Chapter 3: All Ships, Full Broadside... Fire!

The sailors left town to begin preparations, vacating the houses they had occupied. This was normally when they would have been returned to the villagers, but over the course of a campaign that spanned the entire Empire, the soldiers who had just arrived from Fort Volks had reached their limit. Their regiment was by no means in fighting condition—so much so that many had needed to stay behind at Fort Letroisti—but having the willing cooperation of the villagers meant that those who had made the journey to Hugovie could at least rent and rest in houses for the night.

When morning came and Regis’s plan was put into action, most of the troops would be heading back to Fort Letroisti under Jerome’s command.

It was around nine in the evening as Regis lay on a borrowed bed in the room he’d been provided. After answering the navy’s questions and discussing matters with Jerome, he’d realized the day was already over. His only light source was a single candle—a rather low-quality one, at that. It wasn’t quite as bright as he had hoped, though it wasn’t bad enough that he couldn’t see what was right in front of him.

“Now then...” Regis muttered, producing a book from his supplies. They had stopped at a large town on the long march from the capital, and he had used this opportunity to buy something new.

In the book, the protagonists, trapped in the world of a game, go on an adventure to save a young girl who is being targeted by villains. When it came to adventure works, it was standard fare to have the main character be a skilled swordsman—someone like Duke Eddie, for example, who was currently looking after Fort Volks. However, the primary protagonist of this work was a strange boy who cast support magic to aid his comrades, and—

Whenever Regis read an interesting book, the surrounding noises grew distant, and the very world itself seemed to fade away to the point that he could hardly tell where he was anymore.

“Yep, this is what I’m living for...” he said blissfully.

“Aren’t you supposed to leave at daybreak...?”

“That’s right. I’ll need time to board the boat, so I’m going to get up while it’s still dark.”

Just before dawn, the room would be even darker than the moonlit streets—so dark that it wouldn’t make a difference whether his eyes were open or closed. Sure, he could always rely on muscle memory and try to light a candle, but that would be tough to do in an unfamiliar room. That was why he had already changed clothes, placed his belongings together beside the bed, and memorized where the exit was. This way, he would be able to leave even when he couldn’t see a thing.

“I’m perfectly prepared...” Regis continued. “Wait, Ms. Clarisse!?”

The next thing he knew, there was a woman in a green dress and white apron standing before him. It was Clarisse. He apparently hadn’t noticed her come in.

“I see you haven’t changed, Mr. Regis,” she said with a sigh.

“Wh-What’s wrong? Do you need something? Is Altina calling for me?”

“The princess has an early day tomorrow, so she is already asleep. Shouldn’t you be sleeping too?”

“I do intend to sleep, of course; sleep deprivation would only make my seasickness worse. But I just had to read a bit of what came next, otherwise...”

Clarisse gave a warm, gentle smile. “I see, I see.”

Yes, I know she’s speaking out of consideration, but at this rate, she’s going to take the candle away again.

“Err... If I don’t read this next part, I’ll be so bothered that I won’t be able to sleep.”

“Your eyes are red.”

“They sting a little, I’ll admit, but I think that’s because I’m not used to the salty air. At the very least, let me get to the point where they escape the dungeons...”

“Very well, then. I’ll read to you. That should at least give your body and eyes some rest.”

“Huh!?”

“Unless you’d rather just go to sleep,” Clarisse said, reaching for the candlestick.

“Oh, no, no, no! Then, um... please go ahead.”

“Certainly.”

Clarisse picked the book up from beside Regis’s pillow, looking a little pleased as she did so. The bed creaked ever so slightly as she sat on its edge.

“Fufufu... If the princess were to see us now, do you think she’d misunderstand?”

“Misunderstand what?”

“Oh, nothing... Now close your eyes, Mr. Regis. Why should I read if you’re just going to look at me?”

Shadows danced around Clarisse’s face and body as the candle’s flame flickered. The faint light made every soft contour stand out even more, elevating her beauty to an alluring degree. Looking at the maid from such an unfamiliar angle, Regis was overcome by a peculiar sensation. As he lay there in bed with her sitting right beside him, the faint scent of tea ensnared his senses, and he could feel himself getting caught up in her hazel eyes.

Regis felt a sudden tightness in his chest. His heart was starting to race, and while he was doing nothing more than lying there, he soon found himself struggling to breathe.

Clarisse averted her eyes, her cheeks teasingly flushed. “It’s embarrassing when you stare at me so closely...”

“Oh... I-I’m sorry. You look so beautiful that I just couldn’t help myself...”

“Eh?” Her eyes widened, and Regis immediately clasped a hand over his mouth.

“Wh-What am I saying!?”

“Mn... You’re not supposed to... say things like that, okay?”

“You’re right. I intended it as a compliment, but nothing good will ever come of someone like me judging a woman’s outer appearance...”

“No, that’s not what I meant at all... Mr. Regis, if you say something like that to me now of all times, I’ll be ruined. Do you understand?”

“I don’t...”

“Tomorrow is an important day, so... not now. Please close your eyes.”

At that, Clarisse placed a hand over Regis’s eyes. Her touch was soft, pleasantly cool, and carried a gentle fragrance. He closed his eyes as instructed.

Then Clarisse began to read. She was whispering so that only Regis could hear, yet her words were clear, vibrant, and pleasant to the ears. In fact, Regis could find no fault in the technical aspects at all; her pronunciation and intonation were both flawless. What came across most clearly, however, was that she was reading just for him, and how wonderful of a feeling that was.

Regis had read that there once used to be minstrels in the imperial court, though the current emperor had decided not to keep them. That said, there were still some among the nobles who hired professional storytellers to read them to sleep, and this was the first time that Regis had come across a noble’s wasteful pastime that he fully endorsed. This truly was a moment of pure bliss.

✧ ✧ ✧

Early the next morning—

It was still dark out, and the sky was dotted with stars.

“Under Latrielle’s orders, the troops here are all part of the Empire’s Fourth Army, but... things could get complicated with both land and sea troops, so we might have to differentiate them.”

Altina tilted her head. “Since Lieutenant General Bertram’s the admiral, we’ll just call his units ‘the Bertram Fleet.’”

“Good heavens, no!” Bertram exclaimed, shaking his head. “You are the commander, Your Highness. And what’s more, you will be riding aboard our flagship. If anything, ‘the Marie Quatre Argentina Fleet’ would be more appropriate.”

This was a statement that Regis endorsed. “Even with the admiral taking command of naval battles, it’s hard to say something like ‘Bertram Fleet, move out!’ when the princess is right there.”

“I really don’t mind.”

“Please have mercy, Your Highness. I’ll be the laughingstock of my men.”

“But my name’s way too long. How about we meet in the middle and go with ‘the Regis Fleet’?”

“Absolutely not!” Regis interjected. How on earth is that meeting in the middle?

And yet Bertram, of all people, seemed to approve. “That sounds fine to me. It’s an adequate name for this operation, at least.”

“Please give me a break...” Regis sighed. “Let’s go with ‘the Western Liberation Fleet’ and call it a day. After all, our goal is to fight off High Britannia’s transport ships and retake Port Ciennbourg.”

Bertram nodded. “A splendid name with clear intent.”

“Well, if you say so,” Altina conceded.

And that was the end of that matter.

Mooring something as large as a warship required a port where the water was considerably deep. Naturally, the fishing village was inadequately suited to that task, so they had opted for a slightly more time-consuming workaround; the ships would drop anchor offshore, then the troops would be transported over to them via smaller vessels.

Regis’s guards saw him off as he boarded the ferry boat from the harbor. Altina was the only person from the east accompanying him, and she had no guards with her. This time, they would be by themselves. Not even Clarisse was tagging along. She had said her goodbyes back at the house, acting as calm as ever and still making her usual jokes.

Abidal-Evra, among others, had asserted that Regis and Altina needed guards with them no matter what, but a ship of the line was not a passenger vessel; it could not afford to carry those who would be useless to the operation. What’s more, a guard knight served no purpose in an exchange of cannon fire.

