Chapter 38: The Squeeze on the South
The morning sun crept over Marseille like a slow promise, painting smoke and ruin in gold. The city lay in smoldering silence, its great walls reduced, its pride shattered. But Regent Lancelot did not pause in triumph. He stood on the deck of Resolución, the surface of the Gulf of Lion glinting beneath warships and support vessels. Next to him stood Alicia, General Montiel, and Admiral Tormes. They watched as the first rays of dawn revealed the aftermath of their assault.
"We lost few men," Admiral Tormes reported, eyes scanning the docks. "No dreadnought took more than peripheral hits."
Montiel nodded toward the eastern hills. "The siege mortars have finished their sweep. Rebel pockets are scattering—no organized defense front yet."
Alicia refolded a map. "Intelligence suggests the Francois Army’s southern command is in disarray. They’ve lost Marseille’s ports, supply lines, even morale."
Lancelot looked out at the city rising behind a veil of smoke—now dotted with Aragonese engineers, cranes laying rail segments, telegraph poles being raised, and civilian volunteers guiding displaced families. "Perfect," he murmured softly. "They think this is all we came for."
Tormes turned to Nicolas, the senior engineer aboard Resolución. "We begin power generation tonight. Install portable dynamos along the docks. I want these cranes lit—and the port offices too."
Alicia made a note. "Electric lights by dawn."
"In Marseille, we don’t occupy—we rebuild," Lancelot said gently. "Let them see Aragon arrives to govern."
At the break of next dawn, three foreign delegation cutters slipped into harbor alongside the transport vessels. Flags of Britannia, Glanzreich, and Sardegna fluttered stiffly in the smoky air. Their arrival was no accident; Lancelot had personally invited them to witness both siege and strategy.
Soon, the delegates were seated under a sheltering white marquee atop the cliff overlooking the bay. Below, the railhead snaked inland. Toxic fires from the city’s housing blocks still smoldered against a steel-gray sky.
Lancelot entered, in simple grey coat and steel buttons gleaming. Adjacent were Alicia, Montiel, and Tormes in diplomatic-appropriate garb.