Chapter 16: First Steps

On a large sandy beach, a haggard man with unkempt hair and bags under his eyes stood on a rock and oversaw the area. The land in front of him was a large open field with distant mountains in the horizon and a booming forest to the west. The bright sun shined down on him as he took a deep breath of the fresh air. A large smile slowly formed on his face.

"Gahahahahahahaa!!! We finally reached the new continent!!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHA. Set up champ right now, rescue everything that is salvageable. And someone, give me the flag. It is time to claim some land. Gahahahahahaha."

The "pirates" from Gartum broke out into cheers and shouts as they quickly rushed in and out of the few remaining ships, trying to salvage everything that was usable. They looked worse for wear. But morale was high as they were the "lucky ones" to have reached the new continent.

The crew did their best as they damn well knew that they will live the rest of their lives here, or at least for a couple of decades. So everyone did their part.

The camp was slowly being built as large tents popped up, and materials pilled up.

After barking down orders and setting a small camp for the remaining crew he noticed a man walking around and scribbling in a book. "You! Bookkeeper! Write down that the Dreadnaught crew is the first to land on the new continent. Let that be marked in the history book! Even our children's children's children should know of our accomplishments. No, it should be passed down to every generation!"

The Scribe who was approached by the captain flipped a few pages and calmly listened till he was finished. "Don't worry captain, I have already written our journey and accomplishments in my personal journey. And this will only be the beginning of our tale."

The captain grinned and laughed boisterously at his comment. "Gahahahahaha, right you are! If we manage to brew some booze here you are one of the first to get some! Gahahahaha!"

Seeing the captain already walking away and going to give out some more commands the scribe only smiled before continuing writing. "I will be looking forward to it."

From the original 2500 ships in the massive fleet, only 2 warships, 5 research ships, and a handful of scouting vessels remained. The journey took them a little over 6 months, far longer than any of them have anticipated. Over 7000 people died and only around 500 people managed to reach the continent. Food shortage, Seamori attacks, turbulent waters, strong currents, and illnesses, all decimated the crew.

The mission was a disaster, suicide even, but even if one research vessel reached the continent, it would be called a successful mission.

Three of the 12 ships managed to land ashore on the sand beach while the remaining nine all sustained permanent damage and are unusable, it will cost a lot of manpower materials, and time to even remotely try to path up these ships. But even then, they had still 3 ships left to scout the surrounding waters.

They landed between the Great Western Forrest and the Desert of Horund. A relatively lucky place to land as either of the two areas would be almost certain doom for the "pirates".

The ground was dry but there was still plenty of vegetation and freshwater to go around. But the open space also left them quite vulnerable.

The Large cliffs where some of the ships collided made the crew unable to salvage larger parts, but they still managed to build a small wooden fortification around their camp and even build a lookout tower from the mast of a ship. Guns and ammunition were scarce as the storage ships all sunk. Well, everything got scarce as they got dragged into the deep below.

...

The first night arrived and the captain, or leader now, of this "lousy bunch", was looking at a map of the nearby surroundings the scouts have drawn.

Turning to the 11 other captains they began to discuss their situation.

"The landing was anything but smooth, but at least we are alive. And we managed to build our temporary base, for the case that we find a more suitable place. And as we all discussed, I will be the head of this small round and have split the work accordingly. So is everyone clear on what to do?" said the man sitting at the center of the round.

A relatively young man under them spoke up, "Well, as the one in command of security, I have quite a few complaints that I like to talk about. The major one being the number of men I was given, Admiral Fortwheel."

Looking at the youngster Fortwheel, who was leading this "operation", looked at him and sighed, "Every one of you is complaining. We aren't even a day in. Just write a report and hand it to my right hand. We have more damming problems to address."

"Indeed, I and the scouting team have discovered quite a few local animals and unusual plants, but as we scouted near the forest to the west we were attacked by some kind of mana projectiles. 4 have died instantly and 3 sustained light injuries during our retreat. It is safe to say that there is some kind of natives living in the forest. Or at least some kind of wild beast or plant."

As the leader of the scouting team spoke up, Fortwheel could already feel his head throb from all the difficulties he was dealing with. He thought that he would just cross the ocean, either die there or land on unclaimed land and build up a new nation here and rule it peacefully. But no, he was thrown on new land with barely anything.

"haaaah~ Refrain anyone from going near the forest Scout leader Parto. And take some long-range mana rifles with you to hunt anything edible. Oh, and take a few of the researchers with you to inspect for edible plants. Write a clear report about the event of what happened in detail and give it to my right-hand man."

Parto nodded and stayed silent.

"Anything else?" spoke Fortwheel as he looked around, hoping that no one will answer him.

"There is also the problem of the unusable soil here. Our crops can't grow in them. The mana and mineral content is quite different from what we expected. Even the hardy garatubers are barely managing to sprout roots here. We will be starved to death if we don't find a sustainable food source, the few edible plants and meat are barely enough to feed our men and women for a single meal."

