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There had not been a parade like it in some time.

Four of the most significant Dunkirks in the Fleet performed a flyby over the barren field of the New London Military Spaceport. Everyone present should have had hearing protection, but didn't, of course, and likely lost five years off their hearing.

- The Pendragon, the Admiralty Board Mobile Command Flagship.

- The Regina, the personal Flagship of Fleet Admiral Nelles.

- The Majestic, commanded by John Redmond.

- The Rodney, a well maintained old ship, under the command of Admiral James Montgomery (Reserve), who had the duty of Auxiliary Chief Marshall of the Reserve Fleet.

Multiple telescreens showed the Fleet Admiral, the Minister of Defense, and the Queen herself on the parade deck of the Pendragon. Higher ranking officers were gathered behind the dias, for the ceremonies.

Minister of Defense James Ralston began the proceedings.

"Honoured guests, members of the Fleet Admiralty Board, and Your Majesty.", he began.

"Today we witness an unprecedented acknowledgement of the dedication and skill of many of the members of the Armed Forces."

Translation. The fall of Upper Leeds took a lot of pilots to their graves. Those who remain are obviously the best of the best, filtered by battle. And there were now a lot of holes to fill in the ranks, from top to bottom.

"Firstly to the rank of Admiral, I ask Her Majesty Queen Carina to do the honours."

The Monarch stepped forward with a pair of Admiral insignia, and an aide stood by with two gilded swords.

"Lord Aubrey Mainwaring shall assume Admiral duties, and command of the Sixth Fleet, and the HMS Essex."

The new Admiral came forward and kneeled before his Monarch, who then presented him with his laurels, and his sword.

"And", Ralston continued, "Sir Stanley Nelson is promoted to the rank of Admiral, and command of the Fifth Fleet, and the HMS Suffolk."

Sir Nelson came forward, and took his rank insignia and sabre with a smile. He had requested an ancient Cavalry sabre. God knows why. Maybe he wanted to use a horse on a future boarding party.

The Minister of Defense would personally promote those deserving of the rank of Commodore; those men were Douglas Bader, John Redmond (MBE), and Lord Sir Roger Brinkley, also a Carina's Cross recipient.

Bader was assigned to command the First Battle Fleet under the 11th Great Fleet, under Admiral Frobisher, onboard the Grimsby.

Redmond's Dunkirk, the Majestic, was assigned to be the Flagship of the First Battle Fleet, under Admiral Cunningham of the York (Flagship of the 8th Great Fleet).

Brinkley would be assigned to lead the First Battle Fleet under the 11th Great Fleet, based out of the HMS Derby.

The Fleet Admiral took over the proceedings from there.

"Promoted to the rank of Captain : Winston Doyle, Neville Hughes and George Harrington."

These men also received ceremonial swords, and though they were not as elaborate as those granted to the Admirals, and nor could they be custom ordered, they were fine blades, which a good swordsman could use to defend his bridge. When Leeds fell, that did happen a few times.

The Fleet Admiral continued:

"Promoted to the rank of Commander: Jack Frost, Blake Owen, Simon Aldwyn, Evyn Hunter, James Hobart and Aileen Fowl."

Those new Commanders came forward and graciously accepted their insignia. The Fleet Admiral was a bit nervous around Commander Evyn Hunter. It was rumoured that Hunter had once made an attempt on the Fleet Admiral's life, but the incident had been swept under the carpet. Strange times, indeed.

Sir Stanley Nelson announced the remainder of the promotions and assigned those more junior officers their new ranks.

"Promoted to the rank of Lieutenant Commander : Rodney Trotter, Jacob Carter, John Richards, John Cooper, and Roger Ring."

Rodney Trotter and Jacob Carter already had received DFC's and were wearing them proudly at the dias.

"Promoted to the rank of Lieutenant", Nelson continued, "Ian Driscoll, Roland Gilead, Daniel Elgey, Elsie Robirds, Moritz Karlson, Ryan Williams, Dennis Harris, Boris McDonald, Jare Karlo, John Galt, and Chris Wallace."

These young pilots came up to the dias anxiously, and received their promotions with respect, but some nervousness. Hundreds were watching.

