Chapter 419: Six Days
The salty sea breeze swept across the coast, carrying with it the distant cries of gulls and the rhythmic crash of waves.
O’Neil’s warning left Alonso silent. Six days. That was a dangerous amount of time. Alonso understood exactly what those six days meant. Reinforcements could arrive from Brambleford, and once they did, the balance between the Dutch fleet and this mysterious eastern power could change completely.
The Ruler might choose to negotiate. Or he might choose war.
Either way, the Dutch fleet could no longer act recklessly. Alonso glanced toward the towering walls of the city. The cannons mounted there were enough to prove that this city was far from ordinary.
He needed information.
More importantly, he needed time to understand exactly what kind of enemy stood before him.
After a moment of consideration, Alonso nodded.
"Very well. We will wait for six days."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"I hope that, after six days, I will have the honor of meeting His Royal Highness."
With that, he turned and raised his hand.
"Withdraw."
The Dutch soldiers immediately began retreating toward the beach.
Zack watched them leave with an expression of dissatisfaction.
"Ambassador, we’re returning to the ship?"
"Yes." Alonso glanced at him.
"We didn’t come here to start a war. Our purpose is to clarify the matter concerning the matchlock muskets. Those cannons on the walls have already shown us that this place is dangerous. Until we understand our enemy, provoking them would be foolish."
He looked back toward the city wall. Zack’s mouth twitched; he didn’t dare argue aloud. But inwardly, he sneered.
Cowards.
If it were up to him, the Dutch troops would storm Ashenford immediately.
The city looked weak. If they could seize it and establish a permanent foothold, Lord Scott’s plans would become much easier. Unfortunately, Alonso had chosen caution.
Zack could only follow the retreating troops.
As the Dutch soldiers disappeared toward the shore, he turned his head one last time toward the city. His eyes were filled with unwillingness.
Meanwhile, O’Neill finally relaxed.
He had been holding his breath throughout the confrontation. The Dutch troops were withdrawing. That meant they had chosen not to gamble.
Without wasting time, he immediately dispatched scouts toward the bay to give a report.
***
"The Dutch want to see me?"
When the scout arrived at the bay, Monti hurried forward to report everything.
"Yes, Your Highness."
He bowed.
"We told them you would arrive in six days. Surprisingly, the Dutch actually agreed to withdraw and wait."
O’Neill paused before adding,
"In my opinion, Your Highness, their objective isn’t war."
Simon nodded.
"Your judgment is correct. Their actions are nothing more than probing."
The Dutch had crossed an enormous distance to reach the East.
That alone told Simon something. They wouldn’t have made such an expedition without considering the consequences. The attack on Valeric had already demonstrated their confidence.
But confidence was not the same as recklessness.
The Dutch were testing how far they could push the local powers.
And now, they were testing his own water.
"They believe we’re weak; that’s why they dared to force Valeric into accepting their demands."
His eyes narrowed.
"But they don’t know us yet."
Deploying an army across half the world was no simple matter. Even with powerful sailing ships, transporting soldiers, ammunition, food, and supplies across such a distance placed enormous pressure on logistics. The Dutch fleet could not simply summon an army from Europe whenever it suffered a setback. If they were defeated here, their entire expedition might collapse.
Monti didn’t understand the scale of the Dutch Empire, but he understood one thing.
"Your Highness, regardless of what they’re planning, once the army arrives, we have nothing to fear."
"Exactly. Once the reinforcements arrive, I’ll meet their ambassador personally."
He smiled.
"Then we’ll see what they really want."
This was more than a diplomatic meeting. It was Brambleford’s first confrontation with a foreign civilization possessing technology and ambitions completely different from those of the Eldorian Empire.
He had to be cautious. He had no intention of allowing Alonso to dictate the terms when the time came.
***
The following day, the harbor became busy.
Twenty merchant ships entered the naval port one after another. The soldiers waiting on the docks immediately recognized the cargo. The first batch of artillery produced by the military workshops had finally arrived.
Desmond’s eyes lit up.
"Unload them!" He ordered.
The soldiers immediately began moving. Crates of ammunition were carried ashore, onto the warships. Every piece of artillery represented another layer of strength for the navy. Without cannons, even the largest galleon was little more than a massive wooden target.
But once armed properly...
It became a predator.
The first shipment contained more than three hundred cannons.
Two additional shipments would follow.
Even this first batch was enough to arm several smaller galleons.
Desmond personally supervised the loading.
