The people of Ryan had little seafaring experience.
Surrounded by enemies on all sides, the Ryan Empire possessed only a sliver of coastline touching the ocean. Consequently, Ryan's nautical expertise was abysmal; at most, they built vessels for domestic river transport.
This behemoth of a seafaring warship had practically been slapped together on short notice, crammed with all sorts of fanciful notions. The result was that within days of venturing into the open sea, the Ryan soldiers aboard found themselves violently seasick.
The shape of the ship's bottom was flawed, causing it to rock endlessly at the slightest wave. The ballast stones also seemed insufficient, leaving the hull swaying drastically. Still, those aboard were an elite contingent, so none were reduced to retching, but after two or three days, everyone looked haggard, and not a single soul got a decent night's sleep.
Then came the issue of navigation. Ryan's most seasoned sailors were reduced to mere apprentices once out on open water. Relying solely on a compass was hardly enough to navigate the boundless ocean; at the slightest lapse in attention, the ship drifted off course. And when they tried to adjust the helm, they discovered the rudder was far too small, forcing them to make wide detours just to turn. In short, all manner of troubles and blunders left every Ryan soldier weakened and irritable.
Fortunately, clerics of light excelled at bolstering morale and dispelling ailments, allowing the Ryan soldiers to maintain some measure of combat effectiveness. Even so, if things dragged on like this, they would lose half their fighting strength before they even laid eyes on the lich.
Cyril Roland stood at the prow, gazing out across the endless sea.
At first, he had found it novel; the magnificent, rolling expanse of the ocean was truly a sight to behold. Yet after several days, this unchanging scenery grew utterly dull. A vast expanse of water devoid of landmarks, a far shore lost beyond the horizon—such isolation slowly bred weariness and despair.
Cyril Roland was a paladin whose will was forged of steel, so he could endure it. But he knew this could not continue. No matter how tenacious the Ryan soldiers' fighting spirit was, it could not withstand this insidious erosion.
He had to do something to give them some excitement.
Perhaps they could dive into the sea to hunt marine monsters, supplementing everyone's rations while injecting a bit of thrill into this monotonous voyage. Whether they succeeded or not hardly mattered; at least it would break the oppressive atmosphere.
Just as Cyril Roland was pondering how to get everyone involved in a hunt, the lookout in the crow's nest shouted down, "General Roland! There appears to be a ship ahead, roughly four kilometers out!"
Cyril's interest was piqued at once. Running into another vessel was wonderful news—friend or foe, anything was vastly better than this empty sea.
Cyril immediately ordered the ship to close in.
The other vessel seemed to share the exact same thought. Cyril soon spotted the warship on the horizon—or rather, a pirate ship.
The vessel flew a skull-and-crossbones flag and mounted over a dozen magitech cannons. The crew aboard were one-eyed and peg-legged, yet each waved swords and cutlasses with feral zeal. They had clearly mistaken the Ryan warship for an oversized merchant vessel and were moving in to plunder it.
Surprised, Cyril Roland said, "Do they not recognize Ryan's flag? Have seafaring bandits always been this daring?"
This was an imperial vessel of Ryan; these pirates were bold indeed.
Yet the pirates could not be blamed entirely for being blind. The Ryan vessel was excessively bulky; no matter how one looked at it, it resembled an oddly shaped merchant barge. No true warship was built like this—it could barely build up speed even if it tried to flee.
As for the Ryan banner... who cared what kingdom you hailed from? Out on the open water, unless you could fly, the mightiest land army was utterly useless.
The pirate ship was far faster than the Ryan vessel and quickly closed into firing range.
The Ryan ship was also outfitted with magitech cannons—greater in power and longer in range. However, gunnery accuracy at sea was another matter entirely. Three consecutive rounds from the prow failed to even graze the pirate ship.
Seeing right away that their quarry were greenhorns, the pirates grew even more excited. They circled around the Ryan warship and unleashed a bombardment from their broadside magitech cannons. Shells whistled toward the Ryan ship with an accuracy several times higher than that of the Ryan gunners; at least three struck the hull.
However, the pirates' magitech cannons were of far too small a caliber. Setting aside their meager firepower, many were obsolete castoffs that would malfunction after firing three or four consecutive rounds at most.
Faced with the incoming barrage, the Ryan crew's countermeasure was simple.
A colossal magical barrier rose up, deflecting every incoming shell.
Witnessing this, the pirates realized at once that they had bitten off more than they could chew. A magical defense of this scale carried an astronomical cost, far beyond the means of any ordinary merchant vessel. And any ship capable of deploying such a magical barrier was bound to carry formidable combatants.
The pirates were no fools. Knowing the ship would be impossible to plunder, they immediately prepared to turn tail and run. They held the speed advantage; if they fled, the lumbering giant could never catch up.
