Viking: Master of the Icy Sea

Chapter 371: Decisive Naval Battle

For many years, Sicily remained under the dominion of the Eastern Roman Empire.

That was until the year 826, when a local rebellion erupted. After the uprising failed, the leader of the rebel army fled to the Aghlabid dynasty in North Africa, only to return to Sicily leading a Moorish fleet, thus beginning a long and grueling conquest that spanned decades.

As time passed, the territories of the Eastern Roman Empire in Sicily gradually fell. In the year 870, the Aghlabid dynasty decided to launch a final strike, beginning their siege of the vital local stronghold of Syracuse in May.

Upon receiving the news, Basil assembled a massive fleet and rushed from the Aegean Sea to reinforce Sicily. On the twenty-fifth of September, the Eastern Roman fleet arrived in the waters near Syracuse.

This time, the Moors underestimated Basil's determination. They had not anticipated the arrival of the Eastern Roman navy, and many Moorish ships were still caught in the rear transporting ground troops.

Sensing the approaching enemy, the Moorish commander hastily assembled a hundred ships of various types in an attempt to intercept the reinforcing fleet.

At noon, both sides finished organizing their formations, and the decisive battle officially broke out.

Positioned to the east, the Eastern Roman fleet adopted a classic crescent formation. Heavy dromon warships were stationed in the center, while swift and agile galleys flanked them on the left and right wings.

The Moorish fleet was at a numerical disadvantage, but their hulls were slightly taller, allowing their archers and crossbowmen to fire from a higher vantage point. Furthermore, their ships were faster and boasted greater mobility than their enemies.

After a brief moment of thought, the Moorish commander divided his ships into three squadrons, attempting to tear through the Eastern Roman lines with dispersed assault tactics.Riding a faint east wind, the Eastern Roman fleet slowly pressed forward, using ballistae to bombard the enemy ships from afar. Stone projectiles and arrows howled through the air toward the Moorish warships. The Moors returned fire with their own ballistae, simultaneously ordering their archers to loose dense volleys of arrows to suppress the Greeks on the deck.

The distance between the two forces continued to shrink. The bronze tubes at the bows of the dromons began spewing Greek Fire, terrifying the Moorish ships directly in front of them into frantic evasive maneuvers.

Left with no other choice, the Moors charged at the enemy vessels to their front and flanks. The oarsmen rowed desperately to close the gap, seeking to force the brutal hand-to-hand boarding combat at which they excelled.

However, the Eastern Romans had learned from past lessons that Greek sailors were poorly suited for melee combat. This time, every dromon was equipped with a contingent of mercenaries from Eastern Europe. Clad in heavy armor and wielding massive, vicious two-handed weapons, they easily repelled the Moorish sailors who were armed only with scimitars and wooden shields.

The fierce battle raged for three hours, leaving the surface of the sea in absolute chaos. Splintered ship planks and the bodies of the fallen drifted on the rolling waves. Even though the Moorish sailors displayed an astonishing will to fight, the situation steadily deteriorated.

At three in the afternoon, thirty light ships that the Eastern Romans had held in reserve joined the fray, executing a classic pincer envelopment. The Moorish fleet plunged into irreversible disarray.

After holding out for another half hour, more and more Moorish warships were sunk, and the surviving vessels gradually retreated from the battlefield.

"Is this the true strength of the Eastern Roman navy?"

To the north, on the fringes of the battlefield, the Blue Parrot floated quietly on the sea. Hadvard was shaken to his core as he watched this decisive naval battle, a spectacle rarely seen in decades.

For a long time, the Royal Navy had lacked a well-matched rival in the Atlantic Ocean. Their primary missions had been coordinating with the army or pursuing scattered Frankish vessels and fishing boats; they had never witnessed such a magnificent and sweeping naval clash.

"It seems His Majesty was right."

