Horatio walked up to the main Gothic-style teaching building, constructed from red bricks, I-beams, and quick-setting concrete.
After climbing the 150-step staircase, Horatio saw Archie turn back to the stairwell, filming a distant shot of the Honor Plaza.
He turned to look at the plaza; indeed, it looked stunning from Archie's angle.
He was about to ask Archie what kind of photos he had taken when suddenly, a group of students walked by in a line, almost occupying the entire middle section of the staircase, as if a living person like him didn't exist. One of them directly bumped into Archie's shoulder.
The camera slipped from Archie's hand, and the young Sergeant who bumped him stumbled, almost losing his balance and falling, barely managing to regain it.
With his enhanced physique, Horatio moved agilely, leaping forward in one stride to catch the camera.
"Are you blind, you bastard?" The Sergeant who bumped Archie angrily grabbed his collar and shoved him.
This group also wore presentable Childer of Loyalty military uniforms, with various subtle modifications while maintaining a generally consistent style, clearly custom-made based on uniform regulations. Their luxurious Childer of Loyalty uniforms and the shining family crests on their chests exuded disdain and contempt in their demeanor.
[Childer of Loyalty noble students.] Horatio recognized their identity.
"Is this wide staircase not big enough for you? Lining up like that, are you even letting others pass?"
Horatio, fearless of their status, stepped forward and spoke up for fairness, returning the camera to Archie, who had wanted to endure the situation quietly.
Horatio himself came from a noble family, and an old naval one at that. Everyone in Abyss Port connected to the Gothic Fleet had to show the Kirkland Family some respect.
He just didn't like to show off the Kirkland Family's sea dragon crest.
Seeing Horatio in his military uniform—straight, bright, and made of expensive fabric, but without a family crest—the few students on the staircase whispered among themselves, guessing whether he was a noble Childer of Loyalty student or a wealthy commoner pre-student.
Military uniforms were not cheap, ranging from tens of thousands to hundreds of thousands or even millions for high-end custom-made ones.
Therefore, ordinary Childer of Loyalty students were only issued service uniforms, not military dress uniforms. For important occasions, many would try to borrow from wealthy classmates or simply attend in their service uniforms.
Aside from those born into noble families, these orphans rarely had the means to afford such expenses. They had to save their money to buy officer or Voidsmen-at-Arms Officer uniforms after graduation, so they wouldn't lavish it on student uniforms.
"And who are you?"
As he spoke, the displeased noble student pushed Horatio's chest, but it didn't budge. He paused for a second in surprise, making his action seem rather awkward.
"Horatio Kirkland." The black-haired youth straightened his back and looked at him, his gaze condescending.
"Hehehe! Decent, decent! Gentlemen."
Among those accompanying the troublesome student, a brown-haired youth, who was clearly a new student with the same provisional Sergeant rank as Horatio, stood in the center, dressed ostentatiously and called out mockingly, as if deliberately trying to assert his authority.
Horatio glanced at the crest on his chest. He recognized that emblem; it was the only one GW had ever shown in the Gothic Fleet rulebook—the crest of the Ravenberg Family.
It seemed this person was the second son of the Ravenberg Family, whom Lieutenant Sterling had mentioned.
"Oh~ oh~ So it's a descendant of Admiral Spire."
The second son of the Ravenberg Family raised his eyebrows, smiling with a clear intention to stir up trouble, his gaze darting between the two:
"Do you know who I am?"
[Of course, I know who you are, your crest is so big.]
Horatio raised half an eyebrow, looking at him speechlessly.
Low whispers came from the side.
"Horatio Kirkland? Is that the one who supposedly spent eight years in the Lower Hive and was suddenly confirmed as a descendant of Admiral Spire these past two days?"
"Is it him?"
"But he doesn't look like he's been in the Lower Hive at all. He looks quite presentable."
The noble students accompanying the Ravenberg Family's second son whispered.
"I, David Beatty, of the Ravenberg Family, I presume you've all heard of my family."
