Reincarnated with the Country System

20-6-1561 WC

Indiana Empire— Capital

…

"Speak," Yadav said.

His voice carried across the stone. No one moved at first. Then an aide stepped forward with a parchment that shook in his hands.

"Your Majesty… a report from Group Admiral Devgan Arvata. It ends before the last battle."

Yadav took it. He read the opening lines—bearings, formation changes, a note about enemy carrier arcs—and then the script stopped mid-word. He lowered the parchment and looked at the row of commanders.

"That is all?"

"Yes, Majesty. After that, silence. The last signal towers and spirit beacons went dark."

Yadav's eyes did not blink. "What has happened?"

Prime Minister Keshav stepped into the light. "Your Majesty… scouts returning from the coast report that the Northern Ocean is lost. The entire Ganges Sky Fleet has been destroyed. Our naval forces in the north are gone. We believe Admiral Arvata perished with his flagship."

A murmur rippled through the ministers. Someone whispered a prayer. Yadav's gaze did not move.

"How many ships?" he said.

General Rudra, the Supreme Commander, forced his voice steady. "We estimate six hundred warships. Fifty-seven sky fortresses. All lost."

The words hung like a blade above every head.

"Casualties."

"Over two hundred thousand sailors and soldiers," Keshav answered. "Perhaps more. We have no full count."

The torches hissed. From the temple district beyond the windows came a slow ring of bells. Yadav stepped until he stood directly before the war council.

"The Bernard Empire," he said, tasting the name as if it were poison. "A country we learned existed a year ago. And you allowed them to destroy ten percent of my navy in three days."

No one spoke.

"Explain." His voice sharpened. "How did they do this? How did strangers cross the ocean and break an empire that has stood for hundreds of years?"

Rudra bowed stiffly. "Majesty, their weapons—"

"Do not tell me of weapons." Yadav's eyes burned. "Weapons are made by men. And men can be killed. What I see are generals who let their men die while they hid behind excuses."

He turned, dark robes whispering against the stone. His gaze fell on each officer in turn. "Varun Sen commanded the 28th Fleet. Dead. Devgan Arvata commanded the northern squadrons. Dead. And you—"

Rudra clenched his jaw but said nothing.

"You are not children," he suddenly shouted. "You are the men I gave this empire to. Six thousand warships across a country of ninety-seven million square kilometers. Now you tell me you were beaten."

No one answered.

Yadav stepped closer to the generals.

Yadav's voice cut like steel. "You people promised me victory. You delivered ashes."

He stepped closer until his shadow covered the general. "Even the Malak Dynasty has never humiliated us like this. Not in five centuries. And yet a nation of ghosts, a name whispered for a single year, has bled us before the world."

The hall seemed to shrink around his anger. Ministers stared at the floor. Some trembled.

Rudra bowed his head. "I accept the blame, Majesty."

"You will accept orders," Yadav said. "Blame is for the dead."

He turned from them and walked to the tall window. The capital's lanterns were steady. The city did not yet know the full weight of the night. He let the quiet sit, then spoke so all could hear.

"Remember that. We stood because we were hard. If we become weak, we fall."

He faced them again.

"We lost six hundred. We still have five thousand and more. We will change how we use them."

He pointed at Rudra. "Stand up a Joint Sea–Sky Directorate tonight. Merge naval command with aerial command. No separate planning cells. One plan, one voice. You will lead it until I am satisfied with another."

Rudra bowed. "Yes, Majesty."

"Second," Yadav said, turning to Malen, "espionage continues as ordered. Do not repeat what I ordered yesterday. Do not pretend we know nothing. We have reports from Latvia and Jimland and Amazonia. Build from those. I want port schedules from their occupied harbors. Their supply lines."

"Next. Coast," Yadav went on. "The Northern Ocean is lost for now. The southern seas are not. Put the First, Third, and Seventh Fleets behind layered coast shields. Anchor them on moving lines, not fixed harbors. Float the harbors if you must. I want mobile bastions—ironwood cores wrapped in mana steel, each with six rune-lances and storm batteries. Name the line the Obsidian Curtain. If Bernard iron comes south, it will meet walls that move."

An intelligence officer stepped forward, hesitant. "Majesty… reports from our southern watch say the Bernard fleet has not advanced beyond the Northern Ocean. They seem… to be holding position."

Yadav's brow furrowed. "Holding?"

"Yes, Majesty. Their ships patrol the conquered waters but have not crossed into our southern seas."

"They wait," Yadav said, more to himself than to them. "Perhaps they hope we will come crawling."

A bitter smile touched his lips. "We will not crawl."

The chamber remained still. The Emperor's anger filled every stone.

"Increase patrols along the Golden Mountains. Do not leave gaps. Move the mountain legions two valleys forward and dig in. Don't allow Malak's people to see our weakness."

Rudra nodded. "I will do it tonight."

"Finally," Yadav said, "command accountability."

He looked down the line. "The people who died for their country—with their ships. Their names will be carved on the Black Wall. The officers who lived and broke formation without order will face tribunal. Not one of them will return to sea until I say so."

A young admiral, the same who had tried to speak earlier, found his voice again. "Majesty… if I may. Our shipyards can quicken cycles by bringing in Helios machine lathes and dwarven plate presses. If we redirect labor from the canal expansion for six months, we can reinforce three hundred hulls with mana-steel ribs and refit the storm batteries for split-fire."

Yadav regarded him. "Your name."

"Admiral Biran, Majesty."

"You will write that plan. You will command a Northern Recovery Yard on the Vanara coast. You will have the canal labor and the lathes. If you meet your schedule, you keep your rank. If you miss it, you sweep the dry docks yourself."

Biran bowed, sweat at his temples. "I will meet it."

He stood still for a long breath. The hall listened to his breathing.

"You will leave now," Yadav said at last. "Each of you knows what must be done. When next we meet, I want results. Or I will hear of your replacements."

One by one the council bowed and withdrew, their footsteps echoing down the long marble hall.

Yadav's hand tightened into a fist until the knuckles whitened. "This is not the end," he whispered.