Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 415

Chapter 415: Sea Lion(3) Chapter 415: Sea Lion(3) Caius stood atop the deck of his flagship, his arms crossed, his stance rigid as he observed the chaos of battle from afar.

Unlike that fool of the enemy commander, who had recklessly thrown himself into the heart of the fight, Caius remained exactly where he was meant to be-behind the main line, where his mind could reign over the battle rather than be swallowed by it.

War was not won by the first man to draw blood but by the one who dictated its flow.

The afternoon sun reflected off his crimson-crested helmet as he studied the clash before him.

The sea had turned into a maelstrom of war cries, clashing steel, and the splintering of wood as ships battered against one another.

Smoke from burning vessels coiled into the sky like the breath of a waking beast, and the air reeked of salt, sweat, and blood.

His eyes found their target-the enemy flagship, a beast of a ship sitting at the center of the chaos.

It cut through the battle with brute force, its hull plowing through lesser vessels as if they were no more than driftwood caught in a storm.

He had no doubt that the man leading it was Blake, the so-called warrior of the Confederation, or so the spies he had among the captains of the fleet spoke of.

Blake was at the tip of the spear, leading from the front like some romantic fool.

That’s the problem with these sea-rats.  Caius thought as his eyes moved to a lone piece of wood floating in the water.

All of them obsessed with their own glory, desperate to have their names shouted by drunken men in taverns or whispered by whores in the dead of night.

They fought for legend, not for victory.

But legends could be slain.

Caius knew the truth of war: a beast was best killed by cutting off its head.

He turned to his helmsman, his voice sharp as a drawn blade.

“Send word to Officers Marius, Vasinio, and Pullo.

They are to break from formation and converge on that ship.” His second-in-command, a grizzled man with a scar running from cheek to jaw, hesitated.

“The merchant ships, lord?” Caius smirked.

“Yes.

Them” A Galleases was a formidable ship .

A galley would have to ram one multiple times to make a dent, something no captain could afford in the heat of war.

If Blake’s ship was to be taken, it would not be by breaking its hull.

It would be by boarding.

Caius watched as messengers leapt into smaller boats, rowing with haste to deliver his orders.

The plan was simple: surround the enemy flag-ship, latch onto it with grappling hooks, and drown Blake and his crew in bodies.

Let him and his men fight until their arms ached, until their boots stood ankle-deep in blood-until they had no choice but to collapse under the weight of sheer numbers.

The pirate rabble that followed him might have been fierce in their own way, but they were undisciplined.

His own troops, would carve through them like a knife through salted pork.

The Confederation’s so-called champions would be no match for soldiers for the best equipped men in the whole world Blake had made himself a target by standing at the front.

And Caius?

He would be the one to put an end to his glory-seeking foolishness.

————- Blake’s ship tore through the chaos of battle , coming to the aid of one of their allies as its reinforced prow slammed into the flank of an Imperial galley locked in a brutal comat, which up until that moment they were winning.

The collision struck like a thunderclap-wooden beams snapped like twigs, the enemy ship’s hull caving inward as if a giant’s fist had struck it.

The force sent men flying.

Those fighting atop the planks laid between ships lost their footing, flailing helplessly as they tumbled into the churning sea below.

Some crashed hard onto the decks, weapons slipping from their grasp with blood ozing from their head , while others disappeared beneath the waves, their armor dragging them down like stones.

Even the men still aboard the two galleys staggered, struggling to stay upright as their world lurched violently beneath them.

A deep, groaning sound echoed from the Imperial galley as water surged into the gaping wound in its hull.   The pirates who was in the middle of the fight roared in triumph, their voices rising above the cacophony of clashing steel and splintering wood.

Below them, the Imperial vessel listed heavily to one side, its once-proud sails now tattered and limp, its hull groaning as it swallowed the sea.

“Look at them flounder!” one pirate bellowed, his axe glinting crimson in the sunlight.

He leaned over the railing, his face twisted into a savage grin as he watched the enemy crew scramble like rats.

“Run, you cowards!

Back to your mothers!” “Finish them off!” another pirate shouted, his voice raw with bloodlust as he drove his sword into the gut of a stumbling Imperial soldier, the man crumpling with a choked gasp.

With a boot to the chest, the pirate sent the body tumbling overboard, where it disappeared into the churning waves.

“That’s one less dog to bark at us!” The Imperials now descended into chaos, even for those that were still on the ship away from the fighting .

Panic spread like wildfire, cracking their ranks as surely as the hull of their ship.

Men who had stood shoulder to shoulder moments ago now turned on each other, shoving and clawing their way toward the lifeboats.