The second son's nose was practically turned up to the sky when he said this.
"Nice to meet you. I didn't expect that after so many years, people from our two families could still be comrades."
Horatio politely gave David Beatty a nod of acknowledgment, and the second son returned the aquila salute to Horatio.
Both ignored the troublesome noble youth, leaving him standing there, stunned and his face flushed with anger.
Even though he was ignored, he still had to give both of them the aquila salute.
Everyone knew the reputation of the Ravenberg and Spire families in Abyss Port; they were not families that a third-rate Rogue Trader's minor branch could afford to provoke.
The boomerang of "Who are you" had flown in a circle and hit him on the head.
[Horatio… is a descendant of Admiral Spire?] A sense of unreality made Archie feel a little dizzy.
He recalled the scene just now, himself and this descendant of Spire taking photos under Admiral Spire's statue, feeling incredibly bewildered.
"Hey, are you from the Collingwood family?" The second son of the Ravenberg Family scrutinized Archie.
"Ah, yes."
"How did your family end up like this? Didn't even get a Midshipman position? Coming here to compete for a post, tsk tsk." David Beatty said with a curl of his lip.
His sharp tongue was very direct.
Archie smiled bitterly and lowered his head, not speaking again, and his smile soon disappeared.
A blue-haired youth standing in a classroom diagonally behind them silently watched this scene unfold.
Whether looking at the Ravenberg Family's second son or Horatio, who came from a naval family, his gaze was equally cold, his brows tightly furrowed.
His military uniform was luxurious, with a large, intricate crest on his chest, its dividing line symbolizing a marriage between two noble families.
Half of it was steel guns and cannons, the other half was the Ministry of Internal Affairs' scepter and quill, symbolizing that his parents were a general of the Imperial Guard and a high-ranking official of the Ministry of Internal Affairs, like Farida Hood, respectively.
His name tag read 'Henry Harvey', a name that also appeared at the top of the 3810th class's academic points ranking.
His epaulets clearly bore the rank insignia of a Naval Junior Sergeant Major.
For his age of 16, the rank he had achieved was remarkably high from any perspective: a 16-year-old Naval Junior Sergeant Major! Not only was he not from a naval family, but he was even born into an Astra Militarum family.
"Unseemly." The youth coldly snorted like ice, arrogantly turned his gaze, and walked back into the main building. The students watching the commotion quickly made way and saluted him.
At this moment, from a tall building not far away, Principal George Anson, dressed in an Admiral's uniform, stood with his hands behind his back, frowning as he watched the events unfolding on the main building's staircase.
"Is he the one who proposed the 'Hellspawns'?"
"Yes, Your Excellency." Commodore Edward Peru replied, holding an exquisite teacup.
"They didn't fight, his handling of the situation is quite smooth. Lieutenant Sterling, I remember you used to get into a lot of fights, didn't you?"
"I fight even more now, Your Excellency. Suppression, purges, boarding actions—battles are happening all the time, especially on large ships like cruisers."
The Lieutenant replied, "If I hadn't fought so much in school back then, I would probably be dead already. Thanks to those guys for honing my close-combat skills."
The old man snorted coldly.
"Bring Horatio over, I want to talk to him."
"Yes, Your Excellency."
—
A few minutes later.
"Admiral, Horatio has arrived." Lieutenant Sterling saluted solemnly.
[Admiral, this must be Principal George Anson.]
"Horatio Kirkland reporting to you!" Horatio straightened himself, looked at the old man standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, and saluted.
"Mm." The old man responded, and Commodore Edward Peru, standing at the table, gestured for them to finish their salutes.
Horatio followed Lieutenant Sterling forward until they reached the table.
"Cadet Kirkland, what are your thoughts on the current Imperial military system?"
The old man did not want to make small talk. He didn't bring up Horatio's ancestor, Spire, for a long discussion, but instead cut straight to the point.
[Uh… is this really something I'm qualified to comment on?] Horatio smiled bitterly, looking at Commodore Edward by his side.
