Close to Castle Artois, Bretonia
Leon Curvier had enough shots of serfs who were so gaunt that they could double as undead with a little makeup. He had two videos of overseers who casually whipped and he had a video of a cart drawn through the camp that held several dead bodies.
He had used a rain shower that reduced the visibility to a hundred meters to change position. His new tree allowed him to see a portion of the camp so far occluded by some huts. When the sun broke through the clouds again it illuminated a small plaza in the camps middle. Pride of the place was taken by several pillories and most of them were in use. When the branch on which he was settled sufficiently he could switch to a higher zoom. That allowed him to see the stock`s victims more clearly and he blanched when he saw that several of them were occupied by children.
One of the stocks was different, mounted higher up and had a contraption below it that he could not place. He was about to leave his position when a group of serfs was led through the camp. Their tools stated they had come back from some fields. The way they walked made it more than clear that they were utterly exhausted. They were brought before the pillories and had to watch those trapped in them.
Leon`s breath caught when he saw that another child was brought before the so-far empty pillory. The serf`s begging was loud enough to be heard at his place, the shouts of their wardens barely carried as far. Curvier learned what the stocks were for and filmed it. The video he took was stored in a SD-card, the picture was seared into his soul at the same time.
Five Kilometers from Courvier
He had lost the track twice and only hours of systematic searching would give more clues on the the passage of someone. Now he had found a place that might or might not be the remains of a camp. Hugo had spotted it and if it were not for his fear of failure might have ignored the few signs that were there. Instead he had pointed the few hints out, Robert had so far never punished him for being too eager to report.
At first Robert was in a mood to dismiss it, this could have been nothing. There were fir needles slightly depressed at one place, a few twigs might or might not be disturbed. It could have been a few boar resting or something else. Until he realized that a boar would leave tracks and here were none. He looked again and eyes and a mind improved by the Grail found that some needle patterns were different from the rest. Whoever had rested here had used something to erase his tracks. He went down to his arms and knees and started to crawl all over the place while his crew did their best not to look at him.
The first thing he found were three small depressions in the ground, probably the place where a tripod had been erected. There should have been ashes below that, why erect a tripod when you did not want to cook. Yet there was nothing. He made an effort to clear his mind of a mystery that would not help his cause. His crawling brought him to the periphery of the maybe-camp and it was his nose that provided the first hint. He followed that scent where it took him, in this case under the branches of a bush that had so far concealed some slightly disturbed dirt.
His hands and a small hatchet allowed him to move the little soil away that lightly rested on what was buried below. His nose had already told him about the urine soaked soil and the excrement. His fingers found the plastic foil that the Germans used to wrap all manners of perishable things.
German products meant that the Rebels were here somewhere. A hiss escaped his mouth and all his willpower was needed to keep him from a louder expression of his hate.
Five Kilometers from Robert
Leon made it from his tree to the ground when darkness started to shroud the land. He was eagerly awaited by his team.
"How did it go, patron?"
"Too well Claude."
"Merde. So we can go?"
"Yes, we should be going, at least as long as the light lasts."
"I`ll lead the way then. Here."
"Merci."
The rifle placed in Leon`s hand was ugly, close to unbreakable and had the marks of history all over it. It had been made as a MAS-36 shortly before the Second World War. A bolt-action rifle with 5 rounds newly made when most other countries debated self-loading it replaced the very first rifles made for smokeless powder.
There were more than the usual french markings on the rifle as it had obviously been in German service. It had ended up with some "Volkssturm" militia in Germany atb the end of the war and had then rested in some barn ever since. Now it had made its way into the hands of the Rebels. It was unfortunately made for the French 7.5 mm ammunition that was very rare. There were barely more than a few hundred rounds in this world and a sizable faction of that was in Leon`s pocket, that would have to suffice. He had brought another weapon of his own, it was currently with Jacques who had shown some aptitude for it.
They made their way along a path the poachers had scouted before as long as there was any light to do so. They made their camp in a spot protected by an overhang and did apply a bit of additional camouflage. The four former poachers that accompanied Leon still marveled at the gear they had been given. Sleeping sacks that were so light and still warm, the strange cooker that was barely larger than a can and that burned twigs so cleanly. None of them would compare with the spices and the powdered stuff that turned into drinks when some water was added. They might be on a mission to support a madman, but they lived as kings. What could possibly go wrong?
