CHAPTER 101: THE ANDALUS FORTRESS

New Scene - Serena POV [https://cdn.novelpets.net/amelia_thornheart/serena.png]

The storm that had swept through the Southern Passage had abated, allowing the Vengeance to sail to the Andalus fortress. While Serena’s officer staff breathed sighs of relief at the milder weather, she found herself assaulted by a different kind of storm, consisting of turbulent, chaotic thoughts that distracted her from her duty. It was a mental storm of her own making, imagined and energised from a dream experience she was struggling to wrap her mind around.

A memory from the distant past.

Temples of power.

A shattered soul.

A grizzled Father and his desperate son.

Anathor was human, Serena thought, before trying to clear her mind.

She was certain she was becoming embroiled in something she shouldn’t. Or… perhaps it was meant to be. The ship had shown her that memory, after all. Would it keep showing her the same scene, or would there be more to it? And… what was Serena supposed to make of that deep-blue eye that looked at her with such sorrow from inside the fourth deck? An eye that seemed so familiar… so similar to how Amelia’s eyes looked before they turned their characteristic crimson.

“Captain,” a voice called out. “Message from the fortress. They’re welcoming us back. Bay Two is free. Apparently, steam cranes are already in use in Bay One, so we can borrow them.”

“Take us in,” Serena commanded the helmsman.

“Aye aye, Captain,” the demon responded. “Bay Two!”

Through the bridge windows, the smear of grey shapes became ever more defined as the Vengeance approached. The Andalus fortress, a harsh metal behemoth built into the last large lumina-locked island before the Southern Passage, stood guard. Its dozen heavy artillery systems made it look spiky from a distance, reminding Serena of Port Highwind. As the Vengeance drew closer, she noted that while the metal walls were rusted, the guns themselves were well-maintained.

“At least they’ve finished celebrating,” Dagon said, gesturing to the grey skies. Against the backdrop of the Kraken Kur archipelago, a handful of distinctive shapes could be made out–the fortress’s perimeter ships. In the time the Vengeance had been exploring the Southern Passage, the crews of these ships had finished their celebrations and returned to duty.

“Are our Far Eastern friends behaving?” Serena enquired, pushing her aura into orange to better observe the far-away ships.

“Other than the standard identification challenge, nothing of note, Captain,” Finella explained.

“Inform the fortress that I’ll be meeting with the commander,” Serena instructed. As Finella tapped out the message, Serena couldn’t help but ruminate on Menes’ comment.

The Blackhorn controls the Andalus fortress.

Control, as it turned out, meant the commander was under the Blackhorn’s horns, taking his coin in exchange for the itinerary and cargo of ships passing through. Menes claimed that this exchange of information is what allowed the pirates to target vulnerable and valuable targets. Of course, Serena wouldn’t take the Arakian’s allegation at face value. She would visit the commander herself and make her own judgement and, while she was there, have Tomes dig into their books to verify Menes’ identity as a Cascadian Lord.

“Reply incoming!” Finella called out. A moment later, she continued, “The commander invites you for lunch with him and his guest. He doesn’t specify who it is.”

“A guest? Accept it,” Serena said. She cast a side-eye at Dagon, her ever loyal First Officer, always ready to dive into hellfire with her. “Dagon,” she intoned.

“Captain,” Dagon replied, coughing into his hand lightly.

“Hungry?” she asked, enjoying the bizarre expression that appeared on the demon’s face. “Come now, First Officer, he can’t be as intimidating as Greatlord Oshiro, can he?” At her words, a few bits of laughter sounded from around the bridge.

“...No, Captain.” Dagon had relented. “It would be an honour.”

With the matter settled, Serena waited patiently for the helmsman to guide the Vengeance onto the waiting keel blocks of Bay Two. It wasn’t long after the ship creaked and groaned, settling into its temporary bed, that the glassy eyes of the stuffed windlizard turned red.

“Captain,” Anathor spoke out, his gruff voice filling the bridge. “Captain Bastet is asking for you. He is annoyed. He felt the ship touch down and has guessed we’re at the fortress.”

“I’ll be right down,” Serena said. “First Officer, with me.” She turned and nodded at Yamaga. “In your command, Air Tactician.”

“Aye aye, Captain!” Yamaga said with a salute. “Captain leaving deck!”

Serena led Dagon down the ship’s belly, quickly arriving at the row of cells containing an agitated Arakian captain and his Hakian-speaking crew. Seeing her arrive, Menes grabbed the bars, pushing his face between them and saying, “My saddiyah! You’ve taken us to the fortress, haven’t you!? Why didn’t you meet up with my ships!?”

“Making a small social visit,” Serena replied with an amused smile. “Don’t worry, we’ll be able to verify your identity using their register of lords and aetherscope network. Then you’ll be free to walk around, Captain Bastet.”