In theory, that was true. But the Ryan soldiers had been cooped up at sea for days, on the verge of going mad from boredom. Having finally run across pirates, how could they possibly let them slip away?
The spellcasters aboard the Ryan ship began chanting loudly. Vast magical energy coalesced into howling gales that swept across the water, providing a violent surge of speed. The bulky warship cleaved brutally through the waves in hot pursuit. This sudden burst of speed terrified the pirates—their ship possessed no such tricks.
Just as the Ryan vessel was about to close the gap, it abruptly slowed. It turned out the magical gale had been so violent that it shredded their sails.
The warriors aboard were formidable, but the vessel itself was simply sub-par, completely unfit for ocean voyages.
The pirates burst into raucous laughter, many standing at the stern to urinate into the sea, jeering ruthlessly at the Ryan soldiers.
Standing at his prow, Cyril Roland was equally furious. Never had he imagined the sails could actually tear. Without magical propulsion, the Ryan warship truly could not catch the pirates.
Were they just going to let them get away?
Cyril turned back and looked at the Ryan warriors on deck, every single one of them wearing an expression starved for battle. Ocean voyages were simply too tedious, the cabins so cramped there wasn't even room to stretch. An opportunity to limber up their muscles was rare; could they bear to miss it?
Resigned, Cyril knew this fight had to happen. He truly felt for his men.
Raising his right hand high, Cyril Roland bellowed, "Prepare for boarding action!"
With that, Cyril grabbed a mooring cable and flew into the air, darting straight toward the pirate ship. Alongside Cyril, two other paladins did the exact same thing, seizing cables from the ship and flying in pursuit.
The pirate vessel seemed swift, but a wind-driven sailing ship reached at most twenty to thirty kilometers per hour, whereas the Fly spell could reach forty. Naturally, flying above the water was faster than sailing across it. In no time, the three paladins caught up with the pirate craft.
Cyril Roland landed first on their deck, binding the cable firmly around the mainmast. The cable snapped taut, sending the pirate ship listing violently. In terms of displacement, the pirate ship paled in comparison to the massive Ryan warship.
The pirates swarmed forward, desperate to slay Cyril Roland and sever the rope. Yet Cyril paid them no heed. His longsword remained sheathed as he parried and struck in fluid motions, sending pirates flying. Not a single pirate could get near him.
The second and third legendary paladins arrived, tethering the bow and stern of the pirate vessel, completely extinguishing any hope of escape. In truth, any one of the three paladins could have slaughtered all the pirates single-handedly, but they patiently held a defensive line, focused solely on ensuring the cables weren't cut and ignoring everything else.
The sailors aboard the Ryan warship winched the cables tight, drawing the two vessels closer and closer until only a few meters separated them. The pent-up Ryan warriors eagerly leaped onto the pirate craft.
And then, there was no "and then."
The pirates possessed no ability to resist whatsoever. Their strongest fighter was merely a bumbling warlock whose head was bashed in by Cyril Roland's scabbard the moment he fired off an Eldritch Blast.
Over thirty pirates were slain on the spot, the remaining forty or fifty were captured alive, and even the pirate ship was claimed by the Ryan soldiers.
Looking at his men smiling once more, Cyril Roland felt his efforts hadn't been in vain. If more pirates like this showed up along the way, the journey wouldn't be half bad. Perhaps by the time they reached the lich, they would have assembled an entire fleet.
While the Ryan soldiers were celebrating, they failed to notice several small metallic aircraft streaking through the sky above. These metallic planes were fitted with memory crystals and zoom lenses, clearly recording everything transpiring below from high in the sky. Once the battle concluded, the planes immediately departed, returning to a mothership hundreds of kilometers away.
Inside the cabin, Hastings promptly received the memory crystals. After confirming their contents, he turned to the red-haired young woman beside him.
Waist-length crimson hair, a suit of blue-silver heavy armor, and a warhammer hanging at her waist that constantly sparked with dancing flames—she was an imposing yet beautiful maiden, Princess Ariel of the Raging Tide Kingdom.
"Your Highness, please take a look." Hastings' mechanical hand steadily held out the memory crystals to the stern-faced Ariel.
Ariel scrutinized the recorded footage and sneered. "A bunch of landlubbers treating naval warfare like child's play. They dare to laugh before they've even witnessed the wrath of Talos. When they gaze upon towering tidal waves, their knees will probably turn to jelly."
Seeing that Ariel was pleased, Hastings said courteously, "Then Your Highness surely appreciates the quality of our merchandise. Regarding the order we discussed earlier..."
Staring at Hastings with a cold expression, Ariel said calmly, "Your asking price is too steep. Even for a monopoly, you are being far too overbearing. We were born of this sea; originally, we had no need for these airships. However good your wares may be, this is a deal we can take or leave."
Chapter 391