L'Epée, La Couronne, et Les Flammes. The Sword, The Crown, and The Flames.
Gallic Occupied Space - Edinburgh
Magenta Battlegroup Inspection,
Battleship Castres
"I have seen all, I have heard all, I have forgotten all.
-- Marie Antoinette
"Attention! Maréchal on the deck!"
A woman in her late twenties wearing the signature white and red uniform of the Gallic Royal Navy strolled out of the corridor with her hands clasped behind her back. The military cap she wore was tilted down just enough to cover her eyes from others as she marched forwards passing rows of various pilots, and crewmen who were all in formation within the hanger. The fall of her boots echoing throughout the hanger.
She studied the formations as she walked straight between them, using her peripherals as she continued her slow approach towards the podium that had been brought in a few hours before. It had been a while since a proper inspection was held on board a Gallic Capital, and she knew it from the nervous looks, the quiet mutterings, and the uneasy feeling that filled the room as she stepped around to the podium.
"Bonjour mes camarades," She said in a stern voice and slow voice, "As many of you know, I'm the new Maréchal in charge of the battlegroup that the Castres is assigned to. In case you don't know who I am... my name is Julie Bonheur, and I served as a Royal Guard Capitaine assigned to protect the royal family itself, that means I know the King and his family... personally." She paused, allowing for her statement to sink in before continuing, "I have just finished inspection of the Castres, and this vessel is not up-to-par with military regulations established by the Gallic Royal Navy High Command." She fell silent, her eyes silently scanning the formation of personnel.
"This battleship is assigned to protect the supply lines coming in from Orkney and Lewis, as well as making sure no offensive can be carried out from Dundee, and a bunch of slobs can't seem to keep the floors cleaned. That is something I would expect... from a Police Officer. Not members of this Navy."
"I came into this position wondering why? Why haven't we taken Leeds and pushed further into Breton space. Well... I saw why the moment I stepped on this ship. Your pilots are sloppy - arrogant, your fellow crew members can't keep out of each others pants... oh oui, I've heard the moans and groans as I passed through the ship, to top it all off... not one of you have acknowledged the ranking officer when she was present. I should have each and every one of you killed, but that would be a waste of military resources."
She paused once more, letting her words sink in as she looked over to the Capitaine of the Castres, "Commandant Allard Charlot, please step forwards." She held back her smile as she watched the man step forwards, watching him swallow hard. "Please... stand in front of the formation facing them."
Her eyes followed the Commandant as he carried out her orders. A thought crossed her mind as to what he was thinking, which only caused her to smirk softly as she pushed off the podium, her hand resting gently on the grip of her side-arm, having unbuttoned the strap holding it in prior to entering the hanger. Once he had stopped moving, she gracefully made her way over behind him, calmly pulling the pistol out from her leg holster and placing it on the back of the mans head, flipping the safety off.
"Let it be known now... failure to pass inspection under my command will result in the execution of the Commandant of the ship that is being inspected, as they will be charged with attempting to sabotage the Gallic war effort. She saw the man tense up, "Commandant Allard Charlot became sloppy, slacked off, and failed at keeping this vessel at it's peek performance."
She pulled the trigger and the hanger filled with a deafening crack, followed by a thump as a body collapsed to her feet.
"Capitaine Danielle Moreau, step forwards." She looked out of the corner of her eye to see the woman step out of formation.
"Oui, Maréchal?" Moreau asked, looking forwards.
"Congratulations, you have temporary command of the Castres. Dismiss the formation."
"Oui!" Moreau turned sharply to her left and marched towards the Maréchal, ignoring the body on the ground as she barked for the formation to be dismissed.
Gallic Occupied Space - Edinburgh
Magenta Battlegroup,
Battleship Villeneuve
"A leader is a dealer in hope."
-- Napoleon Bonaparte
'Things are... peaceful for once.'
Those where the thoughts running through Julie's mind as she gracefully walked down the hall with her hands clasped behind her back, passing cheering crowds of various men and women whom she now commanded. Today was a decisive victory against the rebel forces of Gallia, and those of Bretonia. A small strike wing of the best pilots she could muster, herself included, engaged the enemy high in Leeds orbit, taking everything in their path down from several fighters to the mighty Bretonian Dunkirk and everything in between. To make it better, not a single Gallic pilot was lost.
The first victory. The first of many more to come.
She wore a light grin on her lips as she mulled over the events that had happened, but the only thing that mattered was the victory on the Leeds front, as it seemed to be the first major military victory to happen since forcing the Kusari Empire-turned-Republic into surrendering, and this particular victory comes days before the Tri-Nationale War Convention... the thought alone turns her grin into a sheepish smirk.
Julie allowed the celebrations to continue and even allowed for the party to continue this late into the night, as she made her way down towards the Hanger deck to inspect a Taureau Assault Transport that was in the process of being modified for diplomatic and personal pleasure, rather than militaristic.
