Chapter 557: The Vanguard

The banks of the Baishui River were packed with a sea of people.

Tens of thousands had gathered on the high ground flanking the river, their eyes fixed on the water with a mix of curiosity, excitement, and a hint of nervous anticipation. Whether local residents, newly settled immigrants, or passing merchants who happened to be in the area, no one wanted to miss the unveiling of today’s magical creation. Rumor had it that it was a ship—a vessel powered by magical energy. Some who remembered the Battle of Rockhold Fortress recalled that it was breached by two “magical warships,” though those were said to be only half-finished prototypes…

Without a doubt, what was about to appear on the Baishui River today was the largest magical construct ever presented to the public since the dawn of Cecil’s magical industry.

Near the riverbank, a group of northern merchants were deep in lively discussion. One of them couldn’t hide his eager anticipation: “How much cargo do you think that new ship can carry at once?”

Another laughed, “Haven’t you been listening? It’s a warship…”

“You’ve got no vision!” the first merchant shot back. “After all this time, you still don’t get the lord’s style? The tech on a warship will definitely be adapted for civilian use. Besides, Lady Marquis Rebecca just mentioned—”

“That’s true. I heard Kod from Carol has already bought magical trucks…”

Behind the merchants, an old man with a stooped back shook his head. “I don’t think that ship will be anything special. A ship’s just a big wooden tub floating on water…”

A young man nearby immediately mocked him, “Old man Kael, you once said a cart was just a wooden board held up by a few wheels!”

The old man puffed up his beard and glared, “You brat, what do you know? I may not have built carts, but I’ve spent half my life building ships! I’ve seen every kind of vessel there is!”

The young man was about to retort when a sudden, thunderous blast cut through the chatter.

It was a sharp, resonant, commanding whistle—so powerful it made hearts tighten in unison.

Through the thin mist, a vague silhouette emerged on the eastern stretch of the river. A second whistle echoed from the depths of the fog.

After a brief silence, a roar of cheers and shouts erupted from the eastern banks, quickly spreading along both sides of the Baishui River.

The crowd by the riverbank widened their eyes in astonishment. They had no idea what kind of creation could provoke such a reaction—until the shape became clear.

It was a colossal beast forged from steel.

Larger than any wooden riverboat they had ever seen, more majestic than any warship, this steel giant combined rugged strength with elegant curves. It cut through the waves without sails or oars. The only things resembling sails were the “wing plates” on either side—rows of gleaming metal leaves etched with shimmering runes and magical circuits. Clearly, these were not the source of propulsion. This was a ship driven by some kind of magical machinery.

Sunlight glinted off its metallic hull and deck, radiating an imposing aura.

Sharp-eyed onlookers noticed the ship’s unusual two-tiered deck—the midsection rose above the rest, topped with strange devices on the upper deck. Between the decks, the entire raised structure was enveloped in a faintly glowing energy shield. Soldiers clad in lightweight armor stood in neat rows along the rails. Behind them loomed intimidating turrets and shield generators.

This was no mere ship. It was a fully armed steel fortress sailing on the water.

The merchants who had been chatting moments before were dumbfounded. The young men who had been joking fell silent. The old shipbuilder muttered in disbelief, “I’ve never seen a ship like this… Is this really a ship?!”

Inside the bridge of the cutting-edge magical warship, the Pioneer, all the engineers and government officials involved in the project stood behind the wide observation windows, their hearts pounding with excitement as the river’s waves receded on either side. The surging magical energy from the power spine flowed into the ship’s lower decks, driving three engine units in the mechanical bay. The deep, powerful rumble was like the heartbeat of this steel beast. Every person present couldn’t help but marvel at this miracle of magical engineering.

At the front of the bridge, Gawain gripped the railing behind the glass, staring out at the distant river. After a long moment, he turned to the sea witch beside him and nodded. “You deserve the most credit. This ship has exceeded even my expectations.”

“I only provided some technical guidance,” Tyr said modestly, her tail flicking in the air. The sea witch was clearly in high spirits. “The engineers and magical technicians did the real work. Your magical technology is still immature, with many weak foundations, but fortunately… all the difficulties were overcome.”

A senior magical technician reported from nearby: “We installed two large magic crystal railguns at the bow and stern, capable of striking targets up to twenty-two kilometers away. On the midsection’s sides, there are two rainbow light generators with an effective range of fifteen kilometers. After optimizing the power spine, all turrets can fire simultaneously without affecting the engines.

