Chapter 376: The Battle
The salty sea breeze carried the pungent stench of gunpowder.
Ser Horas Redwyne still hadn't fully recovered from the shock. He struggled to comprehend what sort of weapon the enemy was using.
How could they launch such a torrent of massive iron balls, as if rain poured from the heavens?
What was the deafening thunderclap that had accompanied the attack? And what were those rings of white fire and clouds of black smoke that billowed afterward?
Raising his spyglass once more, Horas peered at the Stormlands fleet. On the broadside of each ship, he spotted rows of thick black barrels neatly aligned, manned by sailors who were busily stuffing objects into them.
Was that what made the noise and launched the iron balls?
The fear of the unknown gripped Horas's heart like a vise. The arrogance and bravado he had displayed before the battle evaporated as he realized this enemy was unlike any he had ever faced.
It wasn't just Horas—his entire Arbor fleet had been rattled by the opening salvo.
The actual damage inflicted by the cannons wasn't devastating. No ship had sunk, and the iron balls had merely smashed holes in the decks and hulls, or tragically struck a few unlucky sailors.
But the sheer unfamiliarity and ferocity of this new weapon had shaken the morale of the Arbor fleet to its core.
Worse still, their commander, Horas Redwyne, had fallen into a state of panic and indecision. Instead of steadying his men, he stood frozen, consumed by his own confusion and fear.
The Stormlands fleet, led by Ser Lucas Dayne, had no intention of wasting the opportunity.
Seeing the enemy ships stalled within cannon range, Lucas barked an order:
"Fire again!"
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The thunderous roar of over 300 cannons erupted in unison. White flashes lit the horizon, followed by the sharp whistle of iron cannonballs cutting through the air.
Most of the projectiles missed their targets, splashing into the sea and erupting in massive plumes of water. But even the small fraction that hit inflicted severe damage.
The Purple Grapes, Horas's flagship, bore the brunt of the assault. As the largest and leading ship of the fleet, it became the primary target.
Dozens of iron cannonballs slammed into its hull and deck, leaving it riddled with holes. Sailors scrambled for cover, many diving into the lower decks to escape the carnage.
Horas himself was dragged into the captain's cabin by his guards.
"Ser, what are your orders? Do we continue the attack?" his first mate asked, shaking Horas in an attempt to snap him out of his daze.
"Of course we continue!" Horas shouted instinctively, his pride taking over. "We are the Arbor fleet, the masters of the seas, undefeated in battle! Do you think we'll surrender to the Stormlanders? Issue my command: full speed ahead! Ram them!"
The impassioned declaration failed to inspire confidence.
Glancing around the room, Horas saw only fearful faces staring back at him.
"What's wrong with you lot? Are you scared already?" he snarled.
"Not at all," his first mate replied cautiously, "but…what sort of weapon is the enemy using? How are they launching those iron balls?"
"Some kind of trebuchet or catapult, no doubt!" Horas snapped. "There's nothing to fear. You saw it yourself—their weapons may be loud and flashy, but their actual damage is limited. They haven't sunk a single ship!"
Even as he spoke, Horas felt a pang of doubt.
What kind of catapult could hurl solid iron balls so far?
Moreover, catapults were bulky and took up significant deck space. How could the Stormlands fleet carry so many?
Still, Horas knew he had to maintain a façade of confidence. If he showed any sign of weakness, morale would crumble.
"Keep rowing! Push forward at full speed!" he shouted. "Once we close the distance, we'll crush them with rams or board their ships for hand-to-hand combat. That's our strength, and victory will belong to the Arbor fleet!"
Finally, a few sailors murmured in agreement, and the signalers began relaying Horas's orders across the fleet.
---
The blaring sound of horns signaled the charge.
Drummers resumed their relentless rhythm, and oars plunged into the water in perfect unison. The fleet surged forward, spearheaded by the Purple Grapes.
Meanwhile, the Stormlands cannons roared once more.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Another barrage of cannonballs rained down on the Arbor fleet. Though the sailors were no longer as panicked as before, the relentless bombardment took its toll.
Ships began to lag behind.
"Ser, the Sea Blossom is taking on water!" the first mate reported.
Horas turned his spyglass to the right flank, spotting the stricken Sea Blossom struggling to stay afloat. Its crew was waving red flags, signaling distress.
"Green Ivy and Glory are in trouble too," another officer added grimly.
"Keep going!" Horas roared, waving his arm in frustration. "We cannot stop now!"
His tone brooked no argument, and the crew reluctantly pressed on.
---
As the Arbor fleet closed the distance, one officer suggested:
"Ser, at this range, we can use the scorpion ballistae to strike back."
Each ship in the Arbor fleet was equipped with large scorpions, designed specifically to combat Caesar's dragons. Though their primary purpose was to pierce the hide of giant beasts, they could also be turned against enemy ships in desperation.
To be honest, using a scorpion crossbow to shoot a warship is like using a bow and arrow to shoot a giant elephant. It cannot be said to be completely useless, but don't expect to win by doing it.
"Do it!" Horas ordered. "Fire the scorpions!"
Dozens of massive ballistae were loaded and aimed.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
The scorpion bolts streaked through the air like venomous serpents, their sharp tips glinting in the sunlight.
One bolt slammed into the hull of the Stormlands flagship, the Hammer of Caesar, embedding itself deep and splintering a section of the deck. The shaft quivered violently from the force of impact.
Lucas Dayne, standing on the deck, didn't even flinch.
A bolt had narrowly missed him by less than a yard, but he paid it no mind. His gaze remained fixed on the advancing Arbor fleet, his expression calm and resolute.
When the enemy ships came within range, he issued his next command:
"Load explosive shells."
(End of Chapter)