Even if the navy was secretly plotting against them, a few guards would hardly make a difference. Their only option was to trust the sailors, and if anything happened, then it was Altina’s blunder for insisting on riding the same ship as them.

Altina hopped aboard the boat so nimbly that it was hard to believe this was her first time. In fact, she even helped Regis up when he was about to fall backward.

Back and forth the little boat swayed. Robust men of the sea called to one another as they started rowing, propelling the vessel away from the jetty.

Regis could see the land shrinking behind them. He had been out to sea twice over the past two days, but knowing that he was finally going into battle made the thought of leaving the shore so strangely disheartening.

The moon and stars lingered overhead. The sky was frightfully clear.

On a whim, Regis looked over at the embankment. The white tips of the eastern mountains were finally emerging from the darkness.

“Ah...”

A small figure was standing atop the embankment, its back to the brightening sky. It was only a silhouette, but Regis immediately recognized it. The girl with sun-bleached red hair, Narissa, was staring in his direction. Not that she could possibly see him from where she was.

“Thank you for your assistance...” Regis whispered to himself. “We shall protect this country, so please, take care...”

✧ ✧ ✧

Imperial Year 851, June 1st—

Numbering forty-four ships in total, the Western Liberation Fleet departed from the small fishing village of Hugovie. Its firepower primarily came from its nine 80-gun Aeterna-class ships, followed by fourteen smaller 50-gun Sererne-classes, and twenty even smaller 14-gun Urathenos-classes.

The Aeterna-class fell short of the enemy’s 74-gun Princess-class steam ship in both speed and firepower, but it was still capable of exchanging blows. It spanned 120 cubits (53 m) from bow to stern, was 34 cubits (15 m) wide, and had a main mast that was 140 cubits (62 m) tall.

Since Belgaria had the numerical advantage, it would be possible to challenge the enemy to a decisive battle, so long as they powered through any losses. That said, they still needed enough troops to endure the rest of the war, as well as any potential engagements with the surrounding countries, so these losses couldn’t be written off entirely.

The Sererne-class was a ship made with the intention of preserving order in territorial waters, putting it one level beneath a warship. As it would usually be cracking down on armed pirate or smuggler ships, it was only 80 cubits (36 m) long and its cannons were mostly small to mid-sized. Its armoring was also relatively thin, which meant it would struggle to exchange shots with any vessel from High Britannia.

The Urathenos-class ships were 45 cubits (20 m) in length, less than half that of the navy’s flagship. While they could potentially travel faster than a Princess-class, this largely depended on the wind, and they could not be expected to withstand a bombardment.

Leading this fleet was a single heavily armored 120-gun Poseidam-class, which was 160 cubits (71 m) long with an overall width of 45 cubits (20 m). The imperial navy possessed two of these powerful ships, but only one would be usable in this battle—namely the 2nd Poseidam. This wasn’t a decision that had been made to cut costs; the 1st Poseidam was simply still undergoing maintenance.

Mending and maintaining a ship took time, which was why the military always made at least two of any model. This way, there was always at least one ready to send to the front lines. Having a third was considered ideal where possible, as it could be used for practice purposes.

Each model of ship had its own particular uses, and any new recruit would need to know his duties in advance to avoid causing confusion on board. There was no time to pick up new skills on the battlefield, however, so there was a limit to what these new sailors could learn about the ships they did not work on.

The 3rd Poseidam was currently under construction, but... If this operation goes well, they might give up on it, Regis thought.

Not counted in the fleet’s numbers were ferry boats like the ones transporting the troops, as well as other small reconnaissance boats. While they served important roles, they could not really be considered a part of the fighting force.

Regis and Altina boarded the third Aeterna-class, a ship called the Frantam.

The helm was above deck no matter the ship, on a raised platform called the quarterdeck located near the rear of the vessel. That was where one could find the all-important steering wheel, controlled by a helmsman who, like the other soldiers, followed the instructions of the captain.

The admiral was not part of the crew of any particular ship. His job was to observe and take command over the fleet as a whole, and his directives would be conveyed to the other ships via flag signals.

“Shall we set sail, Princess?” Bertram sought confirmation.

Altina nodded. “The outcome of this battle will change the fate of Belgaria. It’s in your hands now.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Bertram said, taking a deep breath and straightening his hat. Then, he thrust out his right hand. “Western Liberation Fleet, move out!”

As it was still too dark to use flag signals, this message was sent via oil lamps. The captain of the flagship was the first to receive the message, which he immediately passed on to the crew. In no time at all, the ship started moving forward.

The fleet was traveling in a different formation than they would employ in combat. When sailing through the darkness, the flagship would take the lead, with the other ships using lamps to show their positions. There was one lamp in the crow’s nest, one at the stern, and one on both the port and starboard sides, which allowed others to determine the ship’s size and distance.

It could prove quite troublesome if these lights were put out, as the lamps were nearly impossible to reignite in the sea breeze. Luckily, there was no such incident as the fleet departed from the fishing village and made its way toward Port Ciennbourg.

As the sky started to brighten to the east, Altina looked around restlessly. “The ships are a lot bigger than I’d thought when I saw them from a distance!”

“Well, the Aeterna-class is the second largest ship in the Empire’s possession,” Regis noted.

The stretch from the bow to the stern seemed like an endless expanse of wooden planks. It was rare to see anything so vast, even in a noble’s estate. In terms of size, this was practically a sector of a fortress.

The masts rose high enough to pierce the heavens and were strung with a great many lines of rope, while the sails were so large that it was impossible to take them all in at once. Close to five hundred sailors were aboard this fortress moving across the sea—the scale of a small village.

Bertram was the expert when it came to all things ship and sea-related, but he was busy giving his undivided attention to the various detailed reports coming in.

“Admiral! Jeanvier is trailing behind!”

It seemed that one of the Urathenos-classes was unable to keep up with the rest of the fleet. The ships hadn’t received any proper maintenance at a port since the Battle of Touranne, and there were certain damages that couldn’t be repaired out on the water.

“...Tell him not to strain the ship. Have him change course to the third rendezvous point.”

“À vos ordres!”

Bertram seemed incredibly busy. Deciding not to get in his way, Regis struck up a conversation with Altina.

“Is something bothering you?”

“How does that wooden loop change where the ship is going?”

“Oh, the steering wheel is connected to a rudder beneath the ship. You change the tension and orientation of the sails in accordance with the wind, then move the rudder to change the ship’s direction.”

“So this large ship is actually being turned by that small wheel!?”

“That’s why you apparently need quite a bit of muscle to turn it when the sea’s rough. And it’s not as though turning it is all you have to do.”

Aeterna-class ships had three masts, and the steering wheel was located between the rearmost mast and the stern, with a handrail placed between it and where the admiral stood. Regis and Altina were standing a little further away so that their conversation wouldn’t bother anyone.

The ship was wider than either of them had anticipated. Toward the stern of the ship behind them was the highest point on the ship—a cabin area where the meeting room, as well as the private rooms of the admiral and ship’s captain, were located.

Indeed, the Frantam was the Western Liberation Fleet’s flagship for a reason—it even had a guest room for visiting nobles, which had been allotted to Altina this time around.

Come to think of it, I was never told where I was supposed to sleep... Probably below deck with the other sailors.

Sailors did not get their own beds, and instead slept beside the cannons or between cargo with a blanket wrapped around them. At best, some would sleep in hammocks hung from the ceiling.

Let’s hope I get my own blanket, at least... Regis thought. But that wouldn’t matter if they didn’t survive the day’s battle.

The sky was bright overhead.

✧ ✧ ✧

A wave of the flags promptly sent the signal to all ships. Racing past the Poseidam at the vanguard, the flagship Frantam led the charge. Only five Aeterna-classes accompanied them—six ships in total out of forty-four—but in essence, this could be considered more than half of their fighting force. That said, this did not mean that the remaining ships could take a break; they each moved to their respective stations.

