HMS Turbulent vs Pilamo: Prologue to Conflict

It was now a week into the month of Janibar.

Things went well since the past week, the meeting with the Emperor of Veridora, the request for a technology exchange between the Veridoran Naval Research and Development Department and the Crew of the HMS Turbulent, Forming brotherhoods between the Veridoran Naval Servicemen and the British Servicemen, just to name a few.

These foreigners, who were taken in by the Admiral, who just so happened to be at the Oli Naval Base, one of the nearest and largest naval bases in the Empire of Veridora to the British Isles, located just east of the Capital, Vol. They were very lucky not to have been found out by active patrols by the Germans once they conquered London in under 4 hours.

German Efficiency the likes of which the British had never seen before was etched into their very minds, the sight of such horrific machines tearing apart the populace when they first took up arms against them, a sight many Allied soldiers stuck in Britain saw especially the Royal Princesses who saw that sight a few kilometers away from Buckingham Palace.

They were truly lucky not have been spotted by the German Patrols with their 'drohne'

But just like a diamond hidden under a pile of coal they struck it once they kept digging, it was due to the constant displacement caused by those patrols that they were able to sail towards Veridora. This was a time of uncertainty for the Britons who crewed the large submersible.

A constant game of minefield where they had to maneuver around the drohne and their loud whirring from their propellers, with just the sound they kept detecting from above them, the submersible was able to get to Veridora just like that.

But back to the present, it was already a week into the month they called Janibar but when translated it was January, it took a while for them to adjust to the calendar and the different timezone overall, their watches weren't as useful before as well, but was resolved once they learned that Veridora was 8 hours ahead of Britain.

A far cry from their modest lodgings, unfit for a royal, they were being introduced to an interior designer and an architect sent from the Capital Vol to make the most comfortable quarters for the stranded Britons.

But it would take a while before they could live in those lodgings, so they still had to stay in their previous one.

Men could be seen working by chopping the wood, manning the construction equipment, and doing other sorts of work just outside of the build site, just off the side where the grand display of the Veridoran Imperial 1st Fleet could be seen, just anchored.

The sight of two beautiful ladies watched the sun slowly cast down, leaving behind a bright autumn color, painting the once blue seas in the same vibrant and contrasting reddish orange color.

It was a peaceful sight for the Royal Sisters, who have been entrusted the continued resistance of the British People and the conquered nations of Europe, like a beacon of light at the end of a rickety tunnel, they were their only hope outside of the Old World.

"Princess Elizabeth! Where do you want to place these tables?" An average-looking man who looked like he was in his 20s asked the young princess.

"Ah! I'll be right there, Mr. Omair," she said, walking away from her sister, who was just watching the large metal ships anchored in the deep port.

Now it was just Margaret who stood on the stone, it felt rather uneventful now that the tension between them and the Veridorans, whom Margaret viewed as a mix of Prussian and English Influences with how much they loved the ocean, the large metal fortresses that floated above the autumn colored water was a testament to that thought.

The beautiful princess took a deep breath, inhale, held it in for a second, exhale. 'A lot has changed for us; now we even have funding from their navy' Margaret thought to herself as she kept watching the view before her with a neutral expression.

She heard footsteps behind her as she just took in the view "Oh, how are you, your highness, Princess Margaret?" A voice she was familiar with spoke to her; she turned around to meet his gaze, and sure enough, it was him.

"I am fine, Captain Linton; how're the meetings with his Imperial Highness and Admiral Elric?" She asked the dashing Captain Linton.

"Ah. They've been asking about how our torpedoes worked and how they were able to be submerged and move rapidly. For a magical world, I would've thought they had magic for manipulating water or something." Commenting about the lack of creativity with such an unlimited amount of potential waiting to be tapped into, these Britons simply called this power 'magic'.

Margaret nods at this comment. "To be honest, yes, I had the same thought." Margaret pushed her chin back as she thought about it. "It really is strange."

A moment of silence passed between the two Britons; just besides them were the crashing of the waves against the concrete port and the autumn-colored skies without a cloud as far as the eye could see.

Linton scratched his chin for a bit; he could feel his face warming up at the sight of the beautiful princess Margaret taking in the gorgeous sight, like a painting painted by Leonardo da Vinci. He couldn't help but look at her and ask, "Would you like to take a walk with me, your highness?" The captain asked in a courteous tone; he could still feel his face burning up from embarrassment.

Margaret smiled softly. "Yes, I'd love to," she uttered as she went down the large stone she was standing on earlier.

Besides the two, there was the setting sun; it was already the end of the day in this world.

The smell of the salty winds that wafted in their direction from who knows where made the young princess's hair seemingly float, and she chuckled bashfully as another wind went under and almost lifted her yellow breezy dress skirt. Margaret luckily avoided that embarrassment.

But as the two were enjoying each other's company, they heard something dreadful.

Suddenly, alarms were blaring; this was a siren, something the Brits knew all too well back in the early days of that gruesome and unjust war, the bombing campaign of Britain.

