Chapter 443: We Been Fooled

"It’s a trap! Absolutely a trap! We’ve fallen into an ambush!"

Aboard the board-house ship in the distance, the vice admiral Xabi’s legs trembled uncontrollably. The thunderous explosions had shattered his courage, leaving him in a state of sheer panic.

Lilibet’s face had turned deathly pale, but he managed to maintain his composure.

"Retreat! All ships, retreat immediately!"

The four warships that had launched the attack were now engulfed in flames and rocked violently by the explosions. They resembled helpless leaves tossed about by a raging storm.

"Is this what they call cannons?" Lilibet muttered, narrowing his eyes in disbelief.

The war between the Eldorian Empire and the Order had already spread, allowing the kingdoms to learn about the existence of cannons. However, knowing about these weapons and experiencing their devastating power firsthand were two entirely different matters.

The destructive force of the enemy’s artillery had completely exceeded his expectations.

"We cannot defeat them! Escape now!" Xabi shouted frantically. "Row faster! Faster!"

The bombardment continued.

After firing the first volley, the artillery crews immediately began reloading their cannons, preparing for another round.

Yet the damage from that initial barrage had already been devastating.

Inside the hull of the board-house ships, most of the rowers had been killed or seriously wounded. Without enough men to operate the oars, the vessels struggled to maneuver.

"Boom! Boom!"

Another volley thundered across the sea.

Heavy cannonballs smashed through the wooden hulls as easily as blades cutting through soft tofu. Wherever they struck, wooden planks shattered, and the interiors of the ships were torn apart.

The terrified Green-eyed soldiers were thrown violently across the decks and into the hulls. Screams filled the air as blood spread across the wooden floors.

"Bang! Bang!"

Gunfire erupted from the enemy ships.

Simon’s men fired their flintlock guns in disciplined volleys, cutting down the other men who attempted to resist.

Chaos engulfed the four warships.

Some men, overwhelmed by terror, leaped into the sea in desperate attempts to escape. Others scrambled for cover, while a few dropped to their knees and surrendered without resistance.

"Surrender, and you will be spared!"

Desmond’s powerful voice rang across the water.

He stood aboard his ship, raising a flag bearing a simple message:

SURRENDER, AND YOU WILL NOT BE KILLED!

The other men immediately understood the meaning of the flag.

The Outsiders had once been a vassal of the Eldorian Empire, and its people had long used the empire’s written language. Although their spoken tongue differed, many educated men could still read the words displayed before them.

Seeing the promise of survival, more men abandoned their weapons and knelt on the decks.

The bombardment had left the board-house ships powerless. With their rowing crews dead or incapacitated, the vessels could no longer maneuver effectively.

Even if the remaining surviving men refuse to surrender, they would eventually face starvation or another devastating attack.

For them, resistance had become pointless.

"Your Highness, two enemy ships have escaped," Desmond reported after surveying the battlefield. "Should we go after them?"

Simon watched the retreating vessels with a faint smile.

"No. Let them go."

Desmond looked at him, slightly surprised.

Simon continued calmly, "They can return and spread the news of what happened here. Let their king wonder when we might strike next."

To Simon, the outsiders were on little more than a fat sheep waiting to be slaughtered.

However, he had no intention of launching an all-out war against the kingdom just yet.

His immediate priority remained Split Rock.

The island possessed vast stretches of land suitable for growing sugarcane, and its climate allowed certain varieties of rice to be harvested three times a year.

To Simon, that made Split Rock an invaluable agricultural treasure.

Food production was the foundation of population growth, industrial expansion, and military strength. If he could bring the island under his control, it could become a reliable source of grain for his ever-growing domain.

According to Grey, the island was home to numerous indigenous mountain tribes. In addition, approximately 200,000 people had migrated from the Eldorian Empire to Split Rock, most of them settling in the southern regions under Dutch control.

Two hundred thousand people might have seemed like a considerable population to an ordinary noble, but Simon saw the situation differently.

Many of the indigenous tribes lived in mountainous regions and would be difficult to govern. Integrating them into his administration would require time, patience, and considerable resources.

Nevertheless, this did not concern him too much.

Once Split Rock was under his control, he could encourage more settlers from the Eldorian Empire’s mainland to migrate there.

With the emperor’s approval, he believed he could relocate approximately 100,000 people to the island.

That would give him a substantial agricultural workforce and allow Split Rock to supply his domain with grain for years to come.

Of course, such a plan depends on securing the island first.

And that was precisely why he had no intention of wasting time and resources on a premature war with the Outsiders.

While Simon considered these matters, Desmond was already organizing the prisoners.

"Move! Get them inside!"

Armed sailors forced the surrendered men into the lower decks, where guards were assigned to keep them under control.

The four board-house ships had originally carried more than 400 men. After the fierce exchange of cannon and gunfire, fewer than 100 remained alive.

The rest had been killed during the battle.

Those who survived looked like frightened rabbits. Their earlier confidence vanishes, replaced by trembling limbs and bewildered expressions.

The battle had been so one-sided and brief that most of them still struggled to understand what had happened.

