Five days later, Captain Henry Sturbridge stood outside the grand entrance of the palace in Gaborone, Votswana. The heat of the southern continent bore down on him as he straightened his uniform, his face expressionless. He knew what was coming. The moment word had spread that the fleet had retreated from Valorian waters, Sturbridge knew he would be summoned by Prince Theodore himself.
Now, the time had come.
An attendant led Sturbridge through the halls of the palace, each step echoing on the polished marble floors. The closer they got to the room where Prince Theodore was in, the more the air seemed to crackle with the unspoken fury waiting for him.
The door to the war room swung open, and there stood Prince Theodore, pacing like a caged animal. His eyes locked onto Sturbridge the moment he entered.
"Leave us," Theodore barked at the attendant, who quickly scurried away, closing the door behind him.
The room was silent for a moment as the prince stared at Sturbridge, his face red with barely contained anger. Finally, Theodore spoke, his voice low and dangerous.
"So... you ran," he began, his words biting. "You ran from a fight we should have won. You turned my fleet around and made us look like cowards."
Sturbridge stood tall, but inside he felt the pressure of Theodore's gaze. "Your Highness, we were in international waters. The Valorians—"
"I don't care about international waters!" Theodore interrupted, his voice rising. "I care about the fact that my fleet, under your command, was the laughingstock of the high command. Do you have any idea what this has done to our reputation?"
"You couldn't what?" Theodore snapped, taking a step forward. "You couldn't defend the honor of Triesenberg? You couldn't stand up to Valoria and show them that we are not to be trifled with?"
Yet now, standing in front of Sturbridge, his purpose seemed less defined.
"I don't need to explain my decisions to you, Captain," Theodore finally snapped, though the sharpness in his voice lacked its usual conviction. "I ordered the fleet to show Valoria that we are not to be ignored, not to be trifled with. We needed them to understand that Triesenberg is their equal—if not their superior.
And instead of demonstrating our power, you turned the ships around and handed them victory."
"We are saber-rattling to scare them, yet we folded," Theodore laughed bitterly, his voice full of venom. He threw himself into a nearby chair, his fingers digging into the armrests as if trying to physically contain his rage. "What was the point of sending that fleet if we were just going to retreat at the first sign of resistance?"
Sturbridge took a slow breath, keeping his posture straight and calm despite the prince's spiraling anger. "Your Highness, I understand the desire to display power, but Valoria is not a nation that responds to intimidation. Their navy is as formidable as ours, and engaging them without a concrete plan would have been reckless."
Theodore's eyes flashed with fury. "Reckless? You think I don't know that? I ordered you to take a stand, not provoke war! But now, all we've done is show our enemies that we lack resolve. They'll talk, Sturbridge.
You know they will. The Francois, the Britannians, even the damned Sardegnians will hear of this and think Triesenberg has lost its bite."
Sturbridge shifted slightly, but his gaze remained steady on the prince. "Your Highness, with all due respect, a battle would have given them more to talk about. Had we engaged the Valorians and lost, it wouldn't just be whispers of weakness—it would be a resounding declaration across the continent. I acted to preserve our strength, not display weakness."
"Whatever. From now on, you are dismissed," Prince Theodore spat, rising from his chair abruptly, his voice ringing with finality. "You are no longer fit to lead my fleet."
Sturbridge stood motionless for a moment, stunned but resolute. He had expected consequences for his decision, but to be dismissed outright, stripped of his command after years of loyal service, was a harsher blow than he had anticipated.