“Additionally, per your orders, we placed an extra magical energy obelisk behind the bridge. It provides magical network coverage around the ship, ensuring fleet communication. Small vessels with damaged power systems can recharge nearby.

“Miss Tyr helped us solve the issues of navigation stability and center-of-gravity shifts.”

Gawain listened intently, feeling reassured and grateful that recruiting Tyr into the technical team had been the right choice.

The sea witch’s technology was centuries ahead of humanity’s. Even in decline, with some fields lost and incompatible tech paths, her knowledge greatly advanced Cecil’s shipbuilding. Problems that took human engineers months to solve were often trivial to her. Since last year, Tyr had spent most of her time not on technical challenges, but on integrating human and sea witch knowledge. Once that connection was made, the rest fell into place.

“The live broadcast of the Pioneer’s launch is already airing across the realm,” Hetty said. “The special newspaper edition will be published tomorrow. According to your plan, the ship will continue westward, stopping at Tansan port for half a day for mechanical inspections. Then it will head northwest, passing the Hosman border, Luan region, and Carol area, before staying three days at Rockhold Fortress for thorough testing, then returning.”

“Excellent,” Gawain nodded slightly, turning to the middle-aged knight standing near the captain’s chair. “Byron, thank you for your hard work these past days.”

Byron, now the Pioneer’s temporary captain, beamed and replied loudly, “You can count on me! I won’t let you down!”

Nearby, Philip frowned and shook his head. “Getting excited like that—no dignity at all.”

Byron caught the remark and shot Philip a glance. “You’re just jealous. Who told you you don’t have what it takes to be captain…”

Philip straightened up, serious as ever. “As a knight, I’m more interested in charging into battle on solid ground.”

Byron shook his head and muttered, “You just get seasick the moment you step on a ship. No shame in admitting it… Your face is as white as paper.”

Gawain noticed their exchange but only smiled and shook his head. Philip, usually young, capable, and steady, getting seasick was unexpected. But Byron adapting well to his new role was a good sign.

People can’t always be tied to land. Cecil’s army especially so. With the rise of new shipbuilding technology, Gawain knew he had to fill the glaring gap in naval power—a weakness common to all human nations. Even before the Pioneer was built, he had plans to establish a navy. For now, it was more of a river fleet than a true navy, but it was a start. And the first sailors had to be trained from scratch.

He remembered last year’s so-called “fleet” formed by the noble coalition—armored men who couldn’t swim, knew nothing of naval combat, and were decimated by cannon fire aboard ships. In an age where cavalry ruled and the seas were blocked by natural disasters, naval warfare was neglected. Even inheriting the entire southern nobility’s resources, Gawain couldn’t find many candidates to train as sailors. So he recruited fishermen and merchant sailors from the west, training them for half a year on small boats and fishing vessels. Now, many of those men stood aboard this new magical warship.

Byron was their captain and commander. Over the past six months, besides his land duties, he had been training these fledgling sailors.

Though not a naval expert, Byron was the best choice Gawain could find. He had commanded half-finished magical warships before, led attacks on Rockhold Fortress, and had rich experience as a mercenary in various combat environments.

You can’t expect to build everything perfectly from the start.

Under Byron’s command, Cecil’s nascent “navy” would complete their final training aboard this ship. These sailors, once trained on small boats, would now face a real magical warship—not just models and theory, but steel, machinery, and control systems. They would learn how to operate a vessel powered by magical engines and handle the challenges of river navigation.

This voyage, lasting half a month, would circle the Baishui River. Crowds of citizens would watch from the banks, newspapers would report it, and the magical network would broadcast it live. This was not just training—it was a demonstration and a show of strength.

Although order in the southern territories had begun to stabilize, peace was far from complete. Remnants of the old nobility and lingering forces of the church’s army still held out in the western and northern mountain ranges and dense forests. These outlaws, having turned to banditry, plagued the region. Sir Philip had been leading relentless campaigns to root them out, but the job was far from finished.

Gawain understood that the most stubborn and deluded of these remnants still clung to the hope that Cecil’s rule would suddenly collapse, dreaming of a restoration of the old order. Others had long since adapted to the outlaw life, reveling in lawlessness and chaos. The cutting-edge magical warships were meant as a message to them all.

Undeniably, the gleaming turrets of these new warships shone with the brilliance of art—and art, as always, was meant to touch and transform the human heart.

(End of chapter)