The aide pitied them both. How had things fallen to this point?
Was it the corrosive effect of power, so deep that even a commander could no longer trust his own marriage shipgirl?
Gorou didn't know what was running through the young man's mind. He simply frowned, finished reading the cipher, and with a twist of his fingers, burned it to ash.
The aide bowed, waiting for orders.
Usually, when a top-level sealed message like this arrived, Gorou would always issue a command—even if only to send back a reply.
If it were serious, he might even order the communications staff who handled the dispatch temporarily isolated.
After all, the clerks didn't know the contents. Their job was to convert one layer of cipher into another; the final key was in Gorou's memory alone.
It was procedure.
But this time, after waiting a while, the young man received no instructions.
Puzzled, he looked up, only to meet Gorou's deep, wordless gaze.
His heart skipped.
For a spy, nothing was more terrifying than that inscrutable stare.
And Gorou was no ordinary man—he was the Iron Lion, more than two centuries on this earth, over level one hundred, a figure whose very name inspired dread.
The young man's great-grandfather had grown up on tales of the Iron Lion. How could he not be shaken himself?
His nerves jolted, but then he steadied.
He could not possibly be exposed.
The Abyssal flagship had remade him completely to prevent it. His body masked every tell. A skipped heartbeat that might betray anyone else registered as no more than mild tension—reasonable under the Fleet Admiral's gaze.
In truth, his life was no longer his own to reveal. Even if he wanted to confess, his physiology would not allow it.
So why was Gorou staring at him like that?
Before the question could form fully, Gorou spoke.
"I've caught wind that the Abyssals may be receiving powerful reinforcements. When that happens, Ryuujou may come under tighter control, and our chance to lure her out will vanish. The plan must begin early. Indiana, take him and carry my orders:
0900 hours—Carrier Divisions One, Two, and Three launch long-range reconnaissance and bombing.
1030—regardless of whether the submarine flotilla is in position, commence massed torpedo attack.
1200—Takeyama is to begin the decoy operation.
The rest will enter battle according to developments."
The aide stiffened.
So Gorou did have his own formidable intelligence network.
He himself had suspected an Abyssal flagship reinforcement for Okinawa, but only by reading Ryuuou's movements. Where had Gorou gotten such high-grade intel?
He could not guess. He hid his doubts, following Indiana silently out of the office.
As aide, he bore the authority of a personal envoy. Indiana technically had no official post, but as Gorou's marriage shipgirl, her presence carried weight.
Likely, Gorou was still sulking with her, sending the aide along just to needle her.
The young man himself only felt awkward. If Indiana suddenly reconciled with Gorou, what would become of him, the cuckoo who had stolen the nest?
Still, with the war about to erupt, perhaps reconciliation would never come.
The office doors closed behind them.
Clack.
Sealed shut.
Gorou leaned back in his chair, murmuring to himself.
"Sacrifice, gamble, war… war never changes."
Bismarck ran through her briefing one last time. "Everyone clear on the plan?"
Leipzig, Helena, and Changchun all answered with firm nods.
Beneath the pier, U-47 raised a thumb in silent reply.
They were the rescue team.
Prince of Wales cast them a sour glance.
She had wanted to join the mission, but Bismarck refused. One battleship had to remain at the harbor. Between her and Bismarck, one must hold the line.
As for Tirpitz at Hikaru's side, and Veneto hiding in a dorm room facing the port—those were off-plan reserves.
Bismarck had kept them as her margin of strength.
Like in boxing: never throw all your power at once. If the unexpected struck, you'd have nothing left to answer with.
[End of Chapter]
[100 Power Stones = Extra Chapter]
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