It was around this time that a report came in from the recon ship they had sent ahead. The adjutant, who received the notice, conveyed it to the admiral.

“Confirmation on the number of enemy ships in port! Eighteen transport ships! Six Princess-class vessels! More than forty assorted smaller crafts!”

“What!?” Bertram cried out in dismay. The sailors working on deck were in an uproar, and the ship’s captain looked flustered.

Why does nothing ever go as planned? Regis thought, watching from a short distance away. That was when he noticed Bertram glancing at him. Is he seeking my opinion as a strategist? His adjutant, the captain, and the surrounding sailors were similarly looking his way with anxious expressions.

Regis shrugged. “...So it seems their convoy arrived. They weren’t there yesterday afternoon, so they must have shown up last night. That said... we were already anticipating these numbers, so there is no need for concern.”

“Oh? You had a way of guessing when they would reach the port?”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I simply expected that we’d be going up against the same numbers that were reported in the Battle of Touranne.”

Bertram gave a nod. “I see.”

Aside from Regis himself, Altina was the only one whose composure hadn’t wavered in the slightest. “I believe in Regis, you know!”

As happy as he was to hear that, Regis believed it was also a rather risky statement to make. He lowered his voice so that only she could hear. “...I know I shouldn’t be the one to say this, but... isn’t it dangerous to place that much trust in me?”

“Ahahah, I’m not that much of a fool. One look at your face and I can tell whether this is a situation you’ve already considered, or whether it’s unanticipated trouble. That’s all there is to it.”

“...I see. In that case, I should stay well away from poker.”

“Fufufu. How about a game sometime?”

“Are you any good?”

“I’m only offering because I reckon this’ll be my one and only chance to actually win at it,” Altina said with a bitter smile, leading Regis to chuckle himself.

Bertram took in this exchange, aghast. They’re not anxious at all...!? he thought to himself. This was a state of emergency in which the enemy’s forces were double what had been discussed, yet this young tactician and his much-too-young commander weren’t the least bit nervous or hesitant.

His adjutant looked equally perplexed. “Perhaps this means... he simply has that much confidence in his plan?”

“R-Right.” Bertram feebly nodded. Let us pray that is the case. Could it be that he just doesn’t understand what it means to fight on the sea?

There was no end to Bertram’s concerns, but as things stood, they were one step away from an artillery bombardment. As the admiral, to express any apprehension right now would be foolhardy. Instead, he addressed the commander once more to be certain.

“The enemy’s forces have doubled... Are you certain we should give the attack order?”

“Yes, of course! We’re taking Ciennbourg back!” Altina declared, pointing at the approaching cape. It jutted out into the sea like a spear and was covered with tall trees that blocked their vision, but Port Ciennbourg certainly lay just beyond it. There had once been a watchtower that also served as a lighthouse in that forest, but it was still in ruins from High Britannia’s initial attack.

The port rested at the innermost point of a V-shaped inlet. As the legend went, it was here that L’Empereur Flamme offered up a sword as he prayed for victory in the war that founded the nation, and the inlet henceforth became known as Épée Prière Bay. According to the recon reports, there were eighteen large-scale freight ships moored within, alongside six Princess-class warships.

While the bay was vast enough for an exchange of cannon fire to be possible, this was not recommended. As it was contained by land on three sides, the wind was much weaker inside the inlet, which would in turn lower the speed of all sailing ships.

Meanwhile, the enemy’s ships could move faster in calmer seas. How could the Empire be expected to compete in a race where only their ships were at a disadvantage, dragging along as though they were moving through a bog?

But the enemy fleet was at the innermost point of the inlet; it would be impossible for Belgaria to retake Ciennbourg without going in themselves.

The Frantam took the lead, the other ships following behind in a single column as they entered the jaws of certain doom.

“Enemy ships spotted!” came a voice from the crow’s nest. Not that there was any need; everyone on the quarterdeck could see them clearly.

Just as reported, there were around twenty large ships around the port, surrounded by countless smaller vessels. Their opponent was no fool, however; High Britannia must have had scouts posted around the entrance of the bay, as their warships were already approaching.

They already know we’re here, Bertram noted as he saw the black smoke billowing from the Princess-classes’ smokestacks.

This was the first time that Regis had ever seen a real steam ship. It was the ship of a new era—one that, up to that point, he had only ever read about in books.

Its fundamental structure was no different from the old ships of the line: its tall hull was made of wood and lined with gun ports, and, despite being a steam ship, it sported three masts so that it could serve as a sailing ship when needed.

Altina tilted her head. “Regis... Are those steam ships? They have sails.”

“The Princess-class is a so-called motorized sailboat. It’s been equipped to use both sails and steam power.”

Warships that depended purely on steam power had yet to take the stage. While they were being prototyped, warships in particular needed to take damage and engine failure into account. When the wind was strong on the open seas, there were times when spreading the sails would be faster.

“Hm. They have both? That seems so unfair!”

“They wouldn’t equip something so heavy, large, and expensive to a ship that burns through valuable coal unless it gave them a considerable advantage.”

There was a small chimney emitting black smoke between each Princess-class’s first and second masts. Before the steam engine could be used, it would need to burn coal until enough pressure had built up in the boiler. But it seemed those preparatory stages had already been taken care of, and the enemy was already prepared for battle.

The enemy ships came closer still. They’re naturally not going to let us get any closer to the freight ships, Regis thought.

“Prepare for battle!” Bertram ordered.

His adjutant loudly relayed the command, at which point the captain and his sailors readied the cannons. A messenger waved their flags, signaling for the other ships to open their gun ports as well.

It was standard for each individual cannon to be operated by two artillery soldiers, while a third was tasked with carrying the gunpowder from storage.

The main cannons on the Aeterna-class were the super-sized ones designed specifically for imperial warships. As they were frontloaded, a pouch of gunpowder had to be inserted down the muzzle, followed by the cannon shell. A thin needle was then jabbed through a vent at the back to puncture the pouch, and once it was removed, the vent was topped up with gunpowder and the loading process was complete. From there, the artillery soldiers held their aim so that they were ready to fire the instant the order came.

These cannons were not attached to the lower deck, and instead rested on four-wheeled gun carriages which were connected to the ship by chain. This degree of freedom not only granted them finer horizontal alignment, but also allowed the carriage to jerk back when the cannon was fired, consequently absorbing some of the recoil. There were also disadvantages, however; for one, the seas were rough during a bombardment, so there were times when a movable carriage made it hard to aim.

As for igniting the fuse, this was done using flint, just as one would on land.

The enemy ships approached.

Princess-classes had a range of roughly 45 arpents (3216 m), while Aeterna-classes could only shoot 38 arpents (2715 m). However, while the difference between them was clear, ships didn’t yet have the proper technology to accurately gauge such long distances. While each one had a surveyor, they weren’t known to be too accurate, so it ultimately came down to the admiral’s instincts.

The rudders of the Princess-classes turned to the right.

“Admiral, the enemy turns starboard!”

The enemy was showing their left flank. This would be considered a weakness in a clash between animals, but the opposite was true when it came to ships; the flank of a ship was covered with lines upon lines of weapons.

Altina cocked her head. “Aren’t we going to get hit like this?”

“...Most likely.”

No sooner had Regis muttered that than the enemy ships’ port sides were swallowed in black smoke. It took a moment for the thunderous rumble to reach, and while there was still a considerable distance between them, it was a sound that strangled the heart and made goosebumps rise on the skin.

We’re still too far away, Regis thought. But even if the Princess-classes had longer range, targets became harder to hit the farther away they were. Their shells could hardly be expected to connect at this distance, but while Regis knew that in his head, he could still feel his knees giving way.

“...!”

Countless cannon shells soared through the sky, coming not from the front, but nearly directly overhead. Air resistance had caused the shells to lose their horizontal velocity, making them come down at a far steeper angle than they had been fired from.

