The Gamer Chapter 1484 – Naval Company (Patreon)

John stood on a balcony of the Fusion Fortress. Reddish black metal towered above ground greyed from constant drilling and weapons testing. Walls of the same metal stretched in every direction, wrapping around the various installations of the Military District. Only the Barracks and the Military Harbour were beyond them, isolating those areas in fresh green. The various vessels that Fusion had built or taken over were sitting in the water, some of them drifting as sailors freshened up their practices.

After a few seconds of observing his soldiers do their thing in the distance, John turned around and entered the conference room located in this tower. Nia was already sitting there, as were Chemilia and Ted. The couple were absent-mindedly inspecting their robotic limbs. To this day, John could not offer them a better cure, but this workaround served them as fine as the contact lenses did him.

The door to the room opened and two more people entered. One was Elu, the elderly member of the Hidden Tradition. The deepest wrinkles on her face were those that came from her steady smile. Loosely fitting clothes, decorated heavily with feathers, mixed with the way her hair was tied into a knot to create that typical ‘benevolent grandmother’ appearance. That she wore traditionalist native dress did not change that feeling much.

Behind her was a dark-skinned man. Appearance wise, he was in his mid-thirties, and unlike most Abyssals John dealt with these days, the appearance matched the actual age. His black hair was shaved short, in the typical, military fashion. Like Chemilia and Ted, he wore the deep blue uniform of Fusion soldiers outside of combat. The design of the shoulders and the chest area was subtly different, betraying a lower rank.

While Elu walked to the conference table without hesitation, the last arrival saluted in the doorway. “Sir, may I ask if I have been called here by mistake?”

“No, James, you’ve been summoned on purpose,” Nia was the one to respond. “Take a seat.”

The commanding tone and drilling blue eyes of the pariah had the soldier follow the command with a blank face. John could still sense the confusion within, so he sent the man a calming smile, before explaining, “You’ve continued to stand out, since the Iron Domain. Further promotions are being considered.”

James had distinguished himself during the invasion of the Kingdom by repeatedly using his body as a shield in a fight the volunteer forces of the military had against a group of Ironborn. Ultimately, the volunteers had contributed little to the success of the operation, if anything at all, but the battle had still been fought and the bravery had still been acknowledged.

The insinuation of John’s words reached the mind of the man quickly. He looked around the table, taking it all in. Pink-haired Chemilia, renowned for her logistical operations, the stoic Ted, a leader on the field, the smiling Elu, protector of her home country, and the ever-staring Nia, an enigma that led the truly powerful individuals of the army. Those were the current four generals of Fusion’s military, complete with a shorthand of the reputation they cultivated by virtue of their accomplishments.

To be in the same room, to sit at the same table, the insinuation was clear. Still, James asked, “I am being promoted to general?”

“You are being considered,” John told him.

“It would be easier if you were stronger,” Nia added, tonelessly.

James pulled his shoulders back slightly. He was tall and well built, but he was still the weakest person in the room, having only recently reached level 43. A notable increase since the Iron Domain, where he had been level 35, yet still a margin below Ted, who was level 81, and the weakest of the generals. Chemilia had reached level 90 recently, Elu had dropped slightly from 207 to 205, while John and Nia both were in the low 600s. The discrepancy was extreme and unavoidable.

“If I’m being honest, Nia is correct.” The Gamer decided to just be straight with it. “Your personal power makes things difficult. As you are well aware, the average soldier can reach level 25 just by regularly visiting the Training Hall for a few months. You have more potential than that, but not much more. I would prefer it if my generals were at least level 50, if only because they will need to be capable of defending themselves. This is a role that will put a target on your back.”

The dark-skinned man’s face did not change at all upon hearing that. “As a soldier, I always have a target on me. Better they aim at me than the Federation.”

“The heroism of the common man,” John responded, letting the admiration for it flow into his voice openly. “A point in your favour. There is value in having someone not exceptionally powerful as a leading figure. No, that doesn’t mean that the promotion is being considered because you’re weak. Again, I would rather have someone more powerful. Simply put: out of those available, you’re the most engaged and among the most capable. Your performance during the wargames has also been noted. All together, that makes you the most suitable candidate for promotion. Fusion needs more leadership.”

