Chapter 375 — A Battery in the Sky

Goblin Airship Yards, Central Continent — Four Days Later

“Gettin’ closer is how we lost the Redwake,” Vessa grunted, slumping back against the workbench. “Her captain was mid-turn when the second Warhound shell tore right through her gut. Broke her spine in two.”

Captain Razzik leaned forward over the table, his voice thick with frustration. “And before she went down, her cannons spent half their mana-charges poundin’ clouds of dirt around those armored bastards. The lesser demon grunts turned to soup, sure. But the Warhounds? Just sneered and kept firin’ back.”

Five goblins sat crammed around Yardmaster Brizz’s workbench. Casualty lists and wreckage reports were strewn between a faded hull schematic and the shattered, smoking remains of a mana-ward plate. They had been arguing over the fleet’s horrifying attrition rate against enemy for nearly an hour.

Brizz shoved the cracked ward plate aside with a heavy metallic clatter. “Then we’re talkin’ about the wrong fixes. We don’t just need faster turns—we need a bloody floating fortress.”

Master Deks raised his brass magnifying goggles, squintin’ at the yard master. “A fortress?”

“A mothership,” Brizz said, tapping his claw against the workbench. “A super-heavy hull. Multi-layered ward shields, reinforced adamantine-plate ribs, and enough defense to swat Nightwings out of the sky like flies. A vessel heavy enough to take direct fire from a Warhound, punch through the demon artillery line, smash their heavy positions to rubble, and actually fly home in one piece.”

Mage Nivra rubbed her chin, her voice raspy. “Multi-layered wards’d take a massive mana-core array. You’d need three central conduits just to cycle the barriers so one layer recovers while the second takes the hits.”

“And the cost’d make the High Council faint,” Deks squeaked, shaking his head. “We’d be spendin’ half the continent’s budget on a single ship. If she sinks, the whole fleet goes under with her.”

“She wouldn’t sink if she’s built right,” Brizz growled. “Right now, every airship we send into Warhound range is just a flying coffin waiting for its turn.”

Razzik shook his head, tapping the casualty logs. “A mothership’s a great dream for next year, Brizz. But we’re losing ships today. We need a heavy weapon that gives our current fleet a reason to stay out of Warhound range entirely while being able to kill it.”

Right on cue, the workshop door slammed open. A junior runner rushed in, panting heavily, and slapped a sealed leather dispatch onto the table right in front of Razzik.

“Fresh from headquarters, Captain! Report from the Avarran front!”

Razzik broke the wax seal, scanning the lines quickly. As his eyes ran down the page, a sharp grin spread across his green snout.

“Well now… look what the scribes just handed us.”

Brizz leaned over, reading Hadrik’s signature at the bottom of the dispatch before reading the battle account aloud.

The report detailed a maiden engagement from four days prior: four new leFH ground howitzers had engaged two demon guns hidden behind a blind ridge. Both enemy pieces had been obliterated on the very first battery salvo using calculated grid math, optical sights and some observation.

Nivra perked up immediately. “They hit enemy positions over a hill without even seein’ ’em directly?”

“Scry spell, chalk calculations, and precision optics,” Razzik said, slapping the paper. “They turned a enemy battery into splinters from miles out.”

“If we had that kind of range and accuracy on an airship,” Vessa mused, her eyes brightening, “we wouldn’t have to scrape the treetops just to land a shell. We could shell the Warhounds from way beyond their hit envelope.”

“So we bolt these new howitzers onto our fleet,” Brizz said, rubbing his chin. “Which vessel do we use as a testbed?”

Deks immediately pulled out the master fleet register, unrolling a long parchment listing active ship classes.

“Alright, let’s go down the roster,” Deks said, running a claw down the column. “What about the Vanguard-class gunships?”

“Too small,” Vessa shot down instantly. “The recoil from a howitzer’d snap her mounting frame right off the deck. Plus, she’s got no extra cargo margin for heavy shell casings.”

“Fair enough,” Deks muttered, scratching out the line. “The Titan-Great heavy assault cruiser?”

Brizz snorted. “Are you out of your mind, Deks? There’s only three Titans afloat! The High Council’d have us all executed if we start cuttin’ holes in a capital ship for an unproven experimental gun. Too expensive, way too risky for a test rig.”

“Fine, fine!” Deks squeaked. “What about the Sky-Stalker fast frigates?”

“None available,” Razzik grunted, checking his own tactical ledger. “Every single Sky-Stalker is currently deployed on escort duty along the southern trade corridor. Command won’t release one for drydock trials.”

