The great naval battle named after the Romani Cape sparked considerable controversy and debate among later historians. Many war scholars and military historians argued that the Battle of Romani Cape marked the dawn of the age of artillery—the
However, more historical researchers and military enthusiasts, after re-analyzing the battlefield and running sand-table simulations, concluded that the Battle of Romani Cape was not as dramatic as those war historians claimed. Even the bronze cannons were not as powerful as everyone imagined. Although the Invincible Fleet had suffered tremendous losses from the night raid and three ambushes along the way, they still held a numerical advantage during the decisive battle and even seized the initiative in the latter half of the engagement. Some sand-table simulations even concluded that the Invincible Fleet would ultimately emerge victorious.
Had the Invincible Fleet avoided attacking the three whaling ships at the center of
By contrast, the Norton Family fleet's performance was mediocre. After destroying the sixty to seventy large armed warships that had charged ahead in the vanguard of the Invincible Fleet, they even let their guard down, assuming the enemy would likely turn and flee—only to be caught off guard by the Invincible Fleet's death-or-glory charge. All sand-table simulations and battle recreations demonstrated that had the Invincible Fleet's elite shock troops not unluckily targeted the very whaling ship Lorist was aboard, the Norton Family's victory—if they won at all—would have been a pyrrhic one.
As one simulation recording a victory for the Invincible Fleet documented: if the Invincible Fleet first destroyed the whaling ships on both flanks of the line formation, drove off the Norton Family's large armed warships behind them, isolated the Norton Family's medium-fast armed warships—each carrying only a single bronze cannon—in the reef zone, endured the cannon bombardment by sheer resilience until Sembawood's fourteen thunderbolt ships exhausted their ammunition and withdrew, and then used fire attacks to destroy the three whaling ships at the center of the line formation where Lorist was stationed—the Invincible Fleet could still have won despite heavy losses.
The catch was that this victory depended on the Invincible Fleet knowing that Lorist himself had come to the front lines to command the Battle of Romani Cape, and knowing which ship he was on. In reality, the Invincible Fleet had no inkling that Lorist, the newly minted Sword Saint, would personally participate in this naval engagement aboard a warship. Wouldn't that be a laugh? Which Sword Saint would ever deign to personally enter battle and trade blows with common soldiers? A Sword Saint was a kingdom's ultimate strategic asset—whether on land or at sea, sending a Sword Saint into such a fight was an utter loss of face...
But Lorist didn't care. He never took the Sword Saint title seriously. What mattered to him were his identities as Grand Duke of the Northland and head of the Norton Family. He was nothing like the Storm Sword Saint that the Forde Commercial Alliance had recruited—pampered and put on a pedestal. So, facing a Lorist who refused to play by the rules, the Invincible Fleet could only curse their bad luck.
Just as countless war scholars, military historians, military enthusiasts, and historical researchers debated the Battle of Romani Cape for years on end, not once did they question whether there was anything wrong with Viscount Penelope's surrender. At most, they grumbled about his rotten luck—running into Lorist the Sword Saint the moment he entered the fray, leaving him no choice but to throw down his arms. And the result of his surrender was that the Invincible Fleet entirely lost the will and courage to continue fighting, hoisting white flags one after another under the watchful eyes of the Norton Family fleet.
"Why did you surrender?" Lorist was thoroughly vexed. Fine—the enemy had charged aboard his ship in a storm of aggression, and he had been cracking his knuckles, eager to carve through them and vent the frustration bottled up inside. A perfectly planned long-range artillery bombardment had been botched under his own command—no one would take that well. He had been ready to cut loose, only for the enemy to surrender. It was like throwing a punch with all his might and hitting empty air. Lorist was particularly annoyed. So you charged all the way over here just to surrender?
"I don't want to die," Viscount Penelope said frankly. He too was kicking himself—who could have predicted that Lorist, the infamous Blood Sword Saint, would be the very target the Invincible Fleet's elite shock force happened to attack? Wasn't that just asking for death? He was a landed noble. Even without commanding the Invincible Fleet, he could have gone back to his family's territory to live off its income and lord it over people. He hadn't yet enjoyed the good life ahead of him. A Second-rank Sword Saint challenging Lorist, the Blood Sword Saint—that was an egg against a rock. He wasn't that stupid. The one who was that stupid was already lying on the deck as a headless corpse...
