II. Right Against Wrong
It was a restless night for many Phibetans everywhere. There was a silent whisper that turns into a mighty roar. A cacophony of politicians, the jingoists and Warhawks, shouting with fear in their voices,
“The Abettonese! The Abettonese! The Abettonese!”
Now the only argument for war. Now the only reason why for conflict. Dreamy images of the glorious monarchs in their military uniforms, splendour and triumphant over all other nations, as they are the empire in God’s image. Soldiers and sailors behind them at the ready, to defend their island home and their vast empire. Phitannia stands ready to declare what is right. The Warhawks continue to flock under the matra,
“The Abettonese! The Abettonese! The Abettonese!”
Another image in the dreams, Phitannia, a symbolic woman, clad in armor, sword in one hand, the flag of Phibeta in the other. The Golden Eagle, a symbol of Phibeta’s glory sits on her shoulder. Phitannnia unsheaths her sword as both her and the eagle look forwards at the enemy, as it is once again time for Phibeta to defend her honour, of right against wrong. Drummers sound the call to arms, with Phibeta’s Golden Eagles, the sons of the empire, standing at attention, the commanding officer Golden Eagle using his tail as a scabbard pointing towards the skies.
Another scene. The Waringham Siblings behind a white background look solemn. All they can say is
“Poor little Katase!” a solemn reason for war. To protect a friend. To protect the interest of free people.
“Poor little Katase!” shouts the people of Phibeta, a genuine cry for a free people, or a puppet of the kings’ and queen’s words. A public ready to follow the commands of their monarchs.
Another scene. On the continent of Meridional, the hawkish stallion of Abetton tramples all over on the different animals, symbols of their respective nations. They now begin eyeing the Katase Falcon. As much as they try to fly away, the hooves of the stallion clamor the wings of the falcon. But something has changed now, the falcon turns into a woman, an innocent maiden left trampled and almost lifeless from the hooves of the stallion as if it were a metaphor for the continued abuse that the nations had to take from the cruel Abettonese. But out of the blue, a shimmer of light from the west. It was the Golden Eagle of Phibeta, clad in boxer’s uniform, standing strong against the stallion, her wings turned into fists, ready to defend their honour. The stallion looks above her, crouching to protect her claim of the maiden.
As the music of triumph swells, as the Golden Eagle punches the stallion protecting her honour and the safety of their friend across the seas. The colonial dogs, those free symbols of the empire, come in with their spears as the heavenly choir sings a noble hymn!
Lord! Death to the tyrants
Redemption of the depraved!
Surrounding the stallion, the dogs rush to attack the stallion as the eagle watches with the fair Katase maiden beside her in safety. The dogs claim victory over the now-decapitated stallion.
Another scene, this one of Phibeta’s citizens and nobles.
“PROTECT THE FREE!!!” says the noble judge of the magistrates of Libonshire
“DEFEND THE WEAK” exclaims the Cardinal priest of Ravenhead.
“EMPIRE THREATENED!” berates the Member of Parliament in Weston.
“HUMANITY IMPERILLED!!” the gentleman of Creeton yells. A chain reaction plummets down to the people everywhere. It’s war! WAR! WAR! WAR! It is on every man, woman, and child’s lips, WAR! The inner bulldogs of Phibeta show as the people demand war. Their honour threatened, their empire threatened, and the balance of power and peace threatened.
At last, the vote has come in from the House of Lords… The lips cry the same echo…
Of WAR!
Kensington Palace. April 1861
The Waringham Siblings, the monarchs of the kingdom, were dressed in military regalia ready to inspect troops heading over to Medriole. The Lord Chamberlain enters the room, where the siblings were discussing things among themselves.
“Lord Chamberlain” King Yohannes starts. “What is it?”
“Your Majesties, please pardon my intrusion, but we just received the declarations of war from all involved”.
“Ah, so it is official then. It is war”.
“Plus, another declaration of war from another belligerent”.
“Another one!” King Yohannes exclaimed, shocked. As were his siblings.
“The Empire of Icelandia, they have just declared war because of our intervention in the Medriole continent. They are enforcing a blockade to keep us out of the continent”.
“Seriously?”
“Yes, and I must inform you the Lord Admiral has spotted a few ships approaching our shores to the south. It must be those Icelandic warships they mentioned”. The Lord Chamberlain shows him the message received from the Lord Admiral from costal forts down south about approaching naval vessels. This caught the alarm of the monarchs, as if they are blockaded from their ports, they can not send their ships out to Katase. Worse still, the merchant fleet is threatened.
