Chapter Text
Iberia's Columbus turned out to be considerably more stubborn—and considerably more insane—than anyone had given him credit for.
He insisted that sailing west across the ocean would eventually bring a ship to Yan, and to make the proposal seem remotely feasible, he deliberately understated the distance involved.
Not that anyone on Terra believed the world was flat.
The problem had never been the shape of the planet. It was that the voyage was so absurdly long that anyone attempting it would most likely die long before reaching the other side.
The only reason Columbus secured the backing of Duke Gododdin of Victoria was because the Duke could afford to indulge what looked like a hopeless gamble. His territory possessed one of Victoria's major ports, and if Columbus somehow discovered new lands, the returns would be immense.
What the Duke had *not* anticipated was that Columbus intended to look for a "New World" by sailing all the way around Terra in an attempt to reach Yan from the opposite direction.
Nor had he expected Columbus to take an entire Mobile City with him.
After all, what he had agreed to finance was an expedition in search of a new continent.
Then the Silence descended upon Iberia.
The sea ceased to be a highway and became a disaster zone. Seaborn infested the waters, turning the ocean itself into something few people would willingly approach.
Gododdin recovered part of his investment, but only part.
The losses were catastrophic.
The only consolation was that the Seaborn remained concentrated around Iberia. Had they spread farther, the Duke's financial ruin might well have been complete.
In the aftermath, Iberia lost more than its fleet. A nation that had once dominated the seas found itself isolated almost overnight.
The ocean had become worthless.
No sane captain wanted anything to do with it.
Neither Iberia nor Duke Gododdin had any interest in sponsoring further expeditions.
Had history followed its expected course...
...that would have been the end of it.
Instead, the Columbian Expedition came home.
Its ships were packed with food, raw materials, and every sort of supply imaginable.
Along with them came a report.
A New World had been found beyond the western ocean.
Even more importantly, the expedition had charted a route that bypassed the Seaborn entirely.
> *The fleet funded by Duke Gododdin has established a permanent colony on the New World. Relief shipments are already being dispatched to Iberia.*
For a nation on the verge of collapse, the news could hardly have been better.
The supplies bought Iberia precious breathing room, while officials scrambled to determine what exactly had happened on the other side of the ocean.
During the first year, nobody questioned it.
Iberia desperately needed food, and the expedition delivered.
The second year brought another convoy.
The third brought another.
The fourth.
The fifth.
The sixth.
By then, even Iberia's refugees began to suspect that something was fundamentally wrong.
There was simply too much food.
Families that had once struggled to survive were now keeping canned ham in their cupboards and making macaroni loaded with cheese, onions, and corn simply because they could.
Even beggars usually managed to get hold of a can of ham. Some would roast the unopened can over a campfire, pry it open with a knife, and call that breakfast.
Some even complained it was too salty.
A Victorian pauper would have considered such complaints grounds for assault.
The real problem was that Iberia couldn't consume everything it was receiving.
Eventually, the Inquisition sent a message requesting that future shipments be scaled back.
The reply was concise.
> *We are currently experiencing the same difficulty dealing with our own surplus. All excess supplies will continue to be shipped to Iberian headquarters. Any remaining stock will also be redirected to Duke Gododdin's territory.*
"..."
"So we're their surplus warehouse."
"They're shipping us this much... and they still have leftovers?"
"...What exactly are they doing over there?"
Saint Carmen lowered the report, unable to make sense of it.
Then again, the message had been perfectly clear.
The expedition had apparently decided that the homeland was the most convenient place to dump its excess supplies.