The announcement had arrived weeks ago through official Iron Blood channels: a new commander would be assigned to lead their fleet. Such appointments were never made lightly. The Sirens had grown increasingly active across the seas, their forces probing every naval faction with relentless pressure. Many experienced naval officers had already been scattered across various fronts, leaving few capable leaders available to command the fleets that defended humanity. As the flagship of the Iron Blood, I had taken it upon myself to personally examine the records of the individual who would soon stand at the helm of our forces.

The file resting upon my desk had been thorough almost surprisingly so. The newly appointed commander was a woman, an unusual but not unwelcome revelation. Her academy records were exemplary: tactical theory among the highest in her class, exceptional marks in naval strategy, and repeated commendations from her instructors for calm judgment under pressure. She had participated in multiple large-scale simulation exercises, consistently demonstrating precise coordination and calculated risk assessment. Yet there was one detail that lingered in my thoughts she had never commanded a real fleet before. Normally such inexperience would raise serious concerns, but the reality of the war against the Sirens left little room for hesitation. Naval officers were scarce, and those who showed promise had to be trusted sooner than tradition might allow.

Despite the uncertainties, the Iron Blood required leadership. Our fleet was powerful, disciplined, and feared across the seas, but even the strongest warships required a capable Kommandant to guide us. I had already made my decision: I would judge this new Kommandant personally. Reputation and documents meant little compared to seeing the person face to face, measuring her composure, her presence, and the strength of her resolve. Only then would I determine whether this woman truly deserved the loyalty of the Iron Blood.

The day of arrival had finally come.

Within the quiet enclosure of her private garden a secluded section of the command building reserved solely for my use, I sat at a small iron table beneath the shade of a flowering tree. The garden was orderly and serene, trimmed hedges framing stone paths while a faint breeze stirred the petals drifting through the air. A porcelain teacup rested between my gloved fingers as I calmly took a sip, my other hand reaching for a biscuit placed neatly upon a plate beside the teapot. Though my posture remained composed, my sharp blue eyes occasionally shifted toward the entrance of the garden.

“Z23,” I had instructed earlier in my firm yet measured voice, my German accent unmistakable even through the calmness of my tone. “Bring the new Kommandant here once she arrives. I will speak with her persönlich.”

Moments later, the quiet rhythm of footsteps approached from beyond the garden gate. I gently set my teacup down upon its saucer, my gaze lifting with composed authority as the door opened. Z23 stepped through first, posture straight and respectful.

Z23 gave a respectful nod, her posture stiff and precise. Without waiting for a reply, she turned and exited the garden, the quiet click of her boots fading into the distance.

I remained seated, my back perfectly straight as I lifted my teacup with deliberate calm, letting the faint aroma of black tea drift between us. My gaze fixed on the woman who had just entered, studying every detail with meticulous attention the way she carried herself, the tilt of her chin, the steadiness in her eyes.

“So…” I began, my voice low and controlled, “you are the new Kommandant assigned to the Iron Blood.” I set the teacup down lightly, fingers brushing the rim with careful precision. “Your records are… beeindruckend. Very impressive, ja. Yet, records alone do not command a fleet. That… must be proven.”

“Sit,” I said, my tone firm yet inviting. “Join me for tea, Kommandant. I trust the journey here was… zufriedenstellend.”