Chapter 384: — Bismarck Under Way

Seastar Naval Base — Six Days Later

“Engine room?”Captain Rovan asked.

“Another ten minutes, Captain.”

Rovan looked up from the trial schedule. “They said ten minutes a quarter of an hour ago.”

Lieutenant Edrin lowered the communication crystal. “The chief says he can finish the checks or keep answering us. Apparently, he lacks the patience to do both.”

The helmsman snickered after turning his head away.

Rovan pointed at him without turning his head. “You can laugh once your rudder indicator stops drifting half a degree off true.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“And ask the chief what is actually holding him up, Edrin. I want the real reason, not just chief-engineer bluster.”

The lieutenant turned back to the crystal while Rovan moved to the forward windows. Below the bridge, sailors were clearing the last loose equipment from Bismarck’s foredeck. Her mooring lines remained taut against the harbour deck, where dock crews waited beside the bollards.

He checked the time, then faced his officers.

“Lord Lucien will be aboard shortly. He is coming to watch this ship sail, and every man here knows how much work has gone into getting her ready. Do your work properly and do not let him down.”

Edrin straightened as the crystal chimed in reply. “A cooling-pressure indicator is sticking on the starboard manifold, Captain. The primary reading below is steady, but the repeater up here is slow to follow it. They are checking the mana-flux connection.”

Rovan crossed to the instrument panel. One needle shifted, hesitated, and moved again.

“Give them the time. We leave when the readings agree—not a second before.”

The mood on the bridge settled into a quiet rhythm as the checks continued.

At the navigation table, an officer compared their compass with a surveyed marker beyond the harbor entrance. Beside him, a second officer mapped their intended course across the chart and checked the depth markings along the exit channel.

“Navigation instruments checked, Captain. The harbor course is laid out.”

Rovan nodded toward the helmsman. “Test the steering.”

The wheel turned. A brass pointer moved across its scale, and a voice from the steering compartment confirmed the rudders’ position over the crystal. The helmsman brought them back to center, then repeated the movement to port.

“Steering answers correctly on all channels sir.”

Edrin called each of the ship’s stations in turn. Clear replies came from the forward compartments, the magazines, the machinery spaces, and the stern. A clerk entered the reports beside the corresponding checks on the trial sheet.

Near Rovan’s elbow, the troublesome needle finally moved without hesitation.

“Compare it again,” Rovan ordered.

The engine room changed the test setting below. This time, the figure called through the crystal matched the bridge instrument the moment the needle settled.

Rovan watched them repeat the check twice more before signing his name across the entry. “Good. Keep the machinery ready.”

Master Dray was waiting at the head of the gangway when Lucien reached the deck.

“My lord.” Dray bowed, then stepped aside as Lucas, Malen, Ironbreaker, and Gandalf followed aboard.

Lucien paused beside the nearest primary turret.

The twin barrels extended far over the forward deck, their dark openings still capped with protective covers. Farther aft, sailors moved between the secondary guns and the protective housings of the ship’s smaller point-defense weapons. Concise orders passed along the deck while the last shore workers descended the gangway.

He had seen the hull surrounded by scaffolding and the gun mountings hanging from heavy cranes. With the workers gone and the crew at their stations, the true scale of the finished ship was breathtaking.

“How were the final checks, Master dray?” Lucien asked, running a hand over the cold steel plate.

“We have cleared the faults that would keep her stuck in harbor, my lord. Though we will learn far more once the main engines are carrying a sustained load.”

Dray led them up toward the bridge.

“Today begins with departure and handling. We will step up power in stages and inspect below between each shift. If those checks are satisfactory, the captain will take us out to the firing grid.”

“And if they are not?” Lucas asked, notebook in hand.

“Then we halt that part of the trial and fix the fault on the spot.”

Lucas gave a tight nod and opened his ledger as they climbed.

Inside the bridge, Captain Rovan left his position beside the windows and saluted. “My lord. Welcome aboard.”

“Captain.”

Rovan indicated the chart table and the observation gallery behind the bridge instruments. Dray guided the visitors there, keeping them clear of the crew’s operational paths.

Edrin handed the captain the signed readiness sheet. Rovan read the final entries before turning back to Lucien.

“My lord, all stations report ready. Request permission to begin the trial.”

