Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 382

Chapter 382: Start of an invasion(1) Chapter 382: Start of an invasion(1) The island of Harmway loomed on the horizon, a rugged bastion rising defiantly from the waves.

It was the crown jewel of the Romelian Sea, the keystone that kept the waters free from the scourge of sea-rats and ensured trade flowed uninterrupted, or at least it was.

Ahead of the Imperial armada, its silhouette stood as if calling the Romelians closer.

Sixty-seven ships cut through the waves, their sails billowing with purpose.

The fleet, though formidable, paled in comparison to the ninety-five mighty vessels that had claimed Harmway for the Empire two decades prior.

Back then, the Empire’s strength had been undivided, a singular force untainted by the rot of civil war.

That fleet had carried the full weight of Imperial might, its banners flying high in unchallenged supremacy.

But these were different times.

The ships now assembled represented not the Empire as a whole but a coalition of southern noble houses, their power rooted in maritime trade and naval dominance.

Chief among them was the House of Veritia, whose influence loomed as large as their sails.

Nearly half the armada hailed from their shipyards, so of course they were the face of the coalition.

With the passing of Imperator Gratios, the true magnitude of his reign became clear to all.

His rule, often taken for granted in his lifetime, now proved just how much of a good Imperator he was.

 When Gratios ascended the throne-though “ascended” hardly captured the bloody road he walked to conquer it from his brothers-he inherited an empire fractured by civil war.

Yet, with unmatched decisiveness, he restored the power of the crown, reforged the military and the navy, and wielded them as tools to reshape the Empire’s place in the world, be it through strenght of arms or of words.

His revitalized fleets secured the southern seas, forcing the fragmented principalities to accept trade deals that tilted heavily in the Empire’s favor.

Against Azania, he played the long-standing game of influence and puppetry with the Sultan, a chess match fought over control of the Principality of Arlania.

Arlanian princes rarely ruled for more than a few years before being overthrown, replaced either by Azania’s hand-picked puppet or one of Gratios’s own.

Meanwhile, Imperial coffers swelled as Arlanian nobles paid handsomely to keep their fiefs safe from harm.

Gratios turned chaos into profit, unfortunately it was in one of these ventures , that Gratios would find his death.  It had all been going well, as Gratios’s campaigns often did, just when he thought that he simple battling the last Azanian-supported puppet.

The Sultan’s forces, unleashed their camel riders from inside the city out to the battlefield in a sudden and devastating charge.

Chaos erupted as the riders struck deep into the heart of Gratios’s army, bypassing traditional infantry to focus on his personal bodyguard.

The terror of the attack was amplified by the camels themselves-terrifying beasts to horses, who recoiled in panic at their scent and sound.

Gratios’s elite guards, seasoned but unprepared for this onslaught, faltered under the pressure.

Despite his courage and the desperate efforts of those who remained, Gratios was struck down amidst the melee.  The tragedy was also made easier by Gratios’s earlier decision to divert all his reserves toward the centre .

As obsessed with vengeance, he had thrown every available unit into a ferocious assault against the Order of the Betrayed, the mercenary company infamous for the killing of his father, which started the succession crisis and the civil war that he fought for the throne.

But those days were gone.

With a leaner fleet and a diminished empire, leadership had shifted into new hands.

The armada now sailed under a far different commander-not Gratios, but a man whose authority stemmed from the southern House of Veritia.

Caius Veritia, to be precise.

While the family patriarch, Lisidor Veritia, retained control of their vast estates and influence from the safety of the mainland, he had no intention of risking his neck-or his heirs-on the treacherous waters of war.

That duty fell to his younger brother Caius, a man whose appetite for glory was equaled only by his willingness to take dangerous gambles.

For Caius, this was no mere naval campaign.

Success meant land, titles, and the promise of a sprawling castle, a reward Lisidor had dangled before him like a glimmering prize.

The promise of reward, however, wasn’t the only force driving Caius.

He had always yearned to etch his name into the annals of Imperial history, to step out of his brother’s shadow and carve his own legacy.

Harmway was the stage he had been waiting for.

The Imperial fleet came to a gradual halt, its ships forming a wide crescent that faced the imposing silhouette of Harmway Island.

The air was tense as the sailors stood by, , waiting for orders that had yet to come.

The sun glinted off the polished wood of the flagship, where Caius Veritia paced on the deck, his expression unreadable.

He was not a man to act hastily, and for now, he waited.

Somewhere out there, his patrol ships scoured the waters, their task simple: report back on the outline of the island Caius found himself staring at it , its rugged cliffs and sparse greenery looming like the very bastion it was claimed to be.

