Kapitel 221: CHAPTER 221

A/N: If you want to donate or read up to 35 chapters ahead, you can visit my p-a-t-r-e-on/kurowashi

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CHAPTER 221

295 AC

POV THIRD PERSON

As Aermir's convoy of ships sailed towards Three Sisters, he meticulously prepared for the impending conflict. His position as the Druid allowed him to harness the unique abilities he had at his disposal. He stood on one of his trade ships alongside his most trusted men, a group that had all pledged their unwavering loyalty to him.

Aermir had a strategy in mind for the battle. By utilizing his Druid persona, he intended to create the illusion of being in two places at once. To achieve this, he planned to place one of his trusted men in his knight's armor while that man rode atop Sith. This would cause others to believe he was commanding the battle.

The winds blew through his dark hair as he watched the horizon, anticipation and determination etched into his features. As he stood there, he attuned himself to the wind element and started to cast a spell.

Aermir's invocation, "Jelmio Modocalcinum (summon medium wind elemental)," resonated with ancient magic, giving rise to a wind elemental that manifested in a form roughly equivalent to an average human. Its ethereal body consisted of swirling, translucent air currents, coalescing to shape a form reminiscent of a humanoid. Delicate tendrils, akin to foggy wisps, extended from its core, resembling limbs in the breeze. The elemental's body undulated with a graceful fluidity, and as it materialized, a gust of chilled air enveloped the area, accompanied by an eerie yet soothing otherworldly whisper.

Upon Aermir's command, the wind elemental gracefully ascended into the sky. It journeyed to the rear of the small fleet of ships, positioned to exert its influence upon the sails. The elemental began to channel the winds, guiding them toward the sails of the ships. As its ethereal form pulsed with energy, the gentle breeze that it conjured filled the air, causing the vessels to accelerate slightly.

Content with the elemental's contribution, Aermir assumed the form of his druid persona and took to the air, transforming into a magnificent eagle and directing himself toward the foremost ship in the fleet. Landing upon the vessel, he was met with a display of reverence from the soldiers and knights, who knelt in homage. Closing the distance to the ship's prow, Aermir cast another spell,

With an incantation, "Iēdar Modocalcinum (summon medium water elemental)," Aermir called upon the power of the sea. In a mesmerizing spectacle of aqueous mastery, a long column of water, like a mythical sea serpent, snaked through the air. The water elemental, standing at the stature of a man, emerged with a graceful fluidity. Its form undulated, sinuous, and serpentine, seeming to possess a life of its own. The translucent body of the elemental rippled like liquid silk, and crystalline droplets cascaded from its sinuous form, leaving a shimmering trail in its wake.

Upon its full formation, the water elemental plunged into the sea, vanishing beneath the waves. Aermir commanded it to generate a consistent water current in their desired direction. Though the elemental itself remained unseen beneath the water, the subtle ripples it created upon the water's surface bore evidence of its presence. As the elemental surged forward ahead of the fleet, it left behind a distinct water current that emanated from its path. When the ships reached the point where the elemental had been, they experienced a little surge in speed; each vessel propelled onward by the unseen force beneath the waves.

In the world, the most exceptional ships boasted a top speed of 45 kilometers per hour, or approximately 27 miles per hour, under ideal conditions. Aermir's fleet, operating in what could be considered ideal conditions, would typically reach speeds of around 30 kilometers per hour, or roughly 20 miles per hour. However, Aermir's mastery of magic allowed him to transcend this limitation, effectively bridging the gap and propelling his ships to the top speed attainable by the best vessels. This enhancement promised to significantly reduce their travel time, provided they didn't encounter adverse winds. The spell he cast was a temporary solution, and Aermir knew he'd have to renew it every 4 to 6 hours, depending on the changing conditions of the air and sea. It was a continuous effort to maintain their swift pace.

...

As they sailed forward, Aermir's familiars kept a watchful eye on the horizon, and through their senses, he detected the presence of a Sistermen ship. As their vessels drew nearer, the Sistermen ship began to pull back, eventually releasing a bird. It was a small, agile vessel, clearly serving as a scout ship. Poe, one of Aermir's familiars, inquired,

"Father, should I capture the bird?"

Aermir's decision was clear, "No, let them be aware of our approach."

Aermir had no interest in orchestrating an ambush; he desired a direct confrontation at sea. For this particular situation, he had prepared a trump card that he would unleash when the time was right.

...

The Sistermen lords, Lord Pryor, and Lord Elesham, were gathered around a large, meticulously detailed map. With a sense of zealous determination, they went over their battle plan one final time before embarking on their voyage. Lord Elesham, the ruler of The Paps, had arrived with his five war carracks and ten medium-sized vessels the night before, bolstering their forces. A sense of elation washed over them, driven by the scout report they had received. Lord Sunderland, a sinister smile on his face, remarked,

"These arrogant land-dwellers must have believed we would never dare to confront them. They've used just 35 ships to transport all their men. This will mark the greatest defeat the North has ever suffered at the hands of the Sistermen."

