Siege of Sarsen Fortress (1)
The predawn sea was frigid. But the sailors aboard the Dreadnought could scarcely feel the cold. A thick tension that drowned out even the chill pressed down on the cabins.
"...So, we're really going up against mages, right?"
Mages—those monsters who summoned storms with a gesture and blew ships to splinters with a snap of their fingers. Charging at such beasts without a single magic user on our side? No ordinary sailor could picture a path to victory.
"You think we can really beat mages with this?"
Of course, the crew didn't underestimate this ship. During training, they'd seen her in action—a vessel fearless as her name implied, the Dreadnought.
The first time they faced this colossal steel behemoth. When she sounded her heart-shaking horn upon departure. As she crushed the south's savage waves under her overwhelming bulk. They'd felt it anew: this ship was no match for any wooden sailer. She was a monster.
It was just... the sheer presence of those "mages."
Sailor Hans had once witnessed a high-circle mage's demonstration. A bearded sorcerer stomped lightly, and without warning, a frigate exploded. The wreckage vanished entirely, sinking on the spot.
Could this steel monster withstand such an attack? Honestly, Hans wasn't sure.
Yet his reason for volunteering was simple.
"Lord Kyle Leopold must have a plan."
To Hans—and to the sailors who'd followed him—Kyle Leopold was near-divine. Ten years slaving in factories, destined to be cogs forever. What saved them was Lord Kyle's Labor Standards Act.
"Yeah, we owe him our lives."
A fellow sailor beside Hans chimed in. One-armed Alex had been as good as dead in the south before. Labor was plentiful there. A worker who lost an arm to machine failure? Toss him to the streets and hire a replacement.
The rest was predictable. Alex starves from complications, unable to work. His wife and daughter, once fed by his wages, sold to brothels.
The Labor Standards Act had saved his family from that fate. Its industrial accident compensation let him claim enough to live with them.
"I'd die beside him if it came to that."
"Me too."
"Same here."
They gazed at the Dreadnought's cannons—huge guns bigger than houses, suddenly feeling all the more reassuring.
"Morale seems high. Good."
The voices I'd overheard climbing to the bridge were brighter than expected. A relief—low spirits helped no one before battle.
"Though it'll probably be a one-sided beatdown."
No matter how mighty the mage, they were human. Hitting a moving ship at seven kilometers with the naked eye? Impossible.
But we had precision instruments targeting the static fortress. Three mages garrisoned there. Eight guns ready to fire at once.
Mage spells took three minutes to recharge on average. Battleship mains? Thirty seconds.
Simple math: we couldn't lose. Battleships were built to counter coastal forts.
Let 'em get close? You get shelled. That's modern warfare for the clueless.
"Starboard lookout report! Bearing zero-seven-zero, Sarsen Fortress at ten kilometers ahead!"
I grabbed binoculars at the spotter's call. To starboard, Sarsen's coastline emerged. Sheer cliffs with a narrow path atop, sealed by thick walls. A natural stronghold, rightly named.
Narrow pass barring massed troops. Towers designed for concentrated fire. Powerful mages waiting within.
In the "original story," it'd dam the red tide of southern workers...
...but not in this world. I had no intention of following the script.
After all I'd built in the south, watch it fall to skirt-charmed fools? No chance.
"Engine room, flank speed both sides!"
"Flank speed both sides!"
The chief echoed, revving the engines. The fog-shrouded 20,000-ton steel awoke. As power surged, the bridge trembled faintly.
That vibration meshed with pre-battle tension, birthing an eerie silence.
Lucilla broke it.
"Lord Kyle, you're rejecting Sarsen County's negotiation proposal?"
"Yeah."
Battle was battle; talks were talks. Nominal imperials or not, smashing the fort and rolling on required formality. Tomorrow's parley was essential to reaffirm the Sarsen-Lutetia Treaty.
"Is it alright to attack the day before?"
I got why she asked. This romance-fantasy world's diplomacy: negotiate, fail, war.
But that assumed parity. When we held the edge, Earth's subtler arts applied.
"Ever heard of gunboat diplomacy?"
"Gun...boat diplomacy, my lord?"
War is politics by other means. Thus, a tool of statecraft.
"And I'm just using the tool."
Everyone knew Sarsen Count wouldn't dismantle the fort or scrap tolls. The tedious script was obvious: talk, fail, war.
So why not flip it? Shell first, then talk, then "success." Clean and simple.
"That's not diplomacy."
"It's fine. They crossed the line first."
Building a toll fort in the pass? No defense there. If they were reasonable, I wouldn't go extreme.
Gazing at the approaching fortress, I asked,
"Gunnery officer, firing solutions ready?"
"Almost! Thirty seconds to fire!"
Out the window, main turrets trained on target. 305mm beasts eyed prey like predators.
Then, the fort reacted.
"Enemy fortress magic surge! Mages deploying defensive arrays!"
They'd spotted us—a vast blue circle bloomed overhead. Three high-circle mages' work enveloped the fort in a dome. Thirty seconds flat.
Officers' faces stiffened at the scale and speed—
"Firing ready!"
The gunnery officer's shout rang out. All swallowed hard, eyes on the guns.
Could our shells pierce those walls? Could mere mortals best mages?
Doubt flickered in every gaze. I couldn't stiffen too, so I bellowed,
BOOM—! Earth-shaking thunder, black smoke billowing. Muzzle blasts shredded waves, cratering the sea. Recoil slammed the ship.
"Nngh!?"
Even officers reeled despite earplugs.
Yet eyes stayed locked on target.
"Impact in 5, 4, 3, 2... 1!"
Light first—crimson flashes erupting. Flames streaked like lightning, thick smoke roiling. Mage shields meant nothing against that violence.
"Hit confirmed! First salvo on target!"
Before the spotter finished, the array shattered. Blue dome crumbled from above, exposing sleek walls.
Lines flickered skyward, mages scrambling to rebuild—but
"Second salvo loaded!"
No mage outpaces mechanical reloads.
"Fire!"
Instantly, eight guns roared again in unison.