扶英連盟紀元400年記祭 (IC, Closed)

[Fuso-]

Ōsaka Bay, 1^st of June 2020 CE

The morning of the First of June, Imperial Era 2680 was a typically sunny, warm and dry in Kansai, characteristic of its early summers. Over the last month as the last of April's cherry blossoms faded away, a great war fleet had gathered itself in the bay, this time not to bring war to hostile foreign shores as they have done on countless occasions before, but to commemorate the founding of an alliance four-hundred years ago: The Anglo-Fusō Alliance. Originally born out of convenience between two great maritime powers, it has since then maintained itself through rain or shine, war and peace, Neurois or no Neuroi.

At precisely seven in the morning today, the Imperial Train carrying the Sovereign of the Empire had departed Kyōto Central Station and headed south. An hour or so's quiet journey through the countryside later it had arrived at Ōsaka Station exactly on schedule (as usual). At exactly 0830 local time, the crew of the Imperial Ship of the day, Second Class Aviation Cruiser Senjō, fifth of the Shirane-class assembled on the starboard deck to receive His Imperial Majesty the Reigning Sovereign of the Empire. Reiko, said Reigning Sovereign was dressed in her expertly pressed white summer uniform, wearing the ranks and insignia of a Grand-Marshal-Admiral of His Navy, a slight hint of sleep deprivation in her eyes as she straightened out the sash and collar resting on her neck. As she passed the guard with his rifle presented at the top of the boarding ladder to the trumpet signals of the Imperial Salute, the Senior Petty Officer blew the traditional long signal to pipe her aboard, and the band struck up the Imperial Anthem.
Settling on the conning bridge with the rest of her staff Reiko gripped the arms of her chair just a little bit harder as Senjō left its pier. At least the weather was splendid and the seas flat calm... Gods forbid they try to do this in more inclement weather or Reiko would make an utter fool of herself, being as congenitally seasick as she was.

The Review started at the first rank of ships parked closest to shore, consisting of the First and Second Carrier Divisions and their light carrier and cruiser escorts. Passing the first rank at the stern of the Second Class Cruiser Chikuma, the inspection party smoothly turned about and continued up between the battleships and cruisers of the second and third rank of vessels. Trumpet signals intoning the Imperial Salute echoed gently through the summer air of central Honshū as each ship in turn came to greet the Sovereign of the Empire of Fusō, fully dressed, their battle ensigns flying serenely from the masts and crews lining the sides in salute. Finally, a morning's cruise through the gathering of a hundred vessels later, leading escort and second class cruiser Mogami lead the inspection party up the final rank, consisting of specially invited guests and allies of the Empire.

As they passed the stern of the minesweepers of the sixth rank, and the hulking mass of... by all terms largest vessel invited yet hove into view - SMS Fürst Bismarck, Reiko cocked her head slightly to the side as Senjō passed Him and turned her eyes on the Chief of the Imperial Fusō Naval General Staff. "Was letting the Germans bring a battleship here such a great idea? I reckon they are stealing the show a bit." Admiral Matsuda Chiyo, Chief of the Naval General Staff said nothing in reply but acknowledged the point with a nod. Reiko continued the conversation with: "I'm not sure the Selkie appreciates being shadowed by a 50,000 ton battleship in their cruiser... hélas."
"I'm sure they will manage, Heika."

Noon in Ōsaka Bay brought with it the thunderous roar of aircraft, in sizes both large and small. Arrayed in a series of Victor formations with its commander - Vice-Admiral Chikataka Ichirō in the lead, the Imperial Fusō Naval Air Service went on parade. This arrangement of a hundred and fifty-nine aircraft and Witches, including formations from the Royal Air Force and its official display team had taken at least two to three weeks to get flawlessly right. Takeoff points all across the islands of Fusō, local weather disturbances, jetstreams, entry vectors, departure vectors... all had to be accounted for to have this large number of planes and Witches soaring across the fleet at exactly 12:00 hours Standard Fusō Time at exactly 1000 feet's altitude.

