I, the prince in distress, send money

Chapter 518 Going to sea
Ten years for the army, a hundred years for the navy.

This statement reveals the technical difficulties and challenges faced by the navy.

However, before boarding the Storm and navigating it out to sea, the more than 500 players, including Xiaodaochipan, didn't really have much of a concept of what was difficult about it.

Chris had a good idea, so he arranged a basic crew of ninety sailors for them, all of whom were intelligent NPCs who worked diligently and without complaint.

Given that the Chinese-style rigid sails used on the Storm were more labor-saving and easier to operate than the Western-style square sails, the crew of ninety people included a sail operation team that could work in shifts day and night, an anchor winch team, a rudder + lookout + depth sounding team, a carpentry team, and a rotation and replacement team to prevent injuries and illnesses among the crew.

There are a total of ninety people.

With these ninety people, players only need to take over the positions of gunner, commander, medic, boarding marine, and navigator to get the Storm running.

Given the player's abilities, this shouldn't be difficult... well, theoretically.

However, it was precisely this seemingly "easy" takeover that caused more than 500 players, especially the self-proclaimed elite Xiaodaozai, to crash headfirst into a high wall called "professionalism".

The first position to be challenged was the seemingly simplest one... the navigator.

From the players' perspective, it's simply a matter of looking at the sea chart and pointing in the right direction. They know the coordinates and the distance between each other, so it's impossible for them to go the wrong way.

But when they actually stood in the navigator's position and faced the nautical chart provided by Chris, which showed the equiangular course and complex depth markings, as well as a bunch of old-fashioned instruments such as compasses, quadrants, and speedometers, most of the originally confident players were left bewildered within minutes.

Wind direction, ocean currents, tides, magnetic declination... countless variables are intertwined, and any misjudgment could cause this two-thousand-ton behemoth to deviate from its course, resulting in delays at best and running aground at worst.

In this endeavor, the players lost sight of one thing at a time, and the Storm drew a course comparable to that of a drunkard during its initial short voyage.

After only half a day at sea, cold sweat broke out on Xiao Dao's forehead. He immediately ordered the revenge fleet to stop and then transferred a spare navigator from the armed merchant ship behind to serve as the navigator of the Storm.

Compared to the navigator, there are more players in the artillery position, and they are more confident... After all, who hasn't fired a few shots on the battlefield?

Whether it's a tiger-squatting cannon, a field gun, or a siege heavy artillery, their firing process and principles are roughly the same.

The same applies to warship cannons.

However, most players don't consider land-based artillery, even heavy muzzle-loading cannons, whose carriages are firmly rooted to the ground once deployed. When aiming, only the target's orientation, distance, and limited crosswinds need to be considered.

But the cannons on warships are a completely different matter.

When confident artillery players excitedly climb onto the gun deck, ready to unleash their skills, they are greeted by a dynamic, noisy, and even somewhat bumpy battlefield.

The ocean itself was the first to launch an attack.

The Storm rose and fell gently but continuously with the waves, rolling and swaying, making it difficult for the gunners to stand, and they had to constantly grab onto ropes or structures to maintain their balance.

And this was just the beginning, because the artillery itself was also moving.

The heavy, modern steel cannons are connected to the ship's hull by complex rigging. Each time they are fired, the recoil causes the cannon to slide a distance on the deck, requiring the gunners to pull it back to its original position.

This results in the shooting sequence that players remember on land being fragmented here.

"Aim! Quickly, aim at those wooden barrels on the sea!"

The deck gunner shouted amidst the noise.

A player struggled to aim using the rear sights and front sights on the cannon, but a slight roll of the ship caused the aiming line to slide from the left to the right of the target.

He tried to adjust himself, but found that his body was swaying more violently than the boat.

"No good, boss, the boat keeps rocking, I can't aim properly!"

This is the norm, and it's the least problematic thing.

Secondly, it is about mastering the timing of shooting.

When players are using artillery on land, they can fire at any time as long as they are ready.

But at sea, the opportunity to fire is fleeting. Experienced naval gunners will wait for the ship to roll and for the gun muzzle to be pointed at the target during that very brief "steady period" before firing. This is practically a mystery to players... They have absolutely no chance to learn it.

They either had to fire hastily while the ship was still rocking, with the shells flying off somewhere unknown, or they hesitated for too long and missed the best opportunity, by which time the cannons were already pointing at the sky or the sea.

Furthermore, the filling process is extremely difficult.

On the swaying deck, the series of delicate and dangerous operations—cleaning the gun barrel, loading the propellant charge, loading the shell, tamping it down with a ramrod, inserting the flintlock needle, and pouring in the priming powder—increase in difficulty exponentially.

One player nearly injured himself when his ramrod veered off course while tamping ammunition because the ship rocked. Another player spilled most of the priming powder while pouring it in due to shaky hands and the ship's rocking motion.

