May 18-19th, 1941
At the city of Gotenhafen, also known as Gdynia before the German occupation, two ships sailed out in the night on a operation that is the latest of raids to be commenced on Allied shipping in the North Atlantic. The first was the heavy cruiser Prinz Eugen and hours later was the Battleship Bismarck. The fleet of two ships command by Admiral Günther Lütjens on his flagship, the Bismarck, and Captain Ernst Lindemann commanding the Bismarck. With a crew of two thousand ratings and officers of the Kriegsmarine, the Bismarck was a statement of German steel, engineering, and national pride. He was the largest and most powerful expression of German sea that would be sent to challenge the Royal Navy in the Atlantic. Her men valued that believe strongly with the name of the nation unifier by not referring by a women in pronoun but masculine. Bismarck also carried modifications on her forward rangefinder tower where it looked like a crystallized mirror and on the rear rangefinder was a large brown mechanical head with an oversized central optic and an antenna-like spike on top of its head. The latest of the new ruin components placed onto the Nazi warmachine's weapons. Not many of the ratings knew of the purpose of these new range finders, but paid no attention to it as part of the new normalcy that can with this alliance.
As Bismarck and Prinz Eugen moved northward, Wolfpack Signora received its own orders. The now three Buran-class submarines already operating in the Atlantic were to prepare for the possibility of the German task force breaking into open waters. If the Royal Navy gave chase, the Burans were to support the breakout by any means available. The message that brought upon these orders would be sent directly by Pierro by the order of the Tsaritsa. The message made one thing clear that British Warships encountered within their assigned patrol area were no longer to be observed or reported, but attacked and sunk should opportunity arise.
May 19th, 1941
London, England
At the same time as the two ships sailed out into the Baltic, another journey was reaching its own destination in London. Aether and Paimon were on their way to Number 10 Downing Street escorted by Captain Mallory and Whitcombe. They had stayed in a small home in the great city of London, where it amazed Aether as they got to see different parts after leaving the station called Kings Cross. He had seen the great terraces of Liyue and the harbor, the great tall marble buildings of Fontaine, the great Tenshukaku of Inazuma with the near by commercial street of Tenryou, and the beautiful stone walls of Mondstadt with its filling of life. However, London was completely different from any city or town that Aether had travelled before in his life with the buildings as far his eyes could see. The city especially had an atmosphere different from Berlin with monuments and statues of many different people as they rode in the car.
However, the city had the site of warfare around it where he could not stop finding piles of rubble as if a guard guard came in and destroyed the city of Mondstadt. The car had turned out of the residential street where the safe house stood and into a wider road that ran south toward the centre of the city, and it was on this road that the damage was greatest. In the place of one of the font row containing buildings where they were completely torn away with the inner rooms of the homes open to the morning air. Aether could see kitchens, living rooms, bedrooms, and stairways with walls completely gone.
"What happened?" Aether asked.
Whitcombe sat beside Aether and did not turn his head, "The Germans have been trying to bomb us out of the war in fear...been going on for eight months now…We are calling this Blitz ... .the worst of it was just nine days ago. We are still the casualty figures from it right now and finding bodies under the rubble."
Paimon, with strict instructions not to float, sat on Aether's lap as the car continued but she spoke in shock, "Eight months?"
"Yes," Mallory replied, "Since Göring has been unable to open the door to invade us across the channel by taking out our airfields, he has been really focusing on bombing cities."
"But there are homes there," she said. "People live there."
"They do," Whitcombe said, "That seems to be Göring's point really, he is hoping that by bombing homes, people would demand the government for surrender."
"Who is Göring?" Aether asked.
"The fat one of the German Airforce," Mallory answered, "Not a really bright champ, I might say."
"And right now," Whitcombe continued, "Herr Reichsmarschall Hermann Göring is finding out that us, Londoners, tend to thrive a bit on chaos…we just simply keep calm and carry on."
As they continued driving, Aether imagined the scene that he witnessed at Mondstadt with the Good Hunter torn open, Sara's stove buried under stone and timber. He saw the cathedral roof gone, the statue of Barbatos looking down over streets filled with dust. He saw the city bridge broken and people carrying children across Cider Lake in fishing boats while smoke climbed behind the windmills.
As they drive, they passed an underground train station where people were coming out in large numbers that made Aether think of the Fleuve Cendre.
"That's a lot of people coming out of the station below." Aether said.
"Probably because a good number of Londoners have made the underground their home for some time now," Whitcombe said, "Many of them probably have a home that has been bombed out."
"That's horrible," Paimon said.
"Yes, but worry not," Mallory answered, "It's not so bad, we have been making hits on Berlin occasionally in return."
"How hard?" Aether asked as he did not recall hearing anything fly over Berlin where he and Paimon were trapped there.
"Not continuous," Mallory replied, "But it has made the Germans understand that we simple minded British people have yet to begin the fight really."
"Now, Mr. Aether," Whitcombe called out as they made another turn, "You will be meeting with the Prime Minister, the CIGS, and an observer from the American Navy. When you meet them, I suggest you cut straight to the bone on your story as the Prime Minister would prefer it."
Paimon tilted her head. "Cut straight to the bone? Paimon thought British people liked talking around things."
"We do," Mallory said. "But only when the subject is tolerable."
"And this isn't?"
"No…not with the Fatui in the equation."
"I understand,"Aether answered with a nod.
"Good, we will be there soon," Mallory said as they went down a street with fine brick buildings until aether could see the numbers of the doors where they stopped in front of one that had the number '10' on it. The building was a dark blue with black iron railings and a pair of men on watch.
Aether stared at it.
"This is it?" Paimon whispered.
"Yes," Whitcombe said, "Number Ten Downing Street."
"It's different from the other places that we have visited in Teyvat where leaders would reside," Aether admitted.
Whitcombe looked at the black door, then at the narrow brick face of the building, darkened by age, soot, and weather.
"Yes," he said, "That is one of its advantages."
Paimon stared up at the door marked with the white number 10, "Paimon expected something bigger."