As the Red Arrows, the squadron given the honour of closing the aerial parade departed into the skies with a trail of red, white and blue, cruiser Senjō, the reviewing ship of the day docked at Kansai International Airport's pier. As Reiko moved to disembark, Admiral Matsuda quietly sighed in relief and quipped relaxedly: "Well that went awfully well at least... so far."
"Yes Admiral..." Reiko replied with a hint of an equally relieved smile on her face. "We have accomplished the major item on today's list... now for the dinner party..."

[New Visayan Islands]

CAPT Harold A. Goyongco, VCN
VCS Gabriel Lázaro de Mangubat (CG-7), Ōsaka Bay
June 1st, AD 2020 0730 PHT
June 1st, AD 2020 0830 Local

As the parade started in earnest, Harold saw the ships of the various navies invited to the 4th centenary of the Anglo-Fusō Treaty. As the proceedings went through without incident, he thought of how his ship's presence came to be. Having assisted the SDF-Navy during the Shikonjima-Ferinan Archipelago Reunification Process in its goal of protecting neutral shipping to the reunified nation, it did not surprise the Federal Council when the proposal to send her to the naval review at the Empire of Fusō was made. The invitation was simple, yet elegant, and Captain Goyongco thanked God for the opportunity to break the monotony of counter-piracy patrols, having missed out on the Galadon tour simply by virtue of not being assigned to the Confederation's contingent, which was given the name of Joint Task Force Avenger.
When Senjō passed by the ranks of the foreign vessels, the cruiser's rails were manned, rendering honors to His Imperial Fusōnese Majesty. That the reigning sovereign was actually a woman didn't cross Harold's mind as odd; perhaps, he thought, the title itself is masculine with no regard for the gender of the bearer.
The rest of the review went without incident; soon it would be the dinner party. Harold, his first officer Fyodor Fukuda, and two other senior officers would join in, with an MH-60R ferrying them to Kansai International.

[The Selkie]

Nora Scriúire of the Tribe of Cavan.
SDFS Maighdean, Ōsaka Bay, Morning.
The War Ensign of the Imperial Fusoan Navy fluttered from the main mast alongside the red, yellow and blue ensign, inspired by the Spardrí's tail feathers. It was a gesture of honouring our hosting nation and for a bunch of 109 ensigns on their First Training Cruise, it had been a great honour to set the flag at sunrise.
I had been part of the flag party, Ensign Nora Scriúire of the Tribe of Cavan, officer-trainee of the Machinist Corps, head-mechanic of the Naval School's Sensha-Do Team, the Puisíni, and, for some reason, the Leading Ensign (think class speaker) for this year's Ensigns on the training cruise aboard the Maighdean and most likely for sometime more. I did not mind, it was a great honour.
And we, parked alongside the Bismarck, were honoured to be here on this day.
Sure, the Bismarck was a larger ship, but we were happy in the knowledge, that we could kill it at a maximum distance of 600 kilometers, if need arose. Or, as the current case with the Type 40 Missiles aboard was, paint it bright yellow, whichever was needed.
This was a celebration of an alliance and thus the ideal place for the newest cruiser of the SDF and the Ensigns aboard the vessel to represent the Free Lands. We would do so later at the dinner, too, but more on that then.
We Ensigns wore our school uniforms, the Cadet Dress, as we stood assembled onboard in preparation for the drive-by of the Empress/Emperor of Fuso. We were the second division on the deck, to our right, at the bow, the Command Division, the remaining officers and men, all that could be spared, assembled in their division, lastly, by the Helicopter Deck, the Aviation Division and the onboard-complement of SDF-Navy Troopers.
The officers and men, who were already in service, were dressed in their Service Dresses and Service Working Dresses, the latter especially true for the men.
And there she came: Emperor Reiko, aboard the cruiser Senjō.
Captain Trodaí yelled a command and by reflex, we raised ourselves to attention, before, a moment later, the ship's horn of the Guided Missile Cruiser, blew its salute. The long tone made my teeth vibrate slightly, but it was our greeting to the Empress - and certainly more pleasant then firing a salute from our singular 135mm gun.
Another idea had been to fire flare and chaff into the air, but looked best at night.
No, the horn had been a good idea.
After the flyby, the Gods alone knew, how complicated that had been, we were dismissed back to harbour quarters - but for some of us, the fun was only beginning...

