Dwargonia Fleet
"So basically, other than the battle between Murica and Vandoria last year, we still don't know much about their military capabilities in a full-scale war. So I know some of you think this is somewhat overkill—bringing this much force—but this is for the best."
Inside the flagship, Admiral Durnick Axebreaker stood at the head of the strategy table, dwarven officers gathered around a large map spread across polished steel. Every beard in the room angled downward in serious contemplation.
"No sir, none of us think that way," one of the officers replied. "Since we know we can do the same thing the Muricans did to the Vandorian army, that only proves how dangerous they are."
"Thank you, Captain," Durnick said with a nod. "Which is why we are going to approach them carefully. We will form several vanguard flotillas to probe their capabilities, meanwhile—"
The dwarves continued planning their operation with their usual discipline and professionalism.
---
Murica, Pentagon
Meanwhile, the Muricans were also planning their move strategically—and more or less, professionally.
"So basically, other than our battle with Vandoria last year, we still don't know much about the major nations' military capabilities in a full-scale war—such as Dwargonia. So I know some of you might think this is somewhat overbearing, but this is for the best," Stan declared with authority and dignity.
Trapped in his office, he led a war strategy meeting over an online call with his three highest-ranking generals. A satellite feed of the Dwargonian fleet was displayed on the shared screen.
"WHAT "FOR THE BEST"!? IT'S YOU WHO IS NOT ALLOWED TO BE PRESENT IN FRONT OF THE ENEMIES!" Admiral Rusalka shouted from her window. "WHY DOES MY FLEET HAVE TO DO THE SAME!?"
"Rusalka, I regret that this is becoming necessary," Stan sighed, looking like he aged a decade in seconds. "But as the highest military authority—"
Stan slowly raised his hand.
"Stan, don't you dare!" Rusalka hissed.
"And also as the admin…" He pointed a finger at her video feed.
"STAN!"
"I hereby declare you… silenced."
With a solemn press, he pressed the mute button on Rusalka's icon. Rusalka's square fell silent. She continued yelling furiously, but nothing reached the others.
"So, what about you, Fujin and Hanz? Any objections to the plan?"
Fujin looked completely unbothered. "No, sir." He shook his head with a calm smile. "My men are more disciplined than a certain other branch of our military. We'll follow the plan to the letter."
Rusalka could be seen gasping in betrayal, then redirecting her soundless rage toward Fujin, though none of them heard a word.
"My paratroopers are prepared as well," Hanz added. "They've been training for a year for this method."
"Good. In five days, we'll see the fruits of their training."
---
Ravendawn, Stormtide Naval Base
A few hundred kilometers from Raven City, the town of Stormtide—once a small fishing village—had undergone dramatic change over the past year. Thanks to Ravendawn–Murica cooperation, Stormtide had become a massive port for moving minerals and cattle toward Murica and receiving Murican goods in return. It was now also Ravendawn full-fledged naval base.
But today, no cargo or merchant ships commanded attention.
Instead, the entire Ravendawn navy prepared to greet the approaching Dwargonian fleet.
Townspeople crowded the port, eager to witness the spectacle. Dozens of upgraded 64-gun and 124-gun ships already dotted the horizon, sailing outward. But those weren't what the civilians were excited for.
"LOOK!"
"HERE THEY COME!"
Nine steel warships surged from the coastline, each one billowing thick smoke. Five Chester-class cruisers, three Wickes-class destroyers, and one proud New York-class battleship—the newest pride of Ravendawn.
The townspeople immediately take out their smartphones from beneath their 17th-century robes, scrambling for the best, most dramatic angles. Photos, videos, and livestreams flooded the air.
The fleet was purchased from Murica—adding yet another mountain of debt their grandchildren would curse them for. These WWI ships were relics of Murica's old unification war, once destined for the scrapyard. But Stan believed Ravendawn needed stronger forces to serve as an efficient buffer against external threats, and Monny believed selling them was simply more profitable than scrapping them.
After nearly a year of rebuilding, maintenance, and sailor training, the World War I–era vessels were finally ready for their maiden voyage—directly into the Dwargonian conflict.
Inside the battleship, Admiral Lorenzo watched his fleet depart the coastline.
"Sir, we will be joining our sails fleet in thirty minutes," the ship captain reported.
"Very well…" Lorenzo exhaled. "Even though I've ridden this ship so many times during training, I'm still amazed how fast they are," said the 18th-century admiral who had been forcefully upgraded into a 20th-century naval leader.
"Indeed, sir. I still can't believe I'm commanding the ship that once haunted my nightmares," the ex-Vandorian captain muttered.
"Technically, it's a vastly different ship from the one we faced last year," Lorenzo replied. "I trust it won't affect your performance."
"No sir, it won't. As long as no jazz music is played, I will deliver my best performance," the captain said with a serious expression.
"I understand completely." The admiral replies also with a serious expression.
Thanks to a certain siren, an unwritten rule in the Ravendawn navy was enacted by the admiral.
Never play jazz onboard.
Ever.
---
Balevar, Forest Orphanage
Meanwhile, another kind of "battle preparation" was underway at the orphanage—less geopolitical, but far more sinister.