“Tell all first to fire at will. We must clear our passage to help Katase. We will not bow to any power that wishes to disrupt our fights”.
“Of course, Your Majesty”. The Lord Chamberlain leaves the room to attend to the Lord Admiralty. Queen Diane scoffs.
“Any nation that is idiotic enough to pick a fight with us will learn the reason why Phitannia rules the seas” she exclaims.
“Now, let us not get ahead of ourselves dear sis” Yohannes reminds his sibling.”We do not know our strength against this Icelandia Empire. But we try to maintain ourselves in the position of naval supremacy with large capital ships and modern naval technology. We might be able to break their blockade lines there”. With that, the monarchs leave the room to inspect the troops.
Southend Coastal Fort, Southend, Phibeta.
The costal fort of Southend was the most secure fort of all of Phibeta, as it was the gateway to the Gulf of Phitannia. Any ships wanting to blockade Phibeta would have to start down there, or through the Eastern waters, but today, soldiers and bombardiers woke up to the sight of sailing warships, with a black, white, and red standard that is not Phibeta’s own. Their guns pointed at the fort. The Commander of the fort and barracks, Captain Jeremy Bacon also stood in awe and confusion.
“What the Hell is going on out there!” he shouts to the bombardiers. “Has the navy ordered training exercises this early in the morning?”
“No sir,” says one of them. “If you look at their standard, it is not our ships”. The captain took out his book on of the comprehensive list of flags and standards of all nations, He flips it and sees the flag of those ships out there.
“Those are ships of Icelandia”.
“Icelandia?” one of them asks, “But they are all the way in the middle of the region, what are they doing here?”
“I have no idea, but it best we get the guns ready to fire”. The bombardiers agreed and loaded the first artillery shells into 7-inch guns of the Royal Artillery. These shells were 115 pounds with the calibre of 7-inches which can hit targets at 5,500 yards. The gunners wait for the word to fire, as a messenger comes out from the barracks.
“Sir, we got a message from the Lord Admiral!” He hands the orders to the captain. Reading the note.
To Cpt. Jeremy Bacon,
Icelandic ships appeared on the Southern coast, proceed to fire guns. Naval gunships from Ribbonshire will be provided as additional fire.
Dispatched April 1861, Lord Admiral Sir Reginald Gutterman
With the clear order to attack. Now was the time to test the weapons of naval warfare. With a hand gesture, the captain gave the order for the fort to start firing on the warships outside. This would be the first engagement of this ever growning war. Not on Abetton shores, not on the Cartune Isles, but at home against foreign blockaders.
Port Gallagher, The Colonies of The Cartune Isles
Ships were being loaded with supplies and Royal Marines, as a colonial expeditionary force was being put together to invade the western coast of Abetton, to catch them off by surprise. The goal was to draw the Abetton line thin on two fronts so that the majority of resources can go into fighting the war close to Abetton’s capital of Sauville. Warships are being made ready to escort the convoy and attack any ships that dare to fight back. Lord Chadwick Lightoller was the commander of all forces of colonial regiments and is overseeing the final preparations to set off into the waters to send their troops into the fields of glory.
“Sir,” one of the soldiers says. “Final preparations are in order. All the naval guns are loaded, and the equipment is secured. We will be able to reach their western coasts in three days time”.
“Then we not a moment to lose,” he says with determination. “Those damned Abettonese shall tremble to our power. We are a force to be reckoned with. They will pay for the fallen sailors of the Creeton”. He turns to the sailors, officers, and soldiers of the steam frigate, HMS Fisher.
“Friends, now is the time to take up arms and defeat the menace of Meridional! Remember the Creeton, to Hell with Abetton!” The cheers of the soldiers and sailors ring as the anchors rise and the fleet and convoy leave to fight the western coast of Abetton. The colonial garrison is now left with some strong soldiers and militiamen, as well as the costal forts to defend the jewel of the Phibetan Empire.
Nadeshiko, Katase. April 1861
Francis sighed heavily. He was a missionary, they know that. But his intention was to keep the peace between the two neighboring nations.
“All I wanted was to keep nations from going to war with each other. It was my calling to protect others from harm and to bring peace. I guess you can call it wishful thinking. But I won't convert you. I just wanted to keep the peace, or at least bide time. Listen to me babbling right know. You must think that I am a complete idiot”. He listens to what they have to say while the cannons roar outside.
“Perhaps I can help, I heard close to the home of the Phibetan Diplomat, he setted up a refugee area on the outskirts of the capital for residents who have been displaced. I’m sure he can assist you all if you choose to leave”.