They assailed the Frantam, one shell grazing the sail before smacking down into the sea. A spray of water rose from its surface, rising even higher than the tallest mast. As the waves tossed the massive ship around, it bobbed and shook as though it were a fallen leaf.

“Urk! Urgh...” The most Regis could do was grab the handrail. I doubt Altina’s faring any better...

Or so he thought. The princess was standing calmly on the deck, having not lost her balance in the slightest. “Why aren’t we returning fire!?”

“Well, that’s probably because... we’re too far away...”

At that, a second volley came flying overhead. They reload quick! Regis closed his eyes and prayed to God. That was all he could do for now.

The sea shook and the sky itself seemed to tremble under the cannons’ roars. Spouts of water scattered all over the deck like salty rain, and as the ship swayed, Regis felt he would be shaken overboard.

“Whoa!”

“One ship’s been done in!”

Hearing Altina’s voice, Regis wiped the seawater from his face, only to be assailed by a stinging pain the moment he opened his eyes. “Ow!?”

Had seawater gotten into his eyes? It hurt so badly that, for a moment, he thought he was injured. There was a salty taste in his mouth, and his nose was running uncontrollably.

Regis’s experience from his academy training meant that he didn’t hesitate much in a land battle, but this was his first naval battle, and it was far worse than what he had imagined while reading his books. Perhaps that went without saying—they would never tell the pathetic tale of a navy hero who lamented the pain of seawater getting in his eyes.

After rubbing his eyes hard, Regis opened them to see that Altina wasn’t beside him anymore. She didn’t fall overboard, did she!? For a moment, everything went black, but then a voice came from above. The thought that he was being called to heaven briefly crossed his mind, but he knew that couldn’t be the case.

“Regis! A ship’s on fire!”

He looked toward the voice to see Altina staring out behind the ship from atop the poop deck. She had scaled it as easily as one might climb a set of stairs, even with the ship swaying so violently that Regis was being tossed every which way. It was like she was completely unaffected by her surroundings—like she alone was standing on dry land.

It was equally possible that Regis was just being dramatic. No, that can’t be it—even the sailors are grabbing onto the rails, and they’re secured with lifelines.

“Hup!” Altina jumped down.

“Wha—!? What were you planning to do if you fell into the sea!?” Regis exclaimed.

“Not important. That ship over there’s on fire!”

“...Of course. It’s made of wood, so if struck by an iron ball heated by a burst of gunpowder, it’s quite likely to catch fire.”

“But there are people on board!”

Naval battles had a higher death rate than land battles, as there was little one could do in the midst of a bombardment. But Regis knew that Altina would definitely not be satisfied with such an explanation.

“...The water shouldn’t be too cold this time of year. If the sailors fall into the sea, they should be able to hold out for six hours or so. And as long as they can swim to the mouth of the bay, the other ships will come and pick them— Uwoap!?”

Another near impact raised a splash that doused him in seawater.

“Ah!” Altina gasped, grabbing onto the handrail for the first time.

The next instant, the bow of the Frantam crumbled. The tremors, the sounds—it was as though they had been struck by lightning. It was completely unlike being rocked by the waves, and Regis was suddenly thrown into the air as if someone had kicked him in the chest. For a moment, he accepted that he was about to die. That is, until someone grabbed him by the arm and dragged him back down to the deck.

“Regis!? You should always hold on to the handrail when the boat shakes!”

When it shakes? It’s been shaking this whole time... Don’t tell me it doesn’t even register to her unless we take a direct hit? Regis’s heart was pounding, and his breathing was all over the place. It was a moment of sheer terror.

“Hah... Hah... Th-Thank... you...”

“Are you okay, Regis?”

“Y-Yeah... How did you know we were going to get hit?”

“How? Why, because I saw the cannonball coming toward us, of course.”

“...Is that so?”

While the shells did move slowly enough to be followed with the naked eye, a normal person wouldn’t be able to distinguish between what would be a hit and what a close miss.

The boat shook again. This time, a cannonball had grazed the sail.

Altina had taken Regis in her arms, holding him so close that their foreheads were touching. She was drenched in seawater, which just seemed to make her glimmer even more than usual. And despite the grim expression on her face, she gave off a misplaced aura of enchantment.

She whispered into his ear. “We can win this, right?”

“...That depends on how capable Admiral Bertram is, I suppose.”

“How are things looking now!?”

“...About as expected.”

That was when the admiral made his call. “Flagship, starboard!”

“À vos ordres! Starboard!” the captain echoed, giving the order before the adjutant even had a chance to speak. The helmsman was already turning the wheel.

Under the adjutant’s command, the signal flags flying from the mast were changed. The new order: “All ships, follow me.”

At that, the Belgarian fleet all started to expose their port sides, just as the High Britannian ships had done. They were moving parallel to their opponent but in the opposite direction, and would exchange fire as they passed—this was what was known as a passing engagement. The distance between them was now around half of what it had been when the enemy first opened fire.

Regis nodded. So far, everything was going as planned. “We’ll only be able to exchange a few shots as we pass by, but that should also reduce the number of times we get shot at.”

“Will our few shots be able to reach them?”

“...I don’t know about that.”

Had the admiral instead decided to turn left, the fleet would have been traveling in the same direction as the enemy—a prolonged engagement. Unlike in a brief, passing exchange, the two sides would end up firing round upon round at one another, and to a cannoneer, an enemy matching pace was practically stationary.

In a prolonged engagement, the difference in firepower was more evident than ever. Given the intent of the plan, turning right was surely the right option.

With the Empire’s line of battle finally facing its broadside cannons toward the enemy, Bertram thrust out his hand. “All ships, full broadside! Feu!”

It was time for the counterattack—the first imperial shots of the battle.

A different tremor from before rocked the hull, this time echoing from down below. The port side facing the enemy was suddenly caught up in black smoke, cutting off all sight, and the scent of gunpowder filled the air. Regis found it hard to breathe, and his eyes stung so much that he could hardly see.

Since they were out at sea, the strong winds quickly carried away the smoke. Regis’s vision soon cleared up, and the first thing he saw was Altina, discontentedly pursing her lips.

“Not a single one hit!” she exclaimed.

“The first shots are more for observation purposes.”

“How are we supposed to observe anything through all that smoke?”

“That’s what the lookouts are for.”

Both Regis and Altina looked up at the mast. Even the black smoke that had covered the entirety of the ship didn’t reach as far as the crow’s nest up top; lookouts would be able to observe the result of the bombardment with relative ease, using flags to signal whether they were aiming too near or far. A messenger above deck would then pass this information on to the sailors on the gun deck. Information transmission on a warship was fundamentally carried out by such messengers running back and forth.

Before the Belgarian fleet could ready their next round, they were subject to another volley of cannon fire. It seemed the captain was quite used to this situation; by sailing in a zig-zag pattern he prevented the enemy from gauging their proper distance, and he didn’t dare lose focus in case the ship started traveling along a straight path.

Finally, the second round was ready. While some shells made contact this time, they were still unable to achieve any considerable gains. There was little need for the steam ships to have many sailors above deck; they were not using their masts or sails, so breaking them served no purpose; and thanks to the powerful propulsion of the steam engine, the deck and hull could be made thicker without needing to worry as much about weight.

With the Princess-classes’ sturdy armor, these shots were barely effective, and any spots that caught fire were all too quickly extinguished. In an artillery battle, the probability of a shell making contact was one in a hundred. The probability of that impact being effective was one in ten.

Altina squinted as the smoke cleared. “It doesn’t look like it’s working...”

“I mean, I’m not going to complain if we get a lucky hit in, but... if we could take them in an upfront exchange, then we wouldn’t have needed a plan in the first place.”

“You have a point.”

They were at a clear disadvantage when it came to firepower. If things carried on as they were, ally damages would continue to mount up.

“Consort ship Feuille is down!” came a voice from the crow’s nest. That was the second allied ship they had lost. Both were Aeterna-classes.