Even more frightening was that in the enclosed, crowded gun deck filled with gunpowder dust, any mistake could lead to catastrophic consequences.

The adage "keep the gunpowder dry" can be followed by an additional sentence: "At the same time, it is also necessary to prevent the gunpowder from spilling."

After just two extremely clumsy rounds of firing, the upper gun deck of the Storm was already a mess. The players were panting and sweating profusely. They felt that this was more tiring than operating a cannon ten times on land. The firing accuracy was even more appalling, with the nearest bullet impact point being a hundred and eight thousand miles away from the target buoy.

Looking at the group of elite player gunners staggering and disheveled before him, and recalling his earlier, harmless, indiscriminate firing that seemed like fireworks, Xiao Dao's face turned ashen.

He finally understood why it's called a "century-old navy".

Land artillery and naval artillery may both involve handling cannons, but they are actually two completely different skills.

One involves relatively simple projectiles on a stable platform, while the other involves dynamic shooting on a constantly moving, variable platform that is itself an expensive vehicle, requiring a high degree of experience, coordination, and timing.

This wall, called "professionalism," is thicker and harder than they imagined.

He took a deep breath of the air, which smelled of the sea and gunpowder, and reluctantly gave the order again.

"Brothers, take a break and let's have a meeting to summarize the problems we encountered during the firing process and discuss how to solve them."

After a short rest, the artillery players gathered on the spacious upper deck of the Storm, forming a large circle and beginning their meeting.

"Tell me, where did the problem lie?"

Xiao Daozaipi was the first to speak, setting the stage for the meeting.

After a brief silence, the henchman, who was the gunner on the second deck, spoke first, wiping the soot off his face.

"The biggest problem is instability. Our experience in firing on land is useless here. The ships and cannons are constantly shaking."

“Shaking affects more than just aiming.”

A player next to him added that he was the loader.

"Loading the cannon was even more dangerous. On land, you could just push the cannon in all the way, but when the ship rocked, I accidentally pushed the cannon into my foot, which caused almost half of the priming powder to spill out... Luckily, the torch didn't fall, otherwise, a secondary explosion would have been a disaster for us."

"Timing, timing is key!"

Another player shouted.

"Determining when to fire is also a problem... I finally managed to aim at the target, but the ship tilted, and I missed my shot."

I remember watching a video where someone said you have to wait until the boat rocks to its highest or lowest point, that's when it's most stable... but I just can't seem to get that feeling right!

The lively discussion quickly outlined the problem: the dynamic platform, the harsh environment, inaccurate aiming, the difficult loading, the unpredictable firing timing, and the lack of tacit cooperation among team members amidst the shaking.

Hearing the knife being stabbed in the buttocks, his brows furrowed.

Each of these problems seems to have a solution, but when combined, they become an insurmountable mountain.

"Talk is cheap."

He stood up and dusted off his trousers. "Practice, from now on. The Storm will sail with half its sails. We'll practice as we go, summarize our experiences, and don't rush to fire the cannons. Let's conserve our gunpowder and solve the problem of maintaining our footing first."

Everyone should find a foothold to stabilize themselves—gun mounts, cables, bulkheads—make use of everything! Develop muscle memory!

Next, let's practice loading. Let's simplify the process by working in pairs. One person will be responsible for stabilizing their body and roughly aiming, while the other will only be responsible for loading and preparing to fire. We won't focus on speed at first, but rather on loading the gunpowder steadily to avoid mistakes.

Finally, we went to practice… I refused to believe that we, as intellectuals who had completed compulsory education, couldn't handle loading and aiming the muzzle-loading guns of this warship!

Under the orders and encouragement of the "poke your butt" command, the players, their pride ignited, crawled back onto the cannon deck.

This time, the Storm did not travel at full speed, but instead sailed at half speed at sea, which extended the time it took to reach the storm belt.

The previous clamor on the gun deck was gone, replaced by a subdued, focused silence.

Players began arduous acclimatization training on the gun deck of the Storm.

They first learned to stand firmly on the swaying deck, finding their balance by bending their knees and grabbing onto fixed points, gradually becoming familiar with the rhythm of the waves.

The loading process was simplified to a two-person team: one person was responsible for stabilizing and roughly aiming, while the other focused on loading. They adjusted their posture, kneeling on one knee to form a triangular support, and carefully handled the gunpowder and shells to avoid spilling them during the bumpy ride.

The biggest challenge is dynamic aiming.

Players discovered that they had to anticipate the ship's swaying to capitalize on brief periods of calm. With the advice of players skilled in mathematics, they began recording the swaying cycles to find patterns.

Then, given the players' abilities, they actually managed to compile a table.

"Predict the next sideways movement... Three, two, one... Release!"

