Freedom of Navigation

The South’s greatest trading partners were the West, the East, and the Center.

The West, which absorbed twenty percent of southern exports, was linked by land routes, and even by sea it used waters that belonged to the South—so that corridor posed no problem. To ship the remaining volume, however, the sea lanes near the Belfort Archipelago were indispensable.

“If those lanes are closed, exports to the Center will become extremely difficult,” Lucilla reported, a folder tucked under one arm, her expression as deadpan as ever. “Even ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠if we expand overseas sales, finding markets that can fully replace the empire’s share in a short time is… frankly impossible.”

“Of course. And our already fragile economy would collapse.”

The empire itself clearly wanted to keep the South in check. Its refusal to restrain the East’s maritime blockade said as much. Full economic sanctions hurt both the enforcer and the target.

Kyle remembered how, on Earth, even China—despite its bluster, had never dared embargo the semiconductors it truly needed from Taiwan, settling instead for petty bans on snacks and fruit.

If the empire was willing to sanction every southern product regardless of the cost, it could only mean they were determined to contain him no matter the price.

“Still no reaction from the Center?”

“None of substance. They urge us to resolve matters through formal dialogue, but they take no action themselves.”

“They’ve decided to cut us out entirely.”

That would inflict heavy damage on the South as well. Once sanctions began, the imperial Center would suffer, yet the blow would not be decisive—fifty years of economic ruin had become something of an imperial tradition. And the common people?

Corrupt nobles had never cared about their lives to begin with. In the end, only the side with something left to lose would truly pay. The North was already attempting its own half-hearted industrial revolution, and foreign nations were modernizing, albeit more slowly than the South.

Better to settle this quickly, then.

If conflict was inevitable, he would force the issue with the East before the empire could prepare, and win it before the Center even realized what was happening.

“Lucilla.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Go to the judiciary and tell them to accelerate the merger. Loopholes can be patched later—getting the merger done comes first.”

People, he knew, were strangely moved by hollow pretexts. Rushing the merger this way might create headaches for future generations, but right now speed mattered more than perfection.

“We’ll be able to formally annex the West soon enough anyway.”

Once he crushed the East and seized command of the seas, even the crown prince would have no choice but to acknowledge his power.

March 27th.

Spring’s warmth had finally reached Albion, capital of the South, yet relations between the South and the rest of the empire had never been colder. Despite the East’s stern warnings, the merger of the southern and western judiciaries was complete.

“From this day forward, the judiciaries of the South and West shall stand as one body, resolving the problems of a new age together.”

The judicial merger was the signal flare for full administrative integration. One after another, government agencies launched “joint response bureaus”—ostensibly cooperative departments of South and West.

On the surface the arrangement was equitable: equal numbers of officials of similar rank drawn from both regions, a horizontal structure of partnership. Those who understood the reality told a different story.

“This is just the South swallowing western administrative organs whole.”

Outwardly the West still existed. Officially the cooperation was merely an efficient way to apply new technologies. Open rebellion was therefore difficult; any objection crumbled before the banner of “serving the citizens.”

Eastern Grand Duke Edward was not particularly worried.

“Hmm… so he intends to keep things ambiguous, does he?”

Southern Grand Duke Kyle Leopold had not been foolish enough to devour the West outright. He was no longer the awkward youth Edward had seen at a ball ten years earlier. Edward was willing to concede that much—today’s Kyle was no simpleton.

“But you are not the only one who can play at ambiguity.”

Charles Raymonds had lost because he underestimated his opponent. Edward had no intention of falling the same stupid way.

“We shall answer with our own gray-zone tactics.”

So Edward did not impose a full naval blockade. Instead he issued a notice of maritime exercises directed at the South.

Twenty-five ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠days was not long enough to deliver a decisive blow, yet for a South running a wartime economy it was a meaningful warning.

Edward smiled to himself.

“Let us watch the South slowly choke.”

The waters south of the Belfort Archipelago ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠were public seas—neither southern territory nor even imperial. Blocking them under the pretext of training was ordinarily unthinkable. Yet before the East’s overwhelming naval power, no one dared protest.

…Or so Edward believed.

“So the eastern bastards are using ‘training’ as an excuse to seal our export routes?”

“Yes. For the past two days every one of our merchant vessels attempting to pass through the public waters near the Belfort Archipelago has been turned back. One company sloop that tried to force the issue was even subjected to warning shots from naval cannon.”

“Hmm. Less aggressive than I expected.”

Honestly, Kyle had expected an immediate blockade. The pressure on the East had to be considerable. Yet Edward had shown a measure of restraint.

They mean to keep the moral high ground while slowly strangling us.

It was the most rational choice. Wars were best begun with a proper casus belli. But Edward had made one critical mistake: he assumed no merchant captain would dare enter the exercise zone.

“Lucilla. How many steamships of twenty thousand tons or more can we freely deploy right now?”

“At this exact moment…” She flipped rapidly through her folder. “Approximately three. If you wish, I can contact the company presidents and requisition more.”

“Make it nine. Tell them the Southern Grand Ducal House will cover any losses from having their freighters unavailable. We’ll keep feeding them in without pause.”

“Feed them in… where, exactly, Your Grace?”

“Into the public waters they have illegally occupied.”

When an opponent sealed public shipping lanes under the guise of training, what was the correct response? The twenty-first-century United States had already demonstrated the answer.

“Execute Operation Freedom of Navigation.”

The backbone of the Eastern surface fleet was wooden sailing ships. And wooden sailing ships could not stop a giant freighter. Even a twenty-first-century Aegis destroyer would be wrecked by a head-on collision with a large merchantman; a wooden hull stood no chance.

“Tell the captains: form groups of three and steam straight into the middle of their exercise zone.”

April 5th.

Three enormous freighters entered the waters the East had declared a “training area.” At ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠first the Eastern navy tried to block them as usual. Then they saw what was coming—twenty-thousand-ton steamships of a size most of them had never encountered.

The vessels might not be as stout as warships, but sheer mass was mass. Eastern sailors who had rarely seen anything so large were thrown into confusion.

“H-hey, why is that thing so huge?”

A three-thousand-ton wooden warship simply could not stand in its path. Course-change orders and warning shots from muzzle-loading cannon meant nothing.

“Look out! Collision! Get clear!”

In the end the Eastern navy could only watch, dumbfounded, as the freighters sailed through.

April 7th.

Once merchants realized the Eastern navy could not stop the steamships, they began tucking their own vessels into the wakes of the giant freighters. “Freedom of Navigation” had become a blunt instrument; Eastern control of the exercise zone was finished.

April 10th.

Eastern Grand Duke Edward reinforced the fleet and ordered his captains to fire on any merchant ship that entered the zone if that was what it took to stop them.

April 12th.

One Eastern ship of the line inflicted serious damage on a small southern freighter.

April 15th.

In the predawn darkness of a storm-lashed sea, the southern superliner and mail packet RMS Stella Marine collided with a fourth-rate ship of the line that had lost its bearings in the sudden gale. The result was catastrophic.

The steamship’s massive bow sliced the fragile wooden hull cleanly in two, as if it were tofu. The passenger liner immediately began rescue operations, yet under the twin curses of night and storm most of the Eastern sailors drowned.

In that moment the already frozen relationship between the two regions turned to solid ice.