Men in white naval uniforms emerged from the lodgings to their right with rifles and staves; some even held bags full of a glowing, strange liquid kept tightly in see-through bottles, similar to plastic bottles in nature.

All of them rushed towards the warships with stern expressions with Admiral Elric just behind the mass congregation of people.

"We should head back to our lodgings, Your Highness!" The captain ran straight for it, with his hand firmly gripped on the hand of the young princess maiden. It made her feel like a little child again as she remembered those little adventures in the gardens of Buckingham Palace.

In only a short moment, they were right at the doorstep of the renovated lodgings. It was twice as large compared to the lodgings they previously stayed in, but now wasn't the time to think about it.

"Is everyone here?" The captain barges in, his once aloof expression turning serious as the alarms in the background keep blaring.

"I think so, cap'n; what're your orders?" The man with the Irish accent asked, ready to serve their highnesses with his equally stern expression and his straight body that stood steadfast in military fashion, the culture of their naval academy, and the pride of the United Kingdom as the Isles that sailed and ruled the world.

Linton looked at every single one of his men that stood shoulder to shoulder, had straight backs, and were wearing their proper attire, something he missed looking at.

"We'll help our brothers face the Pilamoans." Everyone was confused by this statement. Face the Pilamoans already? Sure, they were teaching the Veridorans how to make the torpedoes, but they are still a long way from domestically producing these deadly munitions, and they are nowhere near ready to produce the HMS Turbulent.

But the captain didn't seem fazed by this revelation; in fact, he showed off a scary smile.

"Well, of course you feel that, but we won't lose." The men were even more confused by this: how could they even dream of winning against an overwhelming enemy that has technologies equal to the First World War? What if they had their own submersibles and Veridora was just an exception to this? They might have Anti-submarine warfare doctrines or they might have a magical version of the submersible? No one could deny this fact.

One of the men raised his hand. "What is it, Weapons Officer Davis?"

The man with glasses cleared his throat before proceeding "We have in stock a total of 10 HE Mark VIIIs, 4 AP Mark VIIIs, 5 experimental contact Mark XVIs, and 10 boxes of AA munitions for the AA guns; how the hell are we supposed to face an enemy that has wyverns and WW1 warships? It would be suicidal! And this isn't even mentioning the other possibilities of this to go south!" This was really a suicide attack, but the captain only smirks at this statement.

"We will only be firing our torpedoes, but save the Mark XVIs, just think of this as a live-fire demonstration." Another wave of frustration permeated the air around the personnel of the HMS Turbulent; there was no way they could win a battle against the Pilamoans if they had their own submarines. The calendars around them all say 1845, yet they have technologies from around 1914 to 1920 in varying fields, such as their cars.

"That doesn't help the situation at all Captain" Simply stating this fact was none other than Weapon Officer Davis again.

"No need to worry, I have been assured in my meeting with Admiral Elric that the Pilamoans do not have submersibles and they have no countermeasures against us or the sea creatures we killed on our way. In fact, we could even go for a swim right now and only encounter fish."

Everyone seemed to calm down now as sighs of relief passed through the bodies of the personnel, but they were still participating in a battlefield, where anything could happen that could get them killed.

"So are we going or what?" Another voice from the formation spoke.

"Yeah, let's show the Veridorans we are proud Britons," another chimed in.

Despite the direct opposition of the Weapons Officer and a few others, before the Princesses and the Captain knew it, every single one of the men other than those mentioned was roaring to go up against the Pilamoans. Maybe it is their lust for adventure or some other thing that drives them to go back into the unfamiliar waters full of mystique.

But it was just a natural calling for these men.

"Let's show this world what the HMS Turbulent is made off!" Linton shouted, the men shouted back and went to the Submarine.

_________

Pilamoan Task Force "Darting Devils"

The calm open waters were home to the men who operated these floating and towering battleships with their iron-clad hulls as they sailed proudly in the center of the massive formation of a hundred ships, all sailing in uniform in a show of naval power and unity, a majority of them being battlecruisers and destroyers with only 10 battleships and a wyvern carrier, and yet, despite the lack of carrier support and battleships, it was a formidable opponent against the Veridoran Imperial 1st Fleet commanded by Admiral Elric Smythe.

His sworn rival.

From the commanding vantage point of the bridge, the crew operated the massive battleship with precision and expertise. Among them, a particular man held a pair of binoculars, observing the waters around them. As he focused on his task, another crew member approached him, delivering news of their impending approach to the Veridoran-held Islands of Poramu.

"We will be approaching the Veridoran-held Islands of Poramu, it's already more than likely their swiftwings have spotted us," the crew member reported as he looked at the fellow with binoculars for guidance.

Admiral Renard released his grip on the binoculars, allowing them to hang from his neck by a wire. "Stick to the plan; let them get their 1st fleet out, and we shall engage in glorious battle." With a confident demeanor and a wide grin, he responded.

"But we will lose our initiative, Admiral Renard; our skirmishes with the other fleets and our consecutive wins will only be challenged if we keep announcing our presence to the Veridoran scum."