James gave him a strong nod. “I understand, Sir.”

“Good. Now that we have that cleared up.” John clapped his hand, simultaneously activating the large screen that was hanging from the black walls. As with everything about the Fusion’s military HQ, the conference room had a mildly malevolent air to its designs.

The corners were a bit too sharp, the colours dominatingly of those typically related to war and evil deeds, and the ornamented elements often in the resemblance of weapons. Even the frame of the flatscreen resembled this, taking the shape of various kinds of blades being hammered together into a rust-red rectangle. All of this was on purpose. The military was a weapon, it was a tool that brought harm – even if it was wielded for the good cause of defending the nation. To give it any other aesthetic was disrespectful to those that were fought and those brave soldiers that made themselves parts of the machinery of war.

The screen first depicted the Fusion logo in its simplified form, six diamond shapes, points meeting in the middle, of the elemental colours on a deep blue background. It swiftly changed to a listing of all of Fusion’s current vessels capable of high sea travel.

“After some consideration, I have decided that we will make the trip via boat. Fusion’s navy isn’t mighty, but we do have some to show off and it's much better than just flying over.” That was met with nods. When it came to projecting power as a prospective superpower, nothing could have been worse than arriving with little forces via regular Illusion Barrier entrance after taking a mundane flight. Either he moved with a small group, using an airplane with a Mobile Barrier or he moved in a large group using naval travel. Had there not been an ocean in the way, the third option would have been to travel in a massive caravan, outdated as that was.

John quickly went over the vessels they had available. Primarily, the Fusion navy consisted of smaller patrolling vessels, manned by 5 to 10 people. Those ships existed less to engage in combat and more to survey an area in an attempt to suss out enemy Mobile Barriers. A borderline futile engagement. For two Abyssal warships to find one another was as likely as two ghost ships running into each other in dense fog. It either happened by pure luck or, more likely, it did not happen at all. Fateweavers could change that somewhat, but even their detection range was limited.

Still, the possibility of discovering enemies was important and those smaller vessels had other roles to play inside and outside naval engagements.

The second class of ship Fusion had a notable number of was a middle-sized destroyer variety. These ships were only manned by about 25 people each. They had a simple battlefield function: use the heavy explosives ordinances they could deliver to sink an enemy battleship. They were the single purpose water-to-water destruction vessels. The warheads on board were few and the final result of an absurd amount of crafting that let the explosives punch through even the more powerful magical alloys used in Abyssal navy construction. Fusion had four of these ships, one of them being the vessel originally owned by the Little Maryland.

Third was a single standard support vessel. They carried additional fuel and supplies, should anything go awry. They also served as a potential mobile base of operations, although that was more appropriately the job of the final class of ship they had.

A single one, Fusion owned a large amphibious assault ship. 150 metres long, with a crew of up to 300 people and capable of carrying 700 more, the vessel had relatively little in terms of direct firepower. Most Abyssal ships were better off viewing their crew as the means of delivering damage. Whether that meant through old school boarding actions or simply having mages lob fireballs across the ocean, such means were both more flexible and typically more efficient than ordinances. In that way, every large Abyssal ship focused around transporting crew could be viewed as an aircraft carrier.

In mundane warfare, amphibious assault ships would deliver the manpower for the storming of a beach or the taking of other oceanside locations. Such manoeuvres were unlikely in the Abyss. Instead, the vessel could be seen as the proof of concept of John’s idea of Mobile Barrier focused warfare. The ship would operate as a near undetectable, moving base of operations, carrying supplies and soldiers that would allow the devastation or conquest of one specific area, before leaving.

It was still a fairly mundane vessel, which removed it from what John considered the logical endpoint of this kind of doctrine to be. Eventually, they would have swarms of traditional boats surrounding mobile islands that not only housed soldiers comfortably but could also grow the necessary supplies continuously. Amphibious assault vessels would then no longer themselves be the base of operations, but instead ferry troops between that island, which would stay out at sea, and the shore.