“But your men!” Menes cried. “You need to rescue them, yes? You need–”

“Tsk! What I need to do is none of your concern,” Serena interrupted, clicking her tongue for good measure. “Any survivors from the lifeboats will have ample supplies until they are rescued. So, unless you have any further information…” she trailed off, glaring at the Arakian. When he didn’t speak, she continued, “Then I will be off.” She turned and strode towards the exit. 

Menes and his men had become increasingly frustrated as time passed, not enjoying being confined to the small cells. Regardless of their complaints, Serena wasn’t about to release them without being sure of their captain’s identity one way or another. They would have to wait until she was back at the very least.

“Keep an eye on them,” she instructed the guards.

“Aye, Cap’n!” they replied, gripping their rifles tightly.

Continuing through the ship, Serena quickly spotted a familiar pair of horns.

“Tomes!” she shouted, grabbing the quartermaster’s attention. “Dagon and I have a short lunch to attend. Meanwhile, take Officer Adachi and visit the fortresses' bookkeeper. See if our Menes Bastet is indeed an Ishaqian Lord, and if so, whether he matches the provided description. Use the fortress's aetherscope to contact Intelligence and inform them of the situation. Give them the location of the Indefatigable. Make sure to let them know she’s spiked. If you see Allston or Officer Bright, let them know they can spool down the aetherscope and begin repairs.”

“Aye, Captain.” Tomes saluted and darted off with a surprising amount of agility for a man of his size.

Serena returned to the first deck. There, she, Dagon, Tomes, and Aiden all met up and went over the plan one more time before exiting through the heavy steel door and stepping out onto the Vengeance’s deck. The weather was calm, and the bays were largely protected from the westerly winds by the island's bulk and the fortress walls. Still, there was a light touch in the air that played with a few strands of her hair, gently pulling them towards the Southern Passage.

It was as if the passage was telling her, I’m not done with you yet.

The knot in her stomach still hadn’t disappeared.

Shaking her head to focus, Serena looked around. The Vengeance wasn’t alone. In the bay next to them, a frigate was undergoing maintenance on its propellers. Steampowered cranes slowly lowered a new propeller shaft, while workers on the frigate's decks used flags and shouts to guide the crane operator. 

“Captain Halen!” a voice called.

Serena approached the gangway, looking down to see the fortress’s second-in-command, the very same man she’d had to more or less bribe with wine and hog to let them get their choice of crystal. He had similar features to Arin and Ido, and, like them, was a monohorn–a single horn adorned his head, curving back. Serena didn’t discriminate based on horns, but she couldn’t help but feel thankful she was born with two.

After all, if she only had one, then gripping it would only be half as effective at relieving Amelia-induced frustration, wouldn’t it?

“Officer Yeong,” Serena intoned as she walked down the gangway. “We meet again. I trust you enjoyed our hog?”

“Captain Halen, welcome.” Yeong saluted quickly. “I hope you haven’t come to reclaim it, for I fear none of it remains, at least, not in the condition for someone of your standing.” He chuckled, but his laughter quickly died down as he saw his joke fall flat. He looked at Dagon and the rest with a tense expression. “May I remind you that the commander has extended an invitation to only you, Captain Halen?”

“I’m aware,” Serena replied. She held the man's eyes for just a little too long to be comfortable before asking, “But he has a guest, does he not? It is only proper that I then bring my First Officer along.” Serena gestured to Dagon before quickly introducing Tomes and Aiden. “They require access to your books, notably weather records and your registry of lords. Our information is out of date. Officer Adachi here also has orders from me to communicate with Command regarding our orders. I trust your aetherscope is available and working?”

“Ah, yes…” Yeong looked like he wanted to refuse her, but Serena didn’t give him the opportunity.

“Lead the way, Officer Yeong,” she intoned. “I fear I’ll lose my way without a guide.”

They followed him through a large opening that entered the fortress proper. The Andalus fortress was a monumental feat of engineering. Thousands of tonnes of iron and steel created towering walls that circled the island. Between the walls and carved rock, a narrow street was formed, crammed tight with buildings and sleeping quarters. As they followed it, the street eventually curved into the island itself, which had been largely hollowed out. Only a sliver of daylight made it into this part of the fortress, so they relied on dozens of large aetherlights to brighten the way.

“The bookkeeper’s office is in there,” Officer Yeong said, pointing to one small building. “He should be in there, if he isn’t hungover. You’ll find recent weather maps and our registries. You see the stairs next to the office? They spiral upwards to the aetherscope on the top of the island. It’s a long climb, but you’ll be able to send your message there.”

With instructions given, Tomes and Aiden left the group. Without Aiden, Serena wouldn’t have risked sending an aethergram from the fortress. The fortress command, along with the surrounding ships, would have access to the same Imperial standard codebooks. Only with Aiden, who knew Intelligence-specific codes, did she feel comfortable sending the message.

Serena and Dagon continued their walk guided by Yeong. It wasn’t long before they came across another interesting sight. It turned out that the Andalus fortress had its own drinking establishment, and, judging by the amount of unconscious demons and shattered glass, it had been the home to much of the post-war jubilation that looked like it had only ended hours ago.