Xiao Daozai personally directed the artillery firing, and after a cannon shot, the player acting as the lookout shouted excitedly from above.

"The artillery shell landed less than ten meters from the target!"

Although it didn't hit directly, it was still a major breakthrough.

The players' morale soared, and they continued to train. The professional barrier remained high, but they had already carved their first mark on that wall.

……

Far beyond the storm belt, on the Blue Flame Islands, the elf Hobert stood on the railing of the Mirror Moon, his slender fingers unconsciously tracing the fine wood grain on the railing. Moonlight shone on his long silver hair, but could not dispel the worry that had settled between his brows.

Lately, he has been feeling a strange palpitation, as if some unseen shadow is lingering in his heart. Such a sudden feeling is by no means unfounded for an experienced elf.

But Hobart still couldn't figure out what the problem was.

Was it because of the failure of the operation to seize the snake-man god's child?

Hobart pondered this, thinking it over and over, but he didn't think there was any problem with it.

The operation failed, but the losses were not significant; only a few dozen half-elf members were lost, which was not a problem for the Mirror Sea Brigade at all.

Half-elves are nothing new; there are plenty of them in the Blue Flame Islands. Hobert only needs to display the Mirror Sea Guild's banner on the main street of Mooncrown City on the main island, and a large group of frustrated but reasonably skilled half-elf swordsmen will come to apply.

Therefore, Hobart didn't think it was a big problem at all.

In the Blue Flame Islands, the Mirror Sea Brigade's power is deeply entrenched, and minor setbacks cannot shake its foundation.

Hobert only regretted that he had failed to seize the Serpent God Child. If he had succeeded, it would have undoubtedly further enhanced the Mirror Sea Brigade's status within the Blue Flame Kingdom.

"Pity……"

As Hobert was deep in thought, a soft footstep sound came from behind him, accompanied by a faint fragrance, like a moonlit orchid.

"It's late at night, are you still worrying about the guild's affairs?"

A clear and gentle voice rang out, like a mountain stream flowing over smooth pebbles.

Hobert didn't turn around, but his taut shoulders relaxed slightly.

Only one person on the entire Mirror Moon was able to approach him so silently without being hindered by the warning spells.

A pair of slender, fair hands gently rested on his shoulders, their fingertips carrying a reassuring coolness as they massaged his stiff muscles with just the right amount of pressure.

Hobert turned around after a moment. The female confidante standing behind him was wearing a moon-white elven silk dress with dark silver star runes embroidered on the hem, which shimmered with light as she moved.

The elf's face was so exquisitely beautiful that it seemed otherworldly. Her silver hair was lighter than Hobart's, almost platinum gold, and her eyes were the emerald green of new leaves in early spring. At this moment, they were gazing at Hobart's furrowed brows with a hint of concern and worry.

"Alice..."

Hobert sighed softly and raised his hand to cover her hand that was resting on his shoulder.

"It's not about any specific event, I just have a feeling... like there's an undercurrent beneath the surface of the sea, but I can't see where it's going."

Alice walked to his side and stood with him by the railing, gazing at the moon. The sea breeze ruffled a few strands of silver hair at her temples, which occasionally intertwined with Hobart's hair.

“Your intuition has always been sharp, Hobart. The blood of the elves gives us the ability to perceive the subtle ripples of nature and fate. If you feel something, it must be for a reason.”

Her voice was soft, yet it carried a comforting power.

"Is it because of the failure of the last operation?"

Hobert shook his head, then nodded.

"The defeat itself is nothing to fear; the losses of the half-elves can be replenished at any time. I just feel a little uneasy."

What's bothering you?

He paused.

“I’m not sure, Alice.”

"Perhaps this is just a warning from the World Tree to you..."

She turned to Hobart, her gaze firm yet tender.

"But no matter what, Hobart, you are not alone. The Mirror Sea Brigade is your strong support, and I... I will always be by your side."

Do you still remember the vow we made under the Star Tree on Yongju Island when we were young?
Through thick and thin, we'll walk side by side.

Looking into her clear and determined eyes, Hobert felt a slight calming of his inexplicable anxiety.

He gripped her hand tightly in return, feeling her cool body temperature and steady strength through his fingertips.

"Yes."

A slight smile finally appeared at the corner of his mouth. Although his worries had not completely dissipated, his eyes regained their sharpness and composure.

"Perhaps I'm overthinking it... A few setbacks shouldn't be a stumbling block for the troupe."

Alice smiled slightly, like moonlight breaking through the clouds.

"This is the Hobert I know. If a crisis really comes, we will face it together. Now, put aside those troubling thoughts. It's late at night, let the moonlight wash away your fatigue."

The two fell silent, standing side by side at the bow of the ship, letting the cool moonlight bathe their bodies, their shadows stretching long on the deck.

(End of this chapter)