They stepped out of the car and went through an inspection of where the men on watch looked as if they were having a hard time trying to understand Paimon as she carelessly floated in the air in front of them. Mallory had to state that the Prime Minister was aware of this trait exhibited by Paimon and the Prime Minister required their presence immediately. He produced a set of documents that Aether could not make out, where the men examined them and nodded as they opened the door to allow them entrance. Inside the building, they were greeted by a neatly composed woman where her eyes moved over to Captain Mallory, Whitcombe, Aether, and finally Paimon, who was still floating. To her credit, the woman did not gasp nor step back as if she something had already happened that made her give up questioning everything that came through that door.
"Captain Mallory. Mr. Whitcombe," she said, "The Prime Minister is expecting you."
They followed her where they were taken to a long room where there was a green table in the center with a lot of chairs placed around it. The table was covered in maps, different types of paper, pins, pencils, ashtrays, and even an empty brandy glass. There were three men that Aether immediately noticed, but two of them were ones that had his stronger attention. One was short but heavy and broad wearing a dark siren suit with a cigar in one hand and a red pencil in the other. His face seemed tired as he stared out into the window at the end of the window. The other man stood near the table in a light civilian grey suit, while his facial features were broad and iron-grey as his hair combed back from a lined forehead and had eyes that Aether recognized as tired from constant travel. His face had a heaviness inside the expression and kept his attention fixed on Aether, but quickly shifted to Paimon as he saw her floating and looked back at Aether after a moment.
The third man was not much interested in Aether as he had a long gray face with a clipped mustache. But immediately, Aether noticed near the fireplace and seated with one leg crossed over the other, was a young man in green and white with a short cape, dark braids, and a feathered cap tilted at a familiar angle. A lyre rested close to his chair. He looked, in this smoky room of maps and ashtrays and weary men, entirely out of place.
"Traveller," Venti said softly with a smile.
Paimon had her mouth opened in shock as she felt happy for finding him for once.
"TONE-DEAF BARD!!!" was the words she shouted as she flew to him with a big smile and surprisingly hugged as if she found someone that she actually missed for a long time, "You have no idea how much Paimon is glad to see someone else from Teyvat."
"I hear that you had a tale," Venti replied.
"I'll say, try being hidden in coats, blankets, ships, and almost everything," Paimon replied.
Venti looked at her with a smile that began lightly and ended somewhere else.
"Poor Paimon," he said. "Reduced to contraband."
"Paimon was almost called a cat!"
The heavy and broad man raised an eyebrow as he looked to Paimon for a moment. He removed it from his mouth with deliberation.
"Bard," the Heavy man said, "I had been given to understand that the floating one was small. I had not been told that she was loud."
"She is both, Prime Minister," Venti answered, "Together, in roughly equal measure."
"Paimon is not loud!" Paimon shouted from his shoulder, then heard herself and lowered her voice with great visible effort, "Paimon is enthusiastic. There is a difference."
"A distinction," the Heavy man said, "more often claimed than observed."
The heavy man walked up to Aether as he gave the Traveller a better look of him, he kept his eyebrow raised as he roamed his eyes over Aether's brown and gold outfit.
"You must be the Traveller," the man said with his voice thick, "I must honest, when the news of you reached my office. I assumed that you would be a little older and I admit I was skeptical on what I was told of you. But that was until I was told of the bounty on your neck, then i was interested to at least hear you out on why the Nazi's and their friends want you so badly in their hands."
"Well, the Fatui sponsored it and we kind of have a history with the Fatui," Aether replied with a smile.
"I should imagine it," the Man said, "If one has a two hundred thousand Reichsmarks tag on them, they must have some sort of history that makes our enemies want you dead or captured. Now, allow me to introduce myself, Prime Minister Winston Churchill."
Aether inclined his in response, "Aether."
"And Paimon!" Paimon added from Venti's shoulder.
Churchill looked at her, "I had gathered."
Then Churchill pointed to a man in the uniform as he spoke, "Chief of the General Imperial Staff, Field Marshall John Dill."
The military man nodded his head in response. Then Churchill pointed to the man in the civilian suit, who was now holding a file in his hands.
"Commander Victor Henry, United States Navy," he said, "Someone that I have been very familiar with since the beginning of this Blitz and here as an Observer on behalf of President Franklin Roosevelt of the United States. So, do be frank and honest on what you tell us as what you say will not reach me but also the United States."
Victor nodded slightly as he stood up and held out a hand. Aether looked at the hand for a moment and then took it with a firm grip as they shook.
"Please meet you," Aether announced.
"Same to you, Mr. Aether," Victor said, "You may call me, Pug. I haven't informed my government yet, but I am sure that they will be interested to hear your tales. All I have is bits and pieces from a lady you might know as Arlecchino."
"You meet Arlecchino?" Paimon asked, surprised.
Pug gave her a careful look. "I was in the same room with her and had a few meetings with her."
"What was it like?" Aether asked.
Pug did not answer at once as he sat the file down on the green table beside him as he organized his thoughts.
"Cold," he said at last, "The room was warm, but the atmosphere with her was cold and she never raised her voice. She has more strategic logical thinking in her than any German Officer that I have met."
"That sounds like her," Aether replied.
"I take it that you know her well?" Pug asked.
"Pretty much, we know a few harbingers of the Fatui like Childe and unfortunately Dottore," Aether replied.
"Now let's move on to the matter at hand," Churchill interrupted, "Let me ask you a question that I hope that you can answer. Why the hell have your Fatui friends decided to be interested in our world and join the Germans in their quest of world domination?"
Aether did not have an answer at once, but Paimon drifted down from Venti's shoulder and hovered beside him.
"That's the thing," she said. "The Fatui always say they have a reason. A big reason. A noble reason. But somehow their noble reasons always end with someone else getting hurt."
Churchill looked at her with one eyebrow raised, "A useful principle of statecraft, Miss Paimon. Continue."
Paimon blinked. "Wait, Paimon was actually being useful?"
"Do not become intoxicated by it."
Aether looked at the green table and then back at Churchilkl.
"The Fatui are not helping Germany because they believe in Germany's cause," he said, "At least, I don't think so. Normally every nation that we travelled, they are always after a thing called a Gnosis."