Captain Irving led the briefing, while the "troops"—children aged six to fourteen—sat attentively. Four adorable crayon-drawn building sketches were pinned to the chalkboard: the scouts' reconnaissance work.
"Alright, listen up," Irving began. "Team Alpha, led by Specialist Kovalski. Your target is the tavern in Fairview Town. Begin the infiltration after the alcohol delivery arrives." He pointed at the colorful seven-year-old's drawing of a tavern.
"Yes, sir!" Kovalski and his child operatives replied in unison.
"Team Bravo, led by Private First Class Bella." Irving pointed to the drawing of a butcher shop. "Your target is the butcher shop in Brightfield Town. He just got new supplies, so it should be full of bounty."
Bella and her squad nodded.
"Team Charlie, led by Ivy." He indicated the drawing of a jewelry store. "Your target is the jewelry shop in Rockdale Town."
Ivy, Robert, and Sister Catherine nodded seriously.
"And I will set up a command center to monitor all teams."
"Got it!" Everyone replies
"Any questions?" Irving asked.
Robert raised his hand nervously.
"U-uh, Captain… why do we have to hit different towns on the same day? This is our first mission. Isn't it better to go one at a time?"
"The problem is we know how efficient communication between these towns can be," Irving explained with a folded arms. "One incident, and the others will hear about it the next day—or even the same day. They'll be on high alert immediately."
"So we aim for the biggest shop in each town. We only get one opportunity." He clenched his fist with a grin. "And we will maximize the donations we obtain during that opportunity. Hooah?"
"HOOOAAAH!" the children shouted in excitement.
"Mission codename is 'Charity'. We begin tomorrow at 0900 hours. Dismissed."
"Yaaaaay!"
The kids ran out happily, as if leaving for recess instead of a coordinated tri-town crime operation.
---
That night, the orphanage buzzed with preparations. Robert used his crossdressing skills to make the children extra sweet and harmless, while the Misfit Party prepared gear—earcomms, portable antennas, drones, and other tactical tools meant for war.
"I'm done preparing the children," Robert said, wiping sweat from his forehead.
"Great! Thanks for your work," Ivy said.
"Big sis, what's that?" a child asked, pointing at Bella's subspace bag.
"Oh, this? It's a subspace bag," Bella said proudly. "A magical bag where you can store waaay more than it looks."
"Wow… isn't that expensive?" Robert asked. "This is my first time seeing a real one."
"Yeah, it's pretty pricey," Kovalski admitted. "That's why we can only afford two. One for equipments, one for valuables. Even magic has limits."
Robert and the child nodded, impressed.
"Well then, the children and I will join Sister Catherine in the chapel to pray for tomorrow success," Robert said, leaving with the kids.
The Misfit Party watched them with kind smiles.
Then, once the children were gone…
The Misfit Party watched them with wicked smiles.
"Kukuku… why we didn't think of this earlier?" Irving muttered. "Having children do the wetwork… kukuku."
"Yeah, they're actually very talented," Bella said. "I'm impressed."
"And the best part," Ivy grinned, "if they fail, we bail. No need to expose ourselves."
"That's right," Kovalski snickered. "We should do this in every town."
"Agreed," the others said in unison.
They laughed— quietly enough to avoid suspicion. What began as simple food stealing mission had now escalated into a major multi-town heist, fueled by greed and stupidity.
---
Fairview Town
A father and his three children entered Fairview Town—another picturesque RPG-style starting town. They looked like an innocent family, holding hands and smiling.
But there was nothing innocent about their intentions.
The "father" spoke into his earcomm.
"Command, this is Kovalski. Team Alpha entering the town."
"Copy that, Alpha," Captain Irving replied.
Using his Incubus ability, Kovalski had transformed into a tired, skinny human father juggling three jobs to feed his three adorable children.
---
Brightfield Town
"This is Bravo. My team is in position," Bella whispered while watching four children through binoculars.
"Copy that, Bravo," Irving responded.
Using her vampire abilities, Bella had infiltrated an attic at dawn with a clear view of the butcher shop.
---
Rockdale Town
Ivy piloted a small drone from the outskirts. The camera feed tracked a young noblewoman and her maid carrying several wrapped boxes—a typical noble shopping spree at first glance.
The "young noblewoman" whispered into his earcomm.
"W-we're in," Robert whispered nervously. "Me and Sister Catherine have entered the town."
He glanced at Sister Catherine beside him, now dressed perfectly as a maid. She gave Robert a reassuring nod.
"Calm down, Robert," Ivy said through the comm. "You've been trained for this."
Robert exhaled to steady himself. Their target—the jewelry store—stood ahead.
"This is Team Charlie. We are good to go," Ivy reported.
---
Command Post
"Copy that, Charlie," Irving said, watching through a spotting scope.
On the hill overlooking all three towns, Irving had set up a compact command post. Several monitors displayed feeds from each team's hidden bodycam—another miracle courtesy of the subspace bag.
"All teams, "Charity" is a go," Irving said with a wicked grin. "I repeat, "Charity" is a go."
For unholy purposes, the Misfit Party activated every elite skill trained into them using Murican taxpayers' money.
"Roger that," all team leaders replied.