Though Galamon was acutely aware of the massive storm brewing far behind the battlefield, his years of experience in command made him keep focused on the task that had been assigned to him—total subjugation of the invading force. To that end, he enacted an efficient tactic to subdue these turtle ships brought from the north by the Great Chu. This tactic, with Rowe and his dragon hassling their rear, was like the quicksand of the Burnt Desert—the fiercer they thrashed, the more their life was threatened.
Durran’s wyverns circled the edge of the battle, bearing two riders on their backs at all times. One rider guided the wyvern, while the other directed powerful spells at the ships. The flying mounts gave the spellcasters mobility and vantage that was not easily combatted, and the advantage provided ample opportunity for Galamon to enact his plan. Either the enemy devoted spellcasters to combatting the forces in the sky, or they left themselves open to Galamon’s navy. They chose the latter, for at least then it became a contest between navies.
Galamon stayed removed from the battle, more than a dozen birds perched on his crossed arms.
“Relvan, advance and board. Company, disengage and head west. Siren, enemies approach on the east—abandon the grapple, disengage and fall back until you receive further orders.”
These birds on Galamon’s arms were linked to druidic spellcasters. When he gave a command, it could be immediately relayed to all those underneath him. This brutally efficient command structure ensured that they were always a step ahead of their invaders. The tactic that Galamon employed required heavy amounts of coordination. This sort of coordination was necessary against this navy. They fired ranged weapons from covered positions—crossbows and bows, oftentimes magic. The Veidimen had ranged weapons of their own, but the iron plating of the ships that gave these turtle ships their name made ranged retaliation a losing battle.
Veidimen longships operated in pairs for this operation. Though both, in part, were intended to manipulate the opposing ships, one was assigned as the boarder and another as the herder. It was the herder’s duty to attach itself to one of the ships with grappling hooks. From there, the Veidimen would pull the heavy ships by use of their numerous and superior oarsmen. Galamon and every captain had long ago mapped out which parts of the water had dangerous shallow rocks, barely concealed beneath turbulent waters. They pushed these invaders, both by grappling and by reckless ramming, into these shallows. The turtle ships were ridiculously heavy yet sunk deeper into the ocean than Veidimen longships, so it was an easier task than might be expected.
When a turtle ship’s hull was breached by rocks in shallow waters, or when one was more simply separated from their main unit, the longships in reserve would swarm the ship, climbing atop the iron-plated shell protecting the seamen within. With combined might, the Veidimen would pry these iron plates off the ship one by one, then swarm inside to commandeer the vessel. There, the true battle began.
With Veid working through Galamon as Her champion, all these thousands at sea were empowered by Her divinity. They were bolstered by unfaltering courage, limitless stamina, and a total unity with their comrades. Though the ignorant might claim these boons were meager offerings, any who had been to war would see their utility. In battle, hesitation sometimes afflicted even the steel-willed, yet with Veid at their backs that was gone. In battle, hours after hours of rowing oars and hacking with an axe could tire even the hardiest of warriors, but Veid ensured the seventieth blow would be just as fierce as the first. And in battle, the chaos and confusion led to comrades accidently striking one another far too often. That, too, was but a distant memory under Veid’s banner.
With Veid at their backs, the Veidimen became the perfect army. And Galamon championed Her, that Her vision might spread throughout the entire world.
They picked off vessel after vessel, leaving these turtle ships adrift or beached with the corpses of their sailors cast into the waters. Their bloodied bodies sunk into the water lifelessly, carried down by the weight of their armor. Some few abandoned their ships in abject fear—these struggled desperately to stay afloat. Their armor was light enough for them to swim, but not enough to do so in the roughening waters caused by the mounting storm. They were easy pickings for the monstrous Irontooth Piranhas that made their home in the coast of Berendar. The predatory fish ate well today.
Despite initial success, Galamon stayed very alert. He was waiting for a maneuver that Argrave had informed him of long in advance. His wariness proved well justified when he spotted ports open on the front of the ships. A stylized turtle head jutted out, a spout in its mouth. Galamon spoke decisively.