Now, even if the Invincible Fleet were completely annihilated, no one could say their supreme commander was incompetent or that there had been anything wrong with his command. On the contrary, the fact that the battle had reached this stage was already a testament to Viscount Penelope's considerable ability. He had simply had bad luck—running into Lorist the Sword Saint. His defeat was entirely understandable. You couldn't force men to throw their lives away, and even if you did, it would have been pointless. A hundred-odd elite combatants of the Invincible Fleet were nothing more than a few extra sword swings in Lorist's eyes—hardly a meaningful threat.
The typically domineering Grand Duke of Fisablen had turned into a turtle pulling its head into its shell, content to protect himself and not daring to raise an objection. In contrast, Lorist—a transmigrator—harbored none of the fear or reverence typically directed at Sword Saints. Despite not fully understanding his own cultivation level, he had stepped forward and fought the legendary Storm Sword Saint to a mutual standstill, saving the
The Gold Swordsmen and Sword Saints of the Invincible Fleet before him now performed even worse than the Second Prince's party. Upon learning Lorist's identity and seeing Viscount Penelope and the others surrender first, these Gold Swordsmen—who had been huddled together like quails—seemed to find the weapons in their hands suddenly red-hot. They dropped them with astonishing speed. Before Lorist could even blink twice, the deck was already piled high with legendary blades and fine weapons. All the Gold Swordsmen followed Viscount Penelope's lead and surrendered, as though they had charged aboard Lorist's ship for no other reason than to lay down their arms...
"Enough. I'll grant you the noble treatment you want. You don't need to hand your sword to me. Additionally, I'll allow you to keep two attendants as personal guards. But now this naval battle can be brought to a halt. Have your people surrender," Lorist said, his enthusiasm spent.
Viscount Penelope and the others' expressions moments earlier had made Lorist deeply uncomfortable. Their gazes carried the helpless, aggrieved look of children bullied by an adult—as if Lorist had no business appearing in this naval battle at all. Come to think of it, a Sword Saint like Lorist going up against these Gold Swordsmen and Sword Saints did seem rather excessive.
"Thank you, Your Grace," Viscount Penelope said with a graceful bow of thanks. He then gestured for one of his attendants beside him to produce a conch shell horn edged in gold, which he placed to his lips and blew. One long blast and three short ones—the signal to cease resistance and halt the fighting. When the crews of the surrounding Invincible Fleet warships looked over in puzzlement, they caught sight of another guard at Viscount Penelope's side desperately waving a white flag.
With the fleet's command hierarchy surrendered, there was no point for the rank and file to keep fighting. One by one, the warships of the Invincible Fleet began raising white flags, and the thunderous roar of cannon fire gradually subsided. The naval confrontation between the Norton Family fleet and the Invincible Fleet had lasted barely two hours before it ended with the total annihilation of the Invincible Fleet.
Accepting the surrender of the Invincible Fleet's personnel and warships was naturally left to the subordinates—gathering prisoners, tending the wounded and dying, rescuing men from the water, repairing damaged ships, tallying casualties. In no time, every person aboard the Norton Family fleet was run off their feet. Meanwhile, Sembawood's fourteen thunderbolt ships immediately replenished their ammunition stores and then set off in high spirits to seize control of the Forde Commercial Alliance's transport convoy of over eight hundred vessels.
Around five o'clock in the afternoon, two medium-fast armed warships suddenly detached from the cluster of the Invincible Fleet, taking advantage of a shift in wind direction to sail south under full canvas and escape. When the report reached Lorist, he learned that it was his old acquaintance—Seriham, the eldest young master of the Chikede Chamber of Commerce.
From Viscount Penelope's account, Lorist learned that lining the interior walls of warships with flour sacks to cushion cannon impacts and leading the death-or-glory charge through fire ships had both been Seriham's ideas. Genorio asked Lorist whether to order Sembawood to dispatch a few thunderbolt ships in pursuit. Lorist considered it for a moment and declined the suggestion—let him go.
That young master Seriham was undoubtedly a clever man. He knew that after the surrender, the Norton Family fleet would immediately dispatch people to seize control of all the large armed warships but would lack the manpower to adequately watch the medium-fast armed warships. So he had hidden aboard two of them with a handful of trusted attendants and guards. Then he waited for the thunderbolt fleet to depart for the transport convoy, and waited until around five in the afternoon when the wind shifted and less than two hours remained before dark before separating from the fleet cluster and fleeing under full sail.