At that point, a new figure approached the dias, Prime Minister Lord George Mountbatten. He bowed to Her Majesty, and took the microphone with the ease of a professional politician. He looked into the crowd and found a specific Ensign, whom he then gave a wink to. The Ensign had looked crestfallen, believing he had been passed over for promotion to Lieutenant, but now he looked like he simply had no idea what to believe.

"Less than a fortnight ago," began Mountbatten, "I was enroute from Liberty when my transport, the HMS Whitehall, was attacked by a Corsair raiding party."

He continued, after a short pause, "I won't elaborate, since many of you know the details, but if it weren't for a certain Ensign here today, you would now be bickering over who your next Prime Minister would be." There were a few surpressed chuckles at that.

"Promoted to the Rank of Lieutenant, Austin Goodman!"

Now-Lieutenant Goodman paused in a bit of disbelief, then marched smartly up to the dias.

The Prime Minister addressed him in a casual tone, now, quietly. "Congratulations son. I am, for stunningly obvious reasons, forever grateful for your service. Wounds healing?"

Goodman could only nod.

"Excellant. Your CO tells me you have the makings of a hell of an officer, IF you keep your nose clean, and obviously, relatively unbloodied."

Goodman managed to speak this time. "Yes sir, I'll be sure and try, sir."

The Prime Minister nodded then went to dismiss the Lieutenant, then paused. "I'm forgetting something, oh yes.." Another wink now.

He boomed out again, "It is my honour to present Lieutenant Goodman with Carina's Cross. He saved my life, and I give him this. I think I came out the best on this trade."

"This honour usually falls to Her Majesty, but I have asked and received permission to give this award myself."

He looked at Goodman, and asked quietly, "If you don't mind, of course.."

Goodman, at this point, could only stammer, and shake his head.

As he pinned the medal on the Lieutenant's uniform, the PM laughed quietly.

"Don't look so surprised, son. You saved my ship, and my life. Did you think we were just going to get you a Christmas ham?"

Goodman was dismissed from the dias and returned, beaming, to his squadron. Forgetting they were on a parade ground, his fellow pilots cheered him and jostled him, and smacked him on the back. Which hurt like hell. Ejecting from a Paladin really was not gentle to the human body.

The Marchpast was deafening, and the Dunkirks blazed over the field, then disappeared into the sky, to their various postings.

The new Bretonian Armed Forces was now leaner.

And far meaner.

And Bretonia would prevail.

Bretonian Armed Forces Current Command Structure

Commander Isacc Bringham of the Bretonian Rapid Response Force Prime stood with the rest of the BRRFP members, including Vice Admiral Edmund Howe.

Brave men all, they deserve it

As one they snapped a salute to Queen Carina, turned on their heels, and returned to their ships. There were Kusari to kill after all.

Not mentioned was the recent 'removal' of rank of one Admiral Sir Andrew Stuart.

Funnily enough, everyone seemed to think that the new Admiral on board the Battleship Stirling, Sir Stuart Andrews, looked a lot like him. For some reason, not a single crewmember could fathom why when asked.

Former Admiral Sir Andrew Stuart




Admiral Sir Stuart Andrews

*Sitting in his quiet and poorly lit quarters, he signs the last of the congratulation letters to every man and woman promoted he personally hand wrote. He leans back in his wooden chair and smiles, with the look of death in his eyes he whispers*

To fallen comrades... *and sips from his whiskey*

((//Post taken from 'And all Her Majesty's Men'))

While looking back up at the sky, and the things to come. He only wished for one thing. To find his lost Wingman, Sipher Rockwell, who should of been promoted to Lieutenant on this very day.

Unknown to anyone, Austin secretly vowed to not give up, not for the Queen, not for Prime Minister, nor for the Fleet Admiral. He was considered a hero among his fellow pilot's, a hero in the eye's of the Bretonian Citizens. However, he was just a soldier fighting a war. Anyone else in his situation would have done the same thing.

Yes, it was a morale boost for fellow pilots to know they where fighting along side a Hero. It also means that people would ask him questions, and it would mean he's now the biggest target, in the war.