"Makes things more exciting, no? And besides having longer-ranged batteries and constant wyvern support from our carrier, alongside multiple arrays of complex and modern defense systems and firing systems, we are essentially a moving fortress sailing the high seas." Admiral Renard dismissed the concerns, exuding confidence in their superiority.

"I believe we should still practice caution, Admiral Renard; nothing good will come out if we keep underestimating the enemy; they might have a new weapon."

"Enough of this; we have informants across their filthy empire; if Naval Command knew about this weapon, we would of course be more cautious, but nothing has come up yet; here, let me hear it from the radio itself." He forcefully took the headphones from the radio operator, hoping to find reassurance that no new enemy weapons posed a threat. However, the radio remained silent, confirming his belief that they had not yet encountered any such developments.

Sensing the assistant's lingering worries, Admiral Renard proposed a solution. "How about I request an additional carrier and a few more battlecruisers? That should alleviate your concerns, right?" he suggested, seeking to reassure his assistant.

The assistant nodded, indicating his agreement with the proposal. However, a sense of unease lingered beneath the surface, reminding them all that caution was essential in the face of a worthy adversary. The impending clash with the Veridoran forces held both excitement and trepidation as they prepared to unleash the might of their formidable fleet upon the enemy.

With only a delay of two hours, the additional carrier group finally arrived, their arrival made possible by the faster consumption and conversion of mana rods in the engines. This technological advancement accelerated the propellers of the iron-hulled fortresses that floated upon the seas. The sight before them was nothing short of awe-inspiring-a navy of such magnitude and power that even in the standards of the Western World was simply labelled a 'formidable fleet'.

It was clear that the scale of this navy was a result of the Medinan-Meriavelan-Pilamoan Technology Trade Agreement, a pact that facilitated the construction of ships at an astonishing rate. The agreement not only reduced construction costs by 5% but also granted the Pilamoans access to more refined engines from Medina and mana rods from Meriavel. These two nations, known for their significant demi-human populations, played a crucial role in supplying the necessary resources and expertise.

The impact of this trade agreement was evident as the Pilamoan fleet amassed with unprecedented speed, a testament to the collaboration and ingenuity fostered through intercultural cooperation. The infusion of advanced technology and resources allowed the Pilamoans to bolster their naval forces, exceeding the expectations of their adversaries.

As the ships sailed in formation, their towering presence sent a shiver down the spines of those who witnessed their might. The combination of iron-hulled fortresses, sophisticated engines, and the formidable firepower they possessed transformed the Pilamoan Task Force 'Darting Devils' admiralled by Renard Storne into a force to be reckoned with. The stage was set for a clash between the formidable Veridoran Imperial 1st Fleet and the resolute Pilamoan armada-a battle that would shape the destiny of these nations and the outcome of the conflict that raged between them.

_______

Poramu, Northern-most Island.

As the early night settled over the islands of Poramu.

The scene was one of preparation and fortification. Stretching across the walled island were numerous lines of defensive platforms, bristling with AA batteries, imposing artillery emplacements, and an extensive network of mortar and machine gun nests strategically positioned along the coast. The once serene island now bears the scars of impending conflict, with hundreds of naval mines dotting the surrounding waters.

Amidst this backdrop, an elderly man stood, observing his men toiling diligently, constructing foxholes, defensive bunkers, and dugouts. He knew the odds were stacked against them once the Pilamoan Navy arrived, and a sense of resignation settled upon him. Yet, this island held great significance for the Empire, having been forcefully taken by the Pilamoans back then.

The old man took a modest sip from his mug of hot chocolate, allowing himself a moment of respite.

"I might actually croak before I meet those sub-humans," he chuckled wryly to himself. He had never encountered a Pilamoan in person, only having seen their images in school textbooks and heard stories from his parents and grandparents during his childhood. In his mind, they were nothing short of demons, while he saw himself as the noble defender fighting for his beloved home and family. The Pilamoans represented an enemy that aimed to undermine his resolve and destroy everything he held dear as a proud citizen of the Empire.

Suddenly, a young man burst into the old man's room, his face glistening with sweat as if he had just taken a shower. He gasped for breath as he delivered his report with urgency. "Report! We will be receiving support from the 1st Fleet! They accepted our call for support!" he exclaimed, his voice carrying a mix of relief and excitement.

The old man's eyes lit up with a warm smile as he gestured for the young private to take a seat in front of him. "You've done well, Private. Take a moment to catch your breath," he said reassuringly.

The news of support from the 1st Fleet offered a glimmer of hope amidst the impending onslaught. The old man's heart swelled with gratitude, knowing that their efforts to defend their home had not gone unnoticed. As they awaited the arrival of the fleet, there was a renewed sense of determination in the air, bolstered by the knowledge that they would not face the approaching storm alone.

The cards were now in play as more and more players joined the table of this conflict. A grand display of technological might and prowess would take place on the doorstep of the little islands just a few kilometers away from Pilamo collectively named Poramu.