet seaside town. With a deafening roar, they unleashed a barrage of 84 and 45 trim (38 and 20 kg) high-explosive shells, one after another, across a distance of five selg (8 km). The target was not a specific military threat, nor did there seem to be any discernible strategic objective. It was chaos unleashed, a wanton bombardment that turned any structure in its line of sight into towering pillars of fire and debris. These fiery eruptions, in turn, wreaked havoc on the surrounding landscape, tearing through not only buildings but also the vegetation, animals, and the unfortunate humans who had been too tardy in their flight to the safety of the woods on the town's outskirts, all at the mercy of their new overlords' display of brute force.
When the town was fully turned into a sea of fire, the bombardment proceeded to creep toward the surrounding forested areas, ripping and tearing at everything until it was done. There was no mercy.
"...Cease fire!"
"Aye, sir! Ceasing fire!"
From the bridge of the flagship, an old Bufo-class light cruiser, a gaunt and almost pallid-looking acting CO was giving the order. Within moments, all that remained was the briny sea breeze, thick with the acrid scent of gunpowder smoke, and the ominous distant glow of utter devastation.
"We really knocked the wind out of those hapless Kainians' sails!" a lookout exclaimed.
The CO laughed with a shrill voice, "The Enslaved cannot simply win one counterattack without having to lose twice as many people as our Free brethren they killed. If the Kainians refuse to embrace True Freedom and continue to live as slaves to the Sibling Gods, then we shall liberate them to the afterlife instead."
For this man, his allegiance lay firmly with his birthplace, the Gra Valkas Empire, and its relentless battle against the Kain Divine Kingdom. This struggle was that of liberation: to free humanity from the shackles of their archaic, almost slavish reverence for the old gods of Yggdra. Yet, the Enslaved and its massive population were stubborn. They called them Gra Valkans 'Serpent-Deceived brethren of theirs that have lost their way because of a false idol' that their drive in resisting True Freedom was to 'bring them back into the Gods' embrace.'
Henceforth, the conflict between Gra Valkas and Kain unfolded in the War of Fate, each side steadfast in their conviction of justice, each seeing their own path as the salvation for their 'erring' brethren, and each bearing their own vision of an ideal world.
While both sides have their own breeds of moderates and extremists, in the end, if one were to simplify the rallying cry of both sides behind this world-splitting grudge match, it would be: "We alone are justice."
In the war, the Free Men's Gra Valkas Imperial Navy had firmly established itself as the unrivaled champion of the seas. They had successfully contained whatever remained of the Enslaved's Divine Royal Navy's Southern Left Navy within their heavily fortified coastal cities, effectively denying them access to the open ocean while holding naval reinforcements back from other regions. However, a rather remarkable display of a good fight from the Enslaved's naval forces in a recent battle had set off a chain reaction. The Free Men army's overconfidence and miscalculated logistical support for their ongoing invasion of the southern tip of the Kainian mainland had transformed into a humiliating slog. In a counterattack, the Kainians had wrested control of the newly liberated Gevura province from their grasp, but thankfully the Enslaved had yet to drive the Free Men back to the seas.
Truly, they were a worthy opponent to have, but in the end the Free Men alone are ultimately in the right and the Enslaved are in the wrong, how could they not see this simple fact? It's not like there's grey-and-grey morality at play or anything, everything in this world has a clear definition of what is black and what is white. That was this man thought. Reality is simple. Living is simple. And thus, it has been written.
Anyway, it's not the sighting of a Kainian submarine, but it was this debt, this failure, that had brought these warships to this place.
Naturally, stringent information control measures were in place for the sake of maintaining the non-fighting Free Men's morale and trust in the government. However, there was no denying that if word of the Gra Valkan army's invasion and subsequent pushback were to somehow leak to the Enslaved in the occupied territories, it could serve as a powerful rallying point. As the rest of the Free Men worked to sort the mess they had incited, there was an 'urgent need to quash any flicker of rebellion' before it could take root. Henceforth, a destroyer division from the 52nd Regional Fleet "Ishtam," which was responsible for maintaining order in the occupied territories, received orders to wipe this one wretched Kainian town from the face of Yggdra. There will be other Ishtam Fleet units taking part in this grim theater of control and suppression, of course. Liberating the stubborn Enslaved from this life is their favorite pastime.
