Summoning America

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– –

"WHAT?!" Marix yelled, sending a lamp crashing into a wall. The room fell silent as all eyes turned to the Chancellor. Karlmann, seated near the head of the table, kept his face impassive, but he could feel the tension in the air. It was like a ticking time bomb – a fuse about to blow.

 

Marix paced the room, his face red. "Venstrom… surrendered? Surrendered?! Just like that?"

 

Karlmann already knew where this was headed. He took a breath before speaking. "Chancellor, the Second Conquest Fleet was outmatched. The Americans--"

 

"Silence! Americans this, Americans that!" Marix snapped, cutting him off. "Excuses, excuses, EXCUSES! Venstrom had a duty to fight! To die for the Empire if necessary!"

 

Karlmann bit his tongue. He was getting tired of Marix's disrespect and plain incompetence. To die for the Empire? For what gain? 'Dying for the Empire' entailed some sort of benefit - something to make the sacrifice worth it. What good would it do to send a fleet into the jaws of American missiles? These men are the Empire; without them, Gra Valkan society cannot function. It was clear to him now that Marix either couldn't understand this, or refused to acknowledge this.

 

Karlmann's mind drifted to the countless families that would have been shattered, the children left fatherless, the workers erased from the economy, had Venstrom followed Marix's twisted logic. The Chancellor spoke of honor and duty, but where was the honor in needless sacrifice? Where was the duty in abandoning one's responsibilities to nation and family?

 

Karlmann could see the other officers exchanging uneasy glances. General Siegs, across the table, met his gaze, his eyes conveying a silent message: 'Tread carefully.' Karlmann nodded almost imperceptibly. He didn’t need to be told twice.

"Chancellor," Karlmann tried again, keeping his tone measured, "Admiral Venstrom made a decision based on the tactical reality. Continuing to fight against such odds would have been a needless waste of lives and resources."

 

Marix slammed his fist on the table, making everyone jump. "Tactical reality? We are the Gra Valkas Empire! We don't surrender!"

 

If Karlmann could facepalm – hell, if he could call out Marix for his idiocy right here and now, he would. His illogical words were a testament to his delusion; utterly disgusting. Karlmann could see it reflected in the faces of the other officers - the growing realization that their leader was disconnected from reality, the growing disappointment in the man that they had put their faith in. Marix's rhetoric might appeal to the hardcore nationalists, but here, among the military's top brass, it rang hollow.

Karlmann could feel his own frustration rising. Marix's words were the rallying cries of a demagogue, not the reasoned analysis of a military leader. Did he truly not understand the gravity of the situation? Or did he simply not care, as long as he could maintain his grip on power?

"Chancellor, we need to assess our position objectively," Karlmann said, trying a different approach. "Losing the Second Conquest Fleet significantly alters the strategic balance. We need to adapt our plans accordingly."

 

Marix waved a hand dismissively. "Our plan is to crush the enemy. To show them the might of the Gra Valkas Empire."

 

"And how do you propose we do that, Chancellor?" The question came from Admiral Tauris, his voice tight with controlled anger. "With what ships? What men? Venstrom's fleet represented a significant portion of our naval strength. We can't simply wish new ships into existence!"

 

A murmur of agreement rippled through the room. Karlmann could sense the tide turning, the officers' faith in Marix's leadership beginning to crack. It was a dangerous moment - the Chancellor's authority had never been openly challenged like this before.

 

Karlmann's eyes darted to Siegs, a brief flicker of communication passing between them. They both knew they were walking a razor's edge. Push too hard, and Marix might lash out. But let him go unchecked, and the Empire would surely bleed.

 

"Chancellor, with all due respect," Karlmann said, choosing his words carefully, "we can't ignore the facts on the ground. The Americans have proven to be a formidable adversary. We need to be strategic in how we proceed."

 

Marix's eyes narrowed. "Are you questioning my leadership, Karlmann?"

 

Karlmann could feel the eyes of every officer in the room on him. He knew he was treading on dangerous ground. But he also knew that someone had to speak truth to power, no matter the consequences.