"A what?" Pug asked with a confused look.
"A Gnosis," Aether repeated, "It's very difficult to explain clearly."
Churchill removed the cigar from his mouth and responded with determination, "Try me. My morning had already been a challenge with flying companions, other worlds, and fantasy submarines aligned with the Germans."
"A Gnosis," Aether said carefully, "is a small object. About the size of a chess piece. It does not look like very much, if you are looking at it as a thing on a table. It looks like a piece of carved stone or polished jewel, depending on the element it belongs to. But it is not what it looks like as to the Fatui, this is a key."
"To what?" Dill asked.
"Well, we don't know but the Fatui have been collecting them for years, they already have four of the seven already," Paimon admitted.
"There are seven Archons in Teyvat," Aether continued. "One for each nation. Each Archon holds a Gnosis. The Gnosis is what permits the Archon to speak to those above the Archons."
"The Heavenly Principles," Pug stated.
Aether admitted.
"And the Tsaritsa," Churchill said, "is collecting them."
"Mine was the first," Venti said quietly, "Their Harbinger Signora kicked me and then took it from me in broad daylight."
"And nobody did anything about it?" Pug asked.
Aether shook his head, "The Fatui have a lot of power and influence in our world."
"Prime Minister, I have met with Arlecchino before," Pug admitted to Churchill, "She has admitted that the Tsaritsa hopes to challenge the Heavenly Principles with the power of German Industry and American might as well combined. Hitler even mentioned Celestia, the place of these Heavenly Principles, in his announcement of the alliance back in February and the collection of these powerful items would fall in line with what Arlecchino has told me before."
Churchill's eyes moved from Pug to Aether, then to Venti.
"American might," he said.
"That is what Arlecchino implied," Pug said. "Not that America is presently theirs to use. Only that the Tsaritsa sees the United States as something that must eventually be brought into her attention as she understands that a war with America would not be productive for her."
Dill looked toward Aether, "Could Snezhnaya actually use Germany to challenge these Heavenly Principles?"
Aether did not have an answer immediately to respond until he thought about what Zhongli had told him.
However, Churchill spoke before he could continue, "When Hitler believes he has acquired an ally, while Snezhnaya has acquired a factory, a proving ground, and a lunatic willing to set half the world on fire."
"Now tell me what you told Whitcombe about your world and the Fatui, as well as what the madman Hitler has been doing there." Churchill asked.
Aether nodded as he decided to answer.
"Then I'll start with Mondstadt," he said. "That was where I first ran into the Fatui, where it all starts with a dragon named Duvalin."
Denmark Strait
May 24th, 1941
The seas were rough with visibility reduce to at least 3 miles for both sides of the battle; as from the South, two British warships sailed at top speed which included the mighty battlecruiser HMS Hood and the newly commissioned battleship HMS Prince of Wales. The weather was cold and the water drenched the rangefinder lens on the two warships as they sailed against the wind. Previously, they had come into position believing that they would be crossing the T on the enemy warships. However, a large moment of the two cruisers that were shadowing the Bismarck and Prinz Eugen caused the exact opposite, the Germans had the weather gauge and instead had crossed the T on the British. In addition, the British had one dilemma reported by the cruiser Norfolk who at one point got a little closer than necessary with the german Battleship Bismarck. The information that the captain of the Norfolk described as that the ship was not hit but was severely straddled by the Bismarck and took shrapnel damage that caused it to breakoff with a larger distance between it and Bismarck.
On the Prince of Wales, Captain John Leach of HMS Prince of Wales watched as they sailed at top speed and getting closer to the line of German ships. The Hood opened fire first aiming at the lead ship as her officers believed that it was the Bismarck. Seconds later, the shells landed around the lead of German ships.
Captain John Leach watched from the Prince of Wales as Hood's shells fell wide. The battlecruiser's great guns flashed again, and the thunder rolled across the cold water. Prince of Wales followed, her own forward turrets firing with a violent shudder that moved through the new battleship's frame.
"Enemy bearing steady," an officer called.
Leach kept his binoculars fixed on the German line as the spray struck the bridge windows. The wind dragged across the sea as he examined the lead ship.
"A turret is reporting issues after firing that first salvo," a sailor reported to Leach.
"Which turret?" Leach asked without lowering his binoculars.
"A' turret, sir. Forward quadruple. The shell ring's jammed on the fourth gun. They're working on it now."
Leach said nothing. He had been at sea for twenty days in a ship that had left the builder's yard with civilian fitters still aboard in the rush to get the Prince of Wales out to sea. The ship had new quadruple turrets at the bow and stern, which were very unreliable with poor mechanics in its systems. The two British ships continued firing on the lead ship where a salvo of ships splashed around Hood, which was definitely not ranging shots and definitely not cruiser salvo's at all. Normally, shells would be over and under the target at the start of the battle but suddenly it seemed the Germans had already gotten the range immediately.
Leach lowered his binoculars for half a second.
"That was not the cruiser," he said.
"No, sir."
"Then the second ship has Hood."
The officer behind him said nothing and did not need to. The Prince of Wales fired another incomplete salvo toward its target as the ship continued to speed up and get closer for the HMS Hood to avoid the risk of plunging fire. The old battlecruiser had a flaw that the Admiral of the taskforce, Lance Holland understood well as the pride of the Royal Navy had a armor decking that were built for battles in the last war, but now were outdated and weak to fire from above. His answer was clear and tactical to the danger using the speed of the ship and closing the distance. If Hood could close the range quickly enough, the German shells would come flatter and hit the thick armor belt. However, the HMS Hood had a race of minutes to close that distance safely.
Leach watched the flashes through his glasses. The lead German ship was still drawing most of Hood's fire, but the second ship was firing with the weight of a battleship. The shells came in heavy, fast, and terribly close as another set of white towers of water erupted near Hood.
"Gunnery is reporting that the lead ship is not Bismarck," an officer reported to Leach.
"I know," he said. "The lead ship is Prinz Eugen. Bismarck is second in line."
The officer turned at once. "Shift target, sir?"
"Shift the target to the second ship. Inform gunnery immediately."