Although the Gra Valkan military at large called them "thugs wearing a military uniform" and the Ishtam Fleet as a gathering place for the lowest dregs of the fighting Free Men, the worst of the worst, they were there because those so-called noble elites wanted to keep their hands clean. The hypocrisy of their brethren tacitly allowed them to exist, the fact that this man didn't miss.
"...Then, shall we return to patrol immediately, sir?"
"........."
When the man didn't immediately respond, his First Mate standing beside him called out.
"Commander Maynard, sir?"
In response, Commander Fredrik Maynard brought a finger to his lips. "Quiet. Do you hear that?"
Seeing their CO cupping his hand behind his right ear, the bridge crew looked at each other in mild discomfort.
"Concentrate on your eyes and ears," Maynard continued. "The sound of those poor Enslaved souls leaving the mortal coil amidst the raging fire."
"........."
Maynard's eyes widened a fraction, "This is... the best feeling there is."
While the burning town named Ruhir continued to paint the morning sky with a crimson glow, the old light cruiser and the four destroyers under her lead eventually left the sea area. Feeling satisfied with their one-sided reaping of the lives of an insignificant town on a remote island far behind the frontlines, the executioners of the Ishtam Fleet returned to the base like someone who had just attended a marriage banquet.
Year 469 of the Fifth Age
This summer, the recent War of Fate just had its eighth anniversary. Alongside other so-called "Wars of Fate" and distinct conflicts, it has shaped the overarching turmoil on Yggdra since the First Disobedience many Ages ago. The central players in this drama, the Kain Divine Kingdom and the Gra Valkas Empire, have never officially sealed a peace treaty. At best, they experienced periods of off-the-record armistice during which both sides returned to the planning board and dedicated themselves to bolstering their national strength, always prepared for a potential armed conflict should one side pull a sneaky one on the other. In dealings with their "lost brethren," both the Divine Kingdom and the Empire were the two sides of the same coin, treating formal peace agreements as a cardinal sin that impedes their respective missions. Yggdra was not big enough for two conflicting faith systems. And thus, it has been written.
On the other hand, even though the two nations were in a perpetual state of war, instances of all-out mobilization of their national strength were rare. Large-scale military operations were only considered when either side was confident of significant gains.
Nevertheless, as the 5th century of the Fifth Age unfolded, it became increasingly apparent that the Divine Kingdom, home of the Faithful, was gradually falling behind their Serpent-Deceived brethren. The original theater of war, confined to the central ocean that separated eastern Gra Valkas from the westernmost Kainian territories across a distance equivalent to four time zones, began to spill into a peninsula located in the southern reaches of the Kain Divine Kingdom's mainland. Even though the Kainians mounted a successful counterattack, reclaiming the region known as Gevura and pushing the Gra Valkans back a step, this development was nothing less than alarming. The Gra Valkans were merely contained, not repelled. Soon, the tide will fully turn against the Divine Kingdom.
And so, this time's War of Fate also dragged on, with regions far removed from the conflict barely feeling the scorching winds of battle. Gilvaris, the administrative hub of Kain's regime, often referred to in written media as "THE KINGDOM" in all capital letters, was one such place. It lay right in the heart of the plains in the central northeast of the continent, surrounded by hills and mountains on all sides, a considerable distance from the coastline where Gra Valkan forces could pose a threat. It was so distant from the conflict zones that even civilian dirigibles could safely transport passengers to and fro without any apprehension.
While on a stroll amidst the blooming native "blue lilies" in the middle of Gilvaris' Summer Palace, a man dressed in a white, black, and blue ensemble muttered something to the two people trailing behind him, looking over his shoulder in a somber expression.
"...The day of the Prophecy is near, isn't it?"
The two, an older man and woman, exchanged glances. Following a silent understanding, the older man offered a subtle bow and distanced himself, granting the two privacy for their conversation. Simultaneously, the woman knelt before the man who had spoken earlier to align herself with him at eye level. As she did so, her white robes lightly brushed the stone pavement.
"Brother Lapis, if there is anything that troubles you, you can always talk to me," the woman gently spoke.
The man swallowed a bit, "You heard me, Sister Larimar. In a week, the day of the Prophecy will come and by that time, I will officially start my duties as the Priest-King. But Sister, isn't a Priest-King supposed to be our unity, our united front? What kind of strength a Priest-King like this is supposed to have to rally the Faithful behind me by that time?"
