Chapter 112: Onwards
“I beg your forgiveness, Captain Halen,” the trembling demon said, his voice shaking, dripping with shame and embarrassment. “My stupidity endangered you, a Speaker, and everyone else. My mind failed me and…” Alaric swallowed, glancing up from his apologetic bow before snapping his eyes downwards once more, “...and failed you, Captain.”
Serena watched the demon carefully. She and Acting-Captain Voss were alone in her captain’s quarters. Tomes had brought him to her, and she’d barely been given a chance to speak before he’d thrown himself into a sincere apology. The man even bowed to her in the Samino style, and while Alaric’s Centralis background meant his performance wouldn’t pass in any formal setting in the Three Sisters, it was enough to convey his honest emotions.
Moons, Serena thought. If he were Samino, he probably would have shaved his head in front of me. The thought made the corner of her mouth curl, a subtle change in expression that Alaric unfortunately caught sight of, prompting his face to lose even more colour and begin another round of apologies.
“Acting-Captain,” Serena said, raising a hand to cut off the demon’s shame. “Stand straight and tell me, have your hands stopped shaking?”
Alaric straightened and held out his hands, palm flat to the ground. For a moment, neither said anything; instead, all pairs of eyes were locked onto Alaric’s hands and their notable lack of tremors.
“...They have, Captain Halen,” Alaric said in disbelief. “I dare not believe it. I’ve had the symptoms for years, but somehow they’ve abated. Could my… episode of shame have somehow released the tension, the pain? Maybe they won’t come back?” The demon’s eyes met Serena’s, full of hope.
“Perhaps,” Serena said, taking care to avoid any mention of a particular energetic healer currently working hard in the kitchens. “Hillbrand is the most talented medical officer in the Known World. I imagine her sedatives, along with the rest you were finally able to get after such a harrowing experience, might have realigned your horns.” Alaric was already nodding along with Serena’s words.
Realistically, a demon with a critical eye and knowledge of just how difficult the shakes were to cure or even slightly alleviate their symptoms would challenge Serena’s explanation. However, for Alaric, it was enough. After all, here he was, completely healed.
Amelia’s healing is truly something, Serena thought, reiterating a thought she’d had many times before. The shakes were a deep psychological affliction with various mental and physical symptoms. Modern medicine was only now catching up due to the war having provided more than enough patients to study. In the early years of the conflict, just as the lines became more static under the rapidly rising quantities of artillery and riflefire, the shakes weren’t understood, and more than a few men were shot for refusing orders when in reality their minds had broken and taken them to a different place.
And that was just for demonkind, who were more resistant to mental afflictions than the humans, who, by all accounts, suffered even more in the trenches.
At least, if they couldn’t get access to a healer.
As frustrating as it was that demonkind had no gods of healing…
They’d still won.
“Did you serve in the trenches?” Serena asked.
“Yes, Captain,” Alaric responded. “I served as a squad commander for the 107th Rifles in forty-three. I took part in the summer fighting around Meppen. It was there… what I experienced… what I saw…” Serena didn’t miss the slight shudder run through the demon’s body. “That’s when the tremors started.”
“Summer of forty-three?” Serena raised an eyebrow, then she felt realisation dawn on her as she recognised the significance of the date. “You took part in the Assault on the Bulge?”
“...Yes, Captain.”
Three years ago, Cascadian forces attempted to collapse the heavily fortified lines around the Republic’s capital, Meppen. The big horns had pulled in more than a hundred ships and two hundred thousand men in an attempt to collapse a strategic bulge and break the stalemate. Whether it was incompetence or an honest mistake, Serena didn’t know, but Intelligence had underestimated the quantity of logistics the Republicans had access to, drawing from their deep stocks from logistic centres like Port Highwind.
The result was they’d walked into a trap, receiving almost forty thousand casualties in the worst week of the entire war. If it weren’t for Cascadian dominance in the skies, the men on the ground may not have been able to retreat to safety.
That bulge would hold for a further three years, and it wouldn’t be until Port Highwind was taken, followed by the development of the landships, that Meppen’s line finally fell and the Republicans were forced into peace talks.
“I’ve heard it was bad,” Serena said, making an effort to keep her voice soft. “My condolences, Acting-Captain.” She nodded towards Alaric’s uniform, tapping her own chest at the same time. “You don’t wear the awards for the assault? I heard High Command was generous after the fact.”
