-Operation Big Bang -
{Excerpt}
The caravel, with its nimbleness owing to its lighter build, proved a boon to mariners. In its early incarnations, it boasted two or three masts sporting lateen sails, though later variants featured four masts. These early models, like the caravela tilhlda of the 16th century, typically measured between 12 and 18 meters in length, with a cargo capacity averaging 50 to 60 tons. Their elongated hulls, with a length-to-beam ratio of around 3.5 to 1, and slender ellipsoidal frame—unlike the rounder frame of the nau—rendered them swift and manoeuvrable, albeit with limited cargo space. Their shallower keels enabled navigation in coastal shallows and even upriver.
With their lateen sails, providing speed and windward sailing capability, affixed, caravels excelled in coastal navigation, able to approach nearer to shore. Conversely, when equipped with square oceanic-type sails, they exhibited remarkable speed on open seas. Their blend of economy, swiftness, agility, and power earned them renown as the premier vessels of their era. Despite their limited cargo and crew capacity, these drawbacks did not impede their success.
…
Excerpt from Milburga Leah's Speculum universale - 'The Voltulian Philosophica', located on the coordinates 00.00.45.21.05; Udoris/Udoris/Ships/Caravel.
{END}
[12.03.1624]
Ricos.
Johan stood by the quayside, his gleaming armour catching the last rays of the sun's warmth. The evening breeze tousled his hair gently as he surveyed the tranquil waters of the sleepy Strega. In the distance, a small fishing boat drifted lazily on the waves, its sails billowing in the breeze. The calls of waterfowl echoed in the air, mingling with the scent of freshly caught fish, amidst the lively banter of merchants and townsfolk bustling about their daily affairs, eager to profit from the gathering throngs of conscripts and hired swords; prices of goods had naturally soared with the increased demand. Johan observed a group of children playing nearby, their carefree laughter a stark contrast to the bustling adult world around them. Their joy was infectious.
He breathed in deeply, the scent of petrichor from last night's rain blending with the sweet perfume of blooming flowers nearby; a soothing concoction that filled his lungs.
"Isn't it splendid?" remarked a voice beside him. Johan turned to see the speaker, a man clad in armor of slightly inferior quality to his own—a wealthy mercenary, most likely, lacking any discernible heraldry.
"It is," Johan replied, wistful. He returned his gaze to the river. "Are you a local?" he inquired.
"Nay," the man replied, taking a seat beside Johan. "From Khule. And you?"
Johan shook his head. "Passing through. Just came from Wirborough," he answered.
"Not here to join the Lion's war?" the man asked. "A wandering knight?"
"Nay," Johan chuckled, his armour bare of any insignia. "I've not yet had the honour of knighthood. Just a simple sellsword; I fight for gold, not glory."
The stranger laughed. "A refined sellsword after gold? Always a pleasure to meet a kindred spirit amidst the wilderness. I'm Tom," he introduced, offering a hand.
"Tyronne," Johan replied, shaking it. He managed a smile at the stranger before turning his gaze back to the river. A caravel came into view, its hull heavily laden, bearing a dark red X painted on its bow—a vessel Johan recalled the earl naming Cherry Bomb. His smile faded, replaced by a grimace before he turned away.
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"At least I've had a glimpse of the place before we reduce it to ashes," he muttered bitterly to himself.
…
The night was shrouded in darkness, for the moon had yet to reach its fullness. Johan found solace in the shadowy veil as he stealthily approached The Codfather, the grandest brig in the harbour. This magnificent vessel belonged to Count Karl Pers, the Lord of Ricos. Behind him trailed five other knights, their presence concealed by the cloak of night. In the distance, the harbour guards slumbered at their posts, some inebriated, others merely oblivious to their movements.
A short distance from The Codfather, the Cherry Bomb rested tranquilly beside five other ships, a picture of innocence. Her sister ship, which had arrived the previous night, lay opposite her amidst seven other vessels. Just as the Cherry Bomb and her sister had, the other ships at the harbour also dipped well into their water lines having been laden with war materiel to be sent east towards Faywyn. Johan marvelled at the ingenuity of the young lord's insidious plans; only a man twisted beyond the bounds of clemency or, may the ancestors forbid, influenced by Puhbeer himself, could conceive such diabolical methods of inflicting harm upon others.
Shaking his head, the knight approached The Codfather's mooring lines, his companions boarding the vessel. Drawing his blade, he swiftly severed the thick ropes binding the ship to the harbour. As the ship swayed in the current, muffled sounds and exclamations rose from aboard, growing louder with each passing moment. Johan hastened his efforts, releasing the stern lines before moving to the breast lines. The guards stirred, prompting Johan to work faster, now focusing on the headlines. Suddenly, The Codfather lurched violently, the noise aboard escalating. More guards were alerted, drawing closer to investigate.
Then she came free.
With a harsh snap, the last mooring line broke, sending The Codfather adrift downstream. Johan sheathed his blade and pursued the runaway vessel along the harbour. Behind him, two other men emerged from the Cherrybomb and her sister-ship, racing after him as if their lives depended on it.
The freed Codfather careened chaotically for a few moments before stabilizing under the influence of the river's current. Unperturbed by the unmanned helm, Johan trusted his comrades to soon assume control aboard the ship. With determination, he raced downstream until reaching the moored fishing boats. Offering a silent apology, he released one of the vessels and commandeered it, using a paddle to navigate his way free of the piers. Behind him, the knights that emerged from the fireships commandeered another fishing boat just as he did and quickly paddled themselves into the Strega's current.
From the harbourmaster's office, an alarm was raised and the docks were quickly flooded with knights, guards and mercenaries who came out to answer the call.
As if on cue, the Cherry Bomb erupted in a blaze of flames and debris. The black powder stored in her hold ignited with such force that the neighbouring ships sank instantly. Moments later, her sister ship met the same fate, illuminating the night sky once more. Johan's ears rang from the deafening blast, and his boat trembled from the shockwaves.
Surveying the destruction they had wrought, Johan harboured no doubt in his mind. Lord Tristan would require new ships to navigate the Strega. Whether the earl would permit such a venture was another matter entirely.