Game of Thrones: I am Dothraki, not a barbarian

Chapter 202 All dead

Stannis, seeing the horrific scene before him, finally realized the gravity of the situation.

Within half an hour, his fleet had lost six warships, while the enemy continued to fire safely from 800 yards away.

"Give the order!" he roared furiously, "All catapults, fire back immediately!"

If they didn't fight back, they would all die. On the deck, officers and sailors alike were yelling and operating the catapults, sending huge rocks and oil canisters hurtling towards Crescent Bay.

However, 800 yards is far too far for these traditional siege weapons.

Most of the projectiles landed in the sea, with only a few stones barely reaching the rocky shore, smashing a white crater into the moss on the rocks.

Stannis watched all of this in despair.
Their weapons couldn't even reach the enemy, while the enemy could easily destroy their warships. This unequal combat completely overturned all the rules of traditional naval warfare!
Ten minutes later, when the combined fleet advanced to 600 yards, Baqu and the gunners were incredibly excited.

You can't hit me, but if I hit you, it will result in dozens or even hundreds of casualties. If a single shell hits the hull, the entire warship will be paralyzed!

Fighting this kind of war is so exhilarating!

"Aim at the Royal Fleet!" Baqu pointed to the largest Dromon warships on the sea. "Send them the warmth of Pentos!"

Eight Napoleon cannons roared once more!

The first ship hit was the HMS Jenna, a three-masted battleship that was originally in the second battle line.

The shell tore open the ship's hull, and seawater rushed into the cabin. Captain Herb Lambton's eldest son tried to stop the leak but was struck on the head by a collapsing beam and died instantly.

The Chena began to sink rapidly.

Two hundred rowers scrambled to escape in the chaos, pushing and trampling each other, their screams echoing throughout the air.

Davos witnessed it all. He had friends on the Jenna, and his heart was bleeding.

Immediately afterwards, the second round of shelling came.

The Old Maid was the first to be hit, and Davos's third son, Malik, was the ship's oarsman, positioned in the first row.

A shell struck the rowers' cabin directly, instantly tearing Malik and the dozen or so rowers around him to pieces.

"Malik!" Davos cried out in anguish, but his voice was quickly drowned out by the roar of artillery fire.

During the third round of shelling, Davos recognized the familiar flag—his eldest son Dale's HMS Helling.

The cannonball pierced the bow of the Helling. Dale was directing the operation of the catapult when it was smashed to pieces by the cannonball. He was also pierced through the chest by flying wood chips and fell into a pool of blood.

Before he died, he looked in the direction of his father, his lips moved as if he were saying something, and then he closed his eyes forever.

"Dale! My child!" Davos's knees buckled, and he knelt on the ground, tears streaming down his face.

Lady Maria was not spared either; Arad's ship was hit by two cannonballs simultaneously and instantly disintegrated.

Davos saw his second son being thrown into the air by the shockwave of the explosion, then crashing heavily into the sea, never to resurface.

Gods above, how am I supposed to live?
Davos thought to himself, letting the tears blur his vision.

My children are dead, Dale and Arad, Malik and Masos, and maybe even Devon…

How can a father have the face to live on after losing so many strong children?
How am I supposed to survive?
I am an empty shell, a dead crab, with nothing inside.

He knelt on the deck, letting shells whiz past him, closing his eyes in despair, awaiting death. "Holy Mother," he murmured, "let me reunite with my children..."

Just then, a strong hand grabbed his shoulder.

"Father! Get up!"

It was Daventon, his youngest son and Stannis's squire, who spoke. "His Majesty needs us!"

Davos opened his eyes and saw that his flagship, the Fury, was riddled with holes.

The mainmast was broken, the deck was shattered, and there were corpses and blood everywhere. Seawater poured in through countless holes, and the ship began to list.

Stannis still stood on the tilted deck, clutching the Lightbringer tightly, his face splattered with blood, his left arm pierced by splinters, blood streaming down his face.

But he remained motionless, like a statue, gazing at his sinking royal fleet.

"Is this the punishment from the gods?" he muttered to himself. "I betrayed the Seven Gods and turned to serve the Red God, and now even the Red God has abandoned me..."

Davon and Davos lifted Stannis up on either side. "Your Majesty, the ship is sinking! We must get out!"

Stannis seemed not to hear, watching the burning sea, the soldiers struggling in the water, and the warships sinking to the bottom of the sea.

"Warships, army!" His voice was hoarse. "It's all over...it's all over..."

"Your Majesty!" Davenport cried out, "You still have Dragonstone! You still have your loyal subjects! The war is not over!"

These words finally brought Stannis back to his senses.

He looked at the loyal young man, then at Davos, whose face was streaked with tears.

“You have lost four sons,” he said to Davos, “yet you still want to save me, the king who killed them…”

“His Majesty is the monarch I swore allegiance to,” Davos choked out, “and my sons…they died for a just cause…”

boom!
Another shell struck the Fury, blowing off its entire stern. The hull cracked with a terrible sound and began to sink rapidly.

"Hurry up!" Dai Feng pulled the two of them onto the lifeboat.

The other survivors had already begun to abandon ship and escape. The once mighty Fury sank completely in less than ten minutes, leaving only a huge whirlpool on the sea.

The Iron Fleet, which had already retreated, saw the miserable state of the royal fleet and secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

Fortunately, we retreated in time, otherwise we would all have perished in Pentos, which is the lowest level of hell!

In less than two hours, the alliance of the two most invincible fleets on the continents of Westeros and Essos collapsed!
The sea was littered with corpses, planks, and debris, and the seawater was dyed a glaring scarlet!
Before sinking, Stannis boarded a lifeboat, turned his gaze from the sea to Pentos Bay.

The gun emplacements were still flashing, and shells rained down, sending the remaining warships one by one to the bottom of the sea.

His heart was breaking, and he couldn't help but mutter, "The knight's bravery and the warship's sturdiness are meaningless in the face of that weapon; it is truly the blessing of the Red God..."

He knew that today was not just the defeat of a war, but the end of an era!

Traditional naval tactics, traditional weaponry, and traditional rules of war all appear so pale and powerless in the face of these terrifying new weapons!
At a turning point in history, he, Stannis Baratheon, became the first gravedigger of the old era.

(End of this chapter)