“Is the commander okay with his soldiers drinking to such excess?” Dagon asked, wrinkling his nose at the pools of vomit that had accrued in some of the corners.

Yeong shrugged. “Life isn’t exciting here. People don’t volunteer for their positions in the Andalus fortress. They are imposed as punishment. Who would want to serve out their contract here?” Yeong cast his arm out, gesturing in a circle at the dim surroundings. “Grey rock, rusted metal and bad weather. We don’t even get hit during the Blue Moon’s moonrain. That’s how far we are away from civilisation; the moons themselves ignore us,” the demon finished with a bitter expression. “If we can’t drink and make merry, what is there for us here? Any commander who would refuse these opportunities would face mutiny.”

“Sounds like you don’t have confidence in your men,” Serena pointed out.

Or yourself, she added mentally..

Yeong shook his head. “We might not look good in a parade, but the men are tough. Our walls are rusted, but our guns are clean, yes? Do you know the motto of the fortress?” Seeing Serena shake her head, he continued, “It is Andalus Holds. It’s been that way since the fortress withstood one hundred days of bombardment from Southern forces in the late eighth century. Trust me, Captain Halen; our men can fight as well as they drink, if they have to. Many of them are here for punishment because they fought too well.”

“Noted,” Serena said, casting a side eye at Dagon. She was sure it wasn’t so much as fighting too well as fighting too much. After all, it was fighting too much that put Dagon and Tomes behind bars, where Serena initially found and recruited them.

They continued in silence for a minute before turning into a large building. As they walked through its iron and stone halls, Serena realised they must be close to the island's centre. Then, they climbed up several flights of stairs before arriving at a large wooden door. Officer Yeong knocked before opening the door and exchanging a few words with the person inside.

Once he was finished, he turned to Serena and Dagon and said, “You may go in. The commander is ready.”

“Thank you.”

Serena stepped in and was greeted by an unexpectedly fine room. A lush carpet lined the floor, while paintings and tapestries dotted the walls in a way that would deeply frustrate Serena’s mother and her sense of interior design. One wall was dominated by a large painting of the Empress, this time in her Ainese form. Heavy, ironwood furniture lined the walls, with a large polished table acting as the centrepiece.

Upon that table lay several steaming dishes and assorted silverware. While two plates had been laid out for Serena and Dagon, another two were already filled with food. The ones responsible for starting before them were standing up and looking at them. One man was a light-skinned monohorn, wearing the uniform of a commander. Judging by the creases on the clothing, he’d been partaking in the celebrations that had gripped the fortress so tightly days ago. He wore his uniform poorly, exposing the fine undershirt that should have been hidden.

The other was a well-built Wami man, similar in appearance to Dagon and Tomes. The man stood with excellent posture, but wore tailored civilian clothing that whispered of wealth. He had an easy smile on his face, looking at her with calm, yellow eyes.

Serena strode up to the table, quickly saluting the commander.

“Serena Halen, Captain of the Vengeance. Thank you for making time for me, Commander Yaegak.”

“...Yi Yaegak, Commander of the Andalus fortress,” he replied after a moment's hesitation. The commander's eyes flickered to Dagon, prompting him to step forward and introduce himself. Dagon had barely finished before the commander asked Serena if she’d had success looking for the Indefatigable. “Apologies for not helping. I was busy, and it seemed like a premature move to the rest of my captains. Please understand that you have yet to grasp the passage. It often demands a price, you see. Ah…” The commander waved to the table, where alongside steaming piles of meat and vegetables, bottles of loqua stood.

Notably, bottles of green loqua.

“Before we continue, where are my manners? Please, sit down, Captain Halen,” Yi said, gesturing to the seats. “We’d just begun eating when we received your aethergram. Please, help yourself. The longtail is particularly well-cooked. One of the benefits of this place is how easily we can fish for fresh food.”

Serena took her seat and used the silver meat tongs to pick up a few slivers of steaming longtail and place them on her plate. Dagon went after her, greedily piling his plate with meat and only stopping when Serena gave him a look.

“You mentioned a price,” Serena said, turning back to the commander and his civilian guest. “Regarding the passage?” For now, she would avoid mentioning the Indefatigable. She wouldn’t discuss it until she had come to a decision on whether the commander was corrupt or not. 

“A price, yes.” Yi nodded. “Sometimes the price is blood, and sometimes it is lives. Lives of sailors thrown off the rigging by the storms. Sometimes it is ships themselves, their hulls sacrificed to the passage and its ever-churning fields of boulders and rock. And sometimes…” The commander trailed off as he aggressively cut into a sliver of longtail. “Sometimes it only demands crystal and time. No one can be sure of how long it’ll take to travel the passage. People say a few weeks, but that can range from as short as a single week to as long as four or five. It depends on how the passage is feeling, and with the Shattered Isles showing so much activity… It's feeling agitated these days.”

Serena watched the commander eat for a moment. “I didn’t expect such poetry,” she said slowly. “You talk of the passage as if it is a living being.”