The new Lord Longthorpe, Peter, bore a sinister grin, eager for retribution for his father's demise.

"We should show them no mercy! That tree-hugger's attack dog has ten medium-range Braavosi trade ships. Each of those should be capable of carrying 500-600 men. If we assume the 25 ships he pilfered from us were at maximum capacity, those 25 ships could carry around 3,000 to 4,000 men. At maximum, he must have ten thousand men."

Lord Torrent, his confidence unwavering, added,

"He must have strained every vessel to its limits, believing he could mount an uncontested invasion to our shores. That rash decision will be his undoing. I will advance from the north with Lord Longthorpe."

Lord Pryor, driven by fervor, declared,

"Lord Elesham and I will lead our forces from the south while the rest of us will hold the center. Together, we shall encircle those heathens and consign them to a watery grave. As the Seven watch over us, we can only anticipate victory."

Turning to the Sistermen lords, he spoke in a somewhat disappointed tone,

"If your intentions had been pure, you wouldn't have lost even your first battle. The Seven would have shielded you. How could you use the Seven's name in vain, that defeat was your punishment."

Lord Borrell had grown increasingly uneasy with the overconfidence displayed by his fellow lords. Underestimating their opponent troubled him deeply, and he couldn't keep silent any longer. He voiced his concerns, the weight of doubt evident in his words,

"Are we perhaps underestimating our enemy a bit too much? After all, we were the ones who suffered defeat, not him."

Lord Sunderland, known for his candor, acknowledged Borrell's apprehension,

"You make a valid point, my lord. That's precisely why we're not huddled behind the walls of our castles. I must admit, if this were a land battle, I'd be as concerned as you are. You didn't witness the kind of monster he is—mowing down soldiers by the dozen with every swing of his weapon. However, when it comes to naval warfare, what can he do when we sink his ships? What threat can his giant shadowcat pose on the open sea? As far as I know, this is the first time the young lord has ventured onto a ship. What could he possibly know about sea battles to make us fear him?"

Lord Sunderland's confidence had swept through the assembled lords, who joined in the laughter, their fervor growing. Amidst this chorus of zealotry, Lord Pryor, a man consumed by unbridled faith, felt compelled to raise his voice.

"Lord Borrell, you speak as if you question the divine intervention of the Seven!" Lord Pryor's eyes blazed with fanatic devotion, and his words rang with fervent conviction. "We are the righteous, the defenders of the Faith, blessed by the gods themselves. Our swords are the very instruments of their divine will. This Lord Drasil, this so-called protector of the North, is nothing but a heathen, a defiler of the holy sanctuaries, a usurper of our lands as he is a servant of a false prophet. They are nothing but servants of darkness. The light of the Seven will protect us."

Lord Pryor's voice took on a fevered intensity, and he continued with messianic zeal,

"The Seven will guide our blades, shield our ships, and ensure our victory. They are watching, and they have chosen us as their instruments. How can you, Lord Borrell, stand among us, who are anointed by the divine and question the will of the gods themselves?"

As Lord Pryor spoke, his proclamation of faith resonated with the other lords, deepening their conviction and further cementing their resolve to confront this "heathen" threat with unwavering faith in their divine favor.

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Kapitel 222: CHAPTER 222

A/N: If you want to donate or read up to 35 chapters ahead, you can visit my p-a-t-r-e-on/kurowashi

If you see grammar errors, please let me know so I can fix them and I'm always open to constructive criticism.

I would like it if you guys left some reviews.

Thank you for your good words and support.

------

CHAPTER 222

295 AC

POV THIRD PERSON

a/n: Here are some pics I like that looks like Moonreaver

Aermir stood on the deck of his ship as the Druid and was watching the approaching Sistermen fleet through the eyes of Poe. It was an impressive armada, boasting an array of warships and smaller vessels. The 40 warships formed a formidable center while the smaller ships flanked them on the sides. Their intentions were evident; they intended to charge forward and encircle his fleet.

With a wry smile, Aermir couldn't help but marvel at their arrogance. The Sistermen were charging toward him, underestimating their opponent in full view. Their boldness was precisely what he had anticipated. This would be their undoing.

Aermir knew he had a trump card at his disposal, a surprise that would turn the tide in his favor. He had prepared for this very scenario, a sea battle, and now it was time to unleash his plan.

Aermir's calm voice held a hint of confidence as he issued his command.

-Repun, it's your moment to shine. You have the permission to sink almost all of their ships but remember, leave the warships unharmed; only cripple them, we'll use them after liberating them from their current owners. Focus on disabling their rudders so they're stranded in the middle of the sea.-

In response, a boyish and enthusiastic voice echoed within Aermir's mind, brimming with energy and excitement.

-Yes, master. Then, can we play with the rest of them however we want to? This is going to be so much fun.-

Aermir couldn't help but be a bit perplexed by his new familiar's unique way of speaking. Repun's intentions might have sounded rather innocent, speaking of playing with them. If you focus on his boyish and innocent voice, you would think he was going to play catch with them, but Aermir knew from documentaries how Repun's kind played, and Aermir was relatively unfazed by it all.