Alaric looked at his own chest. “I used to,” he said, his voice solemn. “Believe me, I’ve got a small box filled with them back in the barracks in Ishaq. Eagles, Horns, Swords, Skulls… I did my duty as a commander and got the prestige I’d always hoped for.” Alaric shook his head, continuing, “Over time, as my condition got worse… looking at the medals only triggered the symptoms. So I stopped wearing them. Perhaps now…?” The demon raised his hand again, as if worried the tremors would return any moment.
He put his arm down, looking Serena in the eyes and saying, “Whatever you heard, it was worse. Before the assault, I never thought it was possible for so much artillery to be in one place. After the battle I heard they defended with almost two thousand guns. Two thousand! They fired hundreds of thousands of shells in a single week, Captain! And that’s only the humans; we fired even more back. It was…” Alaric trailed off before raising his hands and placing them on his ears. “The rate of shells exploding was so frequent it sounded like rain. The closest I can begin to explain it is if you cover your ears and then rapidly tap the back of your skull as quickly as possible. It was like that. It was…” Alaric swallowed, choking up with emotion. The demon checked his hand again, making sure it was tremor-free.
He would probably be doing that a lot for the next few weeks.
“I didn’t mean to bring back troublesome memories,” Serena said. “I only wanted context for my decision over your actions.”
“Oh?” Alaric’s eyes widened, and his posture straightened. “Oh.”
“I have to write a report, Acting Captain,” Serena said, reaching over and tapping one of many forms on her desk. “Actually, I have to write multiple reports. You’re not the only one concerned about how others might perceive their actions, voluntary or not. This is a sticky situation for us both to be in, and while I am confident of the decisions I made, I have to ensure the big horns above share that confidence.”
In fact, Serena was extremely confident that any other captain would have struggled to come out of the arcwhale encounter with no casualties. After all, what other captain had such easy access to Amelia-grade weaponry?
“You faced certain death, Alaric Voss,” Serena continued. “Given your previous experiences, I cannot and will not blame you for what happened. However, if I provide all of the details of the event in my reports, then you are rolling the dice as to whether your superiors will share my consideration. They may want to find a pair of horns to pin the loss of the Myrmidon on. Captain Durval is dead, and you’re logically the likely choice.” Serena took a breath, tapping the desk to emphasise the point.
“Even if your superiors correctly account for the shakes, they could just as easily dismiss them. After all, you’re cured, are you not?” Serena didn’t wait for him to respond. “They may very well accuse you of lying and of running from battle. They’ll say it was your duty, as Acting Captain, to maintain a strong mind and reassure your men, even if there is no hope. They’ll say it was your duty to die with dignity. They’ll have you under a court martial, and you may very well face the rope.”
Alaric’s face lost what little colour remained. “Captain…” he began, his voice laced with nervousness.
“However,” Serena said, lowering her voice. “Very few witnessed your… episode. Other than Sayyid Bastet, everyone else is tremendously loyal to me, and can be encouraged to forget certain events if I so wish.” Serena waited just long enough for a glimmer of hope to appear in the Acting Captain’s eyes before continuing with, “And I do wish it, Alaric Voss, that no black stain should tarnish your long history of service and sacrifice. Although I, as a Speaker and Imperial Officer, would never produce a false report, I see no reason why we cannot both make sure that certain details that may allow troublesome interpretation of events are left out. For our mutual benefit.”
Alaric took a long, slow breath. As he breathed, his demeanour changed. It was as if as his chest expanded, so did his formerly withered future. Serena could practically see life reinvigorate the man.
“For our mutual benefit?” he asked.
“For our mutual benefit,” Serena clarified.
“Aye… Aye, I can do that, Captain Halen. If you were to be so amenable.”
“I can be very amenable, Acting-Captain Voss.” Serena leaned forward over her desk, placing her elbows on the varnished wood and making a fist with her hands. “Now, we have some further matters of import to discuss, namely the Indefatigable and its missing crew.”
“Missing… crew?” Alaric questioned.
Serena began recounting the events of the last few weeks, starting with her first arrival at the Anadalus fortress and the Indefatigable missing its scheduled appearance. She wasn’t able to get much further than that, however.
“W-wait!” Alaric stuttered. “Did you say the war’s over!?”
“Hmm?” Serena tilted her head. “Ah, yes. You wouldn’t have heard, would you? You would have been in the passage when we received the news from the fortress. The Republicans signed the treaty.”
“Thank the Yellow Moon,” Alaric muttered. “Thank the Empress… It’s finally over…”
“Yes,” Serena said. “It is.”
For now, she silently added.
Serena continued her explanation, their encounter with the tricone and then discovering the Indefatigable in its rather unusual location of being moored in dense, storm-ridden boulder fields. She didn’t hide the combat that followed, honestly recounting what she did and why she did it.