The gaze of her blue eyes rested lovingly on the ship as it came into view, The Provence. She had named the ship after the system her family was from. She had enlisted a small majority of former Royal Guard members who had served under her before while protecting the Prince, and even used her own money to pay for the commissioning and refitting of the transport itself.
The rear cargo bay doors were open as she approached. Inside she could see various men and women moving things into and out of the cargo bay, this gave her pause as she stopped to silently observe what the people were doing. As she watched, thoughts began racing through her mind.
With the Tri-Nationale War Convention only days away, she knew what she wanted to discuss, what she wanted to say. But she also knew that her people had attacked the Sirians without warning, only declaring war after their fleets had broke through both Kusari and Breton lines. A move that left a foul taste in the mouths of many Sirians, and many of whom she encountered. By luck she had managed to get one of the major houses to actually attend the Convention itself, and it was going to take a miracle to get everyone to agree on specific terms.
She knew she couldn't fail as failure would mean weakness, and a weakness that the enemy would feed upon time and time again. All of Sirius would be watching, all of Sirius would be informed, no... failure here wasn't an option, not when billions and billions of people throughout Sirius were watching, and waiting.
She needed to exploit their weaknesses... and she let out a heavy sigh as the one person who could help in that regard came to her mind. Uncrossing her arms, she turned away from the Provence and began walking towards the exit of the hanger, heading towards the communication room.
Gallic Occupied Space - Edinburgh
Magenta Battlegroup,
Battleship Villeneuve
"Never interrupt your enemy when he's making a mistake."
-- Napoleon Bonaparte
Cheering, quite a bit of cheering to be exact.
She drew in a deep breath, slowly opening her eyes as a smirk appeared on her face. Having finished stretching she brought the boxing gloves in front of her and started shifting back and forth on her feet, staring down her opponent - a young female hot-shot that had called Julie out on her combat abilities, and rather than shooting the young woman, Julie decided it was best to put the girl in her place.
The betting only widened her smirk as she waited for the other woman to finish getting ready. She pulled her mouth-guard out briefly, "You can still back out, Lieutenant." She shouted across the ring of the recreation room - an act that set the entire room into a louder uproar. She grinned, showing her teeth as she watched the other woman, Alison, giving her a dirty look. Shortly after both women put their mouth guards back in, stepping towards the middle of the ring.
Julie's eyes were locked on her target as she brought her right hand out, hitting the glove of her opponent, a gesture of good sportsmanship. The moment the two retracted their boxing gloves was the moment the referee threw his hand down and blew into a whistle.
Instinctively, Julie stepped back bringing her arms up over her face as the hot-shot charged forwards with fists flying, though she took a hit just before her arms were brought up. This caused her to stagger backwards some. She stayed on the defensive as she stepped backwards, now blocking each strike that came in and letting out an annoyed sigh.
The crowd cheered on, although she was unsure who they were cheering for.
It took a few seconds for the strikes to slow down, her opponent clearly starting to lose stamina with each strike. Taking one more hit to her arms, she side-stepped and brought her knee up into the stomach of her opponent, of whom was caught off guard and staggered backwards, gasping for air. An opportunity had presented itself as her opponent wheezed and sucked in air. She took it.
A few seconds later, her opponent laid on the floor gasping heavier for air. Julie having landed one good punch into the stomach of the Lieutenant, the room fell somewhat silent with faint murmurs and people looking between each other. A few of those people - that Julie could see - started exchanging credits between each other.
Spitting the mouth guard out, she started to unstrap the boxing gloves as she walked out of the ring, panting heavily and tossing the gloves to the side themselves.
"Everyone. Get your asses back to work. We have a war to win." She shouted, leaving the recreation room.
Gallic Occupied Space - Orkney
Magenta Battlegroup,
Battleship La Riche
"A picture is worth a thousand words."
-- Napoleon Bonaparte
She was barking orders the moment she entered the bridge, putting the entire battleship in a state of emergency. Various thoughts were running through her mind, having just got back from the communication room, upon receiving an urgent message.
She swore a duty to uphold the value and traditions of the Gallic Royal Navy, and to protect the Royal Family from harm. While she was assigned to ensure the safety of Prince Joseph DeFrance - prior to her being requested to the front, she felt she had failed in her mission, and now a Valor, not just any Valor, was in the hands of an enemy.
The RNS-Normandie, was the vessel of Princess Alice DeFrance, both having vanished without a trace, once again prior to Julie's service on the front lines, now... now it resurfaced in the hands of Liberty, and who knows what had happened to the Princess.
A plan was coming together in Julie's mind on how to safely retrieve the Princess from Liberty, or to see if she was still alive, but it would cost a sacrifice, she drew in a deep breath, and nodded lightly before turning and leaving the bridge.
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