The commander chuckled. “What else is there to do, living on this rock? If you stay for long, sit down and look west, look at her quiet expanse. Eventually, you’ll feel as if she’s looking back at you. Some sailors swear they’ve seen the face of the passage. The visage of a beautiful woman, appearing only briefly in the storm clouds as lightning strikes.”

“And you believe them?” Serena asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Men believe what they believe.” The commander shrugged. “Anyhow, I was hoping you would bring me news regarding the Indefatigable? I am sure she’s merely delayed, but perhaps you bear good news?” The commander took a sip of green loqua while eyeing her expectantly.

Serena looked at him for a moment before looking at the commander’s guest–the Wami man in fine clothing. He had curly, ram-like horns, similar to those of Tomes and Dagon, but with darker skin.

She faced the commander and said, “I understand you may run differently in the fortress, Commander, but I’m not accustomed to discussing the matters of military vessels around civilian merchants.” Seeing the Wami man unoffended and wearing the same easy, understanding smile, she asked, “I take it that is your light transport outside?” Her question earned her another polite nod.

“Don’t mind Charles,” the commander said, waving a hand. “Many merchant groups sail the passage, and they often have important information to deliver regarding the weather and the native inhabitants. Charles here might have his own information regarding the Indefatigable, so it would be best to collaborate and share theories.”

“Native inhabitants?” Serena questioned the commander. “You mean pirates,” she stated. Without waiting for an answer, she turned to the Wami man. “Your name is Charles?”

“Charles Hornford, Speaker Halen.” He stood up, bowing in the Samino style. “Or do you prefer Captain?”

“Captain,” Serena answered, remaining in her seat.

“Very well.” Charles sat back down.

Serena eyed the man for a moment. “I can’t help but note your name and appearance are incongruous, Charles Hornford. I can’t ever recall the existence of a Wami man with such a Cerulean-sounding name. Especially one with the pattern of a warrior.” Serena gestured to the man’s face, where, like Tomes and Dagon, a pattern of wavy lines coloured grey and black covered it. She’d heard some Wami men would tattoo their bodies to improve their patterning, but from what she could tell, this man’s pattern was entirely natural.

“Sharp, Captain Halen,”–Charles waved his fork, a small piece of longtail attached–”very sharp. I’m impressed, the patterns that the Red Moon passes onto those lucky enough to be born under her warm gaze are usually a passing fancy to a highborn Samino woman like yourself. I see you’ve been open-minded enough to make a Wami man your First Officer.” Charles placed the piece of meat in his mouth, chewing as he gestured towards Dagon. He swallowed and continued, “I knew the Vengeance had an unusual crew, with a woman as its captain. But more than that, I didn’t know it was so multicultural.”

Serena took her time, neatly slicing off a portion of the meat, using every bit of her gracious etiquette training and dexterity to eat a small amount of food in a manner that would have passed even during the dinner of the famous Golden Ball. “Is there a problem with me being a captain?” she asked. The practised, almost ritualistic, way of eating helped calm her mind, but she felt a tinge of annoyance creep into her voice. Charles’ response to her captaincy was similar to Menes’ surprise at her gender. “The northern overlord is a woman,” Serena continued, “as are many northern greatlords. There are rumours that the Western Terra-Firma’s overlord may also be female, and, I’m sure we haven’t forgotten,” Serena gestured to the painting of the Empress on the wall. “Are we not all ruled by a woman?”

“I said unusual, Captain Halen.” Charles gave her another smile that reminded her of Chesterfield. “Unusual, but not wrong.” He tilted his head apologetically. “You are a Speaker, and that title informs me more about your character than your gender does. There’s a phrase in the South. Have you heard it? A man can become anything in the sky. I see no reason why we shouldn’t revise that to a person can become anything in the sky.” He gave her one final smile of reassurance before finishing, “I hope you understand I meant no offence.”

Perhaps she’d been too jumpy at the man’s words. She knew Southerners were more direct than the men she was used to. Perhaps she needed more time to adjust. Deciding to change the subject, she asked, “If someone can become anything in the sky, when did you decide to become Charles Hornford?” She watched him carefully for signs of defensiveness.

Charles chuckled and took a sip from his glass. “The moment my life took me to the sky. In a similar way to how many Southerners may be surprised by your choice of career, my Wami birth name held me back, so I changed it to reach my full potential. Much of the Empire still believes that all Southerners are barbarians. Can you believe that?” Charles raised both hands, palms facing upwards as if to emphasise how ridiculous the notion was. “Becoming Charles Hornford has allowed me to carry out my business.”

“And what business is that?” Serena asked before perfectly consuming another piece of longtail.

“I have my horns stuck in many ventures, Captain. If you’ve ever had red loqua, there’s a good chance it was one of my transports that braved the Southern Passage to bring it to you. More recently, however, I’ve found success in merchanting Ishaqian rubber. That’s what my ship is carrying currently. I would stop in Ranna, but I’m old friends with Commander Yaegak and thought I’d pay him a visit. In a day or two, I’ll sell in Hokanai and pick up Ainese silk. There, depending on the market, I will continue onwards to the Three Sisters or return.”

