In the distance, the Prussian airships bearing the Iron Cross had already turned their prows.
Inside the command room of the flagship Teutonic Eagle, the Grand Commander of the Knightly Order silently released the periscope he had been gripping.
The power Lothar had displayed had shattered his established understanding. In an age when even major powers like the Blood Royal Court and the wolf clans kept their distance from the great powers, there was actually an individual capable of determining the course of a war.
Though he was reluctant to admit it, the Grand Commander had to acknowledge that his ever-arrogant elder brother had once again made an excellent deal.
He let out a soft breath, then turned to the captain of the Teutonic Eagle behind him. "Send orders to every ship. Increase speed and prepare for battle. Our allies have already done more than enough. Now, it is time for those Slavs to witness the guns of the Teutonic Knights!"
"Gentlemen, the outcome of this battle concerns the future of the Teutonic Order State, and even the entire German nation. If we win, Tsarist Russia will become a crumbling house that we can easily kick down with a single blow."
Inside the command center, the many officers looked solemn as they held their breath and listened.
The Grand Commander forcibly suppressed the excitement in his heart and emphasized, "Some of you may think I am about to warn you what will happen if we lose—but with such an overwhelming advantage, how could we possibly lose to those Slavs!"
"Victory is certain!"
The officers saluted in unison and shouted, "Victory is certain!"
So long as Tsarist Russia's First Fleet was completely annihilated today, the balance of air power on the Eastern Front would be utterly overturned, and no one would