The Narrow Sea, located between Westeros and Essos, has always been filled with huge waves.

The complex and changeable climate makes it a monsoon-prone area, and storms come without warning.

A fleet of forty-two warships and ten transports was sailing through the dark seas, the wind sweeping across the deck with a torrential rain, making a splash.

In fact, for large transport ships of 1,000 tons, such a storm is not a threat, but those small warships of 600 tons are very bumpy in the storm, the bow of the ship is often drowned in huge waves, and the deck is full of flowing seawater.

Another huge wave hit, and several of the crew were washed away, quite embarrassed, but Sir Lucas Dayne, although wet from the sea, stood with his feet as if he were nailed to the deck.

Don't look at Sir Lucas's calm and calm on the surface, but in fact, he has not slept well for the past few days when he first commanded the fleet for sea operations, and he has been worried.

He knew that the new warship designed by His Majesty Caesar and Master Coben was actually quite cumbersome, coupled with the lack of excellent crew in the stormland, the storm for three days and three nights in a row made the fleet in a frequent situation, and even a small warship could not turn and crashed into the reef, and the paddle wheel on the port side was completely damaged, and had to return alone.

By the light of lightning, Sir Lucas glanced back at the ships behind him, especially the transports.

Although this operation was a trap for the fleet of Qingting Island, the bait was genuine.

After all, the Ellenwood family does need support, and now that winter is approaching, every batch of food is precious.

"How long do you have to cross the Ismoun Strait?" Sir Lucas asked aloud, the only way to keep his voice from drowning out in the storm.

"I'll be able to leave the Ismoun Strait tomorrow, my lord!"

The captain's words relieved Sir Lucas a little, and after crossing the Ismoun Strait, he could enter the relatively calm Sea of Dorne, and he no longer had to worry about it.

As for the Qingting Island fleet that might be encountered, he didn't worry too much.

Despite his reputation as a veteran maritime power dominating Westeros, Sir Lucas was confident in his new warship.

He believed that the Stormlands fleet would surprise everyone.

In the second half of the night, the storm gradually subsided.

A crescent moon peeked out from behind the clouds, casting a cold glow on the sea.

By the time the moon set and sunset, a new day had arrived, and the Stormlands fleet had finally sailed into the Sea of Dorne.

Sir Lucas, who had relaxed, made up for a good night's sleep, and when he woke up again it was already afternoon, and he ate some oatmeal and a lemon, and went back to the deck.

A few seagulls skim across the sparkling sea, the bow splitting the waves and rolling up white sprays. The calm sea is like a blue mirror, reflecting the white clouds and the dazzling sun in the sky.

Sir Lucas had just been admiring the view for a while when he heard a hurried whistle.

He looked up sharply at the lookout post on the mainmast, and saw the sentry leaning out halfway and waving the red flag in his hand with one hand.

Sir Lucas understood the flag, and his face froze, because the flag meant that a large fleet had appeared ahead.

"Signal Soldiers!" He immediately shouted.

Hearing this, the signal soldier hurriedly stumbled over: "My lord, please give the order!" ”

"Inform the ships and prepare for battle!"

The order was given quickly, and there was a slight confusion on the ships.

After all, it was the first official battle, and the crew was inevitably a little nervous.

But they methodically carried out their pre-battle preparations, quickly clearing the excess from the deck, opening the arsenal and starting to deliver ammunition.

The transport ship detached from the fleet, slowly lowered its sails, reduced its speed, and withdrew to the rear of the battleship.

Forty-two battleships, on the other hand, began to line up, pointing their sides in the direction of the enemy's arrival.

After a few minutes, Sir Lucas could already see through the Mill lens that white sail shadows appeared one after another on the southeast sea, almost filling the field of vision.

When he saw the purple grape flag hanging on the other party's mast, the last trace of luck in his heart disappeared completely.

Sure enough, it's the Qingting Island fleet!

And there are about twice as many ships as yours.

The Stormlands fleet was also spotted on the other side, and Sir Horace Redwyn stood at the bow of his flagship and said with an arrogant expression:

"Raise the flag, let the Stormland fleet on the opposite side immediately lower its sails and drop anchor, stop in place, and accept the inspection of the Qingting Island fleet."

"Yes." The Bannerman sent a signal, and soon received a message from the other party.

"What did you say on the other side?" Sir Horace asked curiously, looking at his stunned men.

They said...... Let's die......"

"Huh!" Horace didn't laugh angrily, and immediately ordered, "Since the people of Stormlands are so ignorant of the heavens and the earth, then let's teach them a good lesson and let them learn to be humble!" Pass the order down and get ready for battle! ”

"Yes!"

The sails were rattled by the sea breeze and the horns rumbled, like the call of the devil, and the ship was passed down from ship to ship.

Sir Horace's flagship, the Purple Grape, was a large warship with 300 oars, the largest in Westeros.

"Paddle!" The herald struck the snare drum, and 300 paddles entered the water at the same time, paddling in unison with the sound of the drum.

The speed of the ship increased suddenly, and the bow of the ship broke through the waves, rolling up a snow-white patch.

The sound of shouts, drums, and oars hitting the water all mingle to form a heart-pumping symphony.

Sir Horace stood in the bow of the ship in high spirits, and said to the first mate beside him with a smile:

"It's not easy for Stormlands to put together such a fleet in such a short period of time."

"But fleets are never just about ships."

"Haha." Sir Horace laughed and said, "Caesar doesn't know this, so let's teach him a lesson." ”

"Look, my lord. The ship on the opposite side was so frightened that it didn't even know how to maintain a fighting posture. ”

Sir Horace looked up, and sure enough, he saw that the battleships on the opposite side were actually lined up in a strange semi-circular arc formation, and they were all aimed at him with the side of the ship.

"The Stormlanders are scared silly, aren't they?" Horace scoffed, "Is this just sitting and waiting to be broken by our waist?" ”

"It's better to just hang the white flag and surrender."

"I'm going to sink them all with white flags!" Horace said viciously, thinking of his younger brother and the isolated Qingting Island, his face became extremely hideous.

"Speed up!" Horace drew his sword from his waist and roared.

Hi Yo - Poo - Hi Yo - Poo - Hi Yo - Hi Yo - Poof!

The drums beat faster, the oars caught up, and Konoha flew over the sea, the fleet rushing forward like sharp arrows off the string.

Horace clenched his sword and stared ahead, as if he had seen the battleship in the Stormlands being smashed by his own ship.

But the next moment, he saw a circle of white light suddenly lit up on the battleship opposite.

Then there was a loud bang, one after the other.

Horace was stunned for a moment, and before his head could react, he heard a sharp whistling sound in the air.

Bang –

A splash exploded on the surface of the water in front of him, startling Horace.

But the next moment, the fright turned into fear—

More than a dozen iron balls rained down on the deck, smashing holes one after another.

Another hapless sailor was directly hit by the iron ball, his body contorted into a terrifying angle, and let out a terrible howl.

Horace watched all this in a daze, and suddenly realized that his opponent did not seem to be as vulnerable as he imagined.

(End of chapter)