CHAPTER 221
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CHAPTER 221
295 AC
POV THIRD PERSON
As Aermir's convoy of ships sailed towards Three Sisters, he meticulously prepared for the impending conflict. His position as the Druid allowed him to harness the unique abilities he had at his disposal. He stood on one of his trade ships alongside his most trusted men, a group that had all pledged their unwavering loyalty to him.
Aermir had a strategy in mind for the battle. By utilizing his Druid persona, he intended to create the illusion of being in two places at once. To achieve this, he planned to place one of his trusted men in his knight's armor while that man rode atop Sith. This would cause others to believe he was commanding the battle.
The winds blew through his dark hair as he watched the horizon, anticipation and determination etched into his features. As he stood there, he attuned himself to the wind element and started to cast a spell.
Aermir's invocation, "Jelmio Modocalcinum (summon medium wind elemental)," resonated with ancient magic, giving rise to a wind elemental that manifested in a form roughly equivalent to an average human. Its ethereal body consisted of swirling, translucent air currents, coalescing to shape a form reminiscent of a humanoid. Delicate tendrils, akin to foggy wisps, extended from its core, resembling limbs in the breeze. The elemental's body undulated with a graceful fluidity, and as it materialized, a gust of chilled air enveloped the area, accompanied by an eerie yet soothing otherworldly whisper.
Upon Aermir's command, the wind elemental gracefully ascended into the sky. It journeyed to the rear of the small fleet of ships, positioned to exert its influence upon the sails. The elemental began to channel the winds, guiding them toward the sails of the ships. As its ethereal form pulsed with energy, the gentle breeze that it conjured filled the air, causing the vessels to accelerate slightly.
Content with the elemental's contribution, Aermir assumed the form of his druid persona and took to the air, transforming into a magnificent eagle and directing himself toward the foremost ship in the fleet. Landing upon the vessel, he was met with a display of reverence from the soldiers and knights, who knelt in homage. Closing the distance to the ship's prow, Aermir cast another spell,
With an incantation, "Iēdar Modocalcinum (summon medium water elemental)," Aermir called upon the power of the sea. In a mesmerizing spectacle of aqueous mastery, a long column of water, like a mythical sea serpent, snaked through the air. The water elemental, standing at the stature of a man, emerged with a graceful fluidity. Its form undulated, sinuous, and serpentine, seeming to possess a life of its own. The translucent body of the elemental rippled like liquid silk, and crystalline droplets cascaded from its sinuous form, leaving a shimmering trail in its wake.
Upon its full formation, the water elemental plunged into the sea, vanishing beneath the waves. Aermir commanded it to generate a consistent water current in their desired direction. Though the elemental itself remained unseen beneath the water, the subtle ripples it created upon the water's surface bore evidence of its presence. As the elemental surged forward ahead of the fleet, it left behind a distinct water current that emanated from its path. When the ships reached the point where the elemental had been, they experienced a little surge in speed; each vessel propelled onward by the unseen force beneath the waves.
In the world, the most exceptional ships boasted a top speed of 45 kilometers per hour, or approximately 27 miles per hour, under ideal conditions. Aermir's fleet, operating in what could be considered ideal conditions, would typically reach speeds of around 30 kilometers per hour, or roughly 20 miles per hour. However, Aermir's mastery of magic allowed him to transcend this limitation, effectively bridging the gap and propelling his ships to the top speed attainable by the best vessels. This enhancement promised to significantly reduce their travel time, provided they didn't encounter adverse winds. The spell he cast was a temporary solution, and Aermir knew he'd have to renew it every 4 to 6 hours, depending on the changing conditions of the air and sea. It was a continuous effort to maintain their swift pace.
...
As they sailed forward, Aermir's familiars kept a watchful eye on the horizon, and through their senses, he detected the presence of a Sistermen ship. As their vessels drew nearer, the Sistermen ship began to pull back, eventually releasing a bird. It was a small, agile vessel, clearly serving as a scout ship. Poe, one of Aermir's familiars, inquired,
"Father, should I capture the bird?"