 

"No, Chancellor. I'm trying to provide a clear-eyed assessment of our situation, as is my duty."

 

The room was silent for a long moment. Karlmann could see the calculations running behind Marix's eyes, the Chancellor weighing his options.

 

Finally, Marix spoke. "Admiral Venstrom's surrender is a stain on the honor of the Gra Valkas Empire. Shameful; dishonorable; putrid. Surrender after losing a single fleet carrier?” Marix scoffed. “A stain… one that must be erased. We will respond with the full might of our military until the enemy is crushed beneath our boots."

 

As Marix's words echoed in the room, Karlmann couldn't help but wonder: was this the beginning of the end? The Chancellor's grip on power had always seemed unassailable, but now, faced with a crisis of this magnitude, the cracks were starting to show.

Marix continued with his audacious rhetoric, his tone more fervent. "We must strike back immediately," he declared, his eyes gleaming with a feverish intensity. "The Third Conquest Fleet will engage the American forces directly. We will show them the true might of the Gra Valkas Empire!"

 

Karlmann felt a chill run down his spine. Engaging the Americans head-on was a fool's errand, a recipe for certain defeat. He glanced at Siegs, seeing his own concerns mirrored in the general's eyes.

 

But before Karlmann could voice his objections, Marix continued, his voice taking on a more measured tone. "In the meantime, we must solidify our position in the Oster Plains. By entrenching our forces there, we can bog down the American reinforcements as they attempt to make landfall in Mykal and Otaheit."

 

Karlmann paused, considering the proposition. It was a sound strategy, one that could potentially delay the American advance and buy them valuable time. He could see some of the other officers nodding in agreement, their earlier doubts momentarily assuaged by the Chancellor's seemingly rational plan.

 

Marix turned to Siegs, his gaze sharp and commanding. "General Siegs, while the Americans are occupied in the Oster Plains, I want you to intensify our operations along the Malmund Front. Press the advantage, and do not relent until the enemy is crushed."

 

Siegs nodded, his expression guarded. "As you command, Chancellor."

 

Karlmann watched the exchange, a knot forming in his gut. Marix's plan, while strategically sound in some aspects, still carried immense risks. Overextending their forces, especially in the face of American technological superiority, could prove disastrous.

 

But as he looked around the room, Karlmann could see that the tide had turned. The officers who had previously expressed doubts were now murmuring their assent, swayed by the Chancellor's confident demeanor and seemingly sound tactics.

 

Karlmann knew he had to tread carefully. Openly opposing Marix now, in front of the entire high command, would be political suicide. He needed to bide his time, to find a way to subtly steer the Empire away from the brink of disaster.

 

He cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the room. "Chancellor, while I agree that we must take decisive action, we should also consider the long-term implications of our strategies. Overextending our forces could leave us vulnerable to counterattacks. Three conquest fleets have been, effectively, wiped out. This is not… sustainable."

 

Marix's eyes narrowed, his gaze boring into Karlmann. "Are you suggesting we cower in the face of the enemy, Karlmann? That we let them dictate the terms of this war?"  

 

Karlmann held his ground, his voice steady. "Not at all, Chancellor. I merely propose that we proceed with caution, and that we consider all possible outcomes before committing our forces."

 

For a long moment, the room was silent. Then, slowly, Marix nodded. "Very well, Karlmann. I will take your… counsel under advisement. But make no mistake – we will not rest until the Gra Valkas Empire emerges victorious."

It seemed that Marix had at least some semblance of rationality. The thought of explaining further crossed his mind. If he could convince Marix to abandon his suicidal objectives along the Muan coastlines, it would save countless lives – and countless ships. It wasn’t the best idea, and he was almost surely pushing his luck, but he had to at least try.

"Chancellor," Karlmann said carefully, "while I agree that we must do everything in our power to counter the American threat, we must also be realistic about our capabilities. Overextending ourselves, or making promises we cannot keep, will only lead to disappointment and demoralization among our forces."