“All ships fall back,” he said loudly, then repeated it once more. “Fall back. The fire comes.”
And like that, the relentless drive forth of the Veidimen shifted. Their oars, once rowing forward, now desperately pressed backward. Though the order was well-timed, Galamon saw for himself the pure destructive might of the liquid fire the Great Chu had devised. The turtle heads in front of the ship spewed out fountains of white sludge. The moment that the first bit of it touched the water, it burst into bloodred flames.
The deluge of bloody flames crept toward the Veidimen longships with terrifying fury, spurred by both their spout’s initial momentum and the winds of the storm ahead. The Veidimen had been prepared for this, but perhaps ten vessels were consumed in the flames at once—those too slow to disengage, or those occupied with boarding. Just as many if not more Great Chu vessels succumbed to the fires as the Imperial Navy consigned their allies to death.
The bloodred fire tore through ships with alarming haste. Veidimen warriors aboard the ships desperately removed their armor before jumping into the water, yet many couldn’t and burned alive screaming. The smell of burnt flesh and wood spread so quickly that Galamon smelled it in seconds, and Argrave saw blood dye the ocean as dead and living both were torn apart by the Irontooth Piranhas.
The retreating longships, meanwhile, retrieved large felt blankets enchanted with humble fire-resistance spells and spread them in the water to cover their retreat. A lumpy and makeshift patch of floating felt blocked the ceaseless advance of this fire. Though crude, it sufficed. Galamon gave a self-satisfied nod as he saw the fire-retardant felt put distance between this fire and his navy. Some flames spilled past even still, but the bulk of their forces were spared the horrors of the heat.
As the fire raged between the two of them, Galamon had time to survey the battle. The nature of the liquid fire ensured that it reached some of their own turtle ships in these tumultuous waters, but by and large, the Imperial Navy had created a temporary stalemate. The Great Chu still outnumbered the Veidimen longships, though now to a lesser degree. Galamon felt that victory was at hand—their opponent had earned themselves a moment of reprise, but in so doing expended their trump card. If all went well, Argrave would subdue the emperor and the admiral, and then end this battle by seizing its leaders.
Galamon stared at the Sea Dragon. So much of it was concealed by fog by this point. Beyond that, however, the mounting storm seemed to shake and tumble, ready to burst forth. With his sharp senses, he spotted someone approaching the heart of this storm. Someone with red hair and a huge physique: namely, Sataistador. And as he entered, storm and wave both trembled as if in fear. There, gods would clash as background to mortal feuds.
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Though Argrave had hoped to corner Emperor Ji Meng in a tight space and subdue him quickly, his command of his troops was not as sophisticated as his command over his druidic bonds. They did encounter the emperor, coming upon him in one of the lower hallways. He was ignorant of the fact Argrave and his retinue had burst free of their encirclement, but upon their encounter the fierce conqueror’s brain worked without delay.
Upon judging the opposition, the emperor prudently left two of his personal guard behind to hold Argrave off, and then fell back to a more favorable position. Indeed, only two—and with these two, their party faced the first real opposition of this assault. The emperor’s personal guard bore divine armaments—thus, they were not as badly affected by the Brumesingers’ attack, if even at all.
The pair that confronted them were deadly warriors. They were garbed in all black, covering even their face, and though small before the Veidimen had an undeniable presence. From the back, one bore a bow firing magic-imbued projectiles. The frontliner had a dagger with a curved hilt meant for catching and disarming foes, and a sword of bone that was undoubtedly divine. These were artifacts of lesser gods, incomparable to that taken from Erlebnis’ vault, yet divine all the same.
Argrave had been leading but fell back, casting spells with his [Blood Echoes]. Despite the fact they were lightning spells, this vanguard warrior caught a dozen C-rank spells imbued with blood with his blade alone, blocking them like attacks as ordinary as any others. The Veidimen swarmed past Argrave to deal with this foe, and he let them.
