Game of Thrones: Holy Flame King

The narrow sea between Westeros and Essos has always been full of huge waves.

The complex and changeable climate makes this a monsoon-prone area, and storms come as soon as they are said, without any warning.

A fleet of forty-two warships and ten transport ships was sailing against the wind and waves on the pitch-black sea. The strong wind and torrential rain swept across the deck, creating bursts of spray.

In fact, for a thousand-ton warship and a large transport ship, such a storm is not a threat, but those small six-hundred-ton warships bumped badly in the storm, and the bow was often submerged in huge waves, and the deck was full of Flowing sea water.

Another huge wave hit, several crew members were washed away, quite embarrassed, but Sir Lucas Dane was wet by the sea, but his feet seemed to be nailed to the deck, standing erect. Does not fall.

Don't look at Sir Lucas calm and calm on the surface, but in fact, he hasn't slept well for the past few days when he was commanding the fleet for the first time at sea, and he has been worried all the time.

He knew that the new type of warship designed by His Majesty Caesar and Bachelor Coburn was actually rather cumbersome, coupled with the lack of excellent crew in the stormy land, the continuous storm for three days and three nights made the fleet's condition frequent, and even a small warship failed to turn in time Hitting a reef, the paddle wheel on the port side was completely damaged, and had to return alone.

With the light of lightning, Sir Lucas glanced back at the ships behind, especially those transport ships.

Although this operation was a trap aimed at the Qingting Island fleet, the bait was genuine.

After all, the Yronwood family really needs support, and now that winter is approaching, every batch of food is precious.

"How long until Ismond Strait is crossed?" Sir Lucas asked loudly, the only way to keep his voice from being drowned out in the storm.

"I can leave Ismond Strait tomorrow, my lord!"

The captain's words made Sir Lucas feel a little more relaxed. After crossing the Ismond Strait, he will be able to enter the relatively calm Dornish Sea, so he no longer has to be so worried.

As for the Qingting Island fleet that might be encountered, he was not too worried.

Although the enemy has a good reputation and is an old sea power that dominates Westeros, Sir Lucas is very confident in this new warship in his hands.

He believed that this stormy fleet would surprise everyone.

In the middle of the night, the storm gradually subsided.

A round of crescent moon poked its head out from behind the clouds, casting cool light on the sea.

When the moon sets and the sun rises, a new day comes again, and this stormy fleet finally sails into the Dorne Sea.

After relaxing, Sir Lucas took a nap and woke up again in the afternoon. He casually ate some oatmeal and a lemon, and came to the deck again.

A few seagulls flitted across the sparkling sea, and the bow of the ship split the waves and rolled up white waves. The calm sea is like a blue mirror, reflecting the white clouds and the dazzling sun in the sky.

Sir Lucas had just admired the scenery for a while, but he heard a hurried whistle.

He suddenly raised his head and looked at the lookout post on the mainmast, and saw the sentry sticking out half of his body, quickly waving the red flag in his hand with one hand.

Sir Lucas understood the semaphore, and his face froze immediately, because the semaphore meant that a huge fleet appeared ahead.

"Communications!" he yelled immediately.

Hearing the words, the communications soldier hurried over and stumbled over: "My lord, please give me the order!"

"Notify all ships, prepare to fight!"

The order was issued quickly, and there was a little confusion in each ship.

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

But they still carried out pre-battle preparations in an orderly manner, quickly cleared the redundant things from the deck, opened the arsenal, and began to deliver ammunition.

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

And forty-two battleships began to line up, aiming their sides at the direction of the enemy's arrival.

A few minutes later, Sir Lucas could already see the southeast sea surface through the Mir lens, and white sail shadows appeared one after another, densely packed, almost filling the field of vision.

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

It really is the Qingting Island Fleet!

And the number of warships is about twice that of our own.

At this moment, the Stormland fleet was also spotted on the opposite side. Sir Horace Redwyne stood on the bow of the flagship and said arrogantly:

"Sign out a semaphore to let the Stormland Fleet on the opposite side drop its sails and anchor immediately, stop at the same place, and accept the inspection of the Qingting Island Fleet."

"Yes." The semaphore soldier sent out a signal, and soon received the other party's message.

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

"They said...let us die..."

"Heh!" Horace smiled instead of anger, and immediately ordered, "Since the people of the Stormlanders are so ignorant, let's teach them a good lesson and let them learn to be humble! Pass the order and prepare to fight!"

"yes!"

The sea wind rattles the sails, and the horns rumble, like the call of the devil, passed from ship to ship.

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

"Down the oars!" The herald beat the army drum, and three hundred oars entered the water at the same time, paddling in unison with the sound of the drum.

The speed of the boat increased suddenly, and the bow of the boat broke through the waves, rolling up a piece of white snow.

Shouts, drums, and the sound of wooden oars hitting the water surface blend together to form a blood-boiling symphony.

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

"It's really not easy for Stormland to gather such a fleet in such a short period of time."

"But a fleet is never just about ships."

"Haha." Sir Horace laughed loudly, "Caesar probably doesn't understand this, so let us teach him a good lesson."

"My lord, look. The ship on the other side is so frightened that it doesn't even know how to maintain its fighting posture."

Sir Horace looked up, and sure enough, he saw that the battleships on the opposite side had formed a strange semi-circular formation, and all of them aimed at him with the side of the ship's side.

"The people of the storm were scared stupid, right?" Horace sneered, "Is this just waiting to be broken by us?"

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

"Hanging the white flag, I will sink them all!" Horace said viciously, thinking of his younger brother and the isolated Qingting Island, his face became extremely ferocious.

"Accelerate!" Horace snarled, pulling out the sword from his waist.

Hey yo—puff—hi yo—puff—hey—puff!

The sound of the drums accelerated, and the speed of hitting the oars followed immediately. The leaves fluttered on the sea surface, and the fleet rushed forward like sharp arrows off the string.

Horace clenched his long sword tightly and stared at the front, as if he had already seen the scene where the battleship in Stormland was smashed by his own warship.

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

Then came a roaring bang, one after another.

Horace froze for a moment, before he could react, he heard a sharp whistling sound in the air.

Bang——

A splash rose from the water in front of him, startling Horace.

But the next moment, the shock turned into fear——

More than a dozen iron balls fell on the deck like a torrential rain, smashing holes one by one.

Another unlucky sailor was hit directly by the iron ball, his body was twisted into a terrifying angle, and he let out a miserable howl.

Horace stared blankly at all this, and suddenly realized that his opponent was not as vulnerable as he imagined.