Fortwheel looked at the one in command of agriculture and food supply.

"Cut the food rations by 10%, use their shit and piss as fertilizer, and maybe we can find some native crops and animals that will sustain us. With what we currently have, we should have enough food for at least a month."

The woman who managed the agribusiness wanted to complain but seeing the stern look of the admiral she just nodded.

"So our main problems are food shortage, some natives in the woods, what else?"

"The 4 mana generators that we manage to salvage are in the blink of crumbing down. We don't have the necessary equipment and tool to maintain them for long. We may be able to keep them running for 2 or maximum 3 months before all our tools run out of mana. They are in dire need of repair. The seawater did more damage to them than we anticipated."

"So we will be back in the dark ages in 2 months or so, great what else!?" The admiral was nearly breaking down as he looked into the round.

A timid hand raised up as he looked around.

"Oh for god's sake! What else!"

The young woman who raised her hand looked down at his outburst before she began to speak, "Emmm, as the one in command of city planning and architecture, we are lacking raw materials and builders. There aren't enough workers and materials to go around to build all the necessities for a long stay here. We have to eventually cut some trees or search for a more suitable place. 70% of the people are either sleeping in the open or on the floor. We have tried to salvage as much from the ships as possible but it isn't enough."

"I have to agree, as the one in charge of medical care and health, it is highly important that we focus on basic shelters. There are already 10 people showing signs of having a cold, and we don't have enough medicine if an epidemic broke out."

"Gahhhhhhhh! Fine, pick 15 more workers from either the guards or the cooks, and have the priests keep them working, they should make themselves useful instead of praying all day. You can discuss among yourselves now, I will look over all the other complaints and go to sleep. I will see you tomorrow. Oh and decide on a name for this place, it will boost morale in the people and be something to call home for. A little bit of mind at peace work wonders."

Leaving the room the others began to discuss their dire situation, trying to optimize and improve their current work. They are all competent captains and professionals for their job. They were some of the best of the best in their fields back in Gartum, but got forcefully inscribed for this mission. But no matter how experienced and brilliant they are, this was a monumental task.

...

A week has passed.

They named the camp, which was slowly turning into a small town, Dreadfort, in remembrance that they are all part of the Dreadnaught fleet. It was far from a fort, but they hoped that someday they will flourish there.

They suffered no major casualties but the problems kept piling up. As one problem was solved five new ones came, but they somehow managed to make a foothold on the new continent.

Slowly but surely they will turn this place into a habitable one, for generations to come.

...

Meanwhile, the Pashwater was still high on the open sea months behind the Dreadnauts, now looking worse for wear. It wasn't the pristine majestic ship anymore. It now looked more like a veteran soldier riddled with scars from all the battles he participated in.

The once shining runes are now flickering in and out, trying to cling to life while many are already beyond repair. A main cannon was missing, and dozens of railings and on-deck structures were repaired with whatever they could find. The loss of man was still low, but every crew that died was one too many.

Dried sea drake blood still covered some of the half-torn flags and the crow nests had all been obliterated. It looked more like a ghost ship now, as the tired and ragged crew tried their best to keep the boat afloat.

Thanks to the Seamori repellent the first 2 months went smooth sailing with only a handful of sea drakes attacking them. But apparently, their luck ran out as the large majority of the Hulkas fell ill from mismanagement of the food, and died shortly after. It all went downhill from there. Instead of a handful of sea drakes, they were swarmed almost 24/7 by them. And with such a large target even the behemoth class sea drakes began to attack them. Ammunition wasn't the problem but the constant attacks wore down the guns and the runes. The maintenance crew was, and still is, working overtime and on the double.

The new recruits became battle-hardened marines or broke under the constant strain of Seamori attacks.

Liam who was tiredly sitting on a makeshift gun nest looked out into the ocean. It was currently 7 a.m and he watched the sun rise over the horizon. It was a breathtaking view and the only time he could somewhat calm his mind from all the stress he has been dealing with. The morning shift was always the calmest as for some reason sea drakes are none aggressive at that time.

"How long do you think it will take for us to reach the continent." Asked Liam as he stretched his tired body and sighed deeply.

Bruce who was designated as his ammunition carrier and close combat assistant only continued cleaning his jagged war axe and armor. "Don't know bro, but it is getting tougher and tougher. We already had some close calls and it only gets worse from here."

"Guess so..."

"I just hope this whole hell ride will be worth it. If there aren't at least some busty exotic natives or a lake full of ambrosia it just won't be worth it..."

"Heh, at least your humor still remained."

"Well, even if I am dying I will spout some karoot shit."

"You know that is a death flag right?"

"Have you looked behind us? This whole ship is a death flag."

"Can't argue with that..."