After a brief silence, Admiral Bertram gave another order. “Full turn, starboard! Pull away from the enemy and head south of the bay!”

“Yes, sir!”

Their artillery exchange in the bay had made the difference in combat ability painfully obvious.

“Were you expecting this?” Altina whispered to Regis.

“...To be honest, I didn’t expect the gap to be quite this large. Their firepower, speed, and whatnot are about what I was expecting... but who’d have thought their armor would be such a cut above?”

“I... see.” While the concern on her face was palpable, Altina chose not to voice her anxieties.

“Don’t worry,” Regis said, attempting to reassure her. “This is where it really begins.”

Six Aeterna-classes had initially taken the vanguard of the Western Liberation Fleet, two of which were now out of action. The sailors dived into the sea one after another as flames engulfed their ships, culminating in two massive explosions as their gunpowder supplies ignited, scattering shrapnel quite some distance. The blasts then gave way to a tremendous whirlpool that began to slowly drag the wreckage down into the depths, so the sailors who had abandoned ship needed to swim quite some distance to be out of harm’s reach.

They had neither the time nor the manpower to save them. Allied ships could still make it to the mouth of the bay, so all Regis could do was pray that they could swim that far.

The remaining four Aeterna-classes took a hard right to escape from their passing engagement, skillfully maneuvering despite the limited wind. Once they had distanced themselves from the enemy fleet, rather than heading out the way they’d come, they moved to the side of the bay.

Meanwhile, the six enemy Princess-class ships turned their rudders to the right.

Altina pointed at them. “Are they returning to port?”

“I’m sure they want to chase us, but the convoy they’re supposed to protect is close by. They’ll start by securing the harbor.”

Had the opposing admiral been the type to fixate on the prey before his eyes, he surely would have moved to the mouth to block their escape. But in that case, the Empire’s ships could have simply turned back around and assailed the transport ships with artillery fire, achieving massive gains in the process.

They’re not going to make this easy, are they? Regis thought, recalling the battle of La Frenge just a few days prior. The one commanding the High Britannian army was Colonel Oswald Coulthard, and while Regis had never met the man personally, he was certain he would have entrusted the protection of their transport ships to a competent admiral.

“Regis, they’ve set up a line between us and the port!” Altina shouted. “And they’re closing in on us!”

“Yeah... They are faster than us, after all. And the wind’s pretty weak in the bay...”

“Did you plan for this?”

He nodded. “I know a few stories that have developed in a similar way. It’s even in the naval textbook. I’d prepared a few different courses of action since I wasn’t sure what the enemy admiral’s personality would be like, but it seems he’s going to depend on reliable tactics. Meanwhile, his captains are faithful and obedient.”

Regis had taken great care in observing the enemy’s movements. While their line of battle wasn’t perfect, it appeared that every single ship was dutifully obeying their orders. They wouldn’t provide an opening quite so easily.

But that makes them easier to read. Perhaps I shouldn’t take their admiral out too quickly. I fear what his replacement might come up with... Regis mused. Despite the faint pangs of anxiety he could feel, he was a man who valued knowledge and calculations over instinct.

✧ ✧ ✧

The mouth of the bay was to the west, with Port Ciennbourg being inside the inlet to the east. The Western Liberation Fleet had thus entered from the west, lost two ships to cannon fire, and was now headed for the bay’s southern arm. They would run aground if they continued on their current course; it was about time for them to decide whether they would turn to the east or west.

Following the exchange, High Britannia’s six Princess-class ships had initially turned back east, positioning themselves to protect the transport ships. Of course, they had no intention of letting the imperials get away, and gave chase soon enough.

On the deck of the flagship Frantam, Altina leaned over the port-side handrail. “Regis! Regis! They’re getting closer!”

“They can’t just overlook imperial ships in their waters. Perhaps they’d have ignored us had we immediately retreated, but since we dawdled, they’re going to pursue.”

“Aren’t they going to catch up!?”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

Regis unsteadily hobbled over to Bertram, relying on the handrail to keep his balance. He had spent what little vitality he had enduring his seasickness and the bombardment.

“...Admiral.”

“Oh, Strategist. How was your first battle on the sea? Not that it’s over yet.”

“Honestly? I want to drop anchor in a nice bed right about now...”

“Can’t say I’m faring any better, but retreat will have to wait until we’ve baited them forward a bit more.”

“What a shame... Err, also—when we take aim, could we avoid targeting the first ship?”

At that request, Bertram appeared rather perplexed. “I presume their admiral is a man called Oxford, but whoever it is, I could tell from that battery that he’s quite an excellent commander. Wouldn’t it benefit us to take him out as soon as we get the chance?”

“Yes, well... While he’s definitely skilled... I have to say— Urp.” Regis cupped a hand over his mouth. The simple act of speaking was enough to make his stomach violently churn.

Bertram looked somewhat amazed. “Very well, we won’t aim for their flagship. Now, how about you get some rest?”

“...I need to watch and see how they move.”

“Hm. Then watch from my quarters. They’re located at the very back, and you’ll get an even better view of the enemy from there.”

“Eh...? Is that really okay?”

“Of course. I don’t mind. Oh, Your Highness must be tired as well. My first mate will guide you, so please, get some rest.”

As the admiral gestured, his young adjutant opened the door into the cabin. “If you would follow me.”

“...Thank you.”

“I’m not really tired, but, well... a glass of water would probably hit the spot,” Altina said, following as well.

The captain’s quarters lay beyond a meeting room, and while they weren’t spacious by any definition of the word, they were quite a step up from the floor, where most sailors slept.

As befitted the room of a noble, the furnishings were all high class. There was a chair upholstered with velvet and a bed with silk sheets. A heavy wooden desk with a gold-inlaid ornament case built into it was bolted to the floor. And while its flame would certainly be snuffed out in the midst of battle, there was even a small fireplace.

The back wall boasted a rectangular window, which did indeed offer a better view than the quarterdeck. Regis moved the chair right beside it and promptly took a seat, watching the enemy battleships gaining on them.

“Ah... Looks like we’re turning already.”

“We gave the order a moment ago,” the adjutant said, pouring water into a teacup.

The fleet took another right turn, nearly grazing the land as it headed west. From the enemy’s perspective, did it look like they were simply running away?

As Altina peered out the window as well, the adjutant handed her the teacup. “By all means, Your Highness.”

“Thank you.”

“Please rest here for a while.”

He gave a reverent bow, and then he was gone. His etiquette almost made him seem like a noble welcoming a royal visitor, but they were in the midst of a war, and Altina was their commander. A salute would have been more proper, but... Altina was both young and a woman. The soldiers were having some trouble seeing her as a superior officer.

Regis and Altina were left in the captain’s quarters alone.

“Looks like some things never change...” Altina said with a shrug.

“Well, there’s not much we can do about that,” Regis replied, his eyes fixed on the ships.

Altina downed her water in one gulp, then mimicked what the adjutant had done to pour another. Once she had returned, she offered the teacup to Regis. “Here, you have some too.”

“Oh, thank you.”

“It’s hard to notice since you’re soaked from the seawater, but I’m sure you’ve been sweating quite a bit.”

“...Right.” Regis downed the water, wetting his parched throat.

“The enemy is closer than they were before... Hey, Regis... How do High Britannia’s ships move so fast?” Altina asked as she stared out the window.

“You want to know the difference between a sailboat and a steam boat?”

“A steam boat burns coal, right? I’ve seen a steam train before, and I know that moves faster than a carriage. I’ve heard bits and pieces about the logic behind it all, too... but that’s not what I meant. I want to know why the Empire can’t make one when High Britannia can.”

“Hm... I’d say that simply comes down to more limited industrial technology. We know the principle behind the steam engine, but if we wanted to make one, we’d need a system in place to mass-produce parts with high precision. It’s the same with the ammunition for their new guns—we just don’t have the necessary machining tools.”