“You don’t consider going north, towards the Sabanis Dominance?” Serena questioned. “I’ve heard the silk route there is profitable, and Sabanis spices sell well everywhere.”

“If I could find my way in,” Charles said with a shrug. “The Hokanai Silk Guild is wary of outsiders. They’re hesitant to grant a license to even their neighbours. Whether I’m Charles Hornford or not, my appearance means they will never open their trade to my ships.” The Wami merchant sighed, tapping his horns. “Nevertheless, the Empire is big and there are many opportunities in its skies, if you know where to look.”

“Why trade through the passage, then?” Dagon asked. Everyone at the table looked at him, causing Serena’s First Officer to look uneasy. He cleared his throat and explained, “The Yamen-Ponan route would surely be safer. No pirates would operate so close to the Centralis Navy.”

“Insurance rates have gone to upper-sky, Officer,” Charles replied, pointing upwards with one finger. “With the arcwhales angry about something, not many ships dare to skirt the eastern side of the Krummands, and those that do will get rewarded with Centralis-applied taxes even if they go to Ponan.” The Wami demon shook his head. “The Far East has low import taxes, as their greatlords seek to compete with the Asamaywa market. This tax, along with the tax of the passage, allows me to ensure my balance doesn’t plummet to undersky.”

“Passage tax?” Dagon questioned.

“He means pirates,” Serena explained. She eyed the Wami merchant carefully. “You pay the pirates protection money?”

“Yes,” Charles answered, so quickly and honestly that Serena was surprised. “What?” he questioned with a shrug. “I pay them not to target my ships. They get a little coin, I don’t lose vessels. Everyone wins.”

Serena narrowed her eyes, feeling her expression darken. “You’re funding piracy,” she stated, resisting the urge to place a hand on her sword.

“No, Captain Halen,” Charles answered, shaking his head. “I’m a victim of extortion from organised criminal groups running a protection racket. As are many other merchants.” Before Serena could interject, he continued, “What capabilities do you think I have to resist? When men come into my Shiloh offices and show me they know my itinerary down to the minute, I have little room to manoeuvre. Should you wish to investigate further, you’ll find I immediately reported the extortion to the Greatlord of Shiloh, and have frequently raised the matter since. Until then, I must open my purse to them to prevent my business from collapsing.”

Serena turned her gaze to the commander. He shrank slightly at the implied question before protesting, “What can this fortress do? We are a defensive structure with a handful of ships, only equipped to patrol the immediate surroundings. Until the pirates become too big for their horns, a suppressive coalition won’t be assembled.”

“I will be notifying my Lord Superior of these… conditions,” Serena said slowly, looking between the two men. She watched their reactions, but she saw only casual indifference.

“As my friend said,” Charles began, “until they become arrogant and start striking the Shimashina-Nai route like last time, nothing will happen. Once they try to reach beyond their position, the Empire will crush them. She has a way of doing that…” Charles trailed off, circling his glass of green loqua, his eyes wandering to the painting of the Empress. “And then they’ll come back once the military realises the amount of ships they need to keep down here isn’t worth it. Knowing them, we’ll be at war again in a few years, and there’ll be nothing to spare anyway.”

“You speak of it like it’s a natural cycle,” Serena growled, squeezing the cutlery in her hands. “This is not the natural pain of the wilderness, where wild creatures hunt prey. This is calculated corruption and oppression, by minds of men that know better but choose to do worse to fill their pockets.”

The table was silent after her statement. Eventually, Charles spoke out, saying, “You’re a fierce woman, Captain Halen. Southern men will dislike that, but they will also respect it. I imagine you might get more than a few marriage proposals as you undertake whatever duty has you going that way.”

Charles described a mindset that again made Serena think of the Arakian captain in the Vengeance’s cells. Ignoring the ridiculous idea of her taking a Southern man as a husband, or rather, any man as a husband, she said, “They’ll need to work hard to impress me.”

The Wami merchant laughed. “I imagine they would, wouldn’t they? Come!” he gestured to the table with his knife and fork. “Let us finish this wonderful meal and talk of more pleasant things, such as the end of the war, yes?” Charles’ face broke out into a cheerful smile as he greedily consumed the meat on his plate. “Are you sure you cannot be tempted with a glass of loqua?”

“I’m leaving soon, so I’ll pass,” Serena said politely. “If we meet again under different circumstances, perhaps I could bother you for a glass of your loqua then, Mister Hornford.” She had to admit to herself that her rejection was spoken with slight regret. Green loqua was a rarity. It was far more expensive than red or blue, and only a token number of bottles were exported from the West in any given year. Next to her, she sensed Dagon shift uncomfortably in his chair.

Sorry, Dagon, she thought, I plan to treat my officers to a bottle for Christmas, so hang in there!