 

Marix's gaze snapped to Karlmann, his eyes narrowing. "Realistic? I will tell you what is realistic, Karlmann. Victory, at any cost. That is the only reality that matters."

 

Would he able to get through to him? He held Marix's gaze, refusing to be cowed. "And what of the cost to our own people, Chancellor? What of the lives that will be lost, the families that will be shattered, in pursuit of an impossible goal?"

 

For a moment, Marix's mask slipped, and Karlmann saw a flicker of doubt, of uncertainty, in his eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by the familiar rage and fervor.

 

"The Gra Valkan people are strong, Karlmann. They will endure any hardship, make any sacrifice, in the name of victory. And they will thank us for it, when the Gra Valkan flag flies over every corner of this world."

 

The meeting ended shortly after, with Marix demanding regular updates on the progress of Kreuger's research and the other officers hastily agreeing to redouble their efforts. As the officers dispersed, Karlmann and Siegs exchanged a brief, knowing glance. They had already arranged to meet later that evening, in a location far from the prying eyes of Marix's loyalists. Karlmann gave a subtle nod, confirming that the plan was still in motion.

 

Karlmann returned to his office, his mind buzzing with the details of the upcoming meeting. He tried to focus on his daily duties, but the weight of what was to come kept intruding on his thoughts. He found himself double-checking every report, every requisition form, as if the slightest mistake might somehow give away his intentions.

 

As the day wore on, Karlmann's nerves began to fray. He caught himself glancing at the clock every few minutes, willing the hands to move faster. He needed to get out of here, to put his plans into motion before the crushing pressure of his own doubts and fears consumed him.

 

Finally, as evening began to settle over the city, Karlmann made his move. He slipped out of his office, taking care to avoid the usual corridors and thoroughfares. Instead, he wound his way through a maze of back alleys and side streets, his footsteps echoing off the damp cobblestones.

 

The route was circuitous and at times confusing, but that was the point. Karlmann couldn't afford to take any chances, not with so much at stake. He knew that Marix had spies everywhere, eyes and ears in every corner of the city. Sure, many of his supporters were simple patriots, fooled into thinking he was right at one point, but how many of them were maniacs like him? One wrong move, one careless mistake, and everything he had worked for could come crashing down around him.

 

As he walked, Karlmann found himself scanning the shadows, his heart pounding at every unexpected sound or movement. Was that footstep behind him just another passerby, or was it one of Marix's thugs, tracking his every move? The uncertainty gnawed at him, but he forced himself to keep moving, to trust in the precautions he had taken.

 

After what felt like hours, Karlmann finally arrived at the designated meeting place, a nondescript warehouse on the outskirts of the city. He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves. This was it, the moment of truth. Everything he had done, every risk he had taken, had led him to this point.

 

With a final glance over his shoulder, Karlmann slipped inside, pulling the door shut behind him. The warehouse was dimly lit, the air heavy with the scent of dust and old machinery. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he could make out the figures of Siegs and the other officers.

 

As he reached the group, Karlmann took a moment to look each of them in the eye, to see the determination and the fear that warred within them. These were good men, loyal soldiers who had dedicated their lives to serving the Gra Valkas Empire. And now, they were being asked to turn against their own leader – again – in the name of a higher loyalty.

 

Siegs stepped forward, breaking the tension with a curt nod. "I'm glad you made it, Arnalt. We were starting to wonder if you'd been held up."

 

Karlmann shook his head, a humorless smile tugging at his lips. "No, just had to take the scenic route. Can't be too careful these days."

 

He turned to face the rest of the group, his expression sobering. "We’ve made a mistake once, trusting Marix. Let’s make sure we’re not too late to fix it."

 

The others murmured their agreement, guilt-stricken faces nodding along.

 

"Before we begin," Siegs said, his voice cutting through the tense silence, "I'd like to introduce our newest member. Some of you may be familiar with him: one of the top dogs in the IBC, Marcellon Skaldottir."