Aermir's decision was clear, "No, let them be aware of our approach."
Aermir had no interest in orchestrating an ambush; he desired a direct confrontation at sea. For this particular situation, he had prepared a trump card that he would unleash when the time was right.
...
The Sistermen lords, Lord Pryor, and Lord Elesham, were gathered around a large, meticulously detailed map. With a sense of zealous determination, they went over their battle plan one final time before embarking on their voyage. Lord Elesham, the ruler of The Paps, had arrived with his five war carracks and ten medium-sized vessels the night before, bolstering their forces. A sense of elation washed over them, driven by the scout report they had received. Lord Sunderland, a sinister smile on his face, remarked,
"These arrogant land-dwellers must have believed we would never dare to confront them. They've used just 35 ships to transport all their men. This will mark the greatest defeat the North has ever suffered at the hands of the Sistermen."
The new Lord Longthorpe, Peter, bore a sinister grin, eager for retribution for his father's demise.
"We should show them no mercy! That tree-hugger's attack dog has ten medium-range Braavosi trade ships. Each of those should be capable of carrying 500-600 men. If we assume the 25 ships he pilfered from us were at maximum capacity, those 25 ships could carry around 3,000 to 4,000 men. At maximum, he must have ten thousand men."
Lord Torrent, his confidence unwavering, added,
"He must have strained every vessel to its limits, believing he could mount an uncontested invasion to our shores. That rash decision will be his undoing. I will advance from the north with Lord Longthorpe."
Lord Pryor, driven by fervor, declared,
"Lord Elesham and I will lead our forces from the south while the rest of us will hold the center. Together, we shall encircle those heathens and consign them to a watery grave. As the Seven watch over us, we can only anticipate victory."
Turning to the Sistermen lords, he spoke in a somewhat disappointed tone,
"If your intentions had been pure, you wouldn't have lost even your first battle. The Seven would have shielded you. How could you use the Seven's name in vain, that defeat was your punishment."
Lord Borrell had grown increasingly uneasy with the overconfidence displayed by his fellow lords. Underestimating their opponent troubled him deeply, and he couldn't keep silent any longer. He voiced his concerns, the weight of doubt evident in his words,
"Are we perhaps underestimating our enemy a bit too much? After all, we were the ones who suffered defeat, not him."
Lord Sunderland, known for his candor, acknowledged Borrell's apprehension,
"You make a valid point, my lord. That's precisely why we're not huddled behind the walls of our castles. I must admit, if this were a land battle, I'd be as concerned as you are. You didn't witness the kind of monster he is—mowing down soldiers by the dozen with every swing of his weapon. However, when it comes to naval warfare, what can he do when we sink his ships? What threat can his giant shadowcat pose on the open sea? As far as I know, this is the first time the young lord has ventured onto a ship. What could he possibly know about sea battles to make us fear him?"
Lord Sunderland's confidence had swept through the assembled lords, who joined in the laughter, their fervor growing. Amidst this chorus of zealotry, Lord Pryor, a man consumed by unbridled faith, felt compelled to raise his voice.
"Lord Borrell, you speak as if you question the divine intervention of the Seven!" Lord Pryor's eyes blazed with fanatic devotion, and his words rang with fervent conviction. "We are the righteous, the defenders of the Faith, blessed by the gods themselves. Our swords are the very instruments of their divine will. This Lord Drasil, this so-called protector of the North, is nothing but a heathen, a defiler of the holy sanctuaries, a usurper of our lands as he is a servant of a false prophet. They are nothing but servants of darkness. The light of the Seven will protect us."
Lord Pryor's voice took on a fevered intensity, and he continued with messianic zeal,
"The Seven will guide our blades, shield our ships, and ensure our victory. They are watching, and they have chosen us as their instruments. How can you, Lord Borrell, stand among us, who are anointed by the divine and question the will of the gods themselves?"
As Lord Pryor spoke, his proclamation of faith resonated with the other lords, deepening their conviction and further cementing their resolve to confront this "heathen" threat with unwavering faith in their divine favor.