“Proceed, Captain. Show us what she can do.”

Rovan returned to the forward windows. “Stand by to leave the berth.”

The order passed down through the interior. On the harbour, dockhands moved to the remaining lines. Two harbor tugs waited alongside, their crews watching Bismarck’s signalmen.

“Gangway clear.”

“Forward station ready.”

“After station ready.”

The captain watched the gap between the hull and the harbour widen as the tugs took the initial strain. Lines were cast off in sequence and hauled aboard. Bismarck began moving away from her berth.

Lucas closed his notebook with a soft click.

“Ahead slow,” Rovan ordered once the bow aligned cleanly with the channel.

The engine telegraph rang, answered immediately from below.

A deeper pulse surged beneath their feet as the main propulsion drives took the load. Beyond the stern, white foam spread into a rising wake. Bismarck gathered momentum, her sharp stem pushing a widening ridge of water ahead of her.

“Steady on this heading.”

“Steady on course, Captain,” the helmsman repeated.

On the harbour, someone raised a cap and waved. Dozens more followed along the breakwater, where off-duty smiths had gathered between the cranes to watch. Dray caught sight of several men from his structural hull crew standing on an unfinished platform. One of them waved both arms frantically until his companion grabbed his belt and dragged him back from the drop.

Dray lifted a hand in a brief, quiet salute. For several moments, he said nothing at all.

Lucien watched his quiet expression rather than the receding shore. “You can actually enjoy this part, Dray. You built her.”

Dray lowered his hand, a small smile breaking through his usual scowl. “I will enjoy it considerably more when we bring her back to dock in one piece, my lord.”

The tugs(refers to tugboats-Large ships shut off their engines and propulsion once they are near harbor this varies but its about several kilometers and then small boats often referred to as tugboats guides it to the harbour) cast off before Bismarck cleared the outer harbor. Rovan held her at cruising speed until the channel markers lay behind them, then ordered the next increase in power.

The deep rumble from the engine rooms deepened into a low roar. Along the sides of the hull, the water began rushing past faster, curling into long streaks of foam.(Water becomes foamy near the rear end of the ship mainly due to the propellers)

Ironbreaker rested a thick hand against the bridge rail. “Smoother than I expected for a floating mountain.”

Dray glanced at the machinery indicators. “At this setting, yes. We have several higher output levels to push through yet.”

Lucien followed his line of sight. “What are the engineers watching for down there?”

“Bearing temperatures, hull vibration, cooling mana flow, and total load on the drive shafts, my lord. The cores supply the power, but mechanical gears still have to carry that force into thrust.”

Ironbreaker nodded toward a row of separate indicators. “You kept the drive shafts isolated, then?”

“Aye. If one drive takes damage, it can be uncoupled while the remaining shafts keep turning. We lose speed, but one failure won’t leave the entire ship a dead log in the water.”

“Provided the hull damage stays contained,” Malen remarked, evaluating the layout.

Dray pulled a sectional drawing from beneath the chart. “That is precisely why the interior bulkheads matter.” He pointed to the watertight compartments. “The doors between these sections are secured for the trial. If water enters one compartment, the crew can isolate it and work from the sections beside it. Even the pumps draw from redundant grids.”

“How much flooding can she tolerate?” Lucien asked.

“It depends on where the damage occurs, my lord. Taking water in several small buoyancy tanks is a nuisance; taking water in a main engine space is a catastrophe. The crew has been drilled on every failure combination we could devise.”

Malen studied the drawing. “Have they practiced moving through the corridors with the primary passages sealed?”

“Repeatedly,” Dray grunted with grim satisfaction. “They complained about the extra stairs until we forced them to find a simulated casualty in the dark with their main route blocked.”

Dray folded the sheet as Edrin approached the captain.

“Engine room reports all parameters normal at present setting, Captain. No leakage reported from the inspection parties.”

Rovan checked the open water ahead. “Begin the first turning test.”

“Hard port wheel,” the helmsman called, spinning the iron spokes.

Bismarck answered with surprising grace, her bow swinging toward the new bearing as the horizon tilted across the bridge windows.

Lucas instinctively placed a hand against the chart table when the deck inclined. Ironbreaker caught the movement immediately.