Ensign Nora Scriúire of the Tribe of Cavan.
Maighdean Two, Cuaifeach Utility Helicopter.
We had two Cuaifeach Utility Helicopters aboard - one for ASW-work, one as a transport.
Maighdean Two was the transport.
Capable of transporting up to sixteen soldiers, or two squads of SDF-Navy Troopers with full equipment, this one wasn't as cramped as we transferred to Osaka Castle. Merely six people were aboard and while the mounts for the heavy machine guns were still there, the weapons themselves were not.
Two of the six were pilots.
The remaining four were two couples, which would attend the dinner together. Of course, we weren't lovers or something (though I would not push them off the edge of my bed, to be honest), but literally selected to represent the SDF-Navy, the SDF and ultimately the Free Lands.
As such, the two officers wore Mess Dress Uniform and were paired with one Ensign each, who still wore Cadet Dress, though this time the more ceremonial version of silk and not the cheaper one of wool. Our first stop would be Kansai International Airport, from where we would switch to train transport to Osaka Castle for the Dinner.
Onboard was Captain Galen Trodaí of the Tribe of Westmeath, Captain and Master of the Maighdean, a good-looking officer with an aura, which brought to mind a pained artist. I knew, why Kay was crushing on him, to be honest, and I could understand it.
Then again, bad Nora, I had a boyfriend.
And, to be honest, my own date was more up my alley: Commander Finnegan Oíche of the Tribe of Sligo, one of our teachers and a man of machines as well, in fact the Teaching Staff Supervisor of the Puisíni, and quite good looking... I didn't like his smoking-habit, both from the health and safety standpoints, but hey, everyone had a bad habit. And his nephew is cute.
Captain Trodaí's date, on the other hand, was a bombshell. Ensign Felicia Sútalún of the Tribe of Fermanagh was one of the redheads our homeland was so famous for, her aqua eyes shining. For both her and me, this was a new experience - of course, as part of basic training, we even trained helicopter assaults, but Fuso as a whole and using a Cuaifeach as an over-glorified taxi, that was new.
Her shoulder-length red hair was bound back into a small ponytail with a number of strands framing her face and bangs hanging into her forehead. She would, if she got her will, one day be an officer of the Navy Troopers and she had the lithe figure of a fighter to match (and she was the Captain of the Academy's Footvolley Team).
"Arrival at Kansai in five minutes!", the speaker transmitted from the cockpit.
In around an hour or two, Felicia and I would navigate the treacherous minefield that was a very formal dinner party as dates of officer at least three times our age.
It would be awesome.

[Polish Prussian Commonwealth]

SMS Rota- Captain at Sea Harold Vyterski
Yes, my name is Harold. Yes, I am half-Anglo.
The "Eternal Anglo" jokes stopped being funny 5 years ago. I'm not even English-my mum was the daughter of Alenberger refugees.
I could go on and on about how my grandparents fled and about the Alenberger civil war, but that's not exactly pertinent here.

In any case, here I was, in a beautifully preserved WW2-era cruiser. The ORP Rota, the first and only of her kind. From the chase of the Bismarck to the battle of the Atlantic, she had seen a good many fights-and during the coup against the Communists, she had fired the first shots of the Storming of Gdansk.
Now we were steaming to Fuso, which was Japan but not, apparently. The hoisting of the "Rising Sun" standard had caused controversy back home(Prussia-Poland had, after all, supported China in WW2), which was finally quelled by assurances that this wasn't Japan. Technically.

As we pulled in, one of the watch officers sighted something that made my skin stand on end.
"Sir! Bayerlander destroyer, Destiny-class!"

---

Captain Edward Harding, RBS Destiny
The Destiny-class destroyer. Or, as some call it, "A Baby's first Arleigh-Burke class destroyer". Cheaper than most Arleigh-Burke's, but with much of the same software, combat systems, and equipment, although smaller and with less steaming-range than her larger American cousin. But who needed range? It could still give any tinpot dictator in the Middle East, or on the Isle, shivers, or reassure friends, and would-be allies-such as Fuso. Bayerland had only a dim notion of Fuso-in short, really, only that it existed and was allied to Old Blighty-which we still kept close ties with, even after we had broken with them.
As we pulled into position, I realized something.
We were next to a Prussian-Polish tramp-steamer.