Leach kept his binoculars on the second ship as he noticed that on the forward rangefinder was some sort of crystal like object where the rangefinder on a ship would be. He noticed that in the way that the crystal mirror was positioned on the ship and directed that it was pointing straight towards the Hood. However, the thing that surprised Leach even more was the mechanical head with the antenna on the position where a rear rangefinder would be and it too was pointed at Hood with its singular eye glowing brightly at Hood.
He watched as the shells from his ship scored some hits on the forward section of the Bismarck that he could observe. Ahead of the Prince of Wales, the battlecruiser Hood threw another salvo as her guns thundered. She was closing the distance hard at top speed. Then a hit, but not on the Germans, as a shell hit Hood's boat deck and started a fire that ignited from what could be guessed is ammo for the four inch guns on the deck of the Battlecruiser. Very quickly the fire climbed as a bright orange wound on Hood's boat deck with it small but ugly. Smoke bent backward into the wind.
"Hit on Hood's boat deck," an officer reported aboard Prince of Wales.
Leach kept his glasses on Bismarck.
"Keep our fire on the second ship."
"Aye, sir."
The Prince of Wales fired again.
Then minutes later, another salvo from the Bismarck came and the seconds turned into minutes until they straddle again but with one hitting the mainmast of the Hood and then a massive pillar of flames tore upward in the air between Hood's mainmast and her third turret like a giant blowtorch. Then a massive explosion occurred that broke through the rear section of the ship. The rear turrets on Hood were blown clean off as they went up in the air and splashed into the water. The ship had broken in two with the stern gone immediately, but the bow sank as it rose vertically up in the air and then slowly settled down into the sea. Before the bow of the great ship vanished, her forward turret fired one last salvo toward the enemy.
On the Prince of Wales, everyone was in complete shock at the sight before them as the pride of the royal navy sank in such a violent and quick end. The great battlecruiser, the ship whose name had meant British power to half the world, had vanished in less time than it took to read a signal.
Captain Leach felt the shock strike every man around him and felt himself stutter as he spoke, "Yeoman, make to Admiralty from Prince of Wales, tell them...tell them that the Hood has blown up."
"Yes, sir." the Yeoman replied.
"Starboard fifteen," Leach ordered the Prince of Wales around the sinking wreck of the Hood as the sound of another salvo from the German line of ships could be heard.
The new battleship heeled as her helm went over with her bow swinging away from the rising column of smoked that would mark the grave of fourteen hundred men. Leach ordered this turn for two reasons with the first being that the Prince of Wales was still making better than twenty-eight knots and would not steam his ship over the men in the water. The second reason was colder and that now with the Hood gone, the Prince of Wales was the only target for the two german ships to shoot at in the area. He was not going to allow his ship to be a easy target when his ship was having problems with its guns, the hope was that by changing course that it would throw the aim of the Germans off.
Very quickly, the line of German ships found the range at once. The first salvo from Bismarck, especially, had immediately straddled the Prince of Wales. Then the next one had hit with a fifteen-inch shell struck the compass platform of the Prince of Wales squarely, passed through the bridge structure without exploding, and carried out the far side with it almost every man standing upon it. Leach was flung to the deck by the passage of the thing. The pressure of it took the breath out of his chest and the cap off his head and the hearing, for a long ringing moment, out of his ears. When he got up, the scene was absolute carnage as almost everyone in the bridge except him and two others were dead. The deck was slippery with blood. The ship, itself, was also taking hits from the enemy that required quick action.
Leach quickly found a working voice pipe and shouted orders.
"Make smoke," he ordered. "Hard a-port. We are breaking off the action."
Moments later, the Prince of Wales swung away badly damaged and its funnel poured thick black smoke across the water behind her. The smoke and the haze together drew a grey curtain between her and the German guns where the shells from the Germans continued to fall. Even as the Prince of Wales sailed away, straddles occurred around her repetitively with some hits happening on her through the smoke.
London, England
May 24th, 1941
Aether and Paimon were staying at the home of a lady that Pug knew by the name of Pamela Tudsburry, who Aether had learned was where Venti had landed. They were invited to tea with Pug and Venti present as well, where Aether got to learn more about this nation and its people who had lived in warfare for the past year. Night had fallen on the city of London with the skies calm and no aircraft flying over head to drop bombs.
"This tea is actually pretty good," Paimon said as she took a sip, "You, British people, really do have a preference on your tea."
"We do," Pamela said from the other end of the table where she poured a second cup for herself, "and we take it as a considerable personal affront when someone declines it."
"Paimon would never," Paimon replied with absolute conviction.
Pug sat across from Aether with a cup of tea cooling beside his plate as he was still trying to process everything that he learned about the man's journey in Teyvat, when he told it to Churchill a few days ago. It all sounded like a novel that could make Don Quixote sound like a romantic quick read with only a few dull pages. If anything the tales of it seemed more real than the tales that Aether told him, where it starts with a dragon over a free city with the dragon corrupted by some abyssal energy. A dead god in a harbor that would nearly be drowned by the actions of the Fatui diplomat now talking to the United States at Hyde Park. He wondered how President Roosevelt would take that news when he sent his telegram to him. A puppet ruler of an island nation with a civil war, but was convinced to change against eternity. Then a lush forest and desert nation where its own leaders unjustly locked up its archon for many years and were doing dream experiments on their own people. Then last but not least a nation of water and justice with a machine that renders the judgement on people as well as a prophecy that originally foretold the end of the people for the crime of their creation. However, the story ends with this same young man and his floating companion hiding in Berlin wanted by the Gestapo.
Pug had spent a life in the navy and heard many stories, but the life of Aether seemed to be an entire Epic itself.
As Pamela brought dinner, she spoke to Aether, "All of this talk of a world different from ours is very fascinating really. I mean it seems this world of Teyvat has a variety of nations that are unique in their geography and culture even. If not for this war, i wouldn't mind a journey to one of those nations."
"Liyue," Paimon said immediately, with the conviction of someone who had given this question prior thought. "Paimon would take you to Liyue first. The harbor at dawn when the fishermen come in, and the Jade Chamber up in the clouds, and the food. Especially the food."