In Belgaria, if someone wanted metal to be formed into a highly precise shape, they would need to rely on the skills of a professional craftsman. High Britannia, on the other hand, was getting more adept at using machinery to produce components.

“They use machines to make machines?”

“That’s right. We have factories in Belgaria too, you know? Though they’re not as large-scale as the ones in High Britannia.”

“I’ve never seen a factory before. I’d never even gotten a proper look at a smithy until we stopped by your brother-in-law’s workshop.”

“Really? That’s somewhat surprising.”

“It wasn’t my fault, though. Up until a year ago, I wasn’t allowed to freely leave the palace.”

“...Still. If you read a few more books, I don’t think you’d be so oblivious about how the world works.”

“Urk...! I-I was busy learning how to use a sword, okay!? A sword! I’m an expert when it comes to swords!”

“Yes, yes—but that speaks to the nature of the Belgarian Empire as a whole. Our soldiers are unrivaled, but our lack of certain factories has led to us being chased down by steam ships. Does that answer your question?”

“Grr...” Altina made a face like she was chewing on something particularly bitter.

Regis returned his gaze outside the window. There was land to his right—a cape covered in tall trees. There was a risk of them running aground if they got too close to the shoal, but... even with this risk, there was value in keeping this position right now. Following closely behind them were the three remaining allied Aeterna-classes, all of which had been damaged to some degree in the previous exchange.

Black smoke trailed from the enemy warships’ chimneys as they gradually approached from the northeast, coming in diagonally from Regis’s left. As the enemy had the advantage in speed, they had no need to stray so close to the cape, and were essentially chasing the Belgarian ships in a straight line.

“...Compared to the enemy ships, we fall short when it comes to both range and speed. But we do have a chance. We’re almost in position.”

All of a sudden, eighteen speedy Urathenos-class support ships appeared from the mouth of the bay. They were less than half the size of an Aeterna-class, and could never hope to stand up to a Princess-class in an exchange of cannon fire.

Britannia’s admiral, Oxford, showed no indication that he would change his fleet’s course. He must not have seen the Urathenos-classes as a significant threat, ignoring them as the meaningless reinforcements of a last-ditch effort.

However, these Urathenos-classes were the key to Regis’s plan, pivotal to opening the curtains on their counterattack.

As arranged, the flagship Frantam gave the flag signals. The role of the support ships was to receive these orders and relay them to allies, and in no time at all, a number of explosive bursts caused the trees along the cape to quiver.

The bursts came from neither the fleeing Aeterna-classes nor the pursuing Princess-classes; it was a roar from beyond the cape. And accompanying the boom, innumerable black spheres dotted the blue sky. Cannon shells. The enemy vessels frantically turned their rudders, desperate to get away from the cape... but they were too late.

A simultaneous bombardment from thirty-seven ships of the Western Liberation Fleet. Their shells came down like heavy rain, causing the water’s surface to burst open like it had been brought to a turbulent boil, swallowing the enemy’s line of battle.

The enemy’s second and third ships were caught up in the barrage. While the Princess-classes’ decks were sturdy, they would still crumble under so many direct hits.

“Amazing! We did it!” Altina cried out, pressing her forehead against the glass.

It had been his own proposal, yet Regis still shuddered at this massive destructive power. It was an attack that would turn any normal ship into driftwood. However, at the epicenter of the concentrated downpour, the two enemy ships still stood. They were quite lurched over, but still afloat.

Regis’s voice quivered in shock. “D-Don’t tell me... they’re still standing!?”

That being said, these ships seemed to be little more than specters. Their masts were snapped, sails ablaze, smokestacks bent. The decks that had taken so many blows finally ruptured as flames rose all over.

“Ah! Regis! There’s a wave coming!”

The massive bombardment had produced a considerably large wave that rocked the ships. The Frantam and its consort ships had turned into the bay the moment they heard the cannons fire, but one didn’t make it in time. Of the four ships, the one that was farthest back was thrust onto land. It gave off a creaking noise as it tilted, then stopped moving entirely as though it had been fastened in place.

“Eh!? What happened!?”

“...They ran aground.”

While the other ships had managed to avoid being beached, they were having difficulty steering. After the wave struck land, it came back in full force, now pulling the ships into the open water. That was where the enemy ships were, and the last place they wanted to go... but they had no way of preventing it when their rudders didn’t work. They were no better than leaves being swept up in a current.

Even Altina had to grab onto the desk to stay upright. Meanwhile, Regis was all-too-easily thrown onto the floor, chair and all.

“Ech...!?”

“Khh! Y-You okay, Regis!?”

“Y-Yeah... Somehow...”

Now that Regis was on the floor, there was nowhere else he could fall. In a sense, he was safe. All that’s left is to wait for these waves to die down, momentarily flee out of the bay, and then— His thoughts were interrupted by another roar of cannon fire.

Barely on her feet, Altina stumbled to the window. “Th-They’ve opened fire!”

“What...!?”

With the seas this rough and so much distance between them, it was inconceivable for the enemy to attempt another bombardment. A majority of their shots were completely off the mark, but the next instant, a large destructive crash pierced Regis’s ears.

The Frantam heaved upward.

We were hit!? The teacup tumbled from the desk and shattered as it hit the floor. How bad are the damages...? He could hear screams coming from the outside. There was no doubt about it—they had taken a direct hit.

The ship rocked back and forth so drastically that Regis struggled to even find his footing. But he couldn’t stay holed up inside. Though the best he could do was crawl, he quickly made for the door.

“Where are you going!?” Altina cried.

“I’m going to get a grasp on the situation! You stay here!”

“What are you talking about!? I’m the one who should go, then!”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

After inching his way to the door, Regis propped his body up with one hand like an infant, barely managing to grasp the doorknob with the other. Then came another impact—one that very nearly flipped him over like a turtle that had been kicked in the belly.

“Whoa!?”

“What are you doing!? Get a grip!” Altina exclaimed, wrapping an arm around Regis’s back to hold him up. She was practically like the desk bolted to the ground—no matter how much the floor tipped, she stood perfectly upright on both feet.

Regis looked at her, dumbfounded. “Altina, are you... actually a lot heavier than you look?”

“Are you asking to be thrown out the window?”

“S-Sorry.”

“It’s not about weight or leg strength. At times like these, you have to concentrate on your core! Now pull yourself together! We’re going to go and have a look!”

At that, Altina turned the knob and pushed. The wind noisily bellowed through the open door; a portion of the conference room wall had been damaged.

“This is terrible...” Regis groaned.

Did we take a direct hit to the front of the cabin...!? That was where the helm and captain’s chair were, and on this flagship, where the admiral and his adjutant were stationed as well.

Regis’s legs gave out in terror, but Altina dragged him along through the half-destroyed door.

“So... this is where we were hit.”

The meeting room they were now standing in had taken the brunt of the damage. A portion of the hull had been torn through, with the surrounding wood having caught fire. The sailors were hard at work trying to extinguish the flames.

The admiral was collapsed on deck, his adjutant desperately pleading beside him. “Bertram! Bertram! Please, wake up!”

Regis and Altina raced over, and as they arrived by his side, Altina swallowed her breath. Blood was pouring from the admiral’s head. He was currently receiving first aid from a sailor, but there was a limit to what could be done on a shaking ship; the most they could do was wrap cloth around the wounds.

The adjutant was on the verge of tears. “No... No... Th-The admiral... When the shell hit, he covered me, and...”

“...He took a piece of shrapnel to the head?”

This was all down to bad luck. There was little that could be done. When the seas were this rough, the enemy could only have fired out of desperation. Who would have imagined that they would land a hit, and in the most important spot, too?

Still on the floor, Bertram cracked his eyes open a sliver. “Gn... Rah...”

“A-Admiral!” his adjutant practically wailed.

The moment Bertram saw Regis, he grimaced. “Ghh... What about Her Highness?”

“I’m fine!” Altina asserted her presence beside Regis.

Bertram weakly nodded. “Good...”

“Admiral, we’ll get you patched up in a jiffy!”