---

A most curious thing would greet the onlookers.
On the final leg of the approach, the ORP Rota and the RBS Destiny...had pointed their guns at each other, and the sailors had begun shouting abuse at each other-with the Prussian-Poles focusing primarily on Bayerland's...questionable human rights record, and the Bayerlanders focusing on the Prussian-Poles' reputation as...well, the hicks and rednecks of Central Europe.

It was quelled after a few minutes by various officers on both sides, and the guns returned to the 12 o' clock position, but the tension was still there, and palpable, although the sailors and naval infantrymen onboard contented themselves, for now, with staring daggers at each other, as the two ships came to a stop. By the time the Empress Reiko had come around, on the cruiser Senjō, both crews were the spitting-image of Western military discipline- sailors of the Royal Navy or the Navy of the Republic stood at attention, while Bayerlander Marines or troops of the I. Seebattalion(really, a Regimental Combat Group with extra infantry companies attached) stood with M16s and G3s, respectively, shouldered.

As the Empress passed by, two salutes were fired off-the Prussian-Poles fired off a blank round from one of the 5' guns from the bow turrent, while the Destiny blew it's foghorn in salute.

---

Lance Corporal Wilhelmina "Mina" Forthson- Marine Corps of the Republic of Bayerland
"Stupid 1", AugustaWestland Lynx
Good God, I hate helicopters.
You'd think I'd have gotten used to them. I was naval infantry, after all-helicopters were bread-and-butter when it came to tactical mobility for us-but fucking hell. It felt like holding onto a chandelier in the middle of an earthquake.
At least I was in my far-more-comfortable fatigues, instead of the damned itchy formal uniform...
Captain Harding seemed to be in a much better state.
"Oi, Mina!" He asked, with a smile, over the thunder of the rotors. "Don't worry, it's just 5 more minutes."
"I'm gonna fuckin' puke if I have to be in here a minute longer..." I groaned.
"At least you'll have space for dinner."
"Shut the fuck up, Cap'n."
"Acknowledged, Lance." he responded, with that damned smirk of his.
Fuckin' cocky bastard. Good man, sure, but good God he sometimes had a stick up his ass.

"Arrival at Kansai in four minutes!" the pilot shouted over the rotors.
Not soon enough.

---

Captain Marie Ernst Gluck- Heer, Unit 777
"Peashooter 1", UH-1O
How in God's name did one fit a helicopter on a ship designed for WW2, might you ask?
Simple. By gutting the absolute shit out of the facilities meant for the original seaplanes, and then modifying a UH-1N to fit. It was cramped, but it worked. Sort of.
"Oi. Marie? You okay?"
I looked away from the window to find the brown eyes of Karl Stortebeker-Lance Corporal of the I. Seebattalion, and...well, good friend is an understatement.
I smiled at him, and reached over to squeeze his free hand-the one, of course, that wasn't fiddling with his uniform coat.
"I'm good. You?"
"Well-" he began- "I haven't been to too many...formal things, you know?"
"That makes two of us." I quipped. "Don't worry, we'll figure it out together. I'm no good at them either, given that the last time I was at one of those things, a coup happened."
Captain-at-Sea Vyterski interjected with a grin. "You two should get a room."
"Well, Captain-" I replied. "Have you been to any formal events?"
He blinked, then shrugged. "Not really. History events with Boy Scouts don't count, I believe?"
Karl stroked his chin. "Hm. I guess it counts. In a way."

"SIR! THREE MINUTES TO LZ!" roared the pilot over the intercom.
"Roger that, Bukowitz." Vyterski replied. "Right, get ready to exit."

With that, I started getting ready to drop off. I was with a childhood friend, his CO, and the confirmed presence of a delegation from Bayerland, and all of us were headed to a formal dinner party-which was, in Prussia-Poland, something rare at best. What could go wrong?