Reincarnated with the Country System-Chapter 130: Iron Hawks Over a Burning Sea

The day I joined the Latvian navy, my mother sewed a scrap of scripture into the hem of my coat—*"Protect him, Perkons, god of thunder."* But the gods had left Latvia long before the civil war. Now, as I clutched my sister’s locket on the storm-washed deck of the *LNS Viesturs*, I wondered if Perkons was watching. Or if he, too, had been devoured by the cannons and dragons and greed of men.

Two years. Two years since the civil war shattered Riga. I still remember the smoke—thick, black coils rising from the Senate House as Caspian’s rebels dragged loyalists into the streets. I’d hidden with my family in the cellar, listening to the screams and the *crack* of flintlock volleys. When we emerged, the city was a graveyard of rubble and frostbitten corpses. No work. No food.

Now, I leaned against the railing of the LNS Viesturs, a mid-sized frigate tasked with guarding the Caspian’s western flank. The air smelled of salt and sulfur, the way it always did when the mages charged the enchanted ballistas. Above us, dragons circled lazily, their scales glinting like molten copper in the midday sun. To my left, young Jekabs—barely eighteen—polished a cannon barrel, humming some folk tune about harvests. To my right, Captain Ozols barked orders at a group of Fishmen scouts, their gills flapping as they saluted and dove overboard.

*Normal. Routine. Safe.*

This is better than the Jimland War. Two months ago, we’d razed their port city of Valtos. I could still smell the burning spice warehouses, still see Captain Ozols laughing as he kicked in the door of a temple, his men hauling out silver reliquaries and screaming priestesses. I’d stood frozen, my matchlock trembling, until Zvirbulis shoved a looted necklace into my hands. "For your sister, eh?" he’d sneered. The rubies felt like hot coals in my pocket.

"Nabir!" Jekabs—tugged my sleeve. "D’you think the Britannians have dragons too?"

"Doubt it," I muttered. "But they’ve got storms on their side. Heard their witches can summon tidal waves."

"Pah! Our dragons melt their ships before they—"

A horn blasted.

Three short notes. *Enemy sighted.*

Skreeeeeeeeeeee

The scream tore through the air first. Not human. Not dragon. A shrill, metallic shriek, like a sword, dragged across the stone, but louder—so loud it rattled my teeth. I froze, the locket slipping from my fingers and swinging wildly on its chain. Across the deck, Jekabs dropped his rag. The dragons overhead snapped their wings tight, hissing.

"What in the Nine Hells—?" Ozols snarled, squinting at the sky.

Then I saw them.

Four shadows. No—*creatures*. Sleek as arrows, moving faster than anything I’d ever seen. They tore through the clouds, trailing fire and thunder, their bodies shimmering like polished steel. No wings. No scales. Just… metal. Unnatural. Unholy.

"DRAGON RAIDERS!" someone shouted.

But these weren’t dragons. These things didn’t fly—they slashed the sky, leaving white scars in their wake. My heart pounded as one banked sharply, sunlight glaring off its dagger-shaped hull. A low, guttural roar shook the ship, and the sea itself seemed to recoil.

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"Ballistas! NOW!" Ozols bellowed, but his voice wavered.

Chaos erupted. Sailors scrambled to the towers, cranking siege weapons skyward. Mages chanted, their hands glowing as they infused arrows with crackling magic. The dragons, agitated by the noise, shrieked and spiralled higher, their riders nocking flaming arrows.

I stumbled toward the nearest ballista, my boots slipping on the deck. "What are they?" I shouted at Jekabs, who stood paralyzed beside me.

"Demons?" he whispered. "Storm Empress’s familiars?"

Before I could answer, the world exploded.

A deafening *crack* split the air as one of the creatures spat fire—not the orange plumes of dragon breath, but precise, blinding streaks of light. The projectile struck the LNS Krauklis three ships to starboard. The impact was… obscene. One moment, the Krauklis was there, its sails proud, its cannons gleaming. The next, its hull erupted in a fireball, splintering into a thousand shards of burning wood. Men screamed as they fell, their bodies silhouetted against the inferno.