Galleon Glorie, Bay of Soreil
Luc de Lambert, 1st Duc de Lànguile, Rear Admiral of the fleet was not even aware that his body confirmed to the ships movement and made sure that he traversed his cabin without mishap. He donned his hat after he made through then hatch, the feather on it would not allow his passage unhindered. He made sure that he closed the hatch sufficiently loud to be noticed and took his time to scale the ladder to the quarterdeck. It allowed the watch-standers to straighten up a bit.
Morale on board was bad enough as it was, there was no need to make it worse by flogging some idiot who slacked off the little bit the coxswains would allow. A bright morning sun shone on a fleet with a miserable mission. De Lambert felt it like everybody else on the 64-gun ship. Keeping station in these waters was never easy, especially when the Rebels doused the beacons and removed the buoys. That something had sunken several ships in Duke de Vaubain`s fleet a few weeks ago did not help any.
The ships must have been sunken by some sort of sneak attack, the harbor before Luc held nothing that could endanger ships of the line. The fact that the survivors had not seen anything prior to the explosions that sunk the predecessors made it more frightening. He took his fleet out into open waters whenever darkness fell, it did not much to reduce his unease. And to top it all off there was nearly zero chance of prize money. He could use the money very well and so would his officers. It was just that there would be none forthcoming and that mixed frustration with an unseen threat.
"Attention on deck, Captain in attendance."
"As you were gentlemen, as you were."
Luc de Lambert mustered his surroundings with the eye of an experienced sailor. The sun was out and promised a bright day later on. This early in the morning there was a wind towards land as usual, that would reverse later on. Best to use it to get back to station now. His telescope revealed the other ships in his squadron with greater detail, even when it painted rainbow colors around them.
Two more galleons followed "Glorie", another two were in the van. All of them in reasonable shape, they had not been at sea long enough to weather too much. There were three Bucaneers out there too, but he could only see one. They were his eyes and would be visible only rarely. All in the currently had 250 cannon under his command, a sizable portion of what the Kingdom had in total. The cannon were behind wooden walls more than a foot thick, something that separated them from lesser ships and made them very hard to sink. You either shot these Galleons into very many small pieces which took some doing or you boarded them. The latter was quite a challenge as they had crews in the hundreds and high sides.
De Lambert should have felt quite confident if it was not for the sinking of very similar galleons in the very same waters before.
"Attention on deck, ship coming from the inner bay."
"Lookout what kind of ship?"
"Strange one Sir, looks like somebody put a barn on a ships hull. And it has no sails and no rudders. And she is coming here."
"Liberte", Casematte warship, Soreil bay
Maurice Emeriau had, to this very day, not commanded any bigger warship than a sloop used for customs-and -excise duties. He had thought about declining when he had been offered "Liberte`s" command and only thought better of it when all alternatives were worse. It was a good thing that he had not known his crew then because then he would not have thought about declining, he would have done it in cool second.
There were former serfs who were unable to learn droit from gauche when the drill master ordered march. There were the street toughs who would not give a flying fart for the revolution if the blockaded harbor would not stop their business dead. There were a few French who had never fired a shot in anger and more than a few sailors who regarded this ship as magic.
Until a few weeks ago the hull of the ship had been considerably higher and belonged to the Galleon "Pavaron" which had not completely sunken. His armor looked like so many rods and he had been told it had been part of a railroad one, whatever that was. The engines below made an unholy racket while they pushed the ship forward at a sloth`s speed.
He was not on a spacious quarterdeck, having a good view of his crew but in a tiny armored cubbyhole with the helmsman, two midshipmen and tubes that somehow connected his voice though the ship.
He did not have two full decks of guns, he had ten of them and they had belonged to the enemy only a few weeks before. Oh, this Pierre Laval had said things like "rebored" and "heat-shrunk reinforcements" and more he had not understood. Finally he had told Maurice what he was going to fire from these guns and he had shuddered. This Laval did look normal, not like an ax-murderer, didn`t he?
