CH393 · Rewrite
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Chapter 393: New Boats Entering the Water

A crowd had gathered at the temporary shipyard beside the Redwater River.

Word had spread for weeks: somewhere inside that wooden shed, craftsmen were building boats from gray cement—a material that turned to stone when it set. Anyone who had seen the docks at Longsong knew what stone did in water. The craftsmen themselves had settled on a name for the things: Bathtub Ships.

Today the first two boats would enter the river.

The crowd divided naturally into two kinds of people. One kind was newcomers—civilians recently arrived from the Eastern and Southern Territories, fishermen and inland sailors among them, come to witness the event with open skepticism. The other kind was Border Town locals, accustomed by now to the prince’s miracles, who had walked out through the drifting snow simply to see His Highness.

Cacusim belonged firmly to the first kind.

When he had spotted the notice at the square—test launch of new boats, open to the public—he had announced he was going regardless. Vader had no choice but to request leave from Carter and accompany him. The old man wasn’t familiar with the town, and with the ground buried under thick snow and crowds expected to press and shove, a fall could mean an injury that didn’t heal.

“You underestimate me, child.” Cacusim waved a dismissive hand. “I’ve sailed through weather that would terrify your nightmares. My body may be aging but it still works.”

“Of course, of course,” Vader said, not particularly meaning it. “I’ve already cleared the leave, so it’s done. I just don’t understand why you had to come yourself. It’s only a boat.”

“But you said it was made from gray stone.” The old man shook his head. “Has the world reached a point where stone floats?”

That’s my fault, Vader thought. I should never have mentioned the notice.

“Maybe His Highness was exaggerating. Probably it’s mostly wood, with a few cement parts mixed in.”

“That’s even stranger.” Cacusim was not deterred. “When was that shed built?”

“About a month ago. Maybe a little more.”

“Right.” His beard trembled with certainty. “Before you were recruited into the police. When we first arrived at the Inner City, that plot was empty ground.” He paused for effect. “A month to build the shed. That leaves perhaps two weeks to build the first boat.”

“Is that unusual?” Vader asked.

“Of course it’s unusual!” Cacusim’s voice rose. “In the name of the Sea God—I have never seen a boat built in two weeks. Not by any yard, anywhere. Forget about size—for a sailing vessel, just cutting and curing the keel takes longer than that. You steam the wood, you bend it, you wait for it to season. There is no shortcut. The entire process is irreducible.”

Vader stared at him. “How do you know all this?”

“I was a captain, child.” Cacusim sighed. “When I was young, I ran cargo from Seawindshire to the Port of Clearwater. Made it as far as the Kingdom of Dawn and the Fjord Islands. Then something happened.” A pause. “And now I’m here.”

“You’ve never told me any of that.”

“You never asked.”

“Alright.” Vader turned his attention back to the shipyard. “So what you really want to see is whether His Highness actually built a functional ship in two weeks.”

“Any captain worth his salt would want to see it.” Cacusim stroked his beard. “And if he didn’t exaggerate—do you understand what this means? One or two years from now, his fleet will be moving goods along every river in Graycastle.”

Vader felt something shift uneasily in his chest. “You don’t intend to—”

Cacusim’s smile was serene. “I can’t eat your oatmeal forever.”

“His Highness doesn’t exaggerate.” Someone nearby spoke up. Vader turned to find a young man, clearly a local from his accent. “And those aren’t sailing boats.”

“Not sailing boats?” Vader said.

“No sails at all. They travel without wind—faster than any sailing vessel.” The young man’s pride was unconcealed. “You’ve seen the steam engines in the mines? Those engines drag full ore baskets up from underground without a single person pulling. These cement boats run on the same principle. Steam-powered boats—that’s what His Highness calls them.”

Cacusim looked skeptical. “Travel without sails means travel by oar. And no oar-driven vessel can outpace a ship with a good wind behind it. Besides, the thing isn’t even in the water yet. How can you claim to know how it moves?”

“Because I’ve already worked on one.” The young man didn’t back down. “Last summer I helped modify a steam-powered wooden boat for a merchant caravan crossing the strait. The cement ones are newer—stronger hull—but the propulsion is the same.”

Vader was preparing another question when the young man’s eyes suddenly went wide and bright. He pointed. “There—His Highness has arrived!”

The crowd erupted. Hands raised, voices overlapping, and a wave of movement passed through the gathered people as Roland climbed the temporary wooden platform beside the shipyard. He said a few words—Vader couldn’t make out exactly what—and then gave the signal.

With chanted rhythms, the workers unsealed the wooden shed’s river-facing wall. A boat emerged: forty meters of gray hull sliding down the levee, collecting snow as it went, and plunging into the icy Redwater.

Vader felt his heart seize. It’s going to sink.

The rear half submerged. The bow tilted—then lifted. Foam erupted. The hull steadied, rocking in the current, enormous and impossible and entirely afloat.

The crowd roared.

“It really floats.” Cacusim stood motionless, his mouth slightly open. “God of the Sea. Is that actually stone?”

Vader looked at the boat in the water. The hull surface was smooth—seamless, like polished granite fitted edge to edge without mortar. The cabin was shallow, no deck, no berths for crew, no place to step a mast. Flat-bottomed. Bathtub-shaped—the craftsmen had named it honestly.

Everything His Highness had described was true, produced in exactly the time frame he had claimed.

Vader looked at Cacusim.

The old man’s eyes had gone bright in a way that had nothing to do with the cold.

“I want to apply to be captain,” he said.

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