For what boost's morale of the enemy, can also demoralize them. He looked down at his chest and stared at the medal. Shaking his head lightly and whispering

"I guess a medal is worth getting a bullet in you arm, being in the hospital for a week. Coming back on duty to realize your wingman has mysteriously vanished, fight an ensign in the Kusari Naval forces. Receive two titles from the Fleet Admiral himself, get a new wingman who turns out to be a 95 year old miner. Receive volunteer order to escort the Prime Minister to Liberty space, meet an Admiral of the West Point Military Academy.

Receive a loft to sleep in for a few hours, wake up and get yelled at by your commanding officer. Help the libertorians during a fight, return to Manhattan to rest for a few hours before the Prime Minister's ship leaves, leave Liberty heavily escorted, then enter Bretonia with just one escort. Then get attacked by two Corsair ship's, by holding them off until the Prime Minister escaped."

He sighed, then inhaled deeply. He looked around watching pilots laugh and joke around with each other, some pilots raised their glasses as he walked by, shouting "To the King of the Paladin, Savior of the Prime Minister!" Other pilots smiled and gave him a salute as he walked by, they where Ensign's. He walked past a group of Volunteer Fleet pilots who gave him a small smile, He served with them.

He continued through the crowd of people. Blank expression, holding himself high. One could say he was a changed man, another could say he was eager to get back to the war. Yet other argue, he wanted something more then just a promotion, and a medal. As he continued to walk, carrying himself like an Admiral would, he thought Queen's Royal Guard, or Knighthood...Both will be hard to achieve, but if I got a medal, that is hard to achieve itself, then both of these are within reach.

His thoughts trailed off.

Old man Fowl was crying out his eyes in the quite large crowd around him. His daughter , was finally giving something back to Bretonia after taking so much as a reckless teenager. His pride and joy , his reason to live , all of these emotions where now stored within the young Aileen.

Later, when newly promoted officers were celebrating their promotions, and overall success in the latest days of war, in New London's pub, new Lieutentant commander was trying to find one certain person. The fact he was slightly tipsy wasn't very helpful. As he walked with glass of brandy in his right hand, he was looking around for one specific face.

Finally, he found who he was looking for. Fresh Lieutentant, Austin Goodman, was drinking with other promoted Lieutentants, which were serving with him as Ensigns before, but one could say most of them were acting like he was actually an Admiral. Jacob waved at him. Austin apparently understood and soon was standing near him, raising his arm to salute.
"Leave this for now", Jacob stopped him and smiled. "Well, I didn't have time to congratulate you for the promotion... and the medal of course.", he stopped his talk for a while and drank a bit brandy from his glass "Congratulations Lieutentant, it's well-deserved lad, actually, if you were not promoted soon, I would go and ask Fleet admiral, no, even the Queen to promote you" he laughed, and added "At least you wont have to listen to Ramey's orders anymore huh?" and laughed again. Austin smiled at his slightly drunk superior officer.
"One day, you are going to achieve something really big Austin, if you keep up this good work, I hope I can survive this war long enough to see it myself", Jacob winked at him, "See you in space tomorrow lad" after this, he finally turned around and left Goodman to continue on celebrating.

After he finished the glass of brandy he had, he headed back to his quarters.

Soloreth watched quietly, appluading where needed and expected, and smiling as each person recieved their promotions.

He was happy, he patrolled, he fought, he ejected for the queen and Bretonia, and he liked it.

He was happy for the people recieving promotions, and glad he wasn't up there.

"I like it where I am" he thought, "Here is just fine..."

The old Prof was still "entertaining" the ladies at the bar. " And I watched the fight of Goodman, mind you. And I knew he was on his way to good things. Then you have all heard the news.. too bad, I wasn't there the fight with the corsairs." The ladies almost giggled. " Ah, you know, every bit helps..and now that you mention it, I got a promotion out of it too.. no, no, no congratulations.. over too many dead bodies.." and a faraway look came into his eyes. Private Dhyan Singh, Gunner, HMS Fearless, Patrick O'Brian, cook, how many more.. useless deaths. Kusari and the enemies of Bretonia will pay.

'You will not understand, dear ladies," he said to himself.