And then things came together better than he thought. The ship accelerated like a sloth, that was true, but it accelerated for a long time and before long he had reached a speed exceeding what a galleon could achieve. The helmsman went into a number of lazy turns to confirm handling and all stations reported they were ready. Emeriau stepped towards the starboard window and had a last look at the galleons who sailed so proudly. The diesel engines had their own roar but he believed to hear the drums that called the crews on them to action. He was about to find out how much magic this Pierre Laval could really bring about.
"Francois, call the crew to action stations. We`ll approach their line from aft and go on a parallel course."
"Aye Aye Sir."
"Don´t Sir me, I work for a living."
"Glorie", Bay of Soreil
Luc de Lambert had spent nearly 20 years at sea and never ever had he seen such a ship, if that was what it was. He had seen Imperial, Estelian and Tilean ships. He had once been in a duel with a Druchii raider fleet and had seen half of the German navy when he had brought his ship to Kiel.
Nothing looked like that, not even remotely. The ship was nearly featureless, showing only the lines of a ship cut down and something like a barn or tent made from iron on top of it. It had no visible means of propulsion but still kept pace easily. The strange ship had taken a parallel course 800 meters from his fleet and was now closing in. He would be in range pretty soon.
"Captain du Raccord, set signals for "open fire" and shoot this thing at your convenience."
"Yes Sir."
All along "Glorie`s" starboard side hatchets opened and among lots of shouting and cheering the cannons were brought forward. He felt the vibration in his feet and sensed the changed balance of his ship.
The salvo was a bit more ragged then he would have liked as it was shot when the waves had lifted the starboard side up. A series of explosions hammered at his ear and the stink of black powder attacked his nose. Yellow muzzle flame briefly made shadows where none had been bore.
The roundshot splashed all over the enemy ship, mostly in the water between them because of the long range. Some of the rounds actually skipped along the water like a stone and two of these actually hit. There was no effect and de Lambert expected none. Ships absorbed such hit by the dozen. They would kill the crew inside the hull, they would smash supports and make fighting harder. Normally the enemy would do the same to him and it came down to who had trained his crew harder so they would absorb the losses and still function as a crew.
The next salvo was about the same and then, for the first time, the enemy deigned to do something by himself. Hatches opened and revealed a few gun barrels just like the many that targeted the ship. What was that, five or six barrel? If the strange ship did not have explosive ammunition he would never be able to do appreciable damage.
"Liberte"
The ship rang like a bell around Maurice when the next salvo connected. There was a shudder, a vibration and nothing.
"Francois, have Lt. Estes open fire when he feels like it will ya."
"Aye."
The cannon made quite a racket inside the warship and filled the inside with acrimonious smoke. Most of the cannonballs dropped into the waters, only two found their target and disappeared inside the wooden hull that towered over "Liberte." And then nothing happened. "Liberte" had not received any explosive ammo, so it was not expected this time.
When the hatches closed they left the gundeck in the reddish twilight associated with hell. The guns had recoiled on wooden sleds as far as their construction had allowed them. They had been caught by a ratchet at the highest point of their travel and now their crews loaded them from their muzzles. Long tampions, heads full of water were inserted into the waiting barrels,causing an evil hiss and some steam to emerge. Next came the powder bag followed by a cotton wad. Two men held the next round in a huge pliers between them and looked more than happy when they were finally inserted into the muzzle. They made their way back to the center of the small gun deck.
When the hatches opened again the din of the battle increased tenfold and several hits to the armor to the sides send splinters of red hot iron around. No matter how much the guncrews looked, they could not yet see if what they did was successful. So far, there were the proud ships under sails, like a mobile mountain range with snow-covered tips. The next salvo went out from their guns, It seemed so inconsequential when compared to the seemingly continuous salvos that reached for them, that tried to smash their improvised armor and find its chinks.
Once more the guns were serviced, powder and projectiles loaded and the shots went out when all was done. There was again few result even if a rating swore he had seen something. Again sweating crews serviced the few guns. The ammunition carriers went again to the furnace which roared with the fury of a gas-powered kiln. From its mouth emerged the round cannonballs that were their charges. They glowed an even orange color that indicated how very hot they were. The deck on which they moved was lined with metal and fire retardant materials in case one of them dropped one. Their brought the handles before the gun`s muzzle and released when two others pushed it in.
