Gray sea fog hovered over a small stretch of water. At the unnatural weather, the Royal Fleet's mages warned Marshal Garithos in advance that the distant fog had not formed naturally-it was cover created by a spell.
"Load every cannon and stand ready to fire. If they want to die, we'll send them on their way."
Garithos had never fought the Zandalari Trolls and knew little about their mysterious nation far out in the Great Sea. They had not appeared in the Eastern Kingdoms for hundreds of years. Only recently, when the Fourth Iron Tide Pirate War broke out in Kul Tiras, had that ancient Troll Empire returned to the human Alliance's attention.
Hilton, a tall, thin officer with a full beard, said hesitantly, "We know nothing about their numbers, their ship types, or their combat capabilities. Marshal, I suggest falling back near the coastline and making it our primary objective to prevent the orcs from evacuating."
The battle had not even begun, and already there were so many concerns. There were no guaranteed victories at sea. Wavering and missing an opportunity was a cardinal mistake.
Were the enemy supposed to wait until you had investigated them thoroughly and learned everything about them before fighting you?
Garithos dismissed Hilton's proposal as nonsense and stubbornly insisted, "There's no need to make it so complicated. Since their fleet has the fog for cover, we'll wait for them to fire first. If the outcome is still undecided after six rounds of bombardment, we'll follow your strategy."
"Understood, Marshal." Hilton stopped arguing with Garithos and chose to obey.
Hilton directed the warships to spread their formation, ensuring every broadside cannon had enough room to fire when the fleet unleashed its volleys.
When the first Shattering Thunderstorm Bomb landed among the Royal Fleet, it struck