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DispatchAccountMilitary

by The Imperial Federation of Regna Loreau. . 17 reads.

Atervända Stormakt

Atervända Stormakt
Frände, Broder, Syster



Deck 19 - Bridge
Her Majesties Ship Sverige, 62 Nautical Miles Nor-West of Brest



The tension in the air was not explicit, but it was there for any who looked closely. The task force had sailed from the Albionian port of Belfast the previous day, and their journey to the port of Reykjavík had been a carefully planned rouse. Skirting out of sight of the Eire coast, the Task Force had run down south at full speed, and sat some 60 Nautical Miles off the coast of Brest, hidden behind a wall of radio jamming that had blanketed the Francois coast for the previous few months. The fact that this jamming had been maintained for so long told how long this war had been planned for.


Not that there was a war. Not yet at least. That would come in roughly 20 minutes, once the first shells began to land upon Brest, one minute after the declaration of war was issued to the Francois Ambassador in Londinium.


The Francois State had declared unilateral independence from the weakened Loreauan hold upon their nation some 12 months or so prior, and had rather swiftly managed to rebuild their military with the help of the Italians. Naturally, this had resulted in a radical faction rising to power within the Francois State, who had set about establishing a revolutionary government who had begun a reign of terror, and had begun aggressively repressing any dissent. Not content with causing internal struggle, they had begun sponsoring terrorist groups in the other Europan States. The Provisional Eire Republican Army had restarted their campaign against the Albionians in Eire, the Belgica Freedom Front had attacked several Hollandie government offices and the National Liberation Army had once again plunged the Hiltria region into absolute chaos.


In short, the re-emergence of a Francois state had once again upset the balance of power that had been maintained by the Concert of Europa for the past hundred and fifty years. The last time this level of instability had occurred was the dissolution of the Kingdom of Prussia, some eighty years ago. And yet in a mere twelve months, the Francois had once again destroyed the carefully maintained balance of power. Already Greater Serbistan has seized parts of Slovenia from Bohemia-Hungar and Romanie had been eyed up by the Serbs as well. The careful balancing act was dangerously close to collapsing into a blazing inferno the likes of which had not been seen since the last Francois-Loreauan war.


Which is why the Albionians, of all people, had reborn the Coalitions centuries after they had been thought unnecessary. They had been planned as an official warning against the revolutionary government in Francois, a subtle indication to back down, but all this had accomplished was the creation of the Francois own defensive alliance, the Mare Nostrum Pact. Italia, Francois, Serbistan against Bohemia, Albion, Hollandie, Ispangia and Loreau.


Despite the players seemingly already deciding the outcome through weight of numbers, the hands that were dealt could have decided the game there and then. Hollandie's main focus would be on defending their own colonial possessions and taking the enemies, as opposed to making any offensives towards the Francois, and Bohemia was already floundering an effective response to the Slovene uprising. Whilst one of the most powerful nations in Europa economically, militarily the Bohemia-Hungar state had long been suffering from a crumbling leadership. It would be an easy win, but one that took time.


And then there was the Ispagnians, who were eying off their lost states in the north with a hunger that only revenge could satisfy. Once a prideful nation that had held large swathes of the world under its grasp, Ispagnia had been an empire in decline for nearly 100 years. Central Arcadia served as their last major colony, and one that made Ispagnia rich, if not industrially developed.


Each of these various nations failings left the majority of the work to the Albionians and the Loreauans. The Task Force had sailed with nearly 200, 000 soldiers aboard, and the number had swelled to nearly 300, 000 with the embarking of Albionian marines for the landings that would take place all along the Brittany peninsula. The planning had been meticulous, if just a little bit rushed by the increasing threat that the Francois state posed with every day.


Admiral Victoria Bernadotte stood impassively upon the bridge of her ship, Sverige, trying to ignore how everyone on the bridge was as nervous as her. They were sailing into hostile waters to start a war that could potentially bring all of Europa to its knees, and the fate of Europa rested almost entirely within her hands.


Something else that rested in her hand was the object that had Admiral Bernadotte so nervous. To the untrained eye, it was a simple, warded lock key. In reality, the Regn Key as it was known, was a tri custody key system used to arm the nuclear munitions aboard the warship. The system was fairly simple. The commanding officer of the ship, in this case Commodore Carl Folke, had his own key, and the final one was given to one of the higher ranking officers at random, whose identity was recorded by Executive Officer. It may have been somewhat eccentric, but it ensured that the identities of all key bearers could not be known to everyone.


There was a quiet murmuring on the bridge as the Task Forces two aircraft carriers re-joined the formation after launching their aircraft, the gunners carefully zeroing in their range estimates as they closed in. The final few minutes slowly crept forwards, each man and woman holding their breath as they waited with baited anticipation for that one message to appear on the tactical table in the command centre down in the bowels of the ship. It may have been a bit impractical for the Admiral to be on the bridge, but with all other command staff downstairs, the bridge was an acceptable place to be.


Victoria Bernadotte closed her eyes and tried to ignore the nerves. She was newly married, she would make it home to her wife. She almost giggled like a schoolgirl at that line, one that would have made her look utterly ridiculous. Maybe when she was an officer cadet she could have done that. Not now however, not when she was the wife of the Crown Princess of Sweden, and technically a Princess herself. Not that she felt like one though. She just felt nervous.


A loud hydraulic whirring filled the air as the 'B' 15"/60 calibre Mark IV Gun turret in front and below the bridge began to swing out to port, shortly followed by the 'A' turret ahead of it, and likely the 'X' and 'Y' turrets aft. Although standard naval protocol dictated each turret for turret be designated A, B, C successively, and each aft X and Y, the Swedish crew of 'Sverige' had seen to it that the ship named Sweden would be special to them. Each of the ships subsystems had special named, from the turrets being named after cities (Stockholm, Malmö forward and Gothenburg and Visby aft), to the various boilers and reactors being named after lakes.


There was a sudden ringing on the phone that hung from the side of the console in the centre of the bridge, and Admiral Bernadotte's nervous distracted thoughts crumbled away with everyone else's, shoved to the back of their minds as the phone rang for a second time before the Admiral picked it up and held it to her ear, listening as opposed to speaking. There was the deep and calm voice of Commodore Folke on the other side, speaking calm and practiced words that showed his nerves. "Krig. Brand godkänd."


The line went dead as the Admiral hung the phone back on its hook, sighing the last of her nerves and reservations out in one final blow. War. Nodding a barely perceptible nod to the officer standing to her right, she stared out the windows of the bridge at the elevated gun turrets head of her, four carefully painted naval rifles that would be scorched of their paint by the end of firing. Raising her hands to cover her ears, the war started with her word. "Brand!"


The cataclysmic roar of a full broadside, followed by a sheet of flame and a cloud of thick smoke crashed out from the 'Sverige', a battle cry that was echoed by her sister ships down the battle line.


The Imperial Federation of Regna Loreau

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