The first Veidimen to confront the frontliner was drunk on the easy victory against his old foes, and fell upon the emperor’s guard recklessly. He swung his axe in an overhand arc, but the guard caught the blow with his dagger, hooked it with the hilt, and pulled the man forth to stab him with his sword. The Veidimen recovered and tried to slap the blade away with his shield, only barely preserving his life. The guard kicked him away… where a perfectly aimed arrow from the archer pierced through the Veidimen’s helmet, killing him instantly. All of the frontliner’s moves possessed the uncanny grace of a practiced martial art. Argrave, though, kept his eye on the archer. He called upon the Brumesingers, prepared to ambush him with a shade of mist.
Next, three snow elves filled the width of the hall, bearing down on this imperial guard. With dagger and sword, he fended off the probing attacks as the archer behind mercilessly fired upon them. When one of the Veidimen overextended, the guard again hooked an axe with the hilt of his dagger and pulled the towering elf forward in a familiar, practiced gesture. The others rushed to punish the occupied imperial guard, perhaps hoping to save their friend. Rather than defend, he ruthlessly stabbed the man he’d seized, then caught an axe with his shoulder. When the Veidimen tried to pull his axe free, the guard released his dagger and grabbed the axe, pulling with all of his might.
The Veidimen lurched forward, exposed to the archer. Argrave long ago saw the archer pull an arrow back and so conjured a shade. The bowman, though, somehow noticed the attack before it hit, and rolled forth without releasing the bowstring. The archer’s dodge was fast enough he gained stable footing and released the bow, whereupon the arrow pierced the visor of the off-balance Veidimen. With two of his allies dead, the third Veidimen finally cleaved into the frontliner’s skull, ending his defense. He seized the divine armament and then sprinted down the hall, eager to avenge his fallen comrades.
The archer retreated, falling back while firing arrows recklessly. Each came so fast they were forced to slow, but Vera stepped ahead with her right hand sparkling with light.
“Fall back, knight!” Argrave shouted, and the Veidimen, despite the grief of losing two comrades, did obey. He scrambled behind Vera, and the moment he did, a mana ripple spread as she released an S-rank lightning spell, [Smite]. Her A-rank ascension, [Two-Faced], allowed her to imbue elemental spells with another element. A sheer blast of fire and lightning consumed the corridor ahead, converging on this archer. When the light faded, the archer crouched there, bow held before him. His clothes had melted into his skin, but still he stood and turned the corner, fleeing.
“They’re damned monstrous,” said Vasilisa of Quadreign, catching her breath.
“I still sense them. They went to the front deck,” Argrave continued, pushing past their complaints. “The emperor is trying to regroup. I’m going to ensure that his command never reaches where it needs to be. We proceed slowly.”
After the terrifying encounter with only two imperial guards, their party advanced considerably more slowly to where the emperor waited. Argrave used [Heart of the Pack] to its fullest extent. The emperor was trying to signal to the S-rank spellcasters aboard the ship where he was, but Argrave hunted every messenger he sent down, killing or otherwise incapacitating them with the brume that had permeated the whole ship.
They finally came to the front deck, where Emperor Ji Meng and his imperial guard awaited them. Argrave stalled their group at the door, sizing their party up. Admiral Tan Shu had managed to get back aboard the ship after Argrave’s sneak attack, and she waited with the emperor. Two S-rank spellcasters had taken position at the edge of the deck. Fifty imperial guards circled Emperor Ji Meng, who himself was an S-rank spellcaster resplendent in divine armaments.
“My gear,” Argrave looked at Grimalt, who’d been instructed to carry certain items.
Grimalt nodded and retrieved the Resonant Pillar—a staff of jade he’d used to combat Mozzahr—and the Inerrant Cloak, an item that drew upon its wearer’s magic to defend from attacks. Argrave took both in hand, feeling strength surge through him as he wrapped the cloak around himself.
Argrave took a deep breath while his brain worked furiously. He needed to do more than merely beat his opponent—he needed to make the Emperor of the Great Chu his hostage. The plan had already been set in motion long ago, this was merely the final act. With this in mind, Argrave led his retinue into the front deck, where an undefeated conqueror awaited him.
Ahead, surrounded by his personal guard, Emperor Ji Meng stood with his dadao leaning against his shoulder. His stance seemed every bit as uncompromising as the demonic mask that he wore.