Of course, she left out Amelia’s slight hiccup with Kanaxai.
After telling of the arrival of Menes and his Hakian crew onboard, Serena asked, “Sayyid Bastet, how well do you know him?”
“I’ve only known him in passing, Captain,” Alaric responded. “His crew often drank with the Myrmidon’s and the Indefatigable’s crews. Despite the language barrier, there’s a large amount of camaraderie between crews of ships that map and patrol the passage. Sayyid Bastet himself only drinks infrequently. He’s mostly known for his intellectual pursuits.”
“His what?” Serena said, only managing to prevent her jaw from hitting the floor with a mighty effort rivalling her invocation of Narean. “Are you pulling my horn, Acting Captain?”
“Uh, no, no. Not at all, Captain,” Alaric said with a dash of confusion. “Sayyid Bastet is known as a learned man and was responsible for the development of the weather models we use to predict the storms in the passage. Even Centralis uses his techniques to monitor the Sabanis Channel. That, along with his help in controlling the pirate threat, is how he was sanctioned with Cascadian Lordship, Captain. He is well published, from what I know.”
I must be dreaming, Serena thought. I must have been knocked out during the arcwhale attack, and this is my dream. I must be lying in one of Hillbrand’s beds right now, about to wake up after Amelia heals me.
Unfortunately, her wish of being secretly comatose was left unanswered as Alaric went on to describe Menes’ intellectual pursuits, regaling stories of how his expertise in economics, politics and several scientific disciplines had helped Ishaq develop into an attractive tourist destination in the Empire.
He’s played me, Serena thought, standing up from her chair and pretending to file papers away. Really, she just needed something to do with her hands to stop herself from grabbing her horns in frustration and squeezing them into diamonds. He’s played me. Him and his ‘Oh no the Imperial language uses such big words for poor little me’ act. I’m actually going to stab him. I’m going to skewer him like a Vinay kebab and roast him in the kitchens. That damn—
“Captain?” Alaric’s voice broke Serena’s internal monologue. “Everything in order?”
“Ah, ahem!” Serena coughed, unwrinkling the form she’d unknowingly crushed into a little ball. “Just realising something. Take no concern, Acting Captain.” She took a deep breath and returned to her chair, placing her hands on its armrests. “I’ve noticed Sayyid Bastet has quite a strong personality. I did not expect him to be”—she did her best not to crush her chair with her aura-empowered and Amelia-strengthed power—“so well read.”
Alaric chuckled, his first laugh probably in a long time. “He can take a little getting used to, can’t he, Captain? Umm”—the demon shifted uncomfortably—“I understand Sayyid Bastet was also there when… when I embarrassed myself. Could I possibly request that you discuss with him the matter of his discretion?”
“Oh,” Serena growled. “I certainly will, have no concern on that matter, Acting-Captain Voss.”
“Ah… Thank you, Captain.”
Serena took a moment to recollect herself and continued with the explanation. When she recounted the signs of hostile action against the Indefatigable and the evidence that the crew fought a fighting retreat: aura cutmarks in the steel, blood stains and missing lifeboats, Alaric’s expression turned sombre.
“Do we have any leads on the culprits?” he asked.
“Pirates. Very bold ones,” Serena said. “You mentioned you were shadowed and attacked by a black ship, yes?” After receiving a nod in response, Serena reached into a drawer and withdrew a long slip of paper. Spreading it out amongst the forms, she let Alaric look at it for a moment before saying, “Are these aetherfield anomalies familiar to you?”
It was the record of the Indefatigable’s aetherscope when Amelia’s Kanaxai invocation had caused a violent burst of aetheric disturbance to ripple through the aetherfield and shut down the ship’s communications. According to that damn Menes, the effect of the Vengeance’s reaction was similar to how the Blackhorn’s ship, the Chameleon, used aetheric warfare to hunt vulnerable ships in the Southern Passage.
“This does look familiar,” Alaric said slowly. “I remember Bramwell—may he rest in peace—showing us after we crashed. But these values… what hit the Myrmidon wasn’t quite as powerful as this. Where is this from? Your aetherscope?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Serena said dismissively. “I just wanted confirmation. Did you recover the aetherscope record of the Myrmidon before the arcwhale destroyed the bridge?”
“I did not. My apologies, Captain.”
“But you still have Captain Durval’s sketch with you, yes?” Serena asked, gesturing to the demon’s uniform.
