The broken waves of the Hadarian sea crashed against the reinforced hulls of 8 Warships as the Wing Admiral Edrick Black skimmed through the ocean on its way to the planned location of the Latimer battle. Prior to the assault, it had been planned between the two Navy experts that Edrick and his flotilla would serve as roving reinforcements to prevent any additional reinforcements from striking Latimer’s forces from behind when it arrived at the Island of Driskaan. However, it was quickly apparent to everyone aboard ‘The Scorpion’, Khayri El-Amin’s personal warship, that something felt amiss. Edrick removed a spyglass from his uniform, one not all too dissimilar to the one owned by the former Division Admiral Christopher Black, and was alerted to half a dozen enemy sails beelining straight for them. Edrick tucked the spyglass back away, waving over his officers and ordered them to begin organising the surrounding warships into a defensive position. Nervousness set in and the Wing Admiral could feel it permeating his core. He couldn’t afford to lose another battle, now when the War was taking such a drastic turn and Sendrassians were storming the theatre in their tens of thousands. Jamat Diawara organised his warship alongside the State sent Warships, taking the lead to attempt to bait the Sendrassian six warships to engage. This plan worked, and two of the Sendrassian ships saw a window of opportunity and overextended. Jamat grabbed for the helm of the ship, performing a risky sharp turn that nearly had it crash into a nearby jutting rock face. The crew ran to the cannons, opening fire and blasting through both of the Sendrassian warships with ease and causing massive amounts of damage. One of the enemy ships sank in a matter of minutes while the other turned back around to retreat. Seeing this opportunity, Edrick organised the entire Black flotilla into a line of battle and pushed through into the breach. Margarethe Black oversaw the formation, ensuring that not a single battleship was out of place and the Regalian ships unloaded volley after volley of cannon fire onto the Sendrassian enemies, absolutely devastating the ambushing attackers. By the end of the hour-long naval battle, Black had all of his ships still intact and the Sendrassians had lost two of theirs, marking his first notable victory in the entire conflict. Meanwhile, Field General Pellegrino di Caitagna lands on the island of Rikizz with an army of 25,000 soldiers at his disposal with the singular objective of holding the Island and ensuring that encroaching Sendrassian allar from Dregux do not manage to take it. The soldiers are given a brief pep talk by the Field General himself, igniting their spirits and raising their morale as they trudged through the muck and the jungle foliage to get to the centre of the Island to make up a shabby camp with little fortification. William Arnyn joins Pellegrino di Caitagna on the front and Pellegrino orders Arnyn to take flight to keep watch for approaching warships. This might have been an incredibly difficult and daunting task for Arnyn, as the weather was stormy and horrid and, just as he was about to do so, lightning struck one of the nearby camp tents and ignited it. The two decided that perhaps it was not best to use William for scouting purposes (As this is not permitted with his progression ability) because being struck by lightning would be a terrible way to end the Wintertide festivities. Nevertheless, Pellegrino manages to adequately occupy the Island for the time being, albeit with very few officers in his personal cabinet, scouts, medics, tacticians and notable Regalian heroes. The great seas carried Admiral Solisti’s ships across the rolling waves between the islands of Dregux and Zilat. Strong winds favored the Regalian fleet, filling the sails with speed as they pursued the Sendrassians. The admiral oversaw a vast forest of tall masts, belonging to some thirty-eight ships all together. Proud, sturdy weapons of the Empire’s might that were well equipped by captains like Marissa Morgann at the helm. Humming high above them in the skies were two airships, state of the art juggernauts of mortal ingeniuty, scouting out the seas ahead of the Solisti fleet from behind the cover of clouds. Their target was a fleet of some twenty Sendrassian warships that had been spotted in these waters. The admiral was no stranger to Sendrassian naval tactics at this point in the war, having prepared for every trick that they’ve thrown at the Regalians so far. With this renewed confidence in their strength they voyaged past the comforting sight of land and into the open ocean. It had been some time merely sailing and preparing by the time that action arrived. A look-out from the Crow’s nest had his spyglass up to the airships after having heard a horn blare thrice from the sky. Nautical flags were hoisted out behind the flying machine, held steady with a pair of hammers fastened to the end of the line. “Admiral!” He called out, “Sir Kreiburg, sir! Enemies, four nautical miles, southwest! Fast approaching! Five.. Ten.. Twenty ships, sir!”