“Off the ship!” a captain bellowed, his voice hoarse with desperation.

He grabbed a young soldier by the collar and hurled him toward the boats.  “There’s not enough room!” a soldier screamed, his voice cracking as he shoved another man aside.

“Get out of my way!” “To hell with you!” another roared, drawing a dagger and slashing at anyone who came too close.

“I’m not dying here!” Some fought with the ferocity of cornered animals, kicking and punching their comrades to reach the safety of the smaller vessels.

While others instead aided their friends to get on “Abandon ship!” a voice cried from the crow’s nest, though no one needed the warning.

The deck tilted sharply, sending men sliding into the railings or tumbling into the sea.

“She’s going under!” Meanwhile below deck, in the dim, suffocating hold of the ship, the first to see their fate were the slaves.

Chained to the oars in rows, they knelt in silence, their bodies slick with sweat and their muscles trembling from hours of relentless labor.

The sound of rushing water reached them first-a low, ominous gurgle that grew louder with every passing second.

“No, no, no!” one slave muttered, his voice trembling as he yanked at his shackles.

The iron bit into his wrists, drawing blood, but he barely noticed.

His eyes were fixed on the dark water swirling around his feet, icy and unrelenting.

“We’re going to drown!” “Cut us loose!” another slave screamed, his voice raw with desperation.

He turned toward the overseer standing by the stairwell, his eyes wild with fear.

“Please, for the love of the gods, cut us loose!” The overseer,of course gave them no attention.

Without a word, he turned and fled, his boots pounding against the wooden steps as he abandoned the slaves to their fate.

“Come back, you bastard !” a slave roared, his voice cracking with rage.

“You can’t leave us here to die!” The water rose fast, swallowing the floor and lapping at the slaves’ knees.

The hold erupted into chaos as the men screamed, pleaded, and cursed, their voices blending into a cacophony of despair.

“Break the chains!” one man shouted, slamming his shackles against the oar in a futile attempt to free himself.

“We have to break free!” “It’s no use!” another cried, his voice breaking as the water reached his chest.

“We’re done for!” One slave, a young man with calloused hands already resigned to his fate ,simply whispered a female name.

For years, the thought of her had kept him alive-had given him the strength to endure the lash, the hunger, the endless days at the oars.

But now, as the water reached his chest, he realized he would never see her again.  “Forgive me,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rising tide.

“I tried , the gods know I did….” The water rose higher, swallowing the slaves one by one.

Their screams faded into silence, replaced by the cold, unyielding embrace of the sea.

Above instead, the pirates cheered as the Imperial ship slipped beneath the waves, its once-mighty hull now a tomb for the living and the dead alike.

As the last of the wreckage disappeared beneath the churning surface, the pirates aboard the Confederation ship erupted into a frenzy of celebration.

Swords, axes, and shields were thrust skyward, glinting in the sunlight like jagged teeth.

Their voices rose in a deafening roar, a primal chorus of triumph that echoed across the open water.

“HAH!

Send the bastards to the deep!” one bellowed, his face alight with savage joy.

“To the sea with them!” another howled, swinging his dripping blade through the air in exhilaration.

Across the way, atop the Confederation ship that had been locked in the brutal melee, the warriors who had survived the bloodbath answered the salute.

They raised their own weapons-slick with the crimson of their foes-glinting in the afternoon sun.

Some beat their swords against their shields in rhythmic thunder, the sound rolling over the sea like a war drum as their way of expressing thanks for the help they just received.

From ship to ship, they hailed one another, warriors bound not just by allegiance but by the pure, unrelenting thrill of battle.

Above them, gulls circled and shrieked, as if calling out in celebration of the carnage.

One of the warriors near the prow suddenly turned, his voice rising above the fading cheers.

“Captain!

Ahead!” he bellowed, pointing toward the horizon.

Blake followed the outstretched arm, his eyes narrowing as he spotted three ships cutting through the waves, their prows slicing toward them like hunting hounds closing in on prey.

Two came from the front-right, the other from the front-left.

For a brief moment, his grip on the railing tightened.

A pincer maneuver?

But then he saw them clearly-merchant ships, clumsy and broad, not the sleek war galleys meant for ramming.

A slow grin spread across his face.

“Merchant hulls,” he muttered, rolling his shoulders as tension eased.

“They can’t break us with those.” Still, they weren’t here for nothing.

The only reason to send such ships into the heart of battle was for one purpose-boarding.

Blake’s grin faded.

“Ready for another fight, lads,” he called out, his voice firm, unwavering.

“Looks like they’re coming to dance.”