He couldn’t hide his excitement. These were the weapons he had been waiting for.
Over the following days, additional shipments arrived.
One after another, the twelve galleons were armed.
The transformation was striking.
What had once been magnificent wooden ships were now floating fortresses.
At nearly the same time, Benjamin arrived at the bay with the army. The moment his soldiers stepped ashore, the atmosphere around the harbor changed.
The troops had come prepared. For the first time since the Dutch appeared, Simon felt that Ashenford was truly secure.
Benjamin immediately came to him.
"My Lord"
He saluted.
"We’re ready for war."
Desmond stepped forward as well, excitement obvious in his voice.
"Your Highness, the fleet is ready too."
Simon looked toward the newly armed galleons. Twelve warships. He wasn’t worried anymore.
But Benjamin had already begun considering the larger picture.
"My Lord, supplies will determine this war. The Dutch have traveled thousands of miles. Their supply lines are stretched thin. They can’t sustain a prolonged campaign."
Benjamin’s eyes hardened.
"If we seize Split Rock, their supply route will be cut."
He paused.
"Once that happens, defeating them will only be a matter of time."
Benjamin was right.
But Simon had no intention of rushing into war.
"It’s not time yet. The Dutch came here for profit; they aren’t interested in dying for a piece of land they barely understand."
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"Their ambassador wants negotiations. Then we’ll negotiate."
Benjamin laughed.
"And if they refuse?"
Simon’s expression remained calm.
"Then we’ll show them why refusing is a bad decision."
Benjamin understood immediately.
"Your Highness intends to win without fighting. If possible."
Simon mounted his horse.
"War is expensive."
He looked back at the harbor.
"But sometimes, showing someone the cost of war is enough to make them reconsider."
By the appointed day, Ashenford was ready.
Simon and Benjamin left the temporary quarters near the naval port and headed toward the city.
Ten thousand soldiers stood in formation, their matchlock muskets gleaming beneath the sunlight, rows upon rows of soldiers stretched along the road.
Benjamin raised his hand.
"March!"
The army moved.
Ten thousand soldiers advanced toward the city with Simon at their center. At the same time, Desmond boarded the flagship, and the sailors moved rapidly across the decks. Cannons were loaded and ammunition was prepared.
The fleet remained in position near the harbor awaiting command.
If negotiations failed, the Dutch would discover exactly what Brambleford’s new navy was capable of.
***
Alonso arrived at the outskirts of the city wall exactly as agreed.
This time, however, he wasn’t stopped outside the city.
The gates opened.
He was permitted to enter.
The ambassador’s expression remained calm as he rode through the streets.
But internally, he couldn’t hide his contempt; the city looked poor. The streets were rough. The buildings were unimpressive.
Compared with the wealthy cities of Europe, this place appeared almost primitive.
And this is the territory of...
Alonso nearly smiled. But then he heard sounds.
Clatter. Clatter. Clatter.
Boots.
Hundreds of them.
He turned his head slightly.
A stream of soldiers suddenly emerged from the western gate as they moved quickly toward the eastern wall.
Alonso’s expression changed. His eyes widened.
Every soldier carried a firearm. Not the primitive weapons he had expected. But Flintlocks, Hundreds of them. Perhaps thousands.
Alonso stared in disbelief.
"God..."
His voice escaped before he could stop it, he rubbed his eyes, then looked again, there was no mistake.
Flintlock muskets. Everywhere.
His heartbeat quickened.
Flintlocks were already common in Europe. But seeing an organized army equipped with them in this distant and supposedly backward land was deeply unsettling.
This was not what he had expected. And suddenly, Ashenford didn’t look so weak anymore. Before Alonso could recover, another sound approached.
Clip-clop. Clip-clop.
Horsemen appeared ahead.
At their center was a young man dressed in a simple but commanding manner.
His voice rang through the street.
"Ambassador Alonso. Allow me to introduce His Royal Highness, Prince Simon."
He pointed toward the approaching young man.
Alonso stared at the young man. Far younger than he had imagined.
For a moment, disbelief replaced everything else.
This young man commands all of this?
Alonso clicked his tongue, but quickly recovered his composure.
Then, he stepped forward and removed his hat. With the manners expected of a European nobleman, he bowed.
"Greetings, To His Royal Highness."
Simon studied him silently.
The man’s clothing was unmistakably European. And deliberately impressive.
His gaze remained fixed on Alonso
"I’ve heard that you wished to meet me?" Simon stepped forward. His voice was calm.