March 5th, 1939
Tsar Ivan Alexandrovich paced furiously in the Winter Palace's War Room, his face flushed as he awaited the arrival of his military advisers. The news that had filtered through was already bad enough—his fleet, his pride, had been humiliated on the open seas. The might of Ruthenia's navy, which he had poured resources into for years, had been outmatched by Valoria.
The door opened, and General Vasily Rostov, flanked by Admiral Mikhailov and other senior commanders, entered, each wearing expressions of unease. They saluted, but the Tsar's scowl deepened as they took their positions around the table.
"What is this I hear about a 'tactical retreat'?" Ivan barked, his voice thick with anger. "Our navy retreating like cowards before the Valorians?" His fist slammed down onto the table, sending an ink bottle rolling off the edge.
"Your Majesty," Rostov began carefully, "the battle did not go as planned. The Valorian forces—"