"The food is remarkable," Venti agreed from the window, with the authority of a man who had eaten across several continents and two worlds. "Though I would argue Mondstadt has a stronger case for the cider."
"Mondstadt has a stronger case for nothing except the wind and the bard who keeps claiming credit for both," Paimon replied.
"I take credit for neither," Venti said pleasantly. "I merely appreciate them."
Pamela set a plate of toast in front of Aether and looked at the bard with the expression she reserved for remarks that were technically deniable.
"What would a traveller recommend," she said to Aether, "if someone were going for the first time?"
Pug noticed that lately whenever Aether stopped was when he was actually considering what the question was asking of him to answer. He seemed to have the experience to understand how to break down important information from his experiences and make it plain as well as simple to understand while correct.
"It depends on what you want to find," Aether said. "Mondstadt is the easiest to arrive in without preparation. The people are welcoming and the Knights of Favonius would help a stranger find their way. Liyue is larger and more complicated but if you have time, there is nothing like it in either world. Fontaine is beautiful. The architecture is entirely different from anything here or anywhere else I have seen. Marble and waterways and a court system that treats the law as something worth arguing about seriously."
"That last quality," Pamela said, sitting down with her own plate, "would make it very popular in certain parts of Westminster."
Pug drank his tea and said nothing as he listened to the conversation.
"Father still wants to have that interview with you, Mr. Venti," Pamela admitted, "He wants to have you broadcast to our world who you are and your experiences of the Fatui."
"That would not be wise," Venti replied, "There was a reason why I let the Fatui get away with attacking me, which was to prevent harm coming to Mondstadt. If I go on your radio, then the Fatui will recognize my voice and I will put Mondstadt in danger. Plus, the whole city of Mondstadt doesn't need to know that I am their Archon Baratos."
Aether rolled his eyes as he understood that it seemed that almost everyone in the Knights of Favonius and good parts of the city of Mondstadt knew Venti is Barbatos…well all except Barabara, of course.
"How is Rhoda, Victor?" Pamela asked Pug as she walked by.
Pug looked up from his tea as the question did not catch him off guard as Pamela had asked about Rhoda before .
"Doing well, sick and tired of being stuck in Berlin and wanting to go back to America. And wonder when I am coming back to Berlin." Pug admitted, "The long travels don't help much in my marriage really."
Pamela stopped where she was.
"She's still in Berlin," she said.
"Waiting on the Embassy to arrange the transit," Pug said. "It keeps getting delayed. The Germans are not making it straightforward. The Fatui have complicated American departures from Berlin for months now, but that isn't nothing compared to Natalie and her uncle's situation."
Pamela turned from the counter fully now.
"Natalie is still in Siena," she said.
"With the baby," Pug said, "And with Aarron. They keep having to try to get him out, but Aaron has some technical issue on his birth status with the State Department."
Paimon lowered her cup. "Who are they?"
"My son Byron's wife," Pug said. "And her uncle who is a famous scholar. However, Bryon wrote to me lately telling me that now Natalie and Aaron keep getting visits from the Fatui as well lately all of a sudden. He included the letter that Natalie sent him explaining the event in great detail."
"Why would the Fatui carry about your daughter-in-law and her uncle?" Aether asked as he knew that getting noticed by the Fatui meant that they were interested in you, normally for not so good reasons.
"Aaron Jastroiw, her uncle, wrote a book called A Jew's Jesus where he sold millions of copies," Pug explained, "Pretty much everyone that I have met has heard or read the book. But Aaron is also Jewish…."
"That is very concerning," Pamela admitted.
"It does," Pug answered, "I already wrote a letter through the US Diplomatic Pouch to the Haringer that I met back in Berlin, Arlecchino, asking what is with the sudden interest in my daughter in law and her uncle."
"Arlecchino? You mean the one with the weird eyes?" Pamela asked.
Pug nodded firmly.
"That is very bold of you to do that, Mr. Henry." Paimon said.
"Please call me, Pug," Pug replied.
"How long do you expect it to take to reach her?" Aether asked.
"Not long," Pug answered, "Arlecchino does not strike me as a woman who lets correspondence sit unanswered. Whether the answer will be useful is another question entirely."
Pamela returned to her chair, her own tea forgotten for the moment.
"You wrote to a Fatui Harbinger," she said slowly, "asking her why her people are bothering your family. Forgive me, Victor, but that sounds rather like writing to a wolf to ask why it has taken an interest in your sheep."
Pug's mouth tightened, "I'm aware of the metaphor. But Arlecchino is not a wolf. Or not only a wolf. She's something else, and I have not yet learned the proper name for it."
Aether thought for a moment on that and agreed.
"Is there any good music on?" Aether asked for a moment.
Pamela nodded as she walked over to a radio and turned it on where a sound was played through the radio.
"This is London, Ed Murrow reporting," the voice on the radio said, "Just a moment ago, it has been reported that the HMS Hood, largest warship and pride of the British Fleet, has been sunk by the German Battleship Bismarck. Out of her complement of fourteen hundred, it has been reported that there were three survivors pulled from the water. In the same engagement, the British Battleship Prince of Wales was also badly damaged. It has been questioned on whether the British fleet has the sea power to find and sink the Bismarck. In Berlin, the Snezhnayan Diplomat, Lord Pantalone was quoted by Nazi propaganda press as 'the sinking of the Hood is a sign that days of British sea might has come to pass and that the British Government should seek peaceful means to end the war.' There is undoubtedly great rejoicing in Berlin tonight from both the Nazi's and Fatui, but also on the Bismarck."
The room held its silence for a long moment after the broadcast ended. Pamela's hand remained on the radio dial, though the set was off. Pug had not moved from his chair. His teacup sat untouched, a thin film forming on the surface of the cold liquid.
Paimon drifted down from Venti's shoulder and landed on the floor. She did not float. Her boots made a soft sound against the worn carpet with her face grey and broken like china.
"Three survivors," she said quietly, "Out of fourteen hundred."
"Yes," Pug said. His voice was flat, emptied of emotion by the sheer weight of the number.
