A picnic in the park, how charming.

The squadron converged at the prearranged rally point for lunch.

When the girls heard ‘city park’, they naturally imagined rolling greenery, groves of trees, footpaths and benches, gas lights flickering, lonely in the twilight. That was true, it was a square of sacrosanct greenery, surrounded by a mass of stone and brick organic streets.

Yet it wasn’t only that.

A spire of much older stone rose up, the single building permitted to tower above the the park. Because it was far older than what surrounded it, including the old-growth oaks themselves. The stone tower had once been the highest point in this land, and still rivaled what passed for big buildings in Far Harbor. Its pointed spire formed a part of the city’s unique ancient skyline they’d seen on the drive in.

“This was the inner keep of the city,” Intervention explained, having memorized the tourism brochures at a glance. Nobody would match her Facts-Saying Ability. “It’s been renovated and reinforced many times, but the date it was laid down is recorded as well in excess of three thousand years ago. Back during the Age of the Gods. As the legends go, it sheltered the people when they were sandwiched between the devil and deep blue sea.”

There was no way to fathom such a stretch of time. Not for a human being, whose projected lifespan wasn’t one thirtieth of that. Not for shipgirls, born days or years ago into this world fully-formed.

“I’m told my great grandmother laid the first stones with her bare hands,” A melodic feminine voice drifted out of the tower. “Though of course, one must keep in mind that ancient historians did so love to… embellish.”

The group looked up towards open windows stories up, even though the voice clearly came from ground floor. Somehow, a princess leaning out of that tower just seemed appropriate.

Instead, she emerged out of the enormous front doors.

A kitsune, clearly; the first thing to peek out of the keep were a pair of twitching inky-black fox ears. Followed by long silky black hair that spread out nearly to the length of the floor, and bushy tails of a similar hue and size.

Nine of them, in fact.

As if her badly-straining red kimono didn’t display it well enough, this wasn’t just any kitsune. This was an elder kitsune, one who had endured the rigors of time, retaining as her race did a supernatural beauty throughout whole centuries passing them by. As if they were suspended in time; growing up normally, but living for a thousand prosperous years.

Everyone recognized the appearance of this person, for her face was plastered on posters all over town. In fact, the local coinage prominently featured her in profile, and had since before the invention of gunpowder.

This was the latest in her clan's line of power and control, dating back to the **** of those old gods themselves.

Her royal majesty, Lady Tsubame Uchiyama.

When Kotone’s brain finally got the signals through, she snapped to a salute, despite not actually being in uniform. All her ship girls fell to their knees, folding themselves up in more (Intervention) or less (Sovereign) proper dogezas of submission, making sure their heads touched the old cobblestones of the path.

A task made all the more difficult for the two ultra-stacked cruiser girls, whose chests squished out beneath them and made any ground contact with their heads a real feat. They managed, though, backs arching in what could only be described as an alluringly feminine curve.

Which also brought their generous, ample hips and rear ends up as high as their heads were low.

It was a display so comedic on either **** that the Lady couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

Her companion emerging from the tower, in the same Imperial uniform Kotone normally sported, was a massive brown drakken with flame-red hair who barely fit through the double-doors. The bodyguard may have been as old or older than the lady, or even the tower, and looked a lot less joyful. Yet her glare was one of professional ever-present caution, not hostility.

The stone-faced drakken nodded. As if recognizing through Kotone’s gesture and stiff shoulders alone that she was an officer of the Empire.

“Please, please. There’s no need for any of that, anyone. Don’t bump your heads on my account~”

Sovereign happily popped back up, followed by the destroyers, and then, reluctantly, her own sister Intervention, who spoke with grave formality. “My Lady, it’s an honor to see you again.”

The Lady Uchiyama waved an impeccably-manicured hand carelessly. “Likewise, Intervention. I see your base is filling out with new recruits of all types.”

“Sadly, it’s true, your highness.” Intervention huffed.

“Ufufu. Try not to be too harsh on them. They seem like a good bunch of kids, from all reports. Very valorous.” A good way to obliquely acknowledge that the reports Kotone wrote for headquarters found their way over to the princess’ office, through one mechanism of state or another. “Admiral Watanabe, please keep up your steadfast efforts on behalf of the Empire.”

“Of course, highness!” Kotone bellowed, heart racing.

“It’s just a princess,” Aces admonished. “Chill out.” That attracted the glare of the drakken towering overhead, looking about as intimidating, and far more sturdy, than the ancient, history-drenched stone keep behind her. However, she said nothing, and nobody felt inclined to try and strike up a conversation with the obvious bodyguard.

“No, but she’s quite right,” The Lady said. For she had all the power in this interaction, which permitted her to be at ease, and even to generously offer that ease to the others. Motioning for them to follow, and leading them into the ancient keep. “Come, come! I know just the spot for a lovely picnic, the old dining hall above.”

“My Lady, how did you… oh, nevermind…”

Intervention was hefting an enormous bag of food over-shoulder, like Santa and the Grinch had a particularly fetching daughter. Wasn’t exactly a state secret.

With each step, those nine black tails swayed out behind the Lady Uchiyama, puffy and immaculately-groomed, just like the twitching, lively black ears atop her head.

Kotone wasn’t sure about going deeper. Her instincts told her this encounter was more than chance’s doing. An invitation from a princess wasn’t optional, though.

Especially not with that fridge of a drakken now flanking the party, wings spread wide.

The history here was proving a bit more lively than expected.