“Ah, yes!” Alaric’s eyes widened. “Yes, I do. Here, Captain.” Alaric quickly retrieved a coarse piece of paper, roughly folded. After smoothing it out, he placed it on Serena’s desk. “This is the ship that shut down our lift stabiliser, we are sure of it. As you can see, Captain Durval and our observers only sighted it hiding in the shadow of an island. They only got a good look at its bow.”
“What… kind of hull is this?” Serena murmured, trying to connect the sketch to her memories of Imperial vessels. Captain Durval had included an estimated size, making the mysterious black ship rival the Vengeance. Its bow was, for the lack of a better word, pointy. Instead of coming to a smooth seam or aerodynamic figurehead like most ships, this one appeared to have half a dozen harpoon-like protrusions forming a circle. Within that circle was a bulbous shape that could only be one thing.
An aetherscope at the front of a ship? Serena had never seen anything like it.
Captain Durval had also noted one bow turret, with two barrels that looked on par with the Vengeance’s main guns. If there were many more armaments, they were hidden, along with the rest of the ship, in the shadow of the island that Captain Durval had represented by using charcoal to create a void of blackness on the paper. Serena couldn’t see any identifiable superstructure, but there was one more thing of interest.
“Could these be… torpedo tubes?” she asked, indicating the angular protrusions coming out of the bow.
“That’s what we thought,” Alaric responded. “But we didn’t have time to confirm.”
“Christ,” Serena murmured. “I thought the pirates operated jury-rigged hulls from civilian industries. This is a damn warship. How can they get enough crystal to keep it in the air?” Serena made eye contact with Alaric, asking, “Has this ship ever been sighted outside the passage?”
“No,” came the response. “The black ship is a ghost. I wish I could answer your questions, Captain Halen, but truthfully, we weren’t convinced ourselves it was real until it attacked us. Half the time a fishing vessel gets damaged outside of Ishaq’s perimeter, the captain tries to claim the black ship attacked them. The descriptions they gave were never consistent, so we always put it down to shameless insurance fraud more than anything else. But… I guess it really exists. Which means I suppose the Blackhorn is real.”
“His existence was doubted?” Serena asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Aye.” Alaric nodded. “Have you heard the descriptions? That black smoke that consumes all light spews from his horns? That he carries a weapon of shadow that shatters aura and wards alike?” The demon shook his head, producing a soft chuckle. “It’s fanciful. I always figured he was a pseudonym of one of the existing pirate lords, using the degree of separation to manipulate things from behind the scenes.”
“Sayyid Bastet seems convinced he’s real,” Serena replied.
“I suppose he would know better than I,” Alaric said, “but he is demon, like the rest of us. Sometimes men can be convinced of ghost stories. There are a lot of superstitions and myths regarding the passage. Ghost ships… Ghost arcwhales… Ghostly figures in the clouds.” Alaric shrugged, finishing with, “Pretty much every kind of ghost can be found in the passage, depending on who you ask, Captain.”
“I’m not in the business of looking for ghosts,” Serena replied, tapping the sketch. “But this ship, whether it’s the Blackhorn’s Chameleon or not, intrigues me. A ship that size must have some backing, whether to produce it or keep it in the sky. A corrupt official, or a wealthy merchant… hmm…” Serena hummed to herself as a particular person came to mind. “Acting-Captain Voss, have you ever heard of a merchant called Charles Hornford?”
“Charles Hornford,” Alaric answered immediately with a nod. “Never met him, but I know the name. Trader. His ships travel the passage frequently. Sometimes with private security, sometimes with us. Never met the man in person. Is he… a suspect?”
“No,” Serena replied, shaking her head. “I met him recently, at the fortress, and he piqued my interest. Speaking of the fortress…” Serena went on to explain her experience with the fortress commander and his taste for fine dining and luxuries beyond the means of his salary.
“This corruption that you speak of…” Alaric hesitated, as if deciding his words carefully. “It’s not unknown. Well, it’s not that I know, Captain. It’s more of an open secret in Ishaq. Everyone talks about the fortress at the other end of the Passage. The fortress that’ll look the other way if you have something you want to smuggle to the East.”
“To the East? Or to the South?” Serena challenged.
“That too, Captain.”
“And what did Captain Durval and Captain Matthews do regarding this corruption?”
“Well…” Alaric gave her an awkward smile, using a hand to rub the back of his neck sheepishly. “The Myrmidon’s and the Indefatigable’s port of registry is Ishaq, which means we were operating officially under the admiralty of the South, despite our Centralis origins. We’re not in the Ainese chain of command, and I doubt the Lords of Kraken Kur would take kindly to accusations of corruption, despite their merit.”