Aether looked at the radio, then at Pug. He had learned, over many years in many nations, what it meant when a battle went wrong. He had stood on the shores of Liyue while Osial's waves crashed against the Jade Chamber. He had watched Inazuma's civil war claim lives one by one. But he had never seen a loss compressed into a single number on the radio.
"How many is that?" he asked. "In terms of... people you know?"
Pug looked at him. For a moment, he did not understand the question. Then his face softened by a fraction.
"The Hood was a ship, Mr. Aether, a great ship with a great crew," Pug stated, "But the men on her... they came from every port in Britain. Every village. Every city. When a ship that size goes down, it's not just a battle lost. It's a hundred towns that will get telegrams. At least hundreds of families that will never be the same. The whole world knew about Hood back in the twenties. She went on a tour through the world and after that the world knew the name of HMS Hood."
"What will happen now?" Aether asked.
"Well, the Royal Navy will want vengeance for the Hood," Pug admitted, "Every cruiser, battleship, aircraft carrier, destroyer, and patrol aircraft that can be spared will be sent after Bismarck. The Admiralty will not let her vanish into the Atlantic after this. Not after Hood. The Bismarck will find itself priority number one for the Royal Navy. I suspect any capital ship that was on escort duty in the Atlantic is suddenly being deployed to hunt the Bismarck."
"What is the Bismarck?" Aether asked.
"The newest of Hitler's new Battleship's," Pug answered, "I was on a tour in the ship after it was commissioned, they have a great damage control system and gunnery. At least months ago it did, I don't know if they made any changes thanks to the Fatui."
Aether drank his tea again as he stilled tried to process about hearing the death of over fourteen hundred men in one sink within a quick timeframe. The idea of people dying was not new to Aether, but to hear such an amount in a matter of time that would probably take years in Teyvat was shocking.
Admiralty, Whitehall
The same night
"Now, First Sea Lord, I want to make it unmistakably clear that there is nothing more vital to the nation at this moment as to the Destruction of the Bismarck," the voice of Churchill through the telephone.
"Yes, sir," The First Sea Lord, Admiral Sir Dudley Pound, replied.
"You are authorized to use all means at all to your disposal, regardless of the risk and regardless of the price that must be paid. Now I don't care how you do it, but you must sink the Bismarck," Churchill spoke, "And if the Snezhnayans are involved, take any and all actions needed to respond. Good luck to you."
The line clicked dead as everyone in the operations room listened and looked at the First Sea Lord. For several seconds, the First Sea Lord held the receiver in his hand and looked as if the Prime Minister's voice had left a burn mark on the black bakelite. Then he replaced with delicate care.
The old and fragile admiral watched as got back to their duties, he walked to the new director of operations, Captain Johnthan Shepard, who was in uniform and looking down at the map of the Atlantic Ocean with different pins with flags representing different ships out at sea. In the background, telephones rang as Wrens moved markers across the map table. Officers bent over signals and penciled courses. The First Sea Lord further examined the map of the Great Atlantic Ocean where it had the last known tracks of Bismarck, Prinz Eugen, Norfolk, Suffolk, Hood, and Prince of Wales. Hood's had a red market on it.
Shepard did not look up from the map immediately as he had been to bothered to look at the reported position of Bismarck. His dark hair was straight, but seemed to want to break up from hidden nerves of steel.
"What is the last confirmed position of Bismarck?" Pound asked.
Shepard indicated the pin as he explained, "Suffolk had her at nineteen-hundred. Course approximately two-one-zero, speed twenty-eight knots. She's been in and out of radar contact since the strait. Visibility up there is running between two and four miles with intermittent fog."
"King George V."
"Tovey has been closing since this morning. He is here," Shepard indicated a second pin, several hundred miles to the southeast of the last Bismarck position, "Making best speed. He has Repulse and Victorious with him."
"I have already ordered Rodney to leave her convoy, she was the last available ship," Pounded answered.
"I don't think so, sir," Shepard replied pointing to Gibraltar, "Here at Gibraltar is Force H. Renown, Ark Royal, and Sheffield are here. We can't just leave it to the Home Fleet, we must reach in and pull out every available ship."
Pound walked closer to the table looking at Force H's pin at Gibraltar and then to the Island of Crete east of mainland Greece, which had a pin with both the British Garrison and one for the German paratroops that were currently taking the island. Recently, those same German paratroopers called Fallschirmjägers had taken Maleme Airfield in Crete and forced a general pull out from Crete. Thankfully, in this invasion of Crete, the Fatui were not part of the equation at all really.
"We can't strip the Western Mediterranean with this Crete business going on," Pound commented, "Suppose we let Ark Royal down there and sent the other two out to the Atlantic."
Shepard thought for a moment as analyzed the suggestion, "No, sir. We may need Ark Royal's Aircraft. If Bismarck is damaged and leaking oil, she may be steaming for Brest or Saint-Nazaire. Her aircraft may be the only thing slowing her down."
"You are certain that she will make it for France?" Pound asked.
"Not certain," Shepard said. "But it is the most probable course given what we know. Prince of Wales hit her at least twice during the action. One of those hits was forward and the Suffolk's observer reported what looked like an oil trace in her wake before contact was lost. If she is losing fuel, she cannot attempt the return passage to Germany. The only Atlantic-facing dry dock that can take a ship her size is Saint-Nazaire."
Pound thought on it for a moment and remembered what the Prime Minister said. Every mean and asset is to be used regardless of the risk to the Royal Navy. He could argue with Shepard on the risk, but when it reaches the Prime Minister then he can't argue with said leader. Plus, Shepard knew more than anyone else the risk that he was suggesting. Not many people knew it as Shepard is the kind of person that is as cold as a witches heart, but Shepard has a son on the Ark Royal on one of the Swordfish planes. So, the man knew that by suggesting it that it was a risk that was personal to the man but necessary to get revenge for the Hood.
"Very well, Order Force H to sail at the earliest possible moment," Pound said, 'Now what do we know about the position of those Snezhnayan Submarines."
Shepard did not answer at once, which was the first thing that Pound noticed. Shepard was able to answer every question no matter the lack of information and intelligence that the Admiralty. However, these Fatui had been a new topic that any officer in all branches of His Majesty's Armed Forces had no understanding to ensure a strong method of defense against.
