CH445 · Rewrite
☕ Support

Chapter 445: Attacks

Cacusim arrived at the dock as the first light crept through the clouds.

The dock was unrecognizable. Where the usual noise and commerce lived, there was now silence — and within that silence, several hundred soldiers standing in ranked columns, sacks and long-barrelled rifles across their backs, still as a forest before a storm. The quay was dense with them, but they moved through each other with a practiced ease, boarding the paddle steamers one by one, steady and ordered. Watching them, Cacusim felt something he could not easily name — a quality that pressed against his chest and made him swallow.

These are the soldiers trained by His Highness.

He had sailed from Seawindshire to the Port of Clearwater as a young man — more than half the breadth of the Kingdom of Graycastle. He had led commercial fleets to the Fjords and the nearby islands. He had stood in the presence of armored knights displaying their contempt for the world, and watched barbarians kill demonic beasts with bare hands. He knew what men who wielded power looked like. But this was different. These were ordinary people — miners, hunters, furnace workers, masons, by the look of them — and the power coming off them was stronger than anything he’d felt from men who’d trained their whole lives for war.

“Are you… really going?” Wade’s voice came from behind him, quieter than Cacusim had ever heard it. The sight of the army had reduced him too.

“Why did I apply for the captain position if I wasn’t going?” Cacusim took a slow breath.

“But they are going to fight,” Wade said.

“They all offer their services to His Highness.” The old man didn’t turn. “And so do I.”

A silence. Then: “Stay alive.”

Cacusim waved without looking back.


He boarded the sixth paddle steamer as snow spiraled across the river.

By tradition, a captain could name his own ship. Even though this boat belonged to His Highness, the right was still his. He hadn’t yet decided. This was the second time he’d assumed a captaincy since retiring ten years ago, and he wanted a name equal to the occasion — equal to his memory of it.

“Captain, there you are!” Pike, the first mate, materialized from the companionway as Cacusim stepped into the wheelhouse. The young man was from the Southern Territory, with a few years of fishing behind him. On any other fleet he wouldn’t have passed as a proper sailor, but on this boat everyone was a beginner. “We’re preheating the boiler. She’ll be ready soon.”

“Everyone aboard?”

“All present. You were the last one.” Pike winked.

“If you don’t know how to respect your captain, I’ll be very happy to teach you through a full day of deck cleaning.”

“Yes, captain!” Pike straightened with a snap. “Of course I do!”

“Good.” Cacusim ran a hand along his beard. “Tell the boiler house to stoke the fire but keep the steam valve open. I don’t want to rear-end the boat in front of us.”

“Yes, sir — got it.” Already Pike was sliding back into his easy manner. He flashed another grin, then slipped out of the wheelhouse.

“That rascal,” Cacusim muttered, and found himself smiling despite it.

He went to the wheel and rested both hands on its wooden rim. The tension in his shoulders eased a fraction — the old muscle memory waking up. He began to work through the operating procedures in his mind.

His Highness’s stone boat was unlike any sailboat he’d known. No mast, no lower cabin. Instead: a wheelhouse at the bow, where the two large windows gave a clear view of the river ahead; and a boiler chamber amidships, where the engine that drove everything lived. Behind the wheelhouse was open deck — bare planking, currently covered by a rough tent of cloth to shelter the soldiers from the snow. During the training runs, that deck had carried miners back and forth to the Misty Forest for coal. Coal burned longer than wood and was the preferred fuel here.

For all its strangeness, the stone boat was simpler to operate than a sailboat in most ways. It needed no wind. It needed far fewer crew. Teaching a villager to tend a stove was easier by far than teaching him to read the wind and manage sail — and the boat would hold its course on its own as long as the engine ran and the valve was closed.

The dull blast of a steam whistle rolled across the water from the head of the line.

The first boat was moving.

“Captain — water’s ready!” Pike’s head appeared again.

“Ring the bell. Tell Bigpad and Grizzly to close the valve and build speed. It’s time.”

“Yes, sir — advance!” Pike hauled on the iron cord and disappeared. The bell rang in the boiler house. The boat shuddered.

The wooden paddle wheels on either side began to turn.

Cacusim gripped the wheel and looked straight ahead. When Wade had asked him why he’d volunteered, he had given a partial answer. Serving His Highness — yes, that was true, but it was only a small part.

The real reason was simpler. He loved this.

He loved the weight of the wheel under his palms and the way the bow lifted and cut, the way the river spread ahead of him like a problem that wanted solving.

“Full sail — no, keep shoveling coal!” He turned toward starboard and raised his voice over the noise of the paddle. “Hold on, everyone! We’re setting out!”


“If you ferry me to Border Town I’ll pay you well — five gold royals. No, ten.” The steward planted his foot in the gap of the boatman’s cabin door to keep it from closing in his face. “The Eltek family will honor the debt.”

“Your Excellency, I’m glad to be of service, but I — I can’t.” The boatman’s voice was strangled. “Look — there’s no shelter on this boat, no shed, nothing. Crossing the river is one thing. But to Border Town? That’s several days on the water in this weather.” He gestured at the blowing snow. “Where would we sleep? We’d be frozen solid before we arrived.”

“Are there any other boatmen nearby who could take me?”

“None. Not one.” The boatman waved his hand. “All we have are small river craft. You’d need to go to Stronghold to find a boat you could actually spend nights on.”

If I could have entered Longsong Stronghold, I wouldn’t be standing here talking to a fisherman. The steward stepped back as the door swung shut.

He kicked at the snow. The four families had sealed the city gates when the attack began. He’d spent hours on a detour and had nothing to show for it.

It would be dark soon.

He stared at the Redwater River in frustration — and then stopped.

What is that?

He rubbed his eyes. Through the dense curtain of drifting snow, a fleet was coming downriver. The boats were enormous and unlike anything he had seen in his life. They moved without sails, advancing directly into the wind, their bows cleaving the current in long white furrows, a deep churning sound growing ahead of them like something alive. Through the murk he could make out grey hulls — stone? — and flags snapping at the bow of the lead boat, with an embroidered emblem he recognized.

A tower and a gun.

The steward stood on the bank and held his breath.

This is the fleet of Prince Roland Wimbledon.

Discussion

Suggest a change