“Not my loqua,” Charles intoned. “This is what remains of the commander’s collection, I believe.”

Oh?

Serena turned to the fortress’s commander. “To celebrate the end of the war,” he said sheepishly. “Couldn’t think of a better occasion to open it.”

“Is that so…” Serena mused.

“The end of the war, though,” Charles said, his voice enthusiastic. “What a welcome turn of events! Part of me thought it would go on forever! Have you seen the photographs of the machines they used to break into Meppen? Those vehicles that they are calling landships? What monstrous things! I have to ask, Captain Halen, given your family’s business, did you have a hand in manufacturing them?”

“No…” Serena said slowly. “We don’t manufacture vehicles. You seem interested in them, Mister Hornford?”

“I’m only thinking of the possibilities, as a merchant, that is. Could we use these machines not for war, but to clear out more of the wilderness? Perhaps the Empire could finally connect the Western Terra-Firma by rail. Perhaps”–Charles flourished a hand–”we could establish dominance over the red sands themselves.”

“How would that work?” Dagon asked. “I understand these vehicles use crystal fuel, and aetheric combustion doesn’t work over the desert.”

“Right, right,” Charles said, nodding along. “But aetheric combustion is one of many ways to generate power. I believe the Known World has been sleeping on other pathways it could take. Now, if you can forgive me for sharing information, I have contacts in the Yameni manufacturing industry who told me earlier this year they succeeded in creating a gas turbine that not only produces more power than it consumes, but it could theoretically power a lightcraft, or, perhaps, a landship! What do you think of that, Officer?”

“It may have niche uses, but I cannot see it replacing crystal,” Dagon grumbled.

“You never know,” Charles said with a twinkle in his eye. “The war has caused all manner of shortages in the supply chain. It’s created all kinds of demands in areas of industry that no one suspected would need to scale up. Where there are shortages and demands, demonkind has innovated. New ships, new weapons, new armour, and now, new engines. However…” Charles slowly swished the remaining loqua in his glass. He turned his gaze upon Serena and said, “Your family has innovated the most, hasn’t it?”

“We have?” Serena questioned. Did he know about their production of proximity fuses?

“Contracting a human healer,” Charles said.

Ah.

“Innovative move. Innovative and bold. She’s employed as an advisor to House Halen, is she not?” When he saw that Serena had no intention of replying, he added, “I know this is forward of me. A mere merchant making a request of a famous Speaker and Captain. Perhaps it’s the loqua talking, but I have to inquire…” Charles leaned forward and Serena found herself subconsciously drawn to his eyes. For the first time, she saw, beyond his yellow eyes, a sense of hunger. “Lord-Prospect Thornheart wouldn’t happen to be travelling with you today, would she, Captain Halen?”

Serena breathed out slowly.

“No,” she said. “As far as I know, Lord-Prospect Thornheart is attending to her estate, which she was awarded for her aid during the Asamaywa fire. She is employed as House Halen’s advisor, but that does not mean we keep her on a leash.”

Although that might solve a lot of problems, Serena thought idly.

“What a shame,” Charles said with a shake of his head. The Wami merchant leaned back into his chair. “I had to ask. I apologise, Captain Halen. After the chaos she caused at the Asamaywa basilica, I thought she might have left the city, and the timing matched the Vengeance’s movements. A great shame. I very much looked forward to meeting her.”

“If you continue to Asamaywa after your stop at Hokanai, perhaps you could petition Greatlord Oshiro for a meeting,” Serena said.

“Ah… perhaps…” came the disheartened reply.

“Talking of meetings,” the commander said. “We moved on from the topic earlier, but I take it you didn’t encounter the Indefatigable?”

Now that she was faced with the question, Serena made a decision that she knew had been building up ever since she stepped into this room. She’d seen enough of this commander, his guest, and this room to understand what she needed to do.

“No,” she answered. “We searched, but the weather worsened, and all we got for our effort was damaged rigging. Thank you, by the way; your steam cranes will accelerate our repairs.”

“If I were available at the time, I would have warned you against going,” the commander said. “As I said before, the passage takes its price. The Indefatigable is surely delayed. It may be an hour, or a week, or even two weeks, but it will arrive. This time, she asked for your rigging. Next time, she might ask for more. You must respect the passage, Captain Halen. She is a fickle and cruel mistress, but she is fair.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have the luxury of time,” Serena replied. “I especially don’t have time for fickle and cruel mistresses. I will be departing soon, right after my engineers finish repairing the rigging. I will traverse the passage, with or without the Indefatigable.” Serena locked eyes with the commander, continuing, “If she appears, let Captain Matthews know I’ve gone ahead. I hope to come across him in the passage, but we may miss each other.”

“Of course, Captain,” the commander said, tilting his head in acknowledgement. “The fortress’s aetherscope will keep its eye out.”

The remainder of the meal was spent discussing inconsequential things. Serena prepared to leave, standing up and giving her goodbyes. It wasn’t until she was about to step through the threshold to the outside corridor that Charles spoke up.

