Waste

Standing with his hands clasped behind his back and staring out of the viewports, Captain Blake shook his head at the sights of ongoing destruction and death. He watched a flash of fire and smoke erupt from the long barrel guns that were sited down below the decks and turned away. "Has the triangulation been completed?"

"Yes, Captain," Trism replied and handed over a data slate. "Analysts shows a 92% chance that the Princess is not located inside the Iron Kingdom."

The decks shook slightly and a rainbow sheen distorted the view for a moment. Blake nodded and he waved at the distant dots on the horizon and said, "This is taking too long and wasting our time."

"Order the Vectors to clear the path for us," Blake said as he turned back to the view.

"Aye, Sir!"

-----

"Vector Lead, this is the Old Ugly," The comms crackled over the humming of electronics and muffled engines. "Requesting for fire support, over."

"This is Vector Lead," The flight captain replied as he sat on the command seat of the tiny nose bridge with four other crew members. "Roger!"

"The Captain wants the path cleared before him, cleared," The comms crackled loud enough for everyone in the tiny bridge to hear. "Requesting Vector to grant his wish. Over."

The flight captain of Vector Lead grinned as he replied back, "Vector Lead, roger! Tell the Captain to enjoy the light show! Out!"

"Alright, you heard the boss!" The flight captain said as he rubbed his hands together. "Tell Vector One Zero Three and One Zero Four to target the starboard side. Vector One Zero Five will take the port side with us."

Orders flowed out towards the other three V - 1 Phoenix flying in formation that was circling lazily in the air like vultures. Their operational altitude was so much higher than what the Old World airships could ever imagine that none of the observers or spotters even noticed the wing ships above them.

Armoured plating slid open on the side of the hulls painted with non reflective coating. Cannon barrels of 88 mm calibre poked out from the exposed weapon ports and tilted downwards at the unsuspecting fleet of airships. Autoloaders cranked noisily inside the hull as shell after shell in the ready racks were connected to the feeding trays. Gun crews fussed over the weapon systems as they checked to ensure everything was running smoothly and operational before stepping back.

The weapons officers and specialists onboard the wing ships sat behind the weapon controls, noted the lights of their weapons readiness turn green and they waited impatiently for the command to fire. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the comms in their headset crackled.

"All Vectors, you are cleared to engage!"

-----

84th Righteous Fleet of Ramuh, Flagship Valor

"L- Lord Bishop!" A senior officer went down on one knee and reported. "T- The heretic ship has... has destroyed more than half the fleet with its wicked magic!"

"Anymore... the 84th will cease to function as the Judge's arm of justice!" He made his protest. "We must fall back and request for more reinforcements to fight against this evil!"

"Retreat?" The Lord Bishop flung the Book of Law and Order in his hand at the officer. The thick tome smashed into the face of the shocked officer and blood dripped down from his broken nose. "Cowards! Your cowardness shall be a sin upon your very soul! How dare you face the Judge once you enter his Halls of Judgement?"

"This shall be your first and final warning! Do not dare speak of retreat against evil! We are his Sword! We are his Shield! We are his Law! We are his Order!" The Lord Bishop roared and the crew chorused after him. "We are his Judgement!"

Suddenly, there was a mighty boom and the decks shook wildly causing many to stumble and fall. Sirens and steam whistles went off and the entire ship suddenly lurched to one side again with a loud boom, forcing the crew to fall off their feet again.

"What is the name of Justice is going on?!" The Lord Bishop demanded as he supported himself to the command throne. The decks were slanted to an angle, making it difficult for one to stand.

"W- We are under attack!" A bridge crew cried out. "The magic barriers are failing!"

"Impossible!" The Lord Bishop half crawled and climbed his way across the slanted decks and stared out of the viewports. What he saw made him shocked beyond words. Streaks of fire could be seen coming from the heavens and they struck down on his ships. The magic barriers of his ships could barely even hold out for a while as he saw how the beams of heavenly flames melt the magic barriers as if they were wet parchment.

He watched as one by one, the remaining ships of the 84th Righteous of Ramuh being smitten down until a ray of flames came shooting down from the heavens at his ship. The decks shook wildly again and he ignored the urgent cries of his crew and officers and instead, he knelt down and placed his hands together in prayer and looked up.

"How beautiful!"

-----

The Old Ugly

Blake turned away from the view and returned to his chair and asked, "Damages to the ship?"

"Minimum, Sir," Trism replied and handed over a report. "Several injuries to the crew, mostly due to falls and unsecured equipment."

"The enemy did not even manage to breach our magical barriers," Trism added. "And... the way is clear again."

"Good, bring us down to Condition yellow and have the crew rotate out for some rest," Blake ordered. "Continue with our current heading and speed."

"Yes, Sir!" Trism replied and carried out his orders.

Blake looked at the tablet in his hands, scrolling through each department's action reports and by the time he finished the reports, the Old Ugly had departed the region of the aerial battle.

