Tarondor 870 E.L.
Tarondor had not been idle in the twenty-three years since his reign began. Shortly after his coronation, he addressed the full Council of the Sceptre and told them his plan. They would invade and conquer the Grey Islands.
Immediately many of the council members had protested, saying it was too risky, that they had no navy.
Tarondor had only replied, "I will build you a navy."
Support for the war had been limited, mostly from the coastal regions, the areas which had long dealt with the menace of Greyborn raiders. Tarondor however held absolute power as king and forced the recalcitrant inlanders to fall in line.
He had then decreed for all the lords and provinces of Arnor to begin preparing for the war. Mines were worked harder and metals set aside, farms expanded to provide extra supplies. Weapons, armour, and tools were forged.
On the coasts, Tarondor had worked with the lords to build harbours, ports, and shipyards. They dug up old designs of ships passed down from Númenor and began construction on a mighty navy that would rule the seas for ever more.
In the south, his brother Amroth had continued their father's work in breeding warhorses and intensified the training of the cavalry corps. Elsewhere, soldiers were trained to use bows, swords, maces, axes and spears. Skinchangers and greenseers were recruited and integrated into the army, becoming valuable assets in information-gathering.
Missives had even been sent to the giant tribes, to honour their oaths and they had answered the call. Tall, furred giants, armed with maces and slings and riding mammoths would march with the royal army when the time came.
Twenty-three years of preparation, and soon they would be ready. Now Arnor had never been stronger. Its army was well-equipped and well-trained. Armed with steelbows and longswords, protected by mail of black and silver, the White Tree of Arnor on their chests, proudly displaying their allegiance.
Great galleys were now masters of the ocean. Tall ships, with many masts and oars, their hulls effortlessly and gracefully sailing through the sea. Their heritage reclaimed, the Dúnedain were once more the Men of the Sea.
All of Arnor was prepared for war. There was just one thing left that he needed.
The door to his office opened, and his brother Amroth entered the room.
"Brother, the Alchemist's Guild wishes to see you," Amroth said. "They've had a breakthrough."
Tarondor smirked. "Excellent."
When Tarondor had first begun planning his invasion many years ago, he had contracted the Alchemist's Guild to build him something. His grandfather, Arantar the Scholar had been their patron and had correctly predicted the benefits of allowing them to stay in Arnor.
The Alchemists possessed vast stores of knowledge and Tarondor had made use of it in his war machine to forge arms and armour, but his main interest had always been in what the pyromancers called the 'substance'. Wildfire.
A volatile green liquid which could easily ignite into a flame which could burn underwater. Tarondor had tasked the Alchemists with developing a safe way of storing and transporting the substance and with creating a weapon which his ships could utilize.
The results had been mixed. After the first few accidents had almost gotten out of control and burned down Annúminas, Tarondor had ordered them to relocate their operations from their Guild Hall in the city to a fort he had constructed for them in an isolated location further north.
It had taken time and effort to develop, but eventually they had had successfully devised a way to store and transport the wildfire safely. Furthermore, as additional protection, active wildfire was no longer stored or transported. Instead, the last ingredient would be added shortly before the substance was used, reducing the possibilities of accidents.
According to the pyromancers, wildfire became stronger if left active and alone for a long period of time. While Tarondor knew that to be true, he also knew it became more volatile and insisted on leaving wildfire inert before its use.
With the safety, storage, and transportation problems solved, work then began on devising a means to use the wildfire in warfare. Tarondor had wanted a more sophisticated and less dangerous way than soldiers throwing jars of wildfire at their enemies.
Catapults which would fire these jars had been developed but the use of wildfire on terrain targets had been rejected due to the ease at which such a flame could go out of control and as pointed out by some, the destructive capabilities of the giants could take the role that had been intended for the wildfire. Instead, work was focused on crafting a device which could be mounted on ships and used to shoot jets of wildfire at enemy ships, without damaging its ship of origin.
It was here that progress had been halted. The alchemists couldn't find a substance durable enough to not be melted by the wildfire, nor a safe way to ignite the wildfire without causing an explosion that would damage the ship of origin.
Now however, Tarondor had made his way to the fort's harbour after hearing that the pyromancers had finally made progress.
"Your Majesty, welcome to our humble port," said Wisdom Jerret, the chief of the project.
"Glad to be here Wisdom, I heard that there was a breakthrough?" Tarondor questioned.
"Ah Your Majesty, it was more than a breakthrough! We have successfully created the first working flamethrower!
"So it is finished then? Tarondor asked.
"Mostly, Your Majesty, it requires some refinement but we will be ready to equip your fleet with these weapons very soon. Would you like a demonstration?"
"Yes. I desire to see the fruits of your efforts with my own eyes." Tarondor said, hiding his excitement that the weapon was finally ready.