-You're free to do as you please, you psychopathic murder Oreo.- he replied with a chuckle.

Repun sounded confused and asked with an innocent curiosity,

-What does psychopathic murder Oreo mean?-

-That is what some people call your kind.-

Repun, a killer whale, had a penchant for playing with its prey or the things it intended to kill. Being a large size creature, Repun could only exert dominance over three of its kind, but since orcas typically traveled in pods, the rest of the pod would follow Repun's lead as long as they could find food, and because of this, they would adhere to basic commands.

Before the Moondrift battle, Aermir had meticulously crafted four harnesses tailored for Repun and the three orcas he had successfully dominated. These specialized harnesses were designed to rest atop the creatures' heads and featured a straightforward yet effective construction.

Each harness incorporated a sturdy spike securely attached to a padded base. The resulting image of these adorned sea creatures might have struck some as peculiar, even comical, but Aermir refrained from making any jests about their appearance since Repun didn't like his harness already.

As Repun surged forward, leading the relentless assault on one of the Sistermen's leading ships, his three orcas, sporting their peculiar spiked headgear, echoed his charge by targeting separate vessels. It was a breathtaking display of sheer power as they bore down upon the unsuspecting ships.

With unmatched ferocity, each massive orca used their reinforced and spiked heads as battering rams to pierce holes through the hulls of the ships. The spikes on their headgear carved through the wooden planks like a hot knife through butter, leaving behind gaping holes that quickly filled the doomed ships with icy seawater. The Sistermen sailors and warriors aboard these ill-fated vessels had little chance at survival.

The resulting spectacle was a tumultuous blend of awe and devastation. Sistermen sailors and warriors aboard their doomed vessels could only muster futile attempts to patch up the gaping holes as their ships slowly succumbed to the relentless invasion of the sea. The arrogant Sistermen lords, who had initially underestimated their opponent, watched in disbelief as the sea began to claim their ships, one after another. The Lords were safe on their warships since Repun was ordered not to destroy them.

Panic and chaos quickly spread among the sailors as they desperately tried to comprehend who or what was responsible for this deadly assault. In a matter of several minutes, all the ships in the Sistermen fleet, except for the 40 warships, met their watery demise. Aermir's forces could only witness the sinking ships, baffled by the inexplicable and devastating destruction unfolding before their eyes. To them, it looked like the ships were sinking without any reason. They felt like Druid Emrys was ruling over the sea.

...

Lord Sunderland stood in stunned silence, all he could see was a cocktail of terror and bewilderment among his men. Before him, the very essence of their naval power was crumbling into oblivion. Every ship, every man, was being lost to the relentless sea. Some of the Sistermen vessels attempted to retreat, breaking formation in a desperate bid for survival, but they too found themselves rapidly pulled beneath the waves, their escape cut short before they could advance even a few hundred meters. The devastating fate that had befallen their fleet left Lord Sunderland and his fellow lords in a state of shock, grappling with the incomprehensible nature of their calamity.

In a fit of anger, Lord Sunderland finally found his voice and shouted orders to his men, "Ready the ballistae and scorpions! Fire upon those approaching ships! We will not go down without a fight!"

In their desperation, the Sistermen lords ordered their crews to aim their ballistae and scorpions at the oncoming Northern threat. With a thunderous release, the projectiles soared into the air, their trajectories angling toward the distant enemy. However, the gap separating the two forces was too great, causing the shots to fall woefully short of their intended targets. Each projectile splashed into the sea with a deafening crash, adding to the chaos that had enveloped the Sistermen fleet.

They kept firing, but Aermir's fleet was not coming towards them. They circled around the remaining Sistermen warships. The Southern forces found themselves unable to give chase since their rudders were broken. The Sistermen warships drifted aimlessly. As their enemy made their way toward their land, the Sistermen watched helplessly. The once-proud and dominant Sistermen fleet was now broken and helpless, reduced to a scattered remnant of its former might, drifting at the mercy of the unforgiving waves.

...

As the Sistermen Lords gazed upon the passing enemy ships while standing on their flagship, their expressions twisted with a potent mix of anger and desperation. They had underestimated the magical powers of the Druid, and now they were reaping the bitter fruits of their arrogance.

"By the Seven's grace, we're done for!" Lord Longthrope exclaimed, his eyes filled with fury. "This wasn't supposed to happen. We were supposed to crush them! How? We were the superior force in the sea."

Lord Borrell, usually silent, couldn't hide his dismay. "We've been bested, outwitted by a tree-hugging greenlander." He was listless; he had lost all his will to fight. " We have underestimated the power of the Druid and his Old Gods. We should have known Lord Drasil was not a fool; he wouldn't attack with only 35 ships."

Meanwhile, the ever-zealous Lord Pryor of Pebble and Lord Elesham of The Paps exchanged fervent and uneasy glances. Lord Pryor, with unshakable faith in the Seven, grumbled towards the Sistermen lords, "The Seven have abandoned us because of you all. You sinned in their eyes by using their name in vain when you assaulted the North with your greed, and now we are doomed because of it!"

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