. The report was heard loud and clear, the admiral wasted no time to engage. The sails were rigged and the cannons were powdered, loaded and the priming fuses were lit. The fleet is in sight, and so the gunports opened. The decks grew quiet as they entered the uncomfortable phase of the battle where there was nothing to do but wait. Nobody knew who would be going home for Wintertide or who would be screaming under the medic’s tools after this is all done. And then it broke. “Range!”, an officer shouted from the Admiral’s side. Soon the infamous imperial symphony would begin to play as every man and woman on the ships hollered between eachother, guns firing off into the enemy lines and returning shots came back to splinter both wood and bone alike. Maxence Kreiburg heard the battle down below from his airship high above, the thunder of cannons, the clashing of steel and the horrible screeching of the perfidious flying serpents. The winged devils were fended off rather successfully by the arrowfire led by Commander Osira Lae’rinsyr, plucking them out of the air before most of them could even reach the ships. While they had enjoyed slicing up a good hundred Regalian sailors they were eventually scared off into a possible retreat, however it was the loud rumbling of airships that had caught their attention. The survivors flew up to face their fellow flying beasts, disappearing from the battle and allowing the arrows to be sent with kind regards to the torsos of Sendrassian guncrews instead. The situation was not as convenient for Kreiburg, for he and his men were facing a formidable foe. The swivel guns worked overtime along the deck, shooting serpents out of the air with lucky shots and their more vicious cousin the grapeshots. Loud explosions were heard from the other ship as it fell to severe damages, gently floating down to the sea while it burnt to a crisp, with not a single survivor to be found in the wreckage. The same fate might soon fall on Kreiburg’s as well, as an engine was destroyed by a pack of serpents, all dying in the ensuing explosion. Maxence watched as the last one became the next target, swarmed by devilish creatures hellbent on taking down yet another stupendously expensive piece of technology. Perhaps it was a bout of courage or a concern for his pension, but whatever it was it sent him charging at them with his trusty rapier. As their numbers dwindled it’d seem that he had gotten all of them, when out of nowhere his thrusting hand was grabbed down below, yanking him off the airship with a fury. The two dove together towards the sea, the mighty airship that was once his drifting off to Zilat, a trail of smoke following after it with any unfortunate survivors on it having no way of stopping it. The serpent glided along the waves with Maxence in tow, holding him under the surface with a victorious screech. Life was leaving the man until they both reached a sudden stop. By stroke of luck they had crashed into Marissa Morgann’s ship, who would order the immediate rescue of Kreiburg whilst in the midst of picking off Sendrassian stragglers and licking their own wounds. Tuija Viduggla had Kreiburg and the other survivors onboard looked over with careful eyes and quick hands. Serious lacerations were found all over the poor man’s back, a sight described as sickening as the back of a runaway Etosian slave’s. Despite this he was in a manageable situation, and due to his birth he bypassed a triage that might’ve extended his pain and bloodloss. It was twelve past three, the sun was still high and Admiral Valentino declared a victory over the Sendrassians. Thirteen sendrassian ships became future reefs, joined by six Regalian ships. One thousand and two hundred imperial sailors lost their lives today, but thanks to the efforts of Tuija Viduggla and the marksmanship of Osira’s archers it is believed that six hundred men were saved. It was a victory, that much is true, but the admiral knew too well when he saw those airships go down that his victory might just be the most expensive battle in recent Regalian history. Merry Wintertide, Lord Chancellor Bancroft.