Just as young master Seriham had anticipated, even though Lorist knew a big fish had slipped away, he could not spare the warships and manpower to give chase. First, apart from the thunderbolt ships, no other vessel could match the speed of the medium-fast armed warships. Second, there simply weren't enough warships and personnel—the thunderbolt ships numbered only fourteen, while the transport convoy comprised over eight hundred vessels. Which was more important, Lorist understood perfectly well. Third, night was fast approaching. Chasing two warships that had already had a two-hour head start across the vast, dark ocean—no one had that capability.
So beyond ordering heightened watch and supervision over the surrendered warships, Lorist made no move to pursue young master Seriham. Eleven days later, word of the Invincible Fleet and transport convoy's total destruction was carried back to the Chikede Chamber of Commerce's territory by the escaped Seriham and spread to the nations of the continent's south. The news would take at least another month to travel overland to
That evening, Lorist hosted a banquet to honor several high-ranking officers of the Invincible Fleet who held noble titles, along with the Sword Saints. Throughout the dinner, Lorist kept feeling that one particular middle-aged noble—the first to throw down his sword and surrender—looked strangely familiar, as though they had met before. He asked the man who he was.
The richly dressed middle-aged noble rose hastily at Lorist's inquiry and answered with the utmost respect: "Your Grace, Grand Duke Norton—I am Rofi Fosta, Duke of the Qigeda Kingdom, First-rank Sword Saint."
He had taken away the girl Lorist had once loved most... Unexpectedly, seventeen or eighteen years had passed, and everything had changed. When he finally appeared before Lorist again, he had become Lorist's captive.
"What are you doing here?" Lorist was genuinely puzzled. Intelligence reports indicated that Duke Fosta wielded the regency of the Qigeda Kingdom—in fact, his orders carried more weight there than the king's own. How had he ended up aboard the Invincible Fleet's expedition?
Though somewhat surprised by Lorist's familiar tone, Duke Fosta answered honestly: "Your Grace, Grand Duke Norton—the Forde Commercial Alliance is an ally of the Qigeda Kingdom. To withstand the two great threats from the Roman Empire and the Havistan Khanate to our south, the Qigeda Kingdom requires the support and assistance of its allies.
"I am the faction in our kingdom that firmly advocates maintaining friendly relations with the Forde Commercial Alliance. As an ally, I led the Rofi Family's Firebird Corps to Morant City to join the battle. I simply never expected that we would encounter the Sword Saint here. Our Firebird Corps hadn't even disembarked before becoming captives of Your Grace, the Grand Duke Norton. How deeply embarrassing..."
Duke Fosta said with a bitter smile that if word reached the Qigeda Kingdom that the Firebird Corps had surrendered without a fight aboard their ships—not a single battle fought—it would make everyone die of laughter. That corps was hailed as the Qigeda Kingdom's most elite fighting force, and combined with his own two thousand personal guards, it formed the Rofi Family's military guarantee and foundation. His first priority now was to ransom himself and the Firebird Corps at whatever cost—otherwise, certain parties within the kingdom would inevitably move against the Rofi Family, with unimaginable consequences...
"Your Grace, Grand Duke Norton, please allow the Rofi Family to ransom myself and the Firebird Corps. As head of the Rofi Family, I guarantee that we will no longer intervene in the wars between your nation and the Forde Commercial Alliance. Naturally, the ransom we offer will be sure to satisfy you," Duke Fosta requested earnestly.
"There's no rush." Lorist waved his hand and said with practiced ease: "I'm delighted to see you again, Duke Fosta. By the way—how is your wife, Windsor Bilina?"
Duke Fosta froze. He studied Lorist's face carefully and asked in bewilderment: "Grand Duke Norton—have we met before? You... you know my wife, Wina?"
Lorist's lips parted to reveal eight white teeth: "Of course. It was over a decade ago—we met in Morant City. Back then I was still a student at
Duke Fosta's face drained of color in an instant. Around them, Viscount Penelope and the rest were listening with rapt fascination, completely forgetting their status as captives. Everyone loved gossip—especially the tale of the legendary Blood Sword Saint Grand Duke Norton, who it turned out shared a romantic history with Duke Fosta's wife. It was absolutely scandalous. When they returned home, this would keep them in boasts among the noble circles for years.
"You... it was you..." Duke Fosta trembled from head to toe. He had long since consigned Lorist to the back of his mind, completely forgotten. And now Lorist had suddenly appeared before him as Grand Duke of the Northland and head of the Norton Family—and those two words, Sword Saint, loomed like two towering peaks before his eyes.
Duke Fosta thought: It's over. It's all over...