Chapter 271
Chapter 271
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 271
Chapter Title: Griffino Naval Battle (9)
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When the Reich Empire's main fleet of 23 ships deployed in a semicircular formation, the soldiers and officers of the Grand Duchy of Warsaw responded with sneers, contempt, and mockery.
Even if the formation Peter Jaeger was unveiling for the first time was utterly alien to this world, it was downright idiotic to mock the enemy so carelessly.
To them, naval combat meant ramming the enemy's broadside with a bronze prow to sink their ships or forcing a boarding melee. Yet here was the Reich fleet stupidly exposing its weakest side right from the start.
With their fleet already outnumbering the enemy by nearly six to one, Peter Jaeger's handful of ships brazenly anchoring and baring their flanks looked like nothing short of madness.
"Fuck, Platoon Leader. Is what I'm seeing with my own eyes actually real?"
"Hey now, Corporal Yakob. Mocking the enemy in the middle of battle is a court-martial offense! Haha."
"May God bless the Grand Duchy of Warsaw! Long live Warsaw! Long live His Grace the Grand Duke!"
However, Commander Timo, the man in charge of their fleet, did not join his subordinates in ridiculing Peter Jaeger. Instead, he heightened his vigilance.
He tightened his grip even further because, from reviewing Peter Jaeger's records up to now, the man had always pulled off unexpected tactics that no one saw coming, snatching victory every time.
And because Timo himself had survived countless crises and desperate situations on the climb to this point by never once letting his guard down, no matter the circumstances.
'Mocking Peter Jaeger can wait until I've got that bastard's head on a pike and march triumphantly back home.'
Timo drew his sword from its sheath, swinging it like a baton as he bellowed.
"Our foe is none other than Peter Jaeger of the Reich Empire! Any man who slacks off or laughs will have his head regardless of rank, by court-martial! Save your jeers and taunts until after you've cut the bastard down or taken him prisoner!"
The fleet commander's order spread swiftly through the Warsaw ranks, flipping their mood on its head in an instant.
Just moments ago, they'd been so amused by the puny Reich force charging in with so few ships that complacency had set in naturally. Now, they bristled with the ferocity to crush even a single ant underfoot with utmost care.
"All ships, row at maximum speed! Full advance!"
The Warsaw fleet of 115 vessels surged toward the Reich formation as fast as they could. The Reich sailors began to panic as the overwhelming enemy armada closed in.
"Those bastards have a filthy lot of ships. Can we really win this?"
"I don't know, you prick! If you don't wanna die, get ready to reload the ballista with the next stake!"
"I feel like I'm gonna die... It's scary... Anyone muttering 'fuck, this ain't right' gets personally tossed overboard by this sergeant and drowned for sure! Die and go to heaven, and you won't fear death anymore—how great is that?"
Peter Jaeger eyed the approaching enemy fleet, mentally gauging the distance between friend and foe.
It was the lookout's job originally, but as commander, he had to do it himself to nail the perfect moment to strike.
Meanwhile, the staff officers couldn't fathom their commander's icy—no, serene—composure as he stared down the enemy without a word.
'Commanding just 40 ships against a force nearly three times larger, he'd be justified giving a morale-boosting speech or barking fitting orders left and right.'
As Jaeger's silence dragged on, the staff aboard the flagship grew more tense than the rank-and-file soldiers. Finally, Peter Jaeger spoke.
"Trapping the enemy inside our semicircular envelopment is priority one. Until they close within 50 meters, load the ballistae with stones and target only their oars. Mages, hurl fireballs at their sails. Cripple their mobility completely."
The staff sprang into action at the perfectly timed order.
"By order of Commander Jaeger! Mages burn their sails with fireballs until they're within 50 meters. Siege ballistae, load stones and smash their oars!"
"The order is to lame those Warsaw fuckers! Turn 'em into cripples who can't even walk on water!"
"Long live His Imperial Majesty the Emperor! Destroy the oars and sails they're paddling so desperately!"
At the command, Reich naval troops swung into gear: mages zeroed in on sails, ballistae angled to wreck as many oars as possible.
Officers and soldiers on deck pitched in indiscriminately to help reload the ballistae.
"Until they hit 50 meters, attack exactly as I said. Don't wait for the next fire order—keep shooting nonstop."
At Peter Jaeger's fire command, siege ballistae and mages unleashed on the enemy sails and oars—their ship's legs.
Stones from the ballistae smashed oars with sickening crunches, while fireballs ignited oil-soaked sails.
This slowed the Warsaw fleet, which had been slicing through the water at speed thanks to oars and sails. But Commander Timo paid it little heed.
The lookouts reported their numbers were nearly six times the Reich's. Unless he blundered spectacularly, victory was in the bag.
Even when staff suggested furling sails and relying on oars, he tuned them out.
'We don't even need to sink them with the ram. Just glue ourselves to Peter Jaeger's ships by any means... and we win.'
It was a mindset born of victory lust, overconfidence, a touch of complacency, and the inner belief that he outshone Jaeger and his unorthodox tactics.
"Ahoy! We're the Warsaw Navy!"
"With burning passion and true love for the homeland, charge in line!"
"Prepare for boarding! Small ballistae for cover fire, then charge on my mark!"
Timo's confidence rippled through the Warsaw fleet. Soldiers were already warbling victory songs, drunk on the near-certainty of triumph.
No, given how things had unfolded, the Imperial fleet's defeat was all but sealed.
Blinded by imminent victory, no one cared much about snapped oars or burning sails slowing the vanguard.
When warship speeds dropped from over 15 km/h to under 7 km/h, the flagship lookout rang the bell and bellowed.
"Brace for impact! Brace for impact!! All hands, brace for impact!!"
The call to brace ignited battle fervor across the crew.
"Fuck yeah, time to smash through those Reich pussies' flimsy wall with our thick, sturdy ram?!"
"You prick, you always talk like your ugly mug. That's why no girls stick around."
"Snag Peter Jaeger—no, any bigwig from the Reich—and your life's turned around! Fight like you're already dead!"
The lookout kept ringing, correcting the misunderstanding.
"Watch for rear impact! Rear impact! All hands, hold fast! Incoming collision with our own trailing ships!"
Timo and the crew whipped around. Trailing ships that had matched their initial pace were now way too close.
They scrambled to avoid smashing into allies, but with so many vessels crammed in such tight space, it was futile.
A maritime pileup was inevitable as day.
"Helmsman, sheer off at an angle! Do whatever it takes not to take a ram head-on from our own! Soldiers, all hands to the bow—grab the rails!"
Timo, seeing evasion impossible, shifted to minimizing damage.
This let vanguard Warsaw ships slowed by damage barely dodge sinking or critical hits from friendly rams.
They avoided major losses, but the collision chaos tangled the fleet into a disorganized mess, shattering their formation.
Still, they clawed toward the Reich ships—until Peter Jaeger's next order rang out.
"Mages, ballistae, infantry—all fire on those damned bastards! Don't miss a single one! And haul out the pikes and polearms stowed in the cabins! Whoever kills more and holds out a second longer wins!"
Even as he issued it, Jaeger stood firm at the vanguard.
From here until the fire ships arrived to roast the Warsaws, it'd devolve into a dogfight—a muddy brawl rivaling the Lichten Hills slaughter.