Chapter 502: Body of Steel (Part III)
The second hawk-headed ship was still turning when the steel vessel struck.
Its side lay fully exposed—more vulnerable even than the first. The Rats on board were terrified, but a few of them held fast long enough to raise crossbows and loose bolts at the incoming hull. The bolts struck and vanished without mark, needles against plate iron. Nothing deterred the advance.
The bow hit amidships, directly crushing a dozen oars. Then the current took the hawk-headed ship and the impact carried it further than the force alone could have managed, and the vessel tilted—lifted sideways by the collision until its far gunwale nearly touched the water—and the steel bow, momentarily airborne, rose with the motion and then came down.
It came down on the deck.
The hawk-headed ship broke with a shrill, prolonged crack. Those Rats who could still move flung themselves into the river. The others lay where they had fallen, trailing blood across the planks. Eden watched the steel vessel settle its weight onto the hull beneath it, felt it through the timber of his own ship somehow, as though the river itself transmitted the pressure—and the hawk-headed sloop gave way completely, snapping at the keel, both halves upending with a great splash before they settled and floated, waterlogged but buoyant, half-submerged like corpses unwilling to sink.
The steel vessel had not a scratch on it.
It turned toward Eden’s ship.
He heard the men around him gasp. He had already given the right order—the ship was pressed against the shore, as close to the bank as the draft would allow, and the steel vessel was adjusting course to pursue Baron Derrick’s vessel instead, which was making its desperate bid for distance.
Eden filled his lungs and roared.
“Raise your bows and torches! Every man able to fight!” He heard his voice carry the way voices carry when they have nothing left to lose. “I’ll pay one gold royal for every enemy you kill. One gold royal—do you hear me?”
Without promotion he would return to nothing. If the ship went down he returned to nothing faster. But if he could wound it—if he could prove that the crew inside that metal shell bled the same as any other crew—he would return to Timothy with something. One story worth telling.
The sailors had survived the first pass without being run down. That steadied them. These were not soldiers; they were men who had lived by killing in one form or another, and as long as they were not being directly slaughtered, one gold royal was still worth reaching for.
The hawk-headed ship moved off the bank and drew alongside the steel vessel as it slowed and turned from the Derrick pursuit. When the two ships ran parallel and close, the sailors raised their weapons—crossbows, flintlocks, gaffs and torches—all aimed at the metal hull, ready to fire and then board.
On the steel vessel’s deck, there was not a single man visible.
Only a dark tube set in metal, ringed by a row of small holes, and pointing directly at them.
Eden did not have time to understand what it was before it began to spit fire.
Not the slow crack of a flintlock, one round, reload, wait. This was continuous—a hissing stream of fire and impact that moved across the row of armed men the way a finger moves across a line of candles. Blood appeared in bursts. Men folded. Wooden barrels split, masts snapped midway, sails dropped into the river and dragged. The hawk-headed ship slowed.
He understood, then, that it was a weapon of the same family as a flintlock—recognizably so—but redesigned into something that required no pause, no reloading, nothing so human as a breath between shots. He could not understand how it had been done. Perhaps, in the end, the only explanation was the one he had refused: the Prince of the Western Region did not merely use demons.
He was one.
Soon the bullets found Eden, too.
This was Rodney’s first battle, and it ended before he got to fire a cannon.
He had waited at his station through everything—the ramming runs, the machine gun’s long sustained note, the fourth ship breaking apart—and the order to open fire never came. When the fourth hawk-headed vessel was left floating in pieces, the river fell quiet except for screaming. The survivors abandoned their faith and swam for the near bank, vanishing into the tree line. The badly injured lay against the wreckage and breathed themselves toward stillness. Roland gave no order to pursue.
“What a shame.” Jop put the unused shells carefully back in their cases. “I thought we’d be able to show the Gun Battalion what real artillery can do.”
“Agreed.” Nelson looked at the machine gun and then at his shells. “A round of cannon ammunition costs roughly what the heavy guns use in suppression fire. More powerful, though, by far.”
“That’s enough.” Van’er frowned. “Miss Anna made every one of those shells personally. They’re worth more than a hundred machine gun rounds produced daily. You’ll get your chance at King’s City—aim well when you do, and don’t embarrass me. I handpicked every one of you for this team.”
“You’ve mentioned that.” Nelson spread his hands. “We know. Three shells to open the King’s City gate—we’ve made the promise.” He nudged Rodney. “Say something.”
Rodney was still watching the place where the fourth ship had gone down. He said, “I want a ship like this.”
The other four looked at him.
“I want to command a shallow-water gunboat like this one someday,” he said, eyes lit with something that was not quite ambition and not quite awe—something in between. “I’d call it the Rodney.”
“Your elder brother should have that honor first,” Nelson said. “The second boat should be the Nelson.”
“No. That right isn’t yours to claim.”
“Save it, both of you,” said Van’er. “The second boat will obviously be named the Van’er. Need I remind you who brought you all into this elite team?”
“Here we go,” Cat’s Claw said, to no one in particular.
“Could it be the Cat’s Claw?” Jop wondered quietly. “Or the Jop?”
“No,” said the other three in unison.
The concrete support boats caught up to the flagship as the argument dissolved into comfortable grumbling. The expedition fleet reformed its line and resumed course downstream. Two days later, King’s City’s gray walls rose from the plains.