"MOVE!" Ozols grabbed my arm, dragging me behind a crate. "Those things target magic! Stay low!"

But how could we fight what we didn’t understand?

Another creature dove, its underbelly opening like a mouth. Dozens of small, black eggs tumbled out. They struck the water—and detonated. Geysers erupted around us, drenching the deck. The Viesturs lurched violently, throwing me against the mast. Saltwater stung my eyes, but I forced myself to look up.

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The creatures were circling now, methodical, like hawks tightening around prey. One streaked toward our dragon squadron. The lead rider loosed a fire arrow—it glanced off the creature’s metal hide with a pathetic *clang*. The beast didn’t even slow. A burst of fire erupted from its nose, and the dragon and rider vanished in a cloud of ash.

"NO!" Jekabs screamed, clutching his temple. "They’re… they’re butchering us!"

Panic spread like poison. Sailors abandoned their posts, diving below decks. Mages hurled lightning, but the creatures danced around the bolts, impossibly agile. One swooped low, its shadow swallowing the Viesturs. I stared up, transfixed, as it roared past. Beneath its wings, I saw markings: strange, angular symbols. Letters? A language from no kingdom I knew.

"Nabir!" Jekabs sobbed. "I don’t wanna die here! I wanna go home!"

*Home.*

The memory struck me like a cannon blast: Jimland. The port of Valtos burning. A girl—no older than Jekabs—crawling from a collapsed house, her leg twisted. Captain Ozols had lifted his pistol. "Mercy," he’d said, before firing.

Then came the sound.

A high-pitched wail, rising and falling like a dying man’s scream. The creature’s belly flashed—another fire-streak. This time, it struck the *Viesturs*’ main mast.

Thump. Thump. Thump

The world went white.

Heat. Noise. Pain. I was thrown backwards, my shoulder slamming into the deck. When my vision cleared, the mast was gone. So was Jekabs. So was Captain Ozols. In their place: a smouldering crater, edges glowing like forge coals. The air reeked of burnt flesh and molten iron.

"Abandon the ship!" someone sobbed.

Our Flagship LNS Caspian was no sanctuary. In the distance, I glimpsed the flagship—our pride, our fortress. Two of the creatures strafed its decks, their fire streaks punching through reinforced iron as if it were parchment. The leviathans chained to their bow writhed, their serpentine necks thrashing as flames engulfed them.

One of the creatures targeted a dragon carrier. The ship’s caged dragons, panicked and roaring, melted the bars with their breath, only to be cut down mid-flight by precise bursts of fire. Their colossal bodies crashed into the sea, sending up plumes of steam.

I crawled to the railing, clutching my locket. My ears rang. My hands trembled. This wasn’t war—this was slaughter. These… things… they weren’t of this world. No magic we had could touch them. No strategy could outpace them.

SKREEEEEEEEEE

A shadow loomed. One of the creatures banked overhead, slow now as if savouring the kill. Through its glass-covered head, I glimpsed a figure inside—a human? No. A raider. Clad in black, face obscured by a mirrored visor. Cold. Merciless.

Our eyes met.

He raised a hand—not to attack, but to salute. A gesture of respect? Mockery? Then his machine roared, climbing vertically until it vanished into the clouds.

Silence fell, broken only by the crackle of burning ships and the moans of the dying. The Viesturs listed heavily, seawater pouring into its gutted hull. Around me, the survivors wept, prayed, or stared blankly at the carnage.

I opened the locket. My sister’s smile swam in my vision, blurred by tears. Two more months.

Now, I’d be lucky to live two more minutes.

The sea rose to claim me as the Viesturs sank, but one truth gripped me tighter than the cold:

Latvia had never lost a war.

Until today.