Lapis was the given name of this man, and the reason why the woman was kneeling to speak with him had nothing to do with his age; it was because of his physical condition. He sat in a wheelchair, his discomfort evident as he gestured toward his weak physique. With a touch of self-deprecation, Lapis wasn't questioning why he should be the next conduit for the Prophecy; instead, he was doubting his own strength to keep everyone from succumbing to the rough waves of the War of Fate.
"My brother in faith and in blood, forgive me since I'm about to be harsh on you," Larimar's expression turned stern as she reached to grasp Lapis' right hand tightly. "Your first Prophecy might also be your last, but the fact that you've been chosen regardless of your affliction means that the Sibling Gods are entrusting you with a responsibility. Your personal weaknesses or doubts are insignificant in the grand scheme of things. The Prophecy has chosen you, and ultimately the only one who can make you live up to that responsibility is yourself. At the very least, please bear with it for one more year."
Lapis nodded slowly, absorbing her words.
"Sister... if my first Prophecy will turn out to be my last, will you weep over my passing?"
"I am not so heartless as to say that I will not shed a tear if my dear brother passes away at such a young age," Larimar slowly rubbed her thumb over her younger brother's pale and sweaty palm. "But I wonder, if there will be something in his life that I can celebrate long after his passing..."
"......I'm really sorry."
"Whatever the case, you shouldn't be looking like that all the time. Everyone in the palace who will be working with you can sense what you're feeling."
Lapis breathed, knowing that his doubts and fears were not helping anyone, especially himself. But still, "Sister... soldiers' lives lost at the battlegrounds... and the life lost in a tiny sickbed... I wonder what the difference is."
"There's no difference," Larimar's tone was firm.
"I guess you're right," the young man wistfully remarked, "They're both insignificant... even if they leave our world, the world will still continue without them."
"No, Brother, they're both precious and irreplaceable."
Some fates can be changed, while others remain unalterable. The precise moments of a person's birth and death fall into the category of unchangeable destiny. However, the course of their life and the manner in which they meet their end can still be shaped and influenced.
The Priest-Kings of the Divine Kingdom, chosen as the conduits of the Sibling Gods' will, were a slight exception to this rule. When a Priest-King's term neared its end, the third or fourth Prophecy before their final moments would invariably determine their successor. It might seem hard to believe, but a Priest-King always passed away on the very day their eventual successor received their first Prophecy. Consequently, a Priest-King's coronation also served as a farewell for their predecessor. The Kain Divine Kingdom didn't follow the conventional model of hereditary monarchy. Of course, Kain itself was far from ordinary in this mundane world, and this is where their Serpent-Deceived brethren on the other side's utter disgust stemmed. The Divine Kingdom's distorted system of governance was the first when their Serpent-Deceived brethren pointed out what is wrong with this world and why it must be abolished.
The Priest-King who precedes Lapis, already living eighty-nine years and bedridden, determined this young man from the countryside to be his successor four years prior. Regardless of Lapis' frail constitution, he was brought to THE KINGDOM to start his training. Following him, Lapis' older sister Larimar entered the priesthood at the Wing of Ashir so that she could be her younger brother's caretaker. Already, the other Kainians couldn't see what kind of man Lapis was. The only thing they could see was what kind of Priest-King Lapis would become.
This pessimism won't do, Larimar reminded Lapis of that. Even a Priest-King's final Prophecies still leave them with three or four years before their passing. Before Lapis can learn how to lead a nation, he must first learn how to cherish his own life.
"Brother, Lapis, please look at me," Larimar grasped her brother's shoulders.
"Hm."
Despite she tightened her hold on him, Larimar's expression softened. As he gazed into her deep blue orbs, Lapis sensed affection and warmth emanating from them. How could he betray someone with such a loving gaze, his sister no less.
"I'll see what I can do—"
"Not good enough."
"I will not let you down, Sister."
"Promise?"
Lapis raised his hand, grasping his sister's shoulders in response.
"As long as you will be my side, I will continue to cherish this life. I promise."
This simple promise between siblings will turn out to have far-reaching consequences. And thus, it has been written.