“Captain Halen.”

“Yes?” Serena turned, eyeing the Wami merchant.

“One more thing, a minor correction.”

“A correction?”

“Yes.” Charles bowed in the Samino style. “Earlier, you said my name didn’t fit my appearance. A Cerulean-sounding name on a Wami demon with the pattern of a warrior.”

“That’s right.”

“Only, what the Red Moon blessed me with wasn’t the pattern of a warrior, Captain. Your First Officer was kind enough not to correct you at dinner, but I fear he may let the matter drop outside. Considering how important my identity is to me, I have to speak up.”

“Oh?” Serena glanced at Dagon, who nodded in return. She could see the difference now. Dagon’s pattern was more wavy, less structured than Charles’ pattern. At first glance, they seemed similar, but upon closer examination, notable distinctions became apparent. “What is your pattern, then, Mister Hornford?” Serena asked.

“I possess the pattern of a leader, Captain,” Charles intoned. “But, that is the modern translation of the original Wami wording. The traditional word is vladar, which, when translated more accurately, reveals a slightly different word in Imperial.”

“Which is?”

“Ruler, Captain Halen.” Charles looked at her again and, for the second time that afternoon, she could sense an indescribable hunger

within the demon. “My pattern is one of a ruler.”

“I… see,” Serena said after a moment of hesitation. “I apologise for the misunderstanding.”

“No apology necessarily, Captain,” Charles said with a smile. “May the Passage smile upon you and your journey be without interruption.” He tapped his horns, a universal sign of respect amongst demonkind.

Serena looked at the man for a moment before turning and walking out.

There, they met with Officer Yeong.

“Captain Halen,” the demon intoned.

“To the docks,” she answered, striding past him while he hurried to catch up.

She didn’t say anything on the way. It wasn’t until she met Tomes, Aiden, and Finella waiting for them on the Vengeance’s deck and Officer Yeong retreated into the fortress that she felt like talking again. Looking up, she watched Allston’s niece work with a dozen other engineers to attach a replacement sail to the new portside mast.

“How long?” she shouted at the woman navigating the rigging with the grace and skill of a peeka in a tree.

“Fifteen, no”–Allston’s niece frowned, her eyes closing for a moment in calculation–”twenty minutes, Captain!”

“Twenty minutes till we set off,” Serena echoed.

“Captain?” Tomes queried quietly. “How did it go?”

“You missed out on green loqua, Tomes,” Serena said with a wry smile. She kept her voice low as she continued, “There’s corruption, alright. The drinks are too expensive for a place like this. Silver cutlery where they should be steel. The commander wore Fengra wool shirts under his uniform. Not to mention paintings and tapestries from artisans that House Halen would be happy to have on display. He’s definitely getting something from somewhere, but did he play a part in the Indefatigable’s attack? I don’t know. Regardless, I didn’t mention that we found the ship.” Serena clicked her tongue. “How did it go with you?”

“The Arakian downstairs?” Tomes took his spectacles off and cleaned them. “Yeah, it all matches, Captain. Menes Bastet might be irritating, but that just means he’s an irritating Cascadian Lord. Man is who he says he is, although I guess you suspected that already, right?”

“Mmm…” Serena hummed. “I told the commander we're going to continue on our journey and hope we bump into the Indy, but we’ll turn off halfway and search for Captain Matthews and whatever remains of the Myrmidon’s crew. I expect we’ll see Captain Bastet’s friends, unless they’ve returned to Ishaq to form a proper search party.”

“Think we’ll face any other problems?” Tomes asked quietly. Serena knew her quartermaster was talking about more than just bad weather. He was speaking of pirates and ambushes.

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “Tomes… have you ever heard of a man named Charles Hornford?”

“Can’t say I have. Sounds Cerulean.”

“It is, but he isn’t. Belongs to a guest of the commander I just dined with. He’s Wami like you and Dagon. A merchant dealing with loqua and Ishaqian rubber, apparently.” As she spoke, Serena looked down the bay to where Charles’s light transport sat silently. “Keep the name noted, Tomes. When we reach Ishaq, I’d like you to enquire. Maybe Intelligence has a file on him.” She glanced at Aiden, who shrugged in response.

“Haven’t heard of him, Captain,” he said.

“Well then.” Serena faced Finella and gestured to the Vengeance’s superstructure. “How’s the aetherscope?”

“Realigned, Captain,” Finella said. “She’s got some dents, but the plates were fine; they were just knocked out of alignment.”

“Good work,” Serena said. “I’ll go and deliver the good news to Menes. We’ll let them out of their cells once we’re clear of the fortress and the perimeter ships. I won’t risk them being seen.” Serena turned to Dagon. “Twenty minutes. Get the Vengeance ready to sail, First Officer.”

“Aye aye, Captain!” Dagon saluted and began barking orders.