“You’re leaning with the ship, administrator.”

“So are you,” Lucas retorted smoothly without looking up.

“I am analyzing the angle of roll.”

“Then your left hand can stop analyzing the safety railing with a knuckles-white death grip.”

Ironbreaker looked down at his own hand clenched tight around the brass bar, scowled, and deliberately left it right where it was.

Dray concealed a smile behind his trial notes.

Captain Rovan watched the compass while Edrin called the elapsed time. Another officer marked their arc on the chart, comparing it with observations of the coast.

Once the ship leveled out, Rovan ordered a hard turn in the opposite direction. The crew repeated the measurements, then tested how she responded when power was reduced.

The maneuvers took two hours. Each increase in engine speed brought another round of reports from below. A yard inspector noted a minor vibration near an auxiliary pump mounting and marked it for post-trial adjustment, but the main drives held their readings without a single spike.

Dray asked two concise questions about the mounting, wrote down the answers, and returned his attention to the trial. Lucien appreciated that quiet focus far more than he would have appreciated a grand claim that everything was perfect.

When the final handling report reached the bridge, Rovan brought the ship onto the course leading toward the firing area.

“My lord, engine and steering trials are complete. We are ready to proceed with the gunnery test.”

Lucien turned to Dray. “Your assessment?”

“The machinery is behaving well enough to carry on, my lord.”

“Then proceed, Captain.”

The primary target was a broad floating barge built from condemned hulk frames and reinforced with heavy timber screens and iron plates. It had been towed and anchored inside the designated military testing area, miles away from merchant routes. A second target barge waited three miles beyond it.

Patrol vessels were already keeping civilian craft outside the boundary.

From the bridge, Lucien could distinguish the target only as a low dark shape against the sea. Through his observation glass, the painted bullseye panels on its screens came into sharp focus.

“Target distance: eight kilometers,” the gunnery officer reported after checking his rangefinder readings.

Rovan held the ship on a steady course at half speed to give the gun crews a stable platform. Below the forward windows, the first primary turret began to turn with a heavy metallic hum. Its long barrels elevated together, clearing the deck fittings before locking into alignment with the distant barge.

Lucas watched the movement. “They make moving those monstrous guns look remarkably easy.”

“There are twenty men sweating in the handling room below who would disagree,” Dray said. “The hydraulic machinery does the lifting, but the crew still has to load heavy chem-mana powder charges and five-hundred-pound steel shells into the breech in precise order.”

Lucien lowered his glass. “How are they accounting for our forward motion?”

Dray indicated the gunnery station. “The observers provide the target’s direction and range. The plotting crew combines those with our course, speed, and roll angle, then sends the settings to the turrets. Readings are updated while we move.”

“Does a mage calculate those vectors?” Malen asked.

“The crew can work purely from optical instruments and ballistic tables,” Dray explained. “A mage can assist with scrying target tracking, but we deliberately excluded that assistance from this first shoot. We need to know how the crew performs with the hardware alone.”

Gandalf watched the men checking the figures. “And the ship’s movement in the water?”

“The gun layers match the roll indicators,” Dray said. “The firing trigger is locked to discharge when the hull passes through the level horizon. We will begin with a single gun proof-shot and inspect the hull before attempting a full salvo.” He glanced at Lucien. “These tests give us the baseline corrections for this specific hull, my lord. The tables are just our starting point.”

The communication crystal chimed beside Rovan.

“Forward Turret One, Left Barrel loaded and ready.”

“Firing sector clear,” the signal officer added. “All patrols have acknowledged.”

Rovan sounded the warning klaxon across the outer decks. “Clear all weather decks. Secure blast covers.”

Sailors withdrew behind protection, access points were secured, and the bridge’s blast-shield wards flared bright blue around the window frames. Dray ensured the visitors stood safely behind the reinforced glass.

Outside, the left barrel of Turret One made a tiny elevation adjustment.

The gunnery officer watched his console, then raised his hand. “Aim settled and locked, Captain.”

Rovan looked once more toward the empty stretch of sea around the target. “Fire.”

KRA-BOOM!

A flash of orange flame and a thick cloud of combustion smoke burst from the muzzle. The barrel slammed backward into its mounting under full recoil, sending a hard shockwave through the steel deckplates beneath the bridge. The smoke rolled over the foredeck before the sea breeze began tearing it away.

