Chapter 434 — Closing In

On the night-shrouded Whitewater River, two large vessels—thoroughly rebuilt and looking utterly bizarre—were threading through the rolling waves at a speed and agility wholly unbecoming of their size.

These were two great ships that still faintly retained the silhouette of riverine sailing warships, yet roughly a third of their original wooden hulls was now sheathed in metal plating for reinforcement and magical conduction. The sails that had once driven them were gone; mounted on the bases that had held the masts were massive, sturdy metal frames extending upward and outward to either side in straight, wing-like structures. The magical runes along these "wings" glimmered faintly in the night, answering the glow of the magic-crystal lamps scattered across the hulls. Apart from those conspicuous "wings"—known as the "arcane array"—the most striking features of the two ships were the two enormous arcane devices mounted on their decks.

In basic outline they resembled oversized magic-crystal rail cannons, but the "barrels" were not straight parallel metal rails; instead, three alloy "beams" with elegant curvature were arranged in a triangular formation when viewed head-on. The inner faces of the alloy beams were covered in magic patterns, and a slender, transparent length of artificial crystal was locked by some mechanical mechanism at the center of the three beams. At the rear half of the alloy beams, somewhat crude yet solid and reliable steel mechanisms joined the entire "barrel" to its base.

The dimensions of this apparatus were more than twice those of the first-generation magic-crystal rail cannon. Though by the ordinary laws of technological development, once the technology matured there would surely be room for structural refinement and size reduction, judging purely by the bulk of its birth, this was certainly a device of formidable power.

The power spines extending from beneath the deck, covered in magic patterns, the arcane-net runes visible all across the deck, and the amplifier banks exposed at the rear of the weapon mounts—all of it proclaimed the thing's "power."

Carrying such a heavy set of "modifications," the two ships—originally mere wooden river warships—should by rights have grown sluggish, yet they moved through the water with extraordinary speed. And this was a night with clouds veiling the starlight; ships of this era had scarcely any habit of "night sailing," and no other vessels could be seen on the Whitewater. Across the broad, clear river, the two warships raced at a speed that would have left any captain of this age gaping in disbelief.

All because the waves of the Whitewater were "pushing" the two ships forward.

The two warships sailed one behind the other. The normally calm, still Whitewater had, for these two vessels alone, stirred up waves—waves that did not rock the ships in the slightest but instead pushed them gliding swiftly and steadily along. And upon the water between those waves, an elegant figure, almost dreamlike, darted and rose nimbly amid foam and spray.

It was a girl with a beautiful fish tail. She wove through the water, her body leaping from the surface again and again, dancing with the spray around her. Her tail beat the foam in rhythm with the waves beside her; she was like a sprite of the water, a nymph of the river from legend, at play with the whole of the Whitewater.

Byron stepped out of the cabin, breathing the fresh, cool air over the Whitewater. He caught sight of Tyr weaving through the waves and could not help murmuring, "She looks a good deal more spirited when she's swimming."

Footsteps approached from the side, and Gao Song's voice sounded behind Byron: "That's because she slept a full two days and two nights before this. If she hadn't woken up, I'd really have started to suspect this fish had died in the pool."

Byron turned and saw the lord, dressed in everyday clothes, also watching Tyr's figure in the river.

He saluted Gao Yang: "My lord."

Gao Yang waved a hand and asked casually, "How are things on Philip's side?"

Byron shook his head. "Boulder Fortress sent a squad of transcendents to raid the temporary camp, but the 'surprise attack plans' those nobles can concoct are truly naïve and laughable. Apart from losing men before the fighting even starts, I doubt they'll do any damage at all."

Gao Yang was not altogether surprised. "The fact that they can manage a raid at all is progress. If those southern nobles we've bloodied into experience hadn't fled to Boulder Fortress, I expect the orthodox knights inside the fortress couldn't even have conceived of tactics like harassment, raids, and sabotage of a camp."

"Indeed—those nobles have finally learned to fight a war," Byron smacked his lips, then sighed. "Though that Philip is probably in for another bout of brooding—over how 'noble warfare' is gone for good, how knightly spirit crumbles at a single blow, and so on..."

Gao Yang turned his head and glanced at Byron, his tone rather teasing: "You seem to know Philip quite well."

"Ha, six years working together—the lad's talent is the real thing. He became a full knight six years ago; in a couple more years he'll likely reach mid-rank, and in this life he might even have a shot at challenging high-rank..." Here Byron could not help shaking his head. "Pity his head's a bit wooden. He takes all that made-up rubbish in knightly tales and heroic biographies as gospel. I've never met anyone else who, past the age of seventeen, still believes drivel like 'a knight can redeem an evil dragon through faith alone.'"

Gao Yang, himself a legendary hero with a whole pile of heroic biographies written about him, looked a little awkward. "Ahem—heroic biographies aren't necessarily all fabricated..."

"Ah—" Byron instantly looked even more awkward. He scratched his hair with a touch of nervousness and apology, but then, as if recalling something, his expression gradually turned strange, and he wore the look of a man with words stuck in his throat.

Seeing this, Gao Yang caught on at once and forced out flatly: "The ones about eighty-some princesses really are fabricated."

"Ahem, yes, that's certainly as you say..." Byron coughed on the spot, then—before the boss could draw a blade and start chopping (a mercenary's instinct)—stiffly changed the subject. "But speaking of which, why isn't Miss Amber here?"

"She gets seasick. She won't be up and about for a while," Gao Lan said. "She was more excited than anyone when we set out... I really don't know whether she'll have the strength left to carry out missions inside Boulder Fortress once we arrive."

"Miss Amber actually gets seasick?" Byron was a little surprised. "I'd assumed she had no weaknesses when it came to anything involving running away..."

At this Gao Yang sneered inwardly: no weaknesses indeed—how few weaknesses does that shame of all creation have? Everyone knew that "the head of Military Intelligence is afraid of mousetraps"...

At this point Byron put aside his joking manner and asked something he cared about greatly: "My lord, actually, at first I thought you would set out together with Philip. I never expected you to come with my 'second echelon.'"

In most people's eyes—and in fact—it was the First and Second Combat Legions under Philip that constituted the main front and principal force for the assault on Boulder Fortress. The fortress gates might need the "Calibrator" rainbow cannon to pry open, but the troops who would truly storm the fortress and destroy the enemy's effective strength were those led by Philip. Gao Yang seldom campaigned far from home, so everyone assumed he would depart alongside Philip; no one imagined that this patriarch of the Mystic Vein Sect would choose to travel with Byron.