"Then follow me."
Following the pyromancer, they boarded a ship and as the ship sailed out of the harbour, Tarondor inspected the weapon. The 'flamethrower' as it was called, was shaped like a long cylindrical tube, mounted on a stand with a large casket towards the handle to contain the wildfire. A highly heat-resistant metal alloy made up most of the weapon, allowing it to channel the wildfire outward without melting. Special mechanisms allowed the user to activate the wildfire with the last ingredient whilst simultaneously igniting the liquid so it came out the nozzle as a green fire.
Tarondor didn't quite grasp how it worked but he did not need to. He had paid these men to do it for him after all. All he cared about was that it worked, was safe to use, and could be produced in large numbers, and he had told the Wisdom just that.
"It will certainly work Your Majesty, but I advise you to use it sparingly. Accidents could occur with the weapon or the wind could blow the flames in an undesirable direction. As for the third point, the cost would be unimaginable! I doubt you could afford enough to equip every ship with them."
"I live on a mountain of gold Wisdom. If your weapon works as you say it does, I'll pay as much as necessary," he had replied.
Alchemists had anchored a test ship for the demonstration a few hundred feet from the harbour. As they approached, one of the soldiers stepped forward to the weapon. He was a member of a special corps that had been working with the Alchemists and had been trained to use the weapon as safely and efficiently as possible.
He carefully aimed the nozzle at the targeted ship, noted the wind speed and direction, before he turned the handle, unleashing the green flames.
It was glorious. Tarondor had been very impressed when he had seen the flames swiftly shoot across to the opposing ship and ignite it near instantly. Within minutes, the ship had been reduced to almost nothing, its last remnants floating on the water or sinking below the surface. It was eerie, Tarondor had thought, to see the planks still burning even as they sank below the waves, the green light glowing and illuminating the sea.
He turned to the soldier who had fired the weapons, Anardil, he would later discover, and queried, "What's the range?"
The soldier had straightened to attention and answered, "Effective range of 49 feet sire, but the further we fire the jets, the more vulnerable it is to the wind shifting its direction and after that range it wouldn't do enough damage to be worth the wildfire."
"Wisdom!" Tarondor called out, the man in question eagerly awaiting his response.
"I want 2000 of these weapons. 20 each for 100 of my most powerful vessels and enough wildfire to fuel them for a long expedition. The full details will arrive within the day."
"Of course Your Majesty! We…, we will begin our work straight away!" Wisdom Jerret said before rushing off.
"And Wisdom!" he called out, causing the man to stop and turn back to hear his words.
"Well done. The weapon has exceeded my expectations."
The Wisdom smiled and thanked him for his praise before continuing on his way.
Tarondor turned back to the sea, watching the last embers of the wildfire die out.
The Greyborn don't stand a chance.
The day had come. Finally, they were ready. Hundreds of ships filled the harbour of Annúminas. So many that there was not enough space in the port to moor every ship. The ships came into port in turns to pick up their supplies and men.
The capital had been chosen as the rendezvous point for the expeditionary army and would pick up more men and ships as it progressed northwards.
The fleet was divided into two main groups. A battle fleet, composed of 300 purpose-built warships, bristling with ballistae and flamethrowers, and a convoy fleet, carrying the army and supplies for the invasion.
Men boarded the ships in the thousands, ready to go to war to defend their country. For what they did here, they did for Arnor.
The largest and most impressive ship in the fleet by far was the Arvelegir, flagship of King Tarondor. A massive ship with hundreds of oars. Black sails embroidered with the Royal Standard flew from its seven masts. It was from this ship that Tarondor addressed his fleet.
By some magic or perhaps simply his indomitable aura and force of will, his voice was projected so far that those in the city could hear it.
"Men of Arnor! We gather here today to put an end to the Grey Raiders! No longer will we tolerate them raiding our lands, pillaging our homes, raping our wives, and enslaving our children! No longer will we tolerate them preying on our boats, our fishermen and sailors! No more! For the first time, we shall take the fight to them!"
The men cheered their voices almost drowning out their king.
"War! War! War!" they chanted.
Somehow the king's will was so imposing that his men quieted to hear his next words.
"Yes, we shall have war! Never again shall our people fear the threat of the raiders! We shall repay them for their crimes and claim their lands and treasures! FOR ARNOR!"
"FOR ARNOR!" they chanted
Again the king cried, louder this time, "FOR ARNOR!"
"FOR ARNOR!" they answered, shouting with all their hearts until their throats went hoarse.
Turning to his captain the king ordered to set sail. With a sudden drop, the sails of the fleet fell from the pinnacles of their masts. Oars unnumbered emerged from the decks, rowing the ships forward before a strong north-eastern wind blew over the city and propelled the fleet out of the harbour.
Arnor was going to war.