Deks ran his finger further down the list, frowning. “The Boreas-class line ships?”

“Stuck in refit for the next two months,” Nivra pointed out. “Their ward channels are all stripped down for core overhauls.”

Silence fell over the workbench for a long moment as Deks stared at the dwindling list of available airframes.

Vessa leaned over the register, her claw stopping on a line near the middle. “What about the Harbinger-class transport ship?”

Brizz stopped and squinted at the entry. “The Harbinger?”

“Think about it,” Vessa said, tapping the paper. “She’s got a heavy reinforced hull built to haul two hundred armored troops and heavy equipment. Her frame is broad, her main deck has plenty of clearance, and her rated payload margin is over twenty-five tons beyond standard load.”

“She’s got the room,” Deks admitted, rubbing his snout thoughtfully. “Rippin’ out the troop quarters frees up all the space we need for shell hoists, gun crews, and structural recoil bracing.”

“And more importantly,” Razzik added with a grin, “there’s one sitting right in here—the Iron Gull. She’s awaiting refit, her schedule’s blank, and nobody in Command will cry if we drill a few holes in a transport ship.”

Brizz looked around the table. “Anyone got a reason why the Harbinger won’t work?”

Nobody spoke.

Brizz slammed his hand onto the table. “Then the Harbinger it is. Let’s go take a look at the Iron Gull.”

The Iron Gull rested in a massive wooden maintenance cradle beneath the eastern gantry.

Scaffolding hugged her broad hull, where workers had stripped away several scorched armor plates near the bow. Further down, two goblins were clearin’ mana-soot out of the ward channels with wire brushes while a gun crew inspected an old bombardment cannon on the deck.

Vessa stopped at the foot of the boardin’ ramp, looking up at the transport’s broad belly. “She’s still gonna turn like a beached whale, Razzik, no matter how shiny the guns are.”

“I know,” Razzik grunted. “I just want her to kill what’s in front of her before she has to turn.”

Deks unrolled the Harbinger-class schematics across a workbench by the ramp. “Eighty-four meters bow to stern, sixteen-meter beam across the belly deck. Replacing the old pop-guns saves us baseline weight. Repurposin’ the troop quarters gives us room for shell hoists, gunners, and support bracin’.”

“How many pieces can we fit?” Brizz asked.

“Six leFH howitzers, assumin’ we balance the ammunition and charge-casin’ weight,” Razzik replied.

Vessa turned to him, deadpan. “Do you want the ship to fly, Captain, or are we turnin’ her into a floatin’ iron fort?”

“That’s why we’re crunchin’ the numbers, Vessa.”

“Then don’t forget to count the heavy shell casings,” she smirked. “Captains always count the shiny cannons and forget the heavy mana-cores.”

They climbed the boardin’ ramp and entered the forward gun passage. Deks led them to the starboard cannon station, where a heavy cast-iron pedestal was bolted to the main structural frame.

A senior goblin smith crouched beside the carriage, wipin’ grease off his snout. “We startin’ here, Master Deks?”

“We start here,” Deks confirmed. “We swap this piece out for the first trial.”

Razzik stepped up, pattin’ the cold iron of the existing cannon. “Just one for the initial test?”

“Yeah. We have its performance data, we know how the deck reacts to its recoil, and the frame is already exposed.” Deks patted the steel mount. “We’ll compare the leFH’s recoil and weight right against this footprint. Some brackets might fit; others we’ll have to forge from scratch.”

Nivra squatted down to examine the glowin’ copper lines inlaid around the deck. “The ward reinforcement arrays are aligned here. Once Deks draws the new mount, I’ll retune the magic channels for higher stability.”

“Good,” Brizz nodded. “We test one gun on the Harbinger frame first. If she holds together and hits what we aim at, we pitch the full conversion—and maybe that mothership idea—to the High Council.”

Vessa leaned against the bulkhead with a dry chuckle. “And see if we can finally stop feedin’ our airships to those damned Warhounds.”

Razzik pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment, resting it on an ammo chest. “I’ll write the request to Karrek right now. One trial leFH, optical sights, test shells, and an instructor crew.”

“Attach the Redwake’s loss report to the letter,” Vessa reminded him, looking back out toward the sky. “Let Karrek see what happens when we don’t have the reach.”

Razzik nodded, his quill scratching steadily across the page as he penned the top line: Project Harbinger — Battery Testbed (The Iron Gull).