xymnovel Chapter 3 Attack
Chapter 3 Attack
The priest completely forgot his "excuse" of finding Lyon some bread. He sat down in the middle of the cargo crates where the guards were drinking on the deck, and unceremoniously snatched a bowl of wine from an old guard and gulped it down.
The old guard looked disgusted: "Hey, hey, hey, Yage, have you no shame? This just reinforces everyone's stereotypes about church monks."
The guards asked curiously, "Old Joseph, are you acquainted with the priest?"
The old guard, named Old Joseph, looked at the disheveled young priest reeking of alcohol and laughed heartily, "More than just acquaintances, he's the old governor's illegitimate son. I even taught him swordsmanship—he became a monk early on, so it's normal you don't know him well. Don't let his well-dressed appearance fool you; he's actually a drunken scoundrel!"
"What's wrong with you drinking, monk?" Jacob let out a burp. "Wine and meat pass through the intestines, but Christ remains in the heart!"
Suddenly, a long silence ensued.
The guards were deeply shocked by these shocking words, staring in disbelief, and quickly made the sign of the cross on their chests.
"Jesus above, what blasphemous words!"
“Jacob, I know you. With your barren brain and clumsy preaching ability, you couldn’t have come up with this sentence,” old Joseph thought for a moment and then used more euphemistic words. “He has that kind of illness, so it’s understandable that he’s a little cynical. As a priest, you should enlighten and guide him, not parrot him like a chatterbox—I’m ashamed for a priest who keeps spouting childish nonsense.”
Father Jacob completely disregarded old Joseph's warnings. As an illegitimate child, he was almost unloved and uncared for. He remained on earth for only three things—drinking, drinking, and more drinking. If drinking had to be counted as just one thing, then the other two were his sister and nephew.
Yage took another swig of wine, looked around, and mumbled, "Huh? Where's our new captain of the guard? Why isn't he here?"
Old Joseph chuckled and pointed with his earthenware bowl towards the stern: "Lord Leo? Oh, he's gone to drain the water!"
Upon hearing this, the surrounding guards burst into laughter. Yage, feeling the effects of the alcohol, suddenly experienced a throbbing pain in his lower abdomen. He slapped his forehead and swayed as he stood up: "Now that you mention it... I also need to go to the 'drainage outlet'."
Amidst the laughter of the crowd, Accord, holding onto the gunwale, staggered toward the toilet at the stern.
Just as he rounded the shadow of the mast, his drunkenness vanished instantly at the sight before him. He saw that Leo wasn't relieving himself, but was leaning against the ship's railing, seemingly holding a polished metal plate in his hand, facing the distant sea, rhythmically blocking the faint light emanating from the mainmast lantern behind him.
Jacob's heart sank. Though not an expert in military affairs, he immediately understood that this was no ordinary action. He instinctively stepped forward and loudly demanded, "Captain Leo, what are you doing?!"
Leo's body trembled violently. He instantly retracted the metal plate and whirled around. The fawning smile on his face vanished. Without uttering a word, he lunged forward, covering Accord's mouth tightly with one hand and using his other arm to tightly choke his neck.
The Accord, weakened by alcohol, quickly lost its strength and could no longer resist or struggle.
Leo whispered in his ear, "To die by my hand is too good for you, Father."
He then forcefully lifted the nearly unconscious Jacob over the ship's side and threw him into the dark sea.
Leo, on the ship, held onto the gunwale and watched as a few faint bubbles rose to the surface of the sea under the moonlight before fading into silence.
Leo returned to the deck to find the guards completely drunk, while old Joseph, who had drunk more restraint and remained sober, joked upon seeing Leo, "Lord Leo, you've been gone quite a while. Where's the priest? Why didn't he come back with you?"
Leo paused for a moment, then casually replied, "Ah, I didn't see him." He thought about it, realizing the answer seemed too hasty, and added, "He was probably too drunk to find his way and wandered off somewhere else..."
Old Joseph sensed something amiss in Leo's words, when a sudden, unusual sound interrupted his thoughts and unspoken questions.
At first, it was just a low, continuous humming sound, indistinguishable from the sea breeze and waves, like the flapping of some giant insect's wings. Old Joseph instinctively called to his comrades, trying to warn them, but the drunken guards didn't react, only muttering drunken ramblings.
The sound grew closer and clearer. Old Joseph finally recognized it; his face changed drastically, and he cried out hoarsely, "Oars! The sound of oars!"
Old Joseph's enormous shout almost drowned out the strange noise of the unidentified oars. The guards' drunkenness vanished instantly, and as professional soldiers and royal guards, they quickly regained their discipline, each performing their duties and forming a battle formation.
Indeed, it was the sound of dozens of oars cutting through the water in a synchronized, powerful, and mechanical motion. It wasn't the chaotic rhythm of a merchant ship, but rather the menacing drumbeats of a well-trained warship.
Then, an even more chilling sound ripped through the night sky—the scraping sound of countless scimitars being drawn simultaneously. This metallic shriek was like an icy torrent, instantly extinguishing all the noise and drunkenness on the deck.
In the dead silence, a booming roar, filled with an exotic accent, echoed from the dark sea:
"God is the greatest!"
"They're Muslims! Damn it, how could Muslim pirates be here? How is that possible!"
Old Joseph weighed the pros and cons and urgently called out to Leo, "Lord Leo, please go to the cabin and protect His Highness and the others. I will command the main battle!" His tone left no room for argument, as if he were the true chief of the guard. To Old Joseph's surprise, Leo showed no dissatisfaction or objection, but instead gave a sincere smile: "Of course, it's my duty!"
Old Joseph had no time to ponder Leo's unusual behavior; this group of Muslim pirates, whose numbers, origins, and motives were unknown, could launch an attack at any moment.
Suddenly, an arrow whistled past.
"Enemy attack! Starboard!"
Old Joseph's roar shattered the tranquility of the sea. In an instant, the relaxation and intoxication on deck vanished, replaced by an iron-like instinct. Earthenware bowls shattered on the floor, replaced by the piercing whirring of blades being drawn. The guards did not run in panic, but rather, like body parts, swiftly converged on the narrow passage leading to the stern stairs.
"Shield Wall!"
The three guards at the front crouched down abruptly, slamming their tall, kite-shaped shields onto the deck with a resounding thud. The shields embedded themselves into the grooves in the wooden planks, and the second row of shields followed suit, instantly forming an impenetrable steel wall. Spears, like venomous snakes, darted out from the gaps in the shields, gleaming with a chilling light. The entire process took no more than a dozen heartbeats; the men who had been drinking and chatting just moments before had now transformed into a cold-blooded killing machine.
Just then, countless heavy iron hooks emerged from the darkness and bit the ship's side, and the pirates began to surge upwards like a black tide.
"For His Highness! For Rome!" A unified battle cry erupted from behind the shield wall.
The first wave of pirates crashed into the shield wall. The outcome was predictable. Spears thrust out and retracted with precision and efficiency, stained with warm blood. Screams and splashes filled the air, but the guards' line remained unmoved, and blood quickly spread across the deck beneath their feet.
They are like cold, hard reefs, relentlessly crashing waves that shatter flesh and blood.