Since the year 865, Wig had repeatedly vetoed the Admiralty's proposals to enter the Mediterranean Sea, leading many to believe he was being overly conservative. Witnessing this battle, Hadvard finally understood the painstaking foresight behind those decisions.

The Royal Navy maintained absolute naval supremacy in the Atlantic Ocean because galleys were ill-suited for its harsh maritime conditions. If the two sides were to fight in the Mediterranean Sea, their own three-masted warships would not hold much of an advantage.

After observing for a moment longer, the Blue Parrot retreated northward, returning to Toulon without incident.

At that time, the Duke of Provence was inspecting the defenses in Toulon. Hearing about the naval battle from the colonel, he asked curiously, "If the Royal Navy had to fight this battle, could we win?" Hadvard replied, "If our entire fleet participated, I estimate we would have a fifty percent chance of victory."

"Is it truly that severe?" the Duke asked, his face paling in shock.

Obviously, the Royal Navy could not simply abandon their naval supremacy in other waters to focus solely on the western Mediterranean Sea. For a long time to come, Provence was highly likely to face the enemy's massive navy. To be safe, the Duke planned to conscript more farmers to build beacon towers and early-warning facilities along the coast.

At the same moment in Londinium, Britain.

Upon receiving their orders, the Prime Minister, the Minister of War, and the Minister of Naval Affairs proceeded to the royal palace, where they were arranged to sit in a spacious four-wheeled cart.

Not long after, the Emperor and the Crown Prince also boarded a cart, setting off under the escort of a large contingent of the Royal Guard.

The procession entered the southern part of the city, crossing the stone bridge toward the south bank of the River Thames. The Minister of War asked the Prime Minister, "What is this all about?"

Leaning against the cushions with his eyes closed to rest, the Prime Minister replied flatly, "I have no idea."

The Minister of War shifted his gaze to the Minister of Naval Affairs, but still received no answer. Before long, the carts left the city walls of the south bank, and the road conditions began to grow bumpy.

After traveling for about three hours, they arrived at a secluded wilderness. Astonishingly, even as the Minister of War, this was the very first time Bafors had ever heard of a military camp existing here!

The camp was heavily fortified, complete with deep moats and a sturdy fence. Soldiers occasionally patrolled the perimeter with hounds on leashes, exuding an indescribable aura of killing intent.

Upon verifying their identities, the heavy gates of the palisade slowly swung open. Inside were barracks, storehouses, water wells, and other facilities, along with two massive workshops that occupied a vast expanse of land.

Soon, the carts came to a halt in front of the stable. The three men followed the Emperor's back, walking deep into the camp until they reached a flat, secluded meadow.

In the distance sat a bizarrely shaped object. It was thick at the back and narrow at the front, resembling a giant cylinder. The entire thing was cast from bronze ingots, with several sturdy iron rings hooped around its exterior.

The Emperor walked straight up to it, stroking its cold, rough surface. "Gentlemen, this is the secret weapon that the military equipment workshop has been developing for years. After hundreds of setbacks, we have finally succeeded."

"A secret weapon?" The ministers' doubts only deepened.

At this moment, the massive and cumbersome bronze cannon was aimed at a temporary wooden palisade erected a hundred paces away. In its silence, it seemed to accumulate an unsettling, ominous power.

The Emperor sighed with emotion for a moment, then gestured for everyone to head toward a dirt pit in the rear. "My lords, remember to brace yourselves."

Upon receiving the order to test fire, two craftsmen approached carrying a bucket of black powder, carefully scooping it in with a long-handled wooden spoon. Afterward, the craftsmen shoved a heavy iron ball inside and inserted a fuse into the tail of the bronze cannon.

Suddenly, the wind grew fierce, and the shrill caw of a raven echoed through the sky. A craftsman took a torch, lit the fuse, and immediately dove into the nearby dirt pit as fast as he could.

Behind him, the sizzling fuse acted like a venomous snake, swiftly darting into the small hole reserved at the cannon's breech.

Right after.

A crack of thunder resounded in all directions.