Serena entered the Vengeance. On a whim, instead of heading straight to the cargo bay, she stopped off at her quarters. Inside, she found Amelia, hunched over an impromptu desk she’d set up in the cramped sleeping room. There, her girlfriend wore a crystaler’s loupe while positioning a minuscule chisel over a tiny clamped aetherlight which faintly glowed.

“Afternoon,” Serena intoned just as Amelia struck the chisel, causing the aetherlight to split in two and dim until it gave off as much light as a common rock.

“Another failure!” Amelia cried, removing the loupe and giving Serena a grin. “But without failure, the successes wouldn’t feel as good, wouldn’t they!? Look! I’ve already finished ten!” Amelia waved at a small box where Serena saw just under a dozen tiny aetherlights, each one smaller than the nail of her little finger. Each one was glowing brightly. Well, glowing as much as a tiny aetherlight could.

“Still not going to tell me what you’re making?” Serena inquired.

“Nope!” Amelia shook her head. “It’s too important! Trust me, this’ll change the world!”

“Little aetherlights are going to change the world?”

“They will when you see what I’m going to do with them!” Amelia grinned before asking, “Do you have any fibre-optic cables?” Serena must have looked confused as Amelia quickly continued, “I mean, cable that can carry light? Maybe you call it something strange like light-bearing cable or something?”

“Hmm…” Serena thought for a moment. “Rings a bell. Perhaps it’s used in more modern aetherscopes. You could ask Allston when he’s free, but I don’t think anything on the Vengeance uses anything like that.”

“Mmm!” Amelia nodded. “Well, if I can’t find it, I’ll just invent it! But, uh”–Amelis scrunched her nose–”that might take some time. Anyway! How was your lunchtime?”

“I just had lunch with a corrupt commander and a merchant who’s hiding more than a few things. He asked about you, thinking you were travelling with me. I lied, but I don’t know if he bought it. Stay hidden until we’re back in the passage, alright?”

“Mmm! Alright! I’m going to focus on this!” Amelia waved her away. “See you later!”

Serena rolled her eyes and made to leave, only to find herself suddenly pulled around by Amelia. “What–” she began, only to have her lips stolen by a quick, aggressive kiss.

“Now you can go,” Amelia said, grinning.

“Idiot,” Serena mumbled, chewing her lip.

She ruffled Amelia’s hair and then left her quarters, heading down the staircase. She paused momentarily at the door to the fourth deck, only to shake her head and continue down towards the cargo bay. After checking with the guards that nothing unusual had happened, she approached Menes’ cell.

Or should she start thinking of him as Lord Bastet?

Before she could decide, Menes began complaining.

“My saddiyah, please tell me you’ve come to your senses! How long do you plan to keep me and my boys locked up? We want to feel the wind on our faces! At least put us to work!”

“I believe I’ve been more than reasonable,” Serena countered, crossing her arms to emphasise her point.

“But I am a lord, yes? Like you? We should treat each other with respect, mmm? Have I not invited you to my house in Ishaq? There I will show you what true hos–, hos–” Menes frowned for a moment, trying to pronounce the word.

“Hospitality?” Serena offered.

“Yes! Hospitality! My wife is a wonderful cook. Ah…” Menes rested his head against the bars. “I miss her cooking so much. You use so few spices! You need more salt! And black pepper! You must have some more, yes?”

“You’re lucky you’ve been getting hot meals, Menes,” Serena pointed out. “Normally, when I’ve put someone in those cells, they are in chains. You’ve been given books and more blankets than even I use. I would have thought you would have appreciated the nest you’ve been able to build. Better than hanging on a rope, surely?” She raised her eyebrow at the Arakian, enjoying the frustration on his face.

“You just like tormenting men, don’t you?” Menes accused. “Men need to be outside! We need to work! This… this isn’t good for you!” He pointed a shaking finger through the bars at her. “No man will want to marry a woman like yourself! You must show softness and fem–, fem–, ah, you know what I mean, yes!? You must show you are a woman! What will the men of the South think when I tell them Captain Halen locks their lord up? You Speakers might live longer than the rest of us, but you’ll spend those years lonely with nothing but peekas to keep you company! Ha!” Menes chuckled, saying something in Hakian that caused his men to laugh.

It was then, for the second time that day, Serena felt her mind come to another decision.

“Menes,” she said, “I was only coming down here to tell you that the fortress’s registry of Cascadian Lords has been misplaced. We requested another and tried to make enquiries through their aetherscope, but it is down for maintenance, and I have no intention of waiting for them to spool it back up. What I’m trying to say…” Serena felt her mouth turn into a cheerful grin. “Is that as we cannot identify your lordship, we will have to do so in Ishaq. So get comfortable, Menes Bastet. You’ll be in that cell for some time.”

With that, she turned around and strode out.

The cries of the Arakian lord sounding from behind her were surprisingly refreshing.

As she walked, for the first time, the anxious knot that had been so persistent in Serena’s stomach couldn’t be sensed any longer. She felt a sense of calm wash over her.

It turned out that all she’d needed was a bit of medicine.

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