"Captain, we are approaching within visual range of Group Bravo and Charlie," The sensors officer reported from his station. "Both groups are headed towards our location."

"Order the Vectors to clear them out," Blake replied. "We have no time to deal with them!"

"Yes, sir!" Reports soon started coming from the sensor operators as radar readings changed. The Protectorate airships attacked from above were confused and their formations disrupted as shells after shells obliterated their barriers and hammered their hulls to scrap.

"Captain, UNS Icarus and UNS Daedalus are just an hour away from rendezvous," Trism reported. "They are not encountering any resistance at the moment but are seeing a lot of Protectorate movements on the ground."

"Ground troops?" Blake asked as he stepped over to the comms station.

"They got ground troops and what appears to be civilians or prisoners," Trism replied as he transferred the transmitted imagery and data over to his tablet. "Seems like they are moving people across the borders to their lands."

"But the scale of this attack is just too large to be just a simple snatch and grab of resources," Blake mused. "This is more than just an invasion."

"I agree, Sir," Trism nodded. "Intel has estimated there are as many as four hundred ships involved from the Protectorate side and close to a half a million ground troops."

"The Protectorate seemed pretty serious," Blake frowned. "I wonder what made them go all out..."

"The Iron King's illness maybe?" Trism suggested. "Or the missing Crown Prince and the resulting power struggle causing the split?"

"Could be, but then again, the King is more or less healed by Dr. Sharon," Blake's frown deepened. "But why is there no news of him? If he makes an appearance, it would be easy to rally what remaining forces and stop the advance of the Protectorate."

"Hmm..."

-----

The Old World, The Iron Kingdom, Mortling's Hold

The reorganized and resupplied 9th Iron Fleet slowly departed away from the walls and towers of the abandoned Mortling's Hold. Thousands of stone weight of supplies and equipment that were unable to be moved, were put to the torch. The columns of smoke heralded their departure and even provided a form of concealment for the Fleet as they continued their retreat deeper into the Iron Kingdom.

The surrounding towns and villages had slowly emptied and a small number stubbornly remaining as many fled on merchant and sky fish trawling vessels that were press ganged by the local Iron Kingdom army. Others that fled on foot, headed towards the nearby forested hills to hide in caves, escorted by whatever remaining ground troops that were unable to board the airships while the rest travelled down the royal highway on carriages or on foot.

Prince Herod stared out of the viewport at the snaking lines of people below. Despite having been warned beforehand, there were still many people on the roads. Too many people in fact, that he was certain that they could not outrun the approaching Protectorate.

Many would die and those would be the lucky ones, for those captured alive by the Protectorate would have to undergo a cleansing of their souls by appointed priests. They would be whipped, forced to recite their Book of Law and Order by heart and undergo redemption rites after rites, until the Priests deemed their souls no longer tinted with sin and disorder.

The rites ensured many would perish in suffering in the process. It was a form of torture, made famous by the Protectorate, that many of the other nations scorned on. As he thought of this, he wondered what the other nations were doing.

"You there," He called out to an officer of the command staff. "Are there any news regarding the other nations and kingdoms?"

"There are some troop movements from the Cartel along their borders," The staff officer replied after checking with his subordinates. "There is no news of any kind from the other nations."

Prince Herod frowned as he thought in his mind. Why would there be no news regarding the other powers? Such a big attack by the Protectorate would have prompt the other nations into action against the theological nation! They would not allow such a thing to happen as it would change the power balance and allow the Protectorate to increase their strength!

As he was absorbed in his thoughts, there was a sudden commotion. Reports from the observers on the top decks had come down and suddenly everyone in the bridge was all tensed up. "Protectorate ships sighted on the horizon!"

Sky General Bundberg appeared shortly with some of his senior officers in the bridge. He looked refreshed as if he had gotten some sleep and even a shower. He stood calmly at his usual spot and looked out of the viewports while listening to updates from his aides on the current situation.

"How far out are the Protectorate to reach the rear of the people?" He asked his staff.

"Less than half the turn of the sandglass, my Lord," The aide replied. "I- If they ignore them, at their fastest speed, they would come into cannon range in three turns of the glass..."

Sky General Bundberg nodded before he issued his next orders, "Have all ships steam ahead full."

"Prep the launch of all our remaining Fairies for combat!" He referred to the tiny reverse teardrop shaped attack ornithopter in service by the Iron Kingdom forces. "Ask for volunteers to crew them..."

"Are you planning to stall the Protectorate with the Fairies?" Prince Herod asked as he stood next to the Sky General having heard his orders to the staff.

"Yes, your Highness," Sky General Bundberg replied. "It might buy a little more time for... everyone..."

"The crew of those would not return..." Prince Herod pointed out. "Did you not abandon the common people to save our weapons and soldiers? Why now?"

Sky General Bundberg let out a soft sigh before he replied, "It's the least I can do for the common people.."

"And the Fairies... they are expendable..."