Completely disregarding his adjutant’s hopeful words, Bertram looked straight at Regis. “...I leave the command... to you...”

“Eh!? A-Are you talking to me!? Have you mistaken me for someone else...!?”

“Please... Strategist... The fleet... and the Empire... are in... your... hands...”

And with those words, the admiral lost consciousness once more.

It was only now that a middle-aged military doctor managed to make his way over. “Carry him to the conference room, and get as much hot water as you can find! The admiral isn’t dead yet, and you’ll move quickly if you want to keep it that way!”

Those barked orders sent the pale-faced soldiers frantically on their way. But the adjutant remained, shedding tears as he fell prostrate on the floor.

“I-It can’t be...”

“Now’s no time to cry!” Altina chided.

As the beaten man raised his face, she crisply thrust a finger toward him.

“The battle still rages on! You’re his first mate, aren’t you!? You’ve watched his work more than anyone!”

“R-Right...”

“So when the admiral’s out of action, what do you think you’re doing freezing up like that!? You want us to take more of those cannon shells!? Stay like that, and you won’t be saving anyone!”

“Urp... Kh... Y-You’re right!”

He forced a salute as the rocking ship threw him from side to side, then turned to Regis, wiping the tears from his reddened eyes.

“Strategist— No, Admiral Proxy Regis Aurick! Your plan worked splendidly. Thus far, we had been unable to sink any Princess-classes no matter how many ships we sacrificed, yet you’ve managed to take out two!”

“Yes... sir.”

“The admiral must have passed the baton on to you after assessing your abilities.”

“Wait a second... You really want me to stand in as admiral? There’s no way I could possibly—”

“Now’s not the time for excuses, Regis!” Altina scolded. “The enemy’s coming!”

Initiating a bombardment from such a precarious position had caused the enemy ships to lurch dangerously, but they had since stabilized, and were once again approaching diagonally from the left. Only one ship—the flagship—posed a direct threat at the moment. The second and third ships, while still afloat, had received the brunt of the concentrated fire and seemed to be truly out of commission. The fires blazing on their decks weren’t dying down, so they would likely sink eventually.

Of the three other High Britannian ships, only one pursued the Belgarian flagship, ready to assist in the offense. The other two carefully took distance from the cape, setting up formation close to the port.

The Empire’s side was now composed of just three Aeterna-classes. The Frantam had taken a direct hit near the helm, and its chain of command had been thrown completely out of order. What was being demanded of Regis right now was more than just moving pieces on a board; he was to take charge, and ensure that over two thousand sailors returned alive. This was no time to dispute whether the position was appropriate for him, let alone whether he had the confidence to accept it.

“Hah... Fine. I think taking command is far beyond me, but... err... in that case, full speed toward the mouth of the bay.”

“À vos ordres!”

The ship’s captain and helmsman had been injured in the blast as well. Once Regis had given the order to the adjutant, he passed it on to the vice-captain, who turned the wheel himself.

“If we keep going on this course, won’t they just shoot us again?” Altina asked.

“Almost certainly.”

They were well within range of the Princess-class leading the chase. For a moment, Regis had thought they would turn tail and return to the port, but the loss of their consort ships seemed to have only ignited their fighting spirit.

Regis bore the brunt of his failure. “I made an error of judgment... I was under the impression that our enemy’s Admiral Oxford was a man who followed textbook tactics, which led me to believe he would be easier to predict and manage... But after losing two ships from an ambush across the cape, with the seas too rough to steer... For him to fire under such unfavorable circumstances... maybe it’s his ship captain who’s abnormal.”

Even if the blow to the cabin had been nothing more than an unfortunate coincidence, this unpredictability was a threat. The enemy fully intended to continue the fight, and there was no telling when they would fire next.

“You don’t think we can outrun them?”

“Right. They’re not going to let us get away that easily. We might need a distraction.”

“Out on the ocean...?” Altina asked. She seemed to be keenly interested, while the adjutant appeared to be awaiting his next order.

“Err... I want a message passed to the support ships beyond the cape. It doesn’t matter if their shots won’t reach, just start firing at full range. Tell the crew on this ship and the others to start shooting as well. Also, it would be nice if we could get that ship moving as we initially planned...”

Once again, the Frantam sent flag signals that were relayed by the Urathenos-class ships. Flag messages generally followed the same code, regardless of whether they were meant to go between ships or from the lookout to the sailors on deck.

In no time at all, the cannons blasted across the trees, and the three ships led by the Frantam opened fire. A massive number of shells struck the sea before they reached the enemy, the resulting splashes forming what was practically a looming wall of water. The waves came at them once again, and Regis held onto the handrail for dear life.

No book I’ve ever read contained such a pathetic admiral. How could I possibly serve as a stand-in?

“Wah...”

Despite the tumultuous shakes, as expected, Altina looked just fine. “Why did you have the support ships open fire? It doesn’t look like they’re hitting anything.”

“That’s because the enemy doesn’t know what ships we’re hiding behind the cape. They’ll be more wary if they believe we might have cannons that can reach them, right? Then a barrage of shells comes down around them just after they hear the firing sounds.”

“But the shots that came closest were the ones from this ship.”

“That’s right.”

Not to mention, even those had fallen quite a bit short of the enemy. The Princess-classes hadn’t returned fire yet, which meant the distance between them was too far even for the Type-41 Elswicks. There was no possible way that the Empire’s cannons would reach.

“...But it will still serve as a distraction,” Regis continued. “What’s more, with the sea so churned up, it’ll be harder for them to take aim.”

Yet there’s still the chance of a lucky shot... A chill ran down Regis’s spine as the burnt cabin entered the corner of his eye, and he recalled the worrying state of the admiral. The next one down will almost certainly be me.

In all honesty, he didn’t mind that being the case—he saw it as inevitable, even. The moment an inept administrative officer stepped foot on the battlefield, he was just asking to be struck down. However, he wanted to avoid a situation where Altina might be taken out.

The only purpose it served was to buy time, but he continued the bombardment.

The wind was picking up, which meant they were nearing the mouth of the bay. Since a single shot would be enough to sink the Urathenos-class ships, they pulled away the moment they were within range. The small vessels that were at work recovering the crew of the sunken Aeterna-classes also bolted like cats spooked by a vicious dog’s bark.

Their plan was to swap places with the single massive ship of the line peeking out from the edge of the cape.

“It’s the Poseidam!” one of the sailors cried out.

The strongest ship in the Belgarian Navy—the 120-gun armored Poseidam. Its wooden hull was covered with iron plates as though it were a knight in full armor, and its broadside came equipped with far more cannons than the Aeterna-classes. With its countless gun ports wide open, it slowly crept into the bay.

There was little to criticize about the Poseidam-class in terms of armor and firepower, but it fell behind the Princess-class in both speed and range.

This massive ship of the line carried out its charge alone. So long as it continued approaching the port, it would be able to crush High Britannia’s transport ships in the blink of an eye.

Were they to match blows with the Poseidam, even a Princess-class would suffer damages too great to ignore. The enemy flagship immediately dropped speed, and a moment later, the other ship followed suit. Both then changed course in preparation to fight the behemoth.

Coming too close to the cape wasn’t an option, as the Belgarian support ships would simply bombard them again. The enemy was well aware of this, and handled themselves cautiously as they prepared to intercept.

As that was going on, the flagship Frantam slipped out of the bay all too easily.

Altina leaned out over the starboard side. “Can that one ship defeat them alone!?”

“Definitely not. It wouldn’t even win one-on-one... They’d keep picking at it from afar until, eventually, the gunpowder inside would ignite and the ship would explode.”

Belgaria’s armored ship of the line was designed under the assumption that it wouldn’t fall short in firing range. In cases where its range was evidently shorter, such a slow ship was little more than a sitting duck.

Regis stood next to Altina, resting his elbow on the handrail. “Our losses total up to three Aeterna-classes, quite a few injured, and the Poseidam. In return, we took down two Princess-class ships. Would you say that’s an even trade...?”