"Nothing certain, sir," Shepard said.
Pound's mouth tightened, "That is not an encouraging beginning."
"No, sir."
Shepard reached for three black counters from the side of the table and placed them beside the chart, not yet on it.
"We have Commander Henry's convoy report. Three anomalous submarines maintained contact for more than a day at approximately nine knots while submerged. No conventional German boat can do that without exhausting its batteries or deafening itself. General Tillet agreed with that assessment."
"Yes, I have read the report."
"There is also the intelligence from the Traveler."
Pound looked up sharply, "The blond young man from Teyvat with a bounty high enough to make a man in Berlin live like a King?"
"Yes, sir. He overheard a Luftwaffe officer on the train out of Berlin. The officer mentioned Snezhnayan submarines already operating in the Atlantic. He remembered the phrase 'Wolfpack something-or-other.'"
Pound stared at him.
Shepard's face remained unchanged.
"One would prefer intelligence not gathered from careless railway conversation," Pound said.
"One would prefer a great many things tonight, sir."
"Commander Henry has explained that the Tsaritsa has been holding back on large-scale aid to the Germans because of the talks," Shepard said. "Suppose that patience has run out. Suppose the submarines and Bismarck's gunnery are not separate developments, but the first visible signs that Snezhnaya has decided to stop merely advising the Germans and begin changing the war at sea."
Pound looked at him for a long moment.
"That is a large supposition, Captain."
"Yes, sir."
"And if you are wrong?"
"Then we have sent unnecessary warnings to ships already in danger."
Pound thought again on what Shepard was telling him. If there Fatui submarines were still out at sea with their unique characteristics and if this Tsaritsa decided that she was done waiting, then the Royal Navy has a problem. The convoy that Commander Henry sailed on went the upper route to Greenland and Iceland, if those Submarines were still out there….then they were not far from the British naval forces chasing the Bismarck.
"Alright, send a message to all vessels that Snezhnayan submarines were last spotted east of Greenland and have capabilities that exceed the German U-boats. All vessels are to have maximized precautions down against submarines. Avoid steady course and speed where tactically possible," Pound answered, "Have every vessel acknowledge the message."
"Yes, sir," Shepard replied as he looked at the pin for Prince of Wales, Norfolk, and Suffolk trailing the last known position of Bismarck.
"MIss. Davis," Shepard called out to a Wren with beautiful black hair and a face of angelic likeness, "How soon can Coastal Command get some Catalinas out in the Atlantic to find Bismarck and a Snezhnayan Submarine?"
Davis looked up from the signal pad at once.
"Sir, Catalinas can be requested from Northern Ireland and Iceland stations, but weather and range will be the issue. They can search for Bismarck. Finding a submarine is another matter unless it surfaces, leaves a wake, or makes the mistake of being seen."
"That assumes it behaves like a submarine," Shepard said.
"Yes, sir," Davis replied. "That is rather the difficulty."
Pound looked from Davis to Shepard. "What can they actually do?"
"Long-range search, sir," Shepard said. "They can sweep likely tracks, watch for oil, smoke, periscope wakes, signal masts, anything that breaks the surface. We can easily find the Bismarck with them, but these Snezhnayan submarines are different. For all we know is that they never have to surface, I am hoping that maybe the Catalinas can spot them at periscope depth or on the surface during a bad morning."
"I hope you're right, Shepard," Pound said, "I hope to God you're right."
North Atlantic
HMS Prince of Wales
May 25th, 1941
By four in the morning, it seemed almost as if the sea had swallowed the Bismarck as the British ships trailing had been following her since the battle. However, as night rolled, the ships began to zigzag in the concern of possible U-boats in the area. On radar, the three ships had her visible on the screen until all of a sudden she disappeared. Captain John Leach stood on the bridge of Prince of Wales with his coat collar turned up and his eyes fixed ahead into darkness. The battleship, Prince of Wales, creaked and shuddered through the cold water. Below decks, men were still fighting with her defects and wounds from the previous battle. However, all of the men below decks also began to accept the facts of what they witnessed from the battle, HMS Hood was gone. Every man wanted to revenge for the beloved ship of the Royal Navy and be part of the chase to sink the monster that sunk Hood.
A signals rating came up from the wireless office with a flimsy in his hand, "Signal from Suffolk, sir."
Captain John Leach took it and read it where it said essentially that they lost radar contact and it is believed that the Bismarck must have altered course.
For a moment, Leach looked not at the paper but at the darkness ahead.
"Wake-Walker?" he asked.
"Norfolk reports no visual contact, sir," the signals rating replied. "Weather closing. Suffolk is attempting to regain radar contact."
Leach handed the flimsy back, "Of course she is."
The officer of the watch stood near the chart table, his face pale beneath the dim red bridge lights, "Should we alter course again, sir?"
"Maintain the zigzag," Leach said. "No steady course. No steady speed if we can avoid it."
"Aye, sir."
Another rating appeared, breathless, "Admiralty warning, sir. Repeated transmission."
Leach held out his hand as the paper was handed to him with a corner on it damp. He read it under the red lamp. It warned of possible Snezhnayan submarine activity in their area. These submarines would be much different than German U-boat capability. The message gave the order to increase anti-submarine operations wherever possible and report all unidentified submerged contacts.
He processed the message and understood what it meant. The Admiralty was worried that the Fatui were planning to take the scouting party off-guard and give Bismarck more time to escape from being hunted by the Royal Navy. He gave the order for lookouts to be doubled and that the Engine Room was to be ready for emergency maneuvering at a moment's notice.
On the bridge Leach stepped out onto the starboard wing as the wind hit him first and then the rain. The cold came after it as it struck the collar of his coat. Ahead and to starboard, he could make out nothing but darkness and fog. Somewhere ahead of Prince of Wales was Norfolk and to Prince of Wales starboard was Suffolk, the pair of cruisers were out there trying to regain contact with the Bismarck. Of course, out there was the Bismarck itself in the water and sailing away from their detection.
"Anything from Suffolk?" Leach asked.
"Nothing yet, sir."
"Ask again."