Fantasy warfare could go quite the ludicrous places once enough resources and time were involved. Then again, was a floating island that much more ridiculous than submerged tubes of thousands of tonnes of steel, powered by splitting atoms? Natural and supernatural exploitation alike, humans knew how to up the ante.

Fusion’s navy was, like most of the things about the Federation, fledgeling. It consisted of, depending on what one counted, no more than 21 and no less than 14 vessels. By comparison, the greatest naval power of the mundane world, the USA, had approximately 480 ships. However, those were made out of relatively easily available steel and with much different specifications in mind.

Comparing with other Abyssal powers lent a more accurate picture, with the largest naval power on the planet, reportedly, being the Dangun Clan. They had an estimated twenty battleship and battleship-adjacent entities in their navy in total. Those were supported by about a hundred lesser vessels, which were the equals to what Fusion had on offer. Hard data was protected.

It was a damning comparison that left only one reading: should there be a naval engagement with the Dangun Clan at this moment, Fusion would not only lose, it would get utterly stomped.

“Of course, this is an issue that will ultimately fix itself,” John finished up his analysis of their naval situation. “We are standing on an endless supply of metals and our naval engineering capacity is steadily expanding. We just need the time to actually build the ships… or have the Harbour build the ships.” The Guild Hall had the capacity to build ships, materials provided, in a limited capacity. John wanted to avoid using it too much, both because of the limited capacity and because he needed the actual know-how to be present in his people.

“But we do not have them yet,” Elu put it succinctly.

“We, indeed, do not,” John agreed. “And we won’t need them either. We’ll have the destroyers, the cruiser, and the support ship accompany my personal yacht across the ocean. That will be enough to keep up appearances.” The Boating Seaquence was a vessel absolutely worthy of a monarch, which only made it weirder that a small group of hijackers had owned it. John almost felt bad sometimes. They must have saved up to the vessel for dozens of years. Too bad for them they crossed the wrong person at the wrong time.

“What about the Order?” Chemilia asked.

“Thankfully, William has decided this is not worth his time,” John told everyone. “Something about ‘the Divided Gates are half sinners and half those that won’t stop them, the Order cannot be seen lending its support to such a wicked institution’.” Which John somewhat understood as a rationale, but he was mostly just happy that neither the arrogant Lord-Protector nor the annoyingly bright vessel of his were joining this operation. “Speaking of attendants, let’s start with the obvious: Elu, you are to stay behind.”

“Makes sense,” the old woman responded immediately. As general over the Hidden Tradition’s forces, she was leading those that John had obliged would only ever fight in a defensive capacity. Taking her abroad, even to a peaceful meeting, sent the wrong signal.

“Chemilia, Ted, much as I loathe it, I can only have one of you join me on this one. The other needs to stay behind in case of emergency.”

The married generals nodded and entered a quick back and forth of deliberation. “I will go,” Ted announced at the end, in his typically hard tone. The dark-haired, dark-eyed man did not present the rationale for the decision. John technically didn’t need it. He still asked. “I’m better with direct command.”

“Simple, works,” John agreed. “There will be a further entourage of important political figures, of course. Has Ahanu decided yet?”

“He will accompany you,” Elu confimed.

“Good to know,” John responded. There were a few politicians that were going to be part of this trip that John, for one reason or another, barely interacted with anymore. Times changed, locations no longer overlapped, common goals were reached, all of those and more were why he saw very little of Ahanu and a lot of Emrik – who would be part of the convoy as well. There was no way John could deny his Speaker of Commons a place. “In total, we’re expecting about 1000 people to join the military personnel on this trip,” the Gamer announced. “That’s politicians, family, support staff, and all of that.”

“Plus troops, that will be about 2000 people,” Chemilia stated.

“Indeed, quite the showing. I have already checked with the empire’s people and they will be capable of accommodating us. We’ll arrive one day before the meeting, optimally. As scheduled, we’ll move out tomorrow evening.” While the details of the trip had only just been finalized, the rough planning had been done for several weeks. “James, you will be in Ted’s care during the entire trip.” The general-candidate gave a sharp nod. “Alright, further details will be provided by document. Let’s hope this all goes smoothly.”

John knocked on the wooden table. Twice, for good measure.