"Speak freely." The Commodore said, while gesturing to Lieutenant Sterling to close the door.
Bang—click—
The heavy wooden door was shut.
"Do you think the current Imperial military system can still give us an advantage on the battlefield?"
"Transport ships arrive too slowly. By the time the Navy's warships appear around a planet, the ground forces have already begun digging trenches and building fortifications. When the Imperial Army lands, they will face well-prepared artillery and gunfire head-on.
And the Navy has other missions to perform, unable to respond to ground reinforcements. Furthermore, we lack support carriers, and Macro cannons and lances are too powerful for close-support."
Hearing Horatio's answer, the Admiral let out a long, deep breath and turned around.
Horatio clearly saw the old man's face. His hair was a mix of black and white, mostly white, and his face was deeply etched with the wrinkles of time, as well as scars from blades and bullets.
One of his eyes was blind, a terrifying white, appearing to be the result of a close-combat injury from an enemy's cut.
But his other intact eye was bright and sharp, showing no signs of age.
"Since these problems exist, how do you think we should compensate for our shortcomings, without violating the issues brought by the Codex?"
Horatio pondered for a moment.
"Sit, everyone sit. Lieutenant Sterling, you sit too. Just speak your mind."
"I'm not good at ground combat. Once I fight in open terrain, I feel weak." Lieutenant Sterling slumped onto the sofa.
Horatio pondered for a while. On the night that Commodore Edward Peru asked him about his 'Hellspawns' concept, he lay on his soft bed, addressing potential future combat situations and problems the Empire might face, developing targeted solutions, and coming up with a new idea.
"I believe an advanced naval force should be established. It should be divided into three parts: a heavily armored vanguard defense unit, a lightly equipped vanguard mobile unit, and a special tactical unit skilled in reconnaissance and sabotage.
The defense unit would use heavy equipment, even capable of deploying heavy tanks like the Macarado-type, which, despite poor mobility, possess formidable firepower.
They would be like a stone dropped into water, creating a splash, with the core objective of securing the landing zone, maintaining communication between the landing point and the fleet, and laying a foundation for subsequent landing forces. Simultaneously, on ships, they could serve as a guard, performing static defense against boarding actions, holding out until other reinforcements arrive.
The mobile unit would be equipped with wheeled fast vehicles or directly use aircraft to transport forces, spreading the splash created by the defense unit outwards.
Before the enemy can react, they would expand control areas as much as possible, using brief, decisive raids to seize valuable targets, disrupting enemy defensive deployments, and preventing them from having enough time to adjust their positions before the Imperial Army lands.
On ships, they could cooperate with the defense unit to quickly transport forces near enemy boarding areas during warship defense, delaying enemy actions. After the heavy guard arrives and ties down the boarding enemies, they would perform flanking maneuvers and encirclement, defeating the enemies one by one.
As for the Naval Special Tactical Unit, like the Hellspawns I mentioned to you before, they would select elites from 'Scavenger' armed forces and equip them with advanced armor.
In my vision, this is a unit widely adaptable to different environments, especially close-quarters combat in confined spaces, much like the 'Storm Childer of Loyalty'—provided with the best equipment and subjected to the strictest training.
They would operate in small teams, like scattered spray, elusive and conducting reconnaissance before other units, providing intelligence support for the implementation of subsequent combat plans.
After the formal landing operation begins, they would shift to infiltrating important enemy facilities for sabotage, such as enemy anti-air and Macro cannon strongholds. Due to small-team operations, there might be insufficient firepower, so at least one frigate or destroyer should be in orbit to provide fire and airborne support to help them complete their missions. In fleet battles, they would serve as an elite force for lightning strikes, teleporting to enemy bridges or engine rooms for boarding attacks, and returning immediately after completing their missions."
As Horatio finished speaking, silence fell in the room, with only the sound of breathing confirming the presence of people.
"Let's just name this 'Ripple Theory'." Admiral Anson was the first to break the silence.