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CHAPTER 222
295 AC
POV THIRD PERSON
Aermir stood on the deck of his ship as the Druid and was watching the approaching Sistermen fleet through the eyes of Poe. It was an impressive armada, boasting an array of warships and smaller vessels. The 40 warships formed a formidable center while the smaller ships flanked them on the sides. Their intentions were evident; they intended to charge forward and encircle his fleet.
With a wry smile, Aermir couldn't help but marvel at their arrogance. The Sistermen were charging toward him, underestimating their opponent in full view. Their boldness was precisely what he had anticipated. This would be their undoing.
Aermir knew he had a trump card at his disposal, a surprise that would turn the tide in his favor. He had prepared for this very scenario, a sea battle, and now it was time to unleash his plan.
Aermir's calm voice held a hint of confidence as he issued his command.
-Repun, it's your moment to shine. You have the permission to sink almost all of their ships but remember, leave the warships unharmed; only cripple them, we'll use them after liberating them from their current owners. Focus on disabling their rudders so they're stranded in the middle of the sea.-
In response, a boyish and enthusiastic voice echoed within Aermir's mind, brimming with energy and excitement.
-Yes, master. Then, can we play with the rest of them however we want to? This is going to be so much fun.-
Aermir couldn't help but be a bit perplexed by his new familiar's unique way of speaking. Repun's intentions might have sounded rather innocent, speaking of playing with them. If you focus on his boyish and innocent voice, you would think he was going to play catch with them, but Aermir knew from documentaries how Repun's kind played, and Aermir was relatively unfazed by it all.
-You're free to do as you please, you psychopathic murder Oreo.- he replied with a chuckle.
Repun sounded confused and asked with an innocent curiosity,
-What does psychopathic murder Oreo mean?-
-That is what some people call your kind.-
Repun, a killer whale, had a penchant for playing with its prey or the things it intended to kill. Being a large size creature, Repun could only exert dominance over three of its kind, but since orcas typically traveled in pods, the rest of the pod would follow Repun's lead as long as they could find food, and because of this, they would adhere to basic commands.
Before the Moondrift battle, Aermir had meticulously crafted four harnesses tailored for Repun and the three orcas he had successfully dominated. These specialized harnesses were designed to rest atop the creatures' heads and featured a straightforward yet effective construction.
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Each harness incorporated a sturdy spike securely attached to a padded base. The resulting image of these adorned sea creatures might have struck some as peculiar, even comical, but Aermir refrained from making any jests about their appearance since Repun didn’t like his harness already.
As Repun surged forward, leading the relentless assault on one of the Sistermen's leading ships, his three orcas, sporting their peculiar spiked headgear, echoed his charge by targeting separate vessels. It was a breathtaking display of sheer power as they bore down upon the unsuspecting ships.
With unmatched ferocity, each massive orca used their reinforced and spiked heads as battering rams to pierce holes through the hulls of the ships. The spikes on their headgear carved through the wooden planks like a hot knife through butter, leaving behind gaping holes that quickly filled the doomed ships with icy seawater. The Sistermen sailors and warriors aboard these ill-fated vessels had little chance at survival.
The resulting spectacle was a tumultuous blend of awe and devastation. Sistermen sailors and warriors aboard their doomed vessels could only muster futile attempts to patch up the gaping holes as their ships slowly succumbed to the relentless invasion of the sea. The arrogant Sistermen lords, who had initially underestimated their opponent, watched in disbelief as the sea began to claim their ships, one after another. The Lords were safe on their warships since Repun was ordered not to destroy them.
Panic and chaos quickly spread among the sailors as they desperately tried to comprehend who or what was responsible for this deadly assault. In a matter of several minutes, all the ships in the Sistermen fleet, except for the 40 warships, met their watery demise. Aermir's forces could only witness the sinking ships, baffled by the inexplicable and devastating destruction unfolding before their eyes. To them, it looked like the ships were sinking without any reason. They felt like Druid Emrys was ruling over the sea.
...
Lord Sunderland stood in stunned silence, all he could see was a cocktail of terror and bewilderment among his men. Before him, the very essence of their naval power was crumbling into oblivion. Every ship, every man, was being lost to the relentless sea. Some of the Sistermen vessels attempted to retreat, breaking formation in a desperate bid for survival, but they too found themselves rapidly pulled beneath the waves, their escape cut short before they could advance even a few hundred meters. The devastating fate that had befallen their fleet left Lord Sunderland and his fellow lords in a state of shock, grappling with the incomprehensible nature of their calamity.
In a fit of anger, Lord Sunderland finally found his voice and shouted orders to his men, "Ready the ballistae and scorpions! Fire upon those approaching ships! We will not go down without a fight!"
In their desperation, the Sistermen lords ordered their crews to aim their ballistae and scorpions at the oncoming Northern threat. With a thunderous release, the projectiles soared into the air, their trajectories angling toward the distant enemy. However, the gap separating the two forces was too great, causing the shots to fall woefully short of their intended targets. Each projectile splashed into the sea with a deafening crash, adding to the chaos that had enveloped the Sistermen fleet.
They kept firing, but Aermir’s fleet was not coming towards them. They circled around the remaining Sistermen warships. The Southern forces found themselves unable to give chase since their rudders were broken. The Sistermen warships drifted aimlessly. As their enemy made their way toward their land, the Sistermen watched helplessly. The once-proud and dominant Sistermen fleet was now broken and helpless, reduced to a scattered remnant of its former might, drifting at the mercy of the unforgiving waves.
...
As the Sistermen Lords gazed upon the passing enemy ships while standing on their flagship, their expressions twisted with a potent mix of anger and desperation. They had underestimated the magical powers of the Druid, and now they were reaping the bitter fruits of their arrogance.
"By the Seven's grace, we're done for!" Lord Longthrope exclaimed, his eyes filled with fury. "This wasn't supposed to happen. We were supposed to crush them! How? We were the superior force in the sea."
Lord Borrell, usually silent, couldn't hide his dismay. "We've been bested, outwitted by a tree-hugging greenlander." He was listless; he had lost all his will to fight. " We have underestimated the power of the Druid and his Old Gods. We should have known Lord Drasil was not a fool; he wouldn't attack with only 35 ships."
Meanwhile, the ever-zealous Lord Pryor of Pebble and Lord Elesham of The Paps exchanged fervent and uneasy glances. Lord Pryor, with unshakable faith in the Seven, grumbled towards the Sistermen lords, "The Seven have abandoned us because of you all. You sinned in their eyes by using their name in vain when you assaulted the North with your greed, and now we are doomed because of it!"