Chapter 502: Body of Steel (Part III)
Translator: TransN Editor: TransN
The second hawk-headed ship was still turning around, so its side was directly facing the steel vessel, making it even more vulnerable than the first. The Rats were all terrified by the incoming steel vessel, but a few of them still attempted to shoot the enemy with bolts. However, the bolts were as tiny as a needle compared to the giant boat and did not even make a dent.
Soon, the unstoppable steel vessel directly smashed into the center of the hawk-headed ship’s side, instantly crushing a dozen of its paddles. Then, to Eden’s disbelief, the river current and force of the impact caused the hawkheaded ship to flip sideways, which also lifted the bow of the enemy ship into the air.
The steel bow rose up and then crashed down heavily onto the hawk-headed ship’s deck.
The hawk-headed ship cracked with a shrill sound, and the unharmed Rats jumped into the water to escape, while the others trailed blood all over the deck, screaming in pain from their injuries. Eden watched the steel vessel slowly lower into the thin hawk-headed ship, which fell apart under the weight with a series of cracking sounds. Its hull could not withstand the pressure and suddenly snapped in half, causing both ends to shoot upwards with a great splash.
The two halves did not immediately sink, but floated like corpses on the river with only half of the side port above water. On the other hand, the steel vessel did not have a single scratch on it and instead began to charge toward Eden’s ship.
Eden heard the sailors around him gasp in fear. His hawk-headed ship was about to be the fifth one to be instantly snapped in half, and he was preparing
to abandon the ship.
Luckily, he had given the right orders before!
His ship was completely pressed against the shore, and the enemy was turning to pursue the remaining Baron Derrick, which was trying to escape.
“Raise all your bows and torches!” Eden took a deep breath and roared, “I want all of these cowards hiding in this metal shell dead! I’ll give you one gold royal for every enemy you kill! Do you hear me? One gold royal!”
If he survived and escaped back to King’s City, he would definitely never be promoted, so his only chance of gaining Timothy’s approval was to defeat the rebel king’s ship. Even though this ship might have been produced by demons, the crew on it was still human and defeatable!
The sailors seemed to regain some of their confidence after dodging the last round of the enemy’s attacks. These men all dealt with murder in their previous jobs, so they were used to seeing blood and gore—as long as they were not going to be completely slaughtered, they were still willing to earn a gold royal or two.
When the hawk-headed ship was completely safe from being hit, it left the shore and sailed parallel to the steel vessel, slowly inching toward its course, until the two ships were sailing alongside each other.
Before the steel vessel passed them and when the two ships were only meters apart, the sailors raised their various weapons. They would first fire at the passing ship and then board it to attack the crew, which was the common tactic used against merchant ships. However, there was not a single man on deck, only a dark tube encased in metal and containing a row of small holes, pointing directly at the sailors.
Before Eden could figure out what this thing was, the tube began to spit tongues of flames!
Bursts of blood began to appear among the row of armed men, and wooden fragments and gore flew everywhere. The sailors were cut down like rows of
grass, while the surviving ones immediately began to search for cover. However, neither barrels nor masts were a match against the metal tube, which shattered the barrels and snapped the masts with a loud crack. After the sails fell into the water, the hawk-headed ship began to slow down.
Eden did not get the victory he had dreamed of. He realized that the tube was some sort of flintlock, but it was much faster and shot out streams of bullets with a hissing sound. However, he could not understand how the rebel king managed to drastically improve such a slow and inaccurate weapon… perhaps this could only be explained as the power of the devil.
Soon, he was struck by a shower of bullets.
This was Rodney’s first time witnessing such a battle. The Roland barreled its solid bow straight through the enemy ships as if they were dry weeds, leaving them completely helpless. He waited by the cannons for an order to open fire, but that order never came.
When the fourth enemy ship was left floating in pieces in the river, the battle was officially over.
The enemies’ screams and groans filled the air, while the survivors gave up their faith, swam to shore, and escaped without hesitation into the forest. His Highness did not order the crew to chase after these deserters and left them to run off on their own. There were also some badly injured men who were holding onto their last breaths and lying against the broken ships, but no one tried to save them from their inevitable deaths.
“What a shame.” Jop put the unused shells back in their cases. “I thought we’d be able to show off the true power of cannons to those fellows in the Gun Battalion.”
“Yes,” agreed Nelson disappointedly. “Compared to the ammunition we used for the heavy machine guns, a round of cannon shells uses about the same amount and is much more effective.”
“That’s enough. Miss Anna personally made these, so they’re much more valuable than machine gun bullets, which are produced by the hundred every day,” said Van’er with a frown. “You’ll get your chance when we attack the city, so be sure to aim well and save face for the Artillery Battalion! I handpicked all of you…”
“To join your elite team, commander, you’ve told us this many times,” said Nelson, splaying his hands. “Don’t worry, it won’t take more than three shells to blow open the gate in King’s City.” He nudged Rodney. “Hey, say something.”
“I want a battleship like this one…”
“What?” The other four men were shocked.
“I hope to own a shallow water gunboat like this one someday.” He repeated, his eyes glittering with excitement. “I’m going to call it the Rodney!”
“Wait, don’t you think your elder brother deserves this honor first? The second boat should be called the Nelson.”
“No way… I’m not giving you that right.”
“Save it, you two. The second boat will definitely be called the Van’er. Don’t forget that I brought all of you into the elite mortar team.”
“Here we go again.” Cat’s Claw sighed.
“Could it be called the Cat’s Claw or the Jop?” Jop mumbled quietly.
“No,” responded the three men in unison.
After the concrete boats caught up to the flagship, the expedition fleet resumed its journey. Two days later, King’s City’s gray city wall emerged into sight.