Their ships had been powerful enough to intimidate ordinary fishing vessels, yet they had been utterly helpless against Simon’s fleet.

Despite the extensive damage, none of the four board-house ships had sunk.

Simon examined the captured vessels and issued an order.

"Take them back to the naval port. Repair whatever can be repaired and convert them into fishing vessels."

He paused before adding, "Our fleet needs more ships. There’s no reason to waste these if they can still be put to use."

"Yes, Your Highness!"

Desmond grinned.

The battle had been little more than a warm-up exercise for his men.

By the time Simon had finished observing the engagement, the outcome had already been decided. The enemy had suffered catastrophic losses, while his own troops had emerged without a single injury.

The only real cost had been the ammunition expended.

From a military standpoint, it was an overwhelming victory.

After the fighting ended, Simon had little appetite left for the seafood tasting he had originally planned.

He ordered the fishing boats to continue their work while he and Desmond arranged for the captured ships to be towed back to the naval port.

Once they disembarked, Simon noticed that Elin’s face remained pale.

The thunderous cannon fire had frightened her badly.

"Are you all right?" Simon asked.

Elin forced a faint smile.

"I’m fine, My Lord. Please don’t worry about me."

She clearly did not want him to become concerned on her account.

Although she had not witnessed the battle directly, the deafening explosions and the desperate screams of the other men had been enough to reveal the true nature of warfare.

Every cannon blast had made her heart tremble.

Simon understood that her reassuring smile was merely an attempt to put him at ease.

He also knew that, as his Lady, Elin would inevitably encounter more situations like this in the future.

She could not remain sheltered from every storm that came their way.

If she were to stand beside him through the challenges ahead, she would eventually need to become accustomed to the harsh realities of the world they inhabited.

Still, there was no reason to force her to remain near the battlefield.

"Let’s return to Ashenford," he said.

After arranging for Elin to rest at the temporary residence, Simon returned to the naval port.

By then, Desmond had gathered all the surviving prisoners.

"Your Highness, these are the men who surrendered."

Simon nodded and surveyed the kneeling men.

"Who among you can speak the language of the Eldorian Empire fluently?"

Since the Outsiders had once been a vassal state of the empire, many of its inhabitants had learned the imperial language.

As soon as Simon finished speaking, a man with a prominent scar across his face raised his head.

"I-I can, Your Highness!"

Desmond signaled to his men, who immediately escorted the man forward.

Although the man looked fierce, his expression revealed the fear churning inside him.

Standing before Simon, he no longer resembled a confident military officer.

Simon studied him for a moment before beginning his interrogation.

"Who is your current king?"

The scarred man swallowed nervously.

"Our current king is none other than the Azure-Flame King, Your Highness. He belongs to the Anderson family."

Simon showed little reaction to the name.

Instead, he continued with the next question.

"How many sailors and warships does your kingdom possess?"

The man’s expression changed slightly.

Perhaps sensing an opportunity to demonstrate the strength of his kingdom, he lifted his chin and answered with a hint of pride.

"We have fifteen thousand sailors and a total of one hundred and twenty warships!"

Desmond’s jaw nearly dropped.

One hundred and twenty warships!

Fifteen thousand sailors!

The figures were considerably higher than he had anticipated.

If he had underestimated the Outsiders and rushed into a full-scale conflict without adequate preparation, the consequences could have been disastrous.

"Your Highness," Desmond said quietly, his expression unusually serious, "the Navy is far stronger than I imagined. With one hundred and twenty warships, they cannot be treated as a minor threat."

Simon nodded.

This was precisely why he had refrained from declaring war.

His recent victory had demonstrated the superiority of his fleet’s artillery and firearms, but destroying four enemy vessels did not mean he could effortlessly defeat an entire kingdom’s navy.

A hundred and twenty warships represented a substantial force.

Even with superior weapons, he would need to understand the enemy’s fleet composition, tactics, and capabilities before deciding how to proceed.

Simon turned back to the prisoner.

"Are all your warships built like the four we captured today?"

The scarred man hurriedly shook his head.

"No, Your Highness. Those are only one type of warship. We also possess another kind of vessel known as a turtle ship."

Desmond frowned.

"Turtle ships? What are those?"

Before the prisoner could answer, Simon spoke.

"Turtle ships are warships designed with a protective covering over their upper structure. Their enclosed design can make it difficult for enemies to board them, while also protecting the crew."

He paused, his expression thoughtful.

"Depending on their construction, they can be formidable opponents in close naval engagements."

Desmond’s expression grew more serious.

If the outsiders possessed another class of warship specifically designed for combat, then its navy might be considerably more troublesome than the captured vessels suggested.

Simon, however, remained composed.

He had already learned something important from this encounter.

The four ships they had destroyed were not representative of the entire Navy. Instead, they were merely the beginning.

Simon looked at the scarred prisoner again.

"Tell me everything you know about these turtle ships—their number, their weapons, and their capabilities."

His tone remained calm, but his eyes sharpened.

"Do not leave anything out. Your survival may depend on how useful your answers are."