City of Sin-Book 9, Chapter 90
Overwhelming Power
Richard watched as a few giant eagles flew up from the incoming elven fleet, one of them flying overhead and shouting with magically amplified voices, “Richard, everyone within the bounds of Lithgalen must obey the orders of the Prince! You are to hand over the branch of the Golden World Tree immediately, and explain its origin! Secondly, your warships will be under our control during your stay in the Empire; we will return them to you when you leave.”
The druid’s proclamation left those from the Millennial Empire sullen. Mina even snorted, “We can’t trust them to hand these back after.”
Richard remained indifferent, “So there’s no room for negotiation?”
“This is a command from the Prince!” the eagle shouted back, “There will be no concessions!”
He nodded, “Good, then I get to sink you and find someone else willing to talk. Also, I don’t. Like. People. Flying. Overhead. Forbid!”
The eagles in the sky suddenly screamed, flapping their wings in vein as they fell from the sky like stones. One even bounced on a ship’s deck before rolling down the sea.
This time, Greyhawk finally understood a small bit of what Richard had done, “You changed the laws around them?”
Richard nodded in praise, “Only a bit, and temporarily. I made their flapping useless.”
A bugle horn immediately rang out from the elven fleet, their ships picking up speed to engage. The lighter ships even started arcing around, planning to pincer Richard from behind. They were clearly well-trained, capable of maintaining a strong formation even as they sped up to sixty kilometres an hour, and the sides of the flagship opened up to reveal giant cannons shining with magical light.
Elven cannons could fire at targets up to ten kilometres away with frightening accuracy, which was the biggest reason for their naval superiority. A number of other races had tried to enter Lithgalen after the old empire had first fallen, but a thousand years later they had given up all hopes. Elven cannons were still much more advanced than those made by the dragonblood gnomes and duergar.
The elves believed their fleet was strong enough to deal with three or even five fleets like Richard’s. The mainland’s warships had always been huge, but they weren’t particularly strong; in front of the weapons advantage, they were no different from blocks of wood. The powerhouses also took off from the decks, ensuring they had a vantage point to command from. However, Richard’s ability to drop them from the skies kept them from approaching.
Richard just smiled as his own fleet accelerated, the outer shells of metallic turrets on deck opening up to reveal metallic rails that were tens of metres long. Several strong cannoneers loaded them with three-metre-long bolts, and the mages assigned to each calibrated for launch. The guide rails slowly rotated, aiming at the lead elven battleship.
When they were nearly thirty kilometres apart, Richard’s battleship suddenly stalled for a moment as six enormous bolts were fired into the distance, zooming towards the distant flagship. Even as Greyhawk, Mina, and the other emissaries from the Millennial Empire watched in shock, the bolts dug right into wood without giving the enemy any time to manoeuvre. Violent explosions rocked the 200-metre-long battleship as half the bolts hit, breaking it into three pieces that quickly sank into the sea.
In the blink of an eye, the enormous battleship had turned into a pile of floating wood and flags. A swirl in the ocean was swallowing even that, about to remove all traces entirely. Most of the elves on board had no time to escape, and even the ones that survived the explosions could only sink into the sea. What happened next depended on luck; half of them would be caught in the wreckage, while the rest would manage to swim away.
With one volley complete, the cannoneers quickly filled the turrets with a new set of bolts. The Blue Moon shot forward, quickly exceeding a hundred kilometres per hour like it was flying atop the sea. The Jade Moon and Amber moon fired not long after, and despite only a third of their bolts managing to strike large holes were blown into their targets. Those were sure to sink as well.
Once all seven ships had finished a barrage, four out of the eleven enemy ships had been sunk. Three more were seriously damaged to the point of not being able to retaliate, which meant the fleet’s power had been halved! Richard’s fleet then sped up, moving at 120 kilometres an hour as they continued their bombardment. Only one battleship was left intact after the second round, and only four were floating in general.
The Archeron fleet then accelerated towards the cruisers, exposing their paltry defence. A direct strike to the hull would break the enemy ships immediately, while even glancing strikes left enormous holes on deck. By the time Richard was within range of enemy cannons, where his own bolts were two-thirds accurate, there were no enemy cannons to be fired at him.
The seven warships named after the seven moons suddenly felt like demon lords that had descended to the plane, sending enemy after enemy into the sea. Wreckage, corpses, and survivors quickly filled the waters, leaving the desperate elves with no choice but to try and make their way onto Richard’s ship. However, no one below the legendary realm could fly in Richard’s domain, and those who swam close were shot down by the night elf gunners up above.
One of the two legends of the fleet rushed over to the Blue Moon, but before he could cast any magic Waterflower silently decapitated him. When the other saw the situation and ran, Richard let him escape so that someone would be able to tell the mainland about their loss.
The naval ‘battle’ was already nearing its end, and the smaller ships were allowed to escape while any survivors were fished out of the water. Those who resisted ended up dead, but with the night elves being the ones sent out on the rescue missions most of them actually watched in shock. From what they knew, the last remnants of the silvermoon elves had already fled to Lithgalen, but Richard’s soldiers looked exactly like them. Their sheer power was proof of their lineage and identity as well, so there were minimal problems.
There were more than a dozen sunk ships all around, but Richard wasn’t interested in anything from the elven empire. Once all the rescues were completed, he had everything sunk before heading for the nearest port city.
……
In the middle of the Silent Forest in eastern Lithgalen was a huge world tree, nearly a thousand metres tall and capable of controlling everything within a million square kilometres. Although the tree had reached its racial limit and couldn’t begin to compare to a golden world tree, it was strong enough to give the current King firm control over this section of the continent.
A slender bird tore through the blue afternoon sky, flying right into the Silent Forest and heading towards the World Tree. It flew into the magnificent palace in the canopy, only stopping on the windowsill of the highest tower.
Prince Syon Lyer was currently at his window, flipping through the latest collection of poems from Lithgalen’s premier bard. The work hadn’t yet been revealed to the greater world, and outside the King himself only a handful of royals had been given a copy of the draft for their opinions. The piece he was currently reading through talked about a battle during the heyday of the old empire, and the divine writing that contained the power of laws projected the scene directly into the reader’s mind.
This collection of poems was no less complicated than a powerful magic tome. It would take an enormous amount of time and energy to produce even one copy, so there wouldn’t be more than ten such handwritten manuscripts even once the poems were revealed to the world. However, ordinary elves couldn’t experience this power of law even if they had the manuscript, so it was useless to them. One needed to be a saint at minimum to even begin to understand.
Syon frowned as the bird landed near him, rolling a delicate glass tube towards his hand, “Can you not see I’m reading?! You can wait for whatever it…”
His words were cut off as he noticed the bright red mark on the tube, representing a military emergency. He quickly opened the tube and read the scroll within, but as he stood up from the shock of the contents he knocked over his table and sent the poems to the floor.
“The Third Fleet was annihilated?”