"Aye, sir."
The signal lamp blinked into the murk. Its shuttered light looked small against the Atlantic, a little square of human insistence pressed against a continent of black water.
Then a lookout shouted from the starboard side, "Light bearing starboard bow."
Leach turned at once to see a low on the horizon where a dirty orange flicker opened and died behind rain. The light was low and broad on the water. For a moment, the bridge seemed to hold its breath.
"Signal from Suffolk, sir!" the rating called. "Possible torpedo tracks sighted. Taking evasive action."
Leach's face hardened.
"Hard a-starboard. Full Ahead. All hands brace."
"Hard a-starboard, aye!"
The helmsman spun the wheel hard over and the Prince of Wales began to answer at a slow but heavy pace. Her deck shifted underfoot where the men in the decks below cursed as unsecured tools slid across the steel plating. Through the fog, Suffolk appeared for a moment as a long gray shadow with three funnels, a tall foremast, and a lean cruiser hull. She too was turning hard with white water peeling from her bow as she tried to comb some tracks of torpedoes that Leach could barely make out. Four torpedo wakes ran toward Suffolk in an even spread.
For a heartbeat, Leach thought that Suffolk might be able to do it and make it out of this.
Then the first torpedo hit the ship on Suffolk's port side amidships just below the machinery spaces. There was no eruption of water from the blast as a red flash occurred on the plates of the ships, where then seconds later a yellow flash occurred as the hull and interior of the ship visible from the hole glowed like a furnace. There was no sound that could reach Leach with only the flash and the impossible glow. Then the sound arrived with the sound of steel cracking and tearing with a sound like shattering glass and breaking iron..
Then the second torpedo hit the Suffolk on the port side closer to the stern. The blast lifted the cruiser's stern in a short motion. The thinner stern broke apart into pieces with hot glowing cracking segments falling off and into the sea until the port side of the stern of the cruiser was cracked and broken apart with after compartments exposed to the sea. So much steel broke off that one could see the barbette of the Cruiser's Y turret exposed to the elements.
Then the stern of the Suffolk quickly began to settle under the sea as the cruiser began to also list hard to her port side. Fire burned amidships with a bright orange while the impact holes and the steel around them seemed to almost crystallize with a glow.
Leach kept his binoculars fixed on the cruiser. The stern of Suffolk sagged lower every second. Water rushed into the torn aft compartments in a white boiling mass. The damage did not look like the clean hole of a normal torpedo. Around the wound, the steel had gone jagged and bright, glowing in seams of red-orange and dull gold. It looked as though some giant smith had struck the ship with a hammer and left the metal half-molten.
A signal rating came up fast, one hand gripping his cap against the wind, "From Suffolk, sir. Torpedoed. Radar out. Heavy flooding. Steering gone."
"Signal Wake-Walker," Leach ordered, "Suffolk torpedoed. We are standing by to assist. Maximum anti-submarine precautions."
The officer beside him turned. "Sir, if we reduce speed…"
"I know."
"If the submarine fires again…"
"I know."
The officer closed his mouth as the Prince of Wales started to become a different ship down below. As men ran to stations scrambling nets, lines, Carley floats, blankets, and stretchers. After a minute, the Prince of Wales closed on the survivor field off Suffolk's starboard side. Across the water, Suffolk continued to list to port. Men ran along her higher starboard side, some carrying wounded, some dragging Carley floats, some simply trying to find a way off before the cruiser rolled. Smoke poured from amidships as her stern sat deeper with every rise of the sea. The Atlantic climbed higher over her quarterdeck, washing through the torn-open aft compartments.
Another signal came in, broken and uneven.
"From Suffolk, sir," the rating said. "Flooding uncontrollable aft. Abandoning ship."
Leach took the message and read it to himself for a moment.
"Bring us closer to the survivor field," Leach ordered, "Slow ahead. Keep steerageway. Do not close directly alongside."
"Slow ahead, aye."
The Prince of Wales eased forward with her engines turning just enough to move forward. The sea between the two ships was littered now with debris, Carley floats, torn planking, oil, and men. As the battleship pulled into position, her crew began to act with nets being slapped against her side and shouting into the wind as they helped any man that managed to reach the net.
"Grab Hold, lad."
"Come on, Lad."
"Swim this way."
"Give me your hand."
On the Suffolk, men were abandoning ship from the high starboard side and swimming away to the Prince of Wales. Some jumped cleanly into the water, while others slid down the tilted deck and vanished into the sea. As the starboard side rose up more and more, her stern settled where the water reached over the rear turrets as it sprayed onto the top deck. Her bow, at the same time, rose up out of the water with most of the red paint on the bow noticeable.
"Christ," one of the men on the bridge whispered.
One survivor came up after another onto the deck of the Prince of Wales. They were in varying conditions as they crossed the water with some covered in oil. The crew of the Prince of Wales helped out to get as many men out of the water as possible, where a man reached for the rope but missed and went under. However, he only came up because another sailor in the water grabbed him by the back of his coat where he shoved him toward the net.
Out in the distance, the Suffolk groaned as the loud tearing of metal, bulkheads, deckplates, and machinery could be heard from within the sinking ship. The cruiser's port side was almost under now and flipped. As her stern went under where her rear most funnels started to hit the water and go under as the list worsened. More men jumped into the water as the ship went under by the stern and its starboard side completely vertical with some men walking on the side of the ship.
Then as if the weight of the water in the stern and midsection in the ship was pulling it down, the ship went under faster as her tilted bow rose higher out of the water. The forward turrets horizontally were pointing toward the air. Seconds later, the cruiser slipped beneath the waves as the front was pulled under by the weight in the stern. The men on the deck of the Prince of Wales, both the crew and the survivors of Suffolk, said nothing as they watched it in complete silence.
Then in the darkness were the cries of men in the water crying out for rescue. Leach removed his cap and gave orders for the continuation of the rescue operations. Afterwards, he called for the Yeoman to the bridge.
"Make to Admiralty," Leach said, "HMS Suffolk torpedoed and sunk. Enemy submarine believed Snezhnayan. Survivors being recovered. Contact with Bismarck was lost."