“So you just let it go?” Serena asked, feeling her eyes narrow.
“We had orders, Captain.”
“Orders to ignore corruption?”
Alaric shrivelled a little under her glare before explaining, “Before we left, we were told there were—how to put it—strained relations between the Far East and Centralis. We were firmly instructed that we were not to do anything that could further harm those relations. Not that we would want to, to be honest. We relied heavily on using the Andalus Fortress to refuel for the second half of our patrol. If they revoked our access, we would have to take far more fuel and provisions with us, and the extra weight would make patrolling the passage far more costly.”
“Mmm,” Serena hummed. It was a logical explanation. The Ainese greatlords and their growing calls for independence from the Eastern Terra-Firma were becoming more forceful and frequent by the month. Not only did it complicate Eastern politics, but it seemed even Centralis was struggling to settle the matter if they were being so careful all the way out here.
She sighed. Would the next war that she was going to fight be a civil war?
“I feel like I’m trapped in a spider’s web, Acting Captain,” Serena said. “Everything that happened and will happen. It feels strangely connected, I just can’t see all the pieces yet.”
“I’m… I’m sorry I can’t be of further help to you, Captain Halen.” Alaric made another attempt at a Samino bow, a slight improvement over his last. “Once we find the Indefatigable’s crew, I hope the picture”—Alaric’s eyes flicked to the sketch on Serena’s desk—“becomes clear.”
“I hope so, Acting Captain, only it won’t be us to find the Indefatigable’s crew, I’m afraid.”
Alaric tilted his head. “Captain?” he asked.
“I’m putting us back into a band of better weather and clearer sky. We’re continuing to Ishaq, Acting Captain.”
“You’re… giving up the search?” Alaric said, his jaw clenching. “Captain, if I may—”
“You may not,” Serena responded, waving a hand to interrupt the Acting Captain. “The Vengeance is not a search-and-rescue ship. We are too heavy and ill-equipped to continue the search operation. We only found you by sheer luck, and we found you in the very last patch of sky we planned to search before continuing to Ishaq. Any more and the margins of crystal we would have for emergencies will become unacceptable.” Serena made sure to emphasise the word, imposing upon the Acting Captain her definitive mindset in this matter.
“Sayyid Bastet has ships patrolling the passage, looking for him. Should we come across them or any other vessel I deem trustworthy enough, then I will communicate with them everything I have told you and do everything in my power to give them the best chance possible to find our lost colleagues.” Serena leaned forward, continuing, “If we don’t meet anyone I can trust with that information, then the moment I set foot on Ishaq’s soil, I will similarly coordinate with the relevant authorities. To restate the facts, Acting Captain, I am not giving up, I have already exhausted this ship's abilities to perform search operations, and I won't endanger her crew any further on a possibility.”
Perhaps she spoke too forcefully, but Alaric gave her another string of profuse apologies, which Serena had to shut down lest she start to feel awkward. Not wanting to end their discussion on a bad note, she said, “Go to the mess hall, Acting Captain. Support your crew. Now that survival is no longer on their minds, many are grieving. This is your chance to redeem yourself.”
“Ah, yes, Captain!” Alaric exclaimed, saluting with newfound vigour.
“And don’t forget to eat, yourself. The hog and wine won’t last forever, so have some while you can. That’s an order.”
“Yes, Captain!”
“Dismissed.” Serena nodded to her door, and Alaric quickly left, his footsteps fading into the distance.
Serena spent a long time looking at the sketch in front of her. Here she was, in a world of mysteries and secrets, unravelling yet another one. Was this what the Empress intended when she gave her this duty? Or was she being thrown in a general direction with the general command of ‘Go there, and find me some shards!”
Well, no matter what, she would push to the end.
For the Empire.
For her family.
For herself.
And…
For Amelia.
Serena felt herself smile. She could imagine Amelia right now, rushing about dutifully helping prepare delicious meals for the Head Chef. Her girlfriend was working hard, and Serena had to do what she could to protect both of them.
“Right then!” Serena said to herself, giving her mind a mental kick to refocus.
Onto the next task.
“Anathor,” she called out. “Tell Officer Bright to come here.”
It was time to discuss with her inquisitive squad commander, who had so sneakily peeled away Amelia’s secrets about not only their relationship but her embodiments as well, about exactly how much Serena expected her to keep her mouth shut now and forever.
“Just a quick discussion,” Serena thought, her hand almost unconsciously going to the hilt of her sword, where she delicately, reassuringly tapped the handle.
“Just a little warning,” she whispered, feeling herself cheer up even more.