Lucas’s shoulders jerked despite the protection around them. Beside him, Ironbreaker had stopped looking at the target entirely—his eyes were fixed on the turret, watching how the steel absorbed the shock.

Lucien kept his observation glass raised.

The seconds stretched while the target continued rocking gently on the water.

Then a column of white spray erupted just to the right of the wooden barge. Water washed over the painted screens and fell away in sheets.

“Short fifty meters, right two millimeters,” the observer called out instantly.

The gunnery officer repeated the report to the plotting crew. Below them, the turret crew began clearing the breech for the next round while inspectors checked the mounting ring and deck supports. Rovan waited for both reports over the crystal.

“Recoil system normal. Mounting secure.”

“No weld fractures or structural damage reported below Turret One.”

Dray let out a breath and marked the trial sheet.

“How did the deck feel to you?” Lucien asked quietly.

Dray looked up. “I was watching the seam welds along the main deck girders, my lord. They didn’t even flinch.”

Ironbreaker nodded without taking his eyes from the turret. “Aye. She absorbed that kick like an anvil.”

The updated calculation arrived from the plotting crew. This time, both forward turrets moved, their four long barrels elevating in unison as Bismarck maintained her steady sea track.

“Four guns for the next shoot,” Rovan told Lucien. “Full forward salvo.”

Lucien raised spyglass(telescope) to his eyes.

The target reappeared beyond the thinning smoke. One of its heavy timber screens had been knocked crooked by the first impact’s displacement wave, but the main structure remained afloat.

Around them, the bridge crew operated with crisp efficiency. The rangefinder officer called the updating distance. Edrin received a final green status report from the patrol fleet.

“Forward turrets report locked and ready.”

Rovan raised his hand. “Fire salvo!”

KA-BOOM!

All four main guns discharged simultaneously. A massive sheet of flame spread across the forward view, and the structural impact made the heavy brass chart weights on the central table rattle against the mahogany frame.

Through the smoke, Lucien watched the four heavy barrels sliding smoothly forward as their hydropneumatic recoil cylinders reset.

Far ahead, the first shell raised a wall of water beside the barge. A fraction of a second later, two shells slammed directly into the center. Timber and torn plating burst upward as the barge’s center vanished inside the explosion. The final impact swallowed the remaining wreckage in a column of spray.

For several seconds, nobody on the bridge could see what remained through the smoke and sea spray.

The observer leaned toward his instrument.

When the spray fell, the painted screens were gone. One broken section floated at an angle while the rest settled among scattered timbers. A dark piece of hull rose briefly on a swell, turned, and disappeared beneath the surface.

“Direct hits observed, Captain! Target broken in two and sunk.”

A young sailor beside the signal station started to cheer. Edrin reached over and tapped the boy’s shoulder to quiet him, though his own expression was little better.

Rovan ordered the main batteries put on standby and requested full structural status reports across all decks.

Dray waited with his pencil poised above the trial notes.

Over the next five minutes, reports poured in over the crystals. The hydraulic drives were cool. The recoil systems had reset correctly. No structural damage or new leakage had been found around the forward mountings.

Only then did Master Dray lower his pencil.

Lucien set down his glass and held out his hand. “Well done, Dray. You’ve built a masterpiece.”

Dray looked at Lucien’s open hand for a moment before taking it in a firm grip. “Thank you, my lord.” His voice was steady, but Lucien could feel a faint, lingering tremor of pure relief in the master smith’s calloused fingers.

Ironbreaker clapped Dray across the back hard enough to shift him a step. “Aye! The old tub held together after all!”

Dray looked out at the smoking gun barrels, then back at the dwarf, the quiet smile he had been suppressing all morning finally spreading across his face.

Rovan placed a finger on the next course marked across the chart. “Bring her around thirty degrees starboard,” he told the helmsman. “We still have the after turrets to test.”

Bismarck leaned smoothly into her turn, her forward guns settling into their resting locks as the massive rear turrets began their slow, deadly swing toward the next target grid.

the original thing was using 13 men for each battery as said in chapter 294 which i check but later i saw again blueprints and working of original bismarck 20 is nearest viable number