His brow furrowed.

The Confederation’s fleet should have met them by now.

These pirates, while undeniably brutal and barbarious, were also famously direct.

Where are they?

Surely they wouldn’t abandon their precious island, considering that they provoked war by doing that .

Treacherous, yes, but cowards?

Hardly. He paused, leaning on the railing as his sharp eyes scanned the horizon.

They’ve fought us in open waters before,that is where they excelled and they’ve never shied away from the challenge.

Yet here we are, no resistance, no fleet…

I doubt they did not know we were coming….

Time dragged on and Caius opted to wait for the patrol ships.

The distant patrol ships were mere specks on the water, moving at a maddeningly slow pace.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity but was no more than half an hour, one of the ships returned, its small silhouette growing steadily larger as it approached the flagship.

The crew bustled to prepare as the smaller vessel drew close, the sound of creaking wood and the splash of waves filling the air.

A rope ladder was lowered, and one of the patrol ship’s crew began to ascend, his form steady despite the slight sway of the ships.

Caius straightened, brushing his coat and adjusting his sword belt.

His piercing gaze locked onto the figure as the sailor clambered aboard, saluting quickly before stepping forward.

The scout, his face flushed from the climb and the weight of his message, saluted briskly before beginning.

His voice was steady but carried the edge of unease.

“My lord,” he began, “we’ve scoured the waters surrounding the island, but there’s no sign of enemy ships.

Not a single vessel, not even their smaller raiding craft.” He paused, glancing at Caius’s unreadable expression, before continuing.

“It’s as though their fleet has vanished entirely.” Caius’s sharp gaze didn’t waver.

“And the island?” The scout shifted his weight uneasily.

“Unusual, my lord.

The coastline is empty-no people, no sentries, not even signs of movement.

The villages near the shore are silent, and their small piers have been abandoned.

We didn’t see any boats or fishermen, not even in the usual spots.” This caught the attention of the officers standing nearby, but Caius raised a hand, signaling the scout to go on, uniterrupted.

“We surveyed the fields as we circled closer,” the scout continued.

“They’re barren, stripped of crops.

Not a single stalk of anything left standing.

It’s as if they harvested in haste or simply abandoned the land.

And the livestock, too-they’re gone.

No animals grazing, no herds to be seen.” The man’s brow furrowed.

“As we neared the fortress at Harmway, things became clearer.

The port has been sealed, my lord.

A massive chain stretches across the harbor, barring entry.

There are no ships docked there, and the walls are fully manned.Sir the island had prepared itself for a siege ” Caius’s expression remained impassive, he knew after all that a siege was coming, as he would have been a fool to expect for the city to open his gate at its arrival.  Well with time it would, but they had to first deal with those that claimed ownership of it.  The scout finished his report with a faint exhale, his shoulders relaxing slightly after delivering his observation  Caius nodded slowly, his lips tightening in thought.

“You’ve done well,” he said, his tone measured.

“Return to your post and relay to the others to maintain vigilance.

No one is to act without my direct order.” The scout saluted once more before retreating down the ladder, leaving Caius to contemplate the situation  The entire island appeared prepared for a siege-fields stripped, livestock removed, and the harbor sealed tight with a chain.

None of it surprised him; he had expected a fortress like Harmway to be fortified to the teeth.

Yet, one glaring question lingered in his mind: Where was the Confederation’s fleet?How can I leasurily take the fortress if I can’t first send its fleets to the bottom of the sea?

He frowned, his sharp mind cycling through possibilities. They were supposed to be their first obstacle, meeting the Imperial armada in open waters before they even neared the island.

It was unlike those sea wolves to shirk a fight, no matter how unfavorable the odds.  Caius drummed his fingers against the wood, the steady rhythm a reflection of his restless thoughts.

Perhaps they weren’t ready?

The thought struck him suddenly.

It is late autumn, and winter is fast approaching.

Could it be that the Confederation’s fleet is still gathering resources?

Whatever the case he could stand in the open sea forever “Prepare the landing parties!” Caius shouted, his voice booming across the deck.

The crew immediately snapped to action, echoing his command to the other ships in the armada.

The once-quiet fleet sprang to life with the clamor of boots, the rattling of gear, and the barked orders of officers.

“We’re disembarking,” Caius continued, his tone sharp and commanding.

“Establish a beachhead and set up camp.

I want defensive positions prepared before sundown.

Move quickly-if they’re expecting a siege, let’s give them one.”