Year 469 of the Fifth Age
With the midsummer sun shining brightly overhead, slicing through the waves of a body of water known as the Svarte Sea southwest of the Gra Valkas Empire's mainland on the other side of Yggdra was a group of dark gray-hulled warships flying the country's naval ensign. Among them, a distinctive ship with a completely flat deck, adorned with steel gray and maroon-painted aircraft, steamed in the center. Light cruisers and destroyers formed a protective circle around this unique vessel. On top of the completely flush deck, crews were running around preparing the planes, engines droning in warm-up mode. The normally erected three funnels to the starboard edge of the ship were already swiveled to lie horizontal as the ship commenced flight operations.
Known as the Ophiuchus, the lead ship of her class, this aircraft carrier was the first ever ship of its kind in the Gra Valkas Imperial Navy, being a naval vessel that was designed from the start as an aircraft carrier as opposed to a ship converted from the hulls of merchant ships like the ones preceding her. Together with an older converted merchant carrier, the Ophiuchus formed the 1st Carrier Division assigned to the Eastern Fleet.
On the bridge, Commander of the Eastern Fleet, Vice Admiral Caesar Roland, lowered the binoculars he was holding and gestured to an officer beside him, the only female among the group of men that formed his staff.
"Captain, you may begin."
The acting CO of the Ophiuchus, Captain Mirkenses Agneta, responded, "Yes, sir. Prepare to take off!"
"Prepare to take off!"
"Take off!"
As soon as the order was relayed, the maintenance crews on the flight deck cleared the chocks that held the wheels of the first plane. Then, said metal bird, a Type 20 Carrier Fighter "Albireo," glided across the deck powered by its 300-horsepower water-cooled V8 piston engine into the sky. The second, third, and fourth planes followed, until all nine fighters were up in the air. Following them, a group six of Type 23 Carrier Attack Bombers "Ceider" hauling torpedoes equipped with special wooden kits for a specific mission took off. Today was another day of intense training for these aircrew.
With each plane departing the flight deck, the officers on the bridge cheered in admiration. "That's very nice!" "It's great!" and so on.
"Vice Admiral, all the planes made a successful flight," Captain Mirkenses reported.
"Good."
"With this, the Imperial Navy has finally conquered the sea and the sky!" a staff officer remarked.
"Ah, it's a great pleasure!" another commented, and a round of laughter echoed.
"That's right. The advent of naval aviation should have turned the Imperial Navy into become more elite, but to think that they're finally giving air power a chance after everything else fails..."
"Also on the other hand, the fact that it's the Army's folly that led to this development is giving me a bit of mixed feelings."
Holed up within a heavily fortified naval base of Port Verses, east of the peninsula liberated by the Gra Valkas Empire, the Kainian Southern Left Navy sortied from there was the one responsible for disrupting the logistics that eventually culminated in the loss of Gevura. This stronghold was not just safeguarded by coastal artillery and strategic naval mines but also from its fortress-like natural geography, which had successfully repelled numerous attempts by Gra Valkan naval vessels. Meanwhile, the Empire was in urgent political need to reclaim Gevura from Kain's occupation in addition to securing a logistical route for future invasion operations to expand their sphere of influence in the Kainian mainland.
Given their slower rate of replenishing lost ships, the Kainians were usually unwilling to seek battle with the Gra Valkans on their own. Nevertheless, with a fleet anchored at Port Verses comprised of eight battleships, six battlecruisers, numerous armored cruisers, light cruisers, and destroyers, a sortie against Gra Valkan shipping remained a serious problem. However, while Kain was barely experimenting with the concept, in addition to the Ophiuchus and the already operating merchant converted carriers, progress was made by the Gra Valkas Empire in converting more hulls into flattops while the slipways continued on constructing more dedicated aircraft carriers since the last year.
Caesar hummed, "The Kainian defenses at Port Verses must have been a very tough nut to crack. But that's what makes all of this worthwhile."
"Yes. Even after losing their ships one after another, the Southern Left Navy anchored there still had a powerful fleet. As long as they are not completely destroyed, they will continue to become a threat to the Empire's future operations in the south," concurred the Captain.
"If our new carrier task forces can be the ones to finish them off, soon everyone will seriously consider the power of naval aviation."
"We'll see..."
As the command staff continued to voice their opinions, what should have become the heralds of a new era filled with excitement disappeared into the southern sky.
And thus, it has been written.