“What!? You sacrificed such a massive ship just so we could escape!?”

“No matter where the exchange took place, such a slow-footed ship wouldn’t be able to outrun High Britannia’s ships. That’s why we removed all the sailors, unloaded the gunpowder, and then fixed the wheel in place. If we kept eight hundred men on that antiquated thing and it sunk, the casualties would be far more than we could manage.”

At times, an overblown ally could be even more of a risk on the battlefield than a powerful enemy. While Regis knew that his decision probably wouldn’t get much support, the way he saw it, that sluggish hunk of metal would cause more casualties than the enemy. That was why he had sent it into the bay as an unmanned vessel, with the official stated goal being to support their retreat.

Oblivious to this, the enemy grew more wary by the second, distancing themselves from the Poseidam and initiating a long-range bombardment. There was no risk of the ship exploding anytime soon since it wasn’t loaded with any gunpowder, so despite the countless shots it endured, it didn’t seem any closer to going down.

However, while the hull was clad in metal plates, the greatest weakness of a sailing ship was still the sails. They began to tear and burn from the blasts, and soon enough, the ship stopped moving entirely. It simply bobbed up and down on the waves.

Eventually, one shell managed to open a hole near the bottom of the ship, and it began to take water. Not just warships, but all large vessels were equipped with a pump to expel water from inside, but these naturally depended on manpower. An unmanned ship had no one to man the pumps.

As the ship went down, slowly capsizing toward its flooding port side, Regis observed closely. “The flagship is ship number one... The ones taken out by our supports were ships four and six... The one that immediately moved to assist the flagship was ship five, and... I think the ones holding the line near the port are ships eight and nine.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Warships generally convey orders using flag signals, but a ship that’s always waiting on orders generally won’t be able to respond in time. Plus, there are times when the flags are obscured by all the smoke. That’s why the personality of each individual captain is surprisingly important.”

“You mean, like, their fighting habits?”

“Like what they’ll do. When they sense danger.”

“Were you able to figure something out?”

“I made a mistake just a moment ago in assessing the nature of that ship’s captain, so I think it’s dangerous to jump to conclusions, but I’m starting to see it.” At that, Regis turned to the adjutant standing on the quarterdeck. “Could you mark down the spot?”

“Yes, sir!”

Altina looked as though she once again wanted to ask something.

“...Uh, weren’t you present at the strategy meeting?” Regis asked, bemused.

“Well, when you’re talking to the navy people, you use all sorts of complicated words that I’ve never heard before.”

“...If there’s something that you don’t understand, just ask and I’ll gladly explain.”

“That’s way too embarrassing! They’ll laugh at me, you know. ‘How can you possibly be the commander when you don’t even know what that word means?’ That’s what they’ll say.”

“I see... In that case, there’s a good book that I’d recommend. It’s called A Sailor’s Essentials, written by a very famous admiral a hundred years ago. It explains all the relevant jargon, as well as basic tactics. I’m sure you’ll find it useful.”

“Hm... How thick is it?”

“Thick? Um, I’d say... around here.”

Regis rarely paid any mind to the number of pages in a book, so he had to think for a moment before he could make an approximate gesture with his fingers.

All of a sudden, Altina’s face lit up. “That looks doable for me.”

“Yeah, the individual volumes are pretty thin.”

“Eh... How many are there?”

“I think reading up to volume five should be enough to understand the basics. The passages I really took a liking to were around volume eight, though. The phrases used are a bit old-school, but it was a lot easier than working through books in High Britannian and Hispanian with a dictionary in the other hand. There aren’t many proper books about the navy, you know, so it’s a very valuable resource. I read it back in the military library so I don’t have a copy on me, but I think you should be able to order the complete set.”

“Yes, uh... Right. I’ll get on that. Someday soon, for sure...”

When it came to horseback riding and swordplay, Altina would immediately and vigorously dedicate herself to training, be it day or night. Yet when reading or studying was involved, she would oftentimes put it off as long as possible.

Regis merely shrugged again.

“We’ve recorded the location of the wreckage,” the adjutant said as he walked down from the quarterdeck.

“All right... It should be okay to sail to the third rendezvous point now; they won’t chase us if we’re this far away. And, putting that aside... could we leave around half of our smaller ships to keep up reconnaissance around the bay? I don’t care if they flee the moment things turn sour, but they are to continue their surveillance until we begin the offensive tomorrow. I want to know as much as I can about the enemy ships’ movements.”

“Understood.” The adjutant gave a salute, then introduced himself once again. “I am Admiral Bertram’s First Mate, Third-Grade Combat Officer Sparke. I’ll be at your service for a while, Admiral Proxy Aurick.”

“Err... The princess is the commander of the western front.”

“I am aware. However, as admiral proxy, you hold the right to exercise command over the fleet.”

Altina nodded deeply. “Yep, that’s right! I accept Regis as admiral proxy! And I do have appointive power, don’t I?”

“Erk...”

While she absolutely detested studying, the princess remembered everything that Regis said in great detail. Her memory was so good, in fact, that Regis’s own words would occasionally come back to bite him.

Admiral proxy. I can understand taking temporary control during an emergency, but am I supposed to continue taking command after this? Even though I’m a complete greenhorn at naval battles? Regis could remember a few plans from the books he’d read, but he had nothing but anxieties about taking command in a real battle.

“Yeah... I’m not sure I should say this, but... the plan we’re going to carry out is really quite dangerous. I’m sure we’ll have to make sacrifices, but—”

“Admiral Bertram entrusted command to you. Act with confidence.”

“Confidence, eh...? That’s quite a tall order,” Regis replied, letting out a sigh for the umpteenth time.

At that, the man filling in for the captain of the Frantam spoke up. “I apologize for interrupting, sir! There has been a proposal to change the flagship to the Brouillard.”

“Are we that badly damaged...?”

“The shot has caused the Frantam’s deck to warp, and opened holes in the cabin, stern, and broadside.”

“...I see. You are responsible for this ship, and I respect your decision.”

“Thank you, sir.” The man saluted, then ran to a messenger. So too did the adjutant, who had to pass this order on to the smaller ships.

Altina turned her eyes to another ship of the line approaching them. “Are we going to board that one next?”

“That’s right. Once we’ve switched over, we’ll have to start preparing for the next plan. I can’t say I’m all that confident, but... I’ll do what I can.”

“We’re going to take out the enemy, right!?”

“Wrong.”

“...Huh?”

“We can’t keep moving around in an inferior ship forever. We need to get our hands on an equally capable fighting force, and fast.”

“You mean we’re making a steam ship?”

“We wouldn’t have the time. In its current state, it would take the Empire maybe fifty years to build a steam ship. But the solution is simple—we just have to borrow one from the enemy, right?”

“Eh!? You think they’ll lend us one?”

“...I don’t know about that.”

As its damaged sails prevented the Frantam from picking up speed, everyone on board was quickly transferred onto the Brouillard, the fourth vessel of the fleet.

Admiral Bertram was still unconscious, asleep on his bed in his quarters. The rest was up to the medic. All Regis could do was endeavor to give a good report when the admiral opened his eyes—to retake Port Ciennbourg, stop the High Britannian invasion, and defend Belgaria.

Altina glanced toward the east. They weren’t so far from the coast, and rather than the sea, it was Belgaria’s beaches and cliffs that lined the horizon.

“...Do you think Latrielle is all right?”

“The general isn’t going to lose that easily. Though High Britannia’s Oswald is a formidable foe.”

“That commander... He’s a little scary. But that’s not all. It might be strange for me to say this, but... it’s like a light going out on a night road, this sort of...”

“The Empire is at war. It would be strange if you didn’t feel anxious.”

“Is that... how it works?” As she found herself caught up in a wave of new emotions, Altina’s words became few and far between.

“...No one knows what the future holds.”

“Not even you, Regis?”

“...All I know is what I’ve read in books. Nothing more.”