When the hatches opened again their allowed a view at a seafarers hell. The Galleon before them, the one that had been seemingly untouched before had started to burn in two places. Its crew seemed mostly occupied with dousing the flames than fighting. The next salvo made sure they had no choice, leaving them inside a sailor`s nightmare, a fire at sea on a ship with copious amount of black powder.
"Liberte" accelerated briefly and was beside the next ship in line when a huge explosion behind them gave voice to their fears. Maurice`s ship managed to sink another Galleon and once beached itself to escape destruction before the rest of the sblocading squadron broke for the open sea.
Liberte`s crew cheered them onwards in their retreat, they could hardly do more given that one of their two diesels had just broken down.
Jegukian War-Junk "Bhag Nang", Far Ocean
Phan Tamruat Ang hopped onto the deck of his ship with the ease of a much younger man, while his men were lifting the pinnace off the water. The fifty years old captain, his face weathered in a rather attractive way, was tall for someone from the Khoreshian peninsular and one of Jeguk´s most famed living commanders.
A slight smile played over his features as he turned to his XO.
"Tabo, aim the rocket battery 1 near the bow of the lead Nipponese merchant and send them a last warning. We will gather the sea toll tribute from them."
"As you wish, Phan!" Bhag Nang´s executive officer turned to the aide, spoke quickly to him and soon the crewman was on his way towards the bow section. Then Tabo turned to his captain again, awaiting further orders.
He was loyal to his commander, but you had to be blind and deaf in the Jegukian Navy to not recognise the rift between the "doves" and "hawks".
After the Germans easily repelled any attempt to gather the sea toll tribute from them and the newcomers made it clear what they thought about the toll being cashed in from nations they considered friends, there was a lot of heated discussion in the admiralty and government of Jeguk.
Friendships and alliances were strained during it, since taking the tribute from other seafarers was a longtime part of Jegukian sea power. The discussions took quite some time and to the joy of commanders like Kim, Ang and other hawks it soon becme apparent that the situation had not changed as much as feared. For example the Nipponese had too much pride to run to the Germans for help. Likewise the Cathayians would sooner bite their tongues off than admit that they had no solution for the situation.
Finally, the government made the gathering of the sea toll tribute a "Commander´s option". It boiled down to "look out if the Germans or Imperials are near, if not cash in the toll." Some captains like Bak were less than pleased and warned that Jeguk had been given a reprive one should use. Jeguk had a lot of stuff the Imperials and Germans had uses for, in the long run this would be more profitable than the tribute.
Phan Tamruat Ang was happy that that Captain Bak´s flottilla was with him this day, he would show the "dove" how Jeguk still was the major seapower of Khoresh. Six Nipponese merchants, with just enough armaments against pirates not a Navy, had run into them. Captain Ang knew that the last German-Imperial trade convoy left Jeguk 9 days before. By now they would be well on their way around the Southlands, definitely not interfering here.
Ang saw the first bow launcher turn towards the Nipponese with pride. While a lot of interesting goods from Germany were off limits, the Jegukian engineers had enhanced their launchers with what was buyable quite nicely. The launchers were plated with metal, giving them more durability and a better start for the rockets. And this was just one enhancement among others.
The Jegukian rockets were a quite interesting concoction of tech. They resembled the Earth-Mongolian rockets and launchers of centuries past, in that they were warhead tipped, black powder fueled unguided rockets in battery launchers. But the Jegukians had added compressed and slightly stabilised black powder for a better burn, their exhaust opening resembled the Cosgreve rockets and they had rudimentary stabilising fins.
By modern standards the range and especially their accuracy were atrocious, but for a long time in their corner of the Warhammer world the Jegukian rockets were a weapon you seriously had to reckon with.
Another bonus point of the Jegukian rockets was that starting them in numbers let the ships vanish behind a cloud of smoke.
"Fire the upper rocket row!"
Six rockets left the launcher, racing towards the Nipponese ships. The rockets exploded off the bow of the lead ship quite spectacular.
"Well, signal the 'Nippos' to comply with our requests, otherwise we enforce it in a way they will not like!"
