CH502 · Rewrite
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Chapter 502: Body of Steel (Part III)

The second hawk-headed ship was still turning when the steel vessel struck.

Its side lay fully exposed—more vulnerable even than the first. The Rats on board were terrified, but a few of them held fast long enough to raise crossbows and loose bolts at the incoming hull. The bolts struck and vanished without mark, needles against plate iron. Nothing deterred the advance.

The bow hit amidships, directly crushing a dozen oars. Then the current took the hawk-headed ship and the impact carried it further than the force alone could have managed, and the vessel tilted—lifted sideways by the collision until its far gunwale nearly touched the water—and the steel bow, momentarily airborne, rose with the motion and then came down.

It came down on the deck.

The hawk-headed ship broke with a shrill, prolonged crack. Those Rats who could still move flung themselves into the river. The others lay where they had fallen, trailing blood across the planks. Eden watched the steel vessel settle its weight onto the hull beneath it, felt it through the timber of his own ship somehow, as though the river itself transmitted the pressure—and the hawk-headed sloop gave way completely, snapping at the keel, both halves upending with a great splash before they settled and floated, waterlogged but buoyant, half-submerged like corpses unwilling to sink.

The steel vessel had not a scratch on it.

It turned toward Eden’s ship.

He heard the men around him gasp. He had already given the right order—the ship was pressed against the shore, as close to the bank as the draft would allow, and the steel vessel was adjusting course to pursue Baron Derrick’s vessel instead, which was making its desperate bid for distance.

Eden filled his lungs and roared.

“Raise your bows and torches! Every man able to fight!” He heard his voice carry the way voices carry when they have nothing left to lose. “I’ll pay one gold royal for every enemy you kill. One gold royal—do you hear me?”

Without promotion he would return to nothing. If the ship went down he returned to nothing faster. But if he could wound it—if he could prove that the crew inside that metal shell bled the same as any other crew—he would return to Timothy with something. One story worth telling.

The sailors had survived the first pass without being run down. That steadied them. These were not soldiers; they were men who had lived by killing in one form or another, and as long as they were not being directly slaughtered, one gold royal was still worth reaching for.

The hawk-headed ship moved off the bank and drew alongside the steel vessel as it slowed and turned from the Derrick pursuit. When the two ships ran parallel and close, the sailors raised their weapons—crossbows, flintlocks, gaffs and torches—all aimed at the metal hull, ready to fire and then board.

On the steel vessel’s deck, there was not a single man visible.

Only a dark tube set in metal, ringed by a row of small holes, and pointing directly at them.

Eden did not have time to understand what it was before it began to spit fire.

Not the slow crack of a flintlock, one round, reload, wait. This was continuous—a hissing stream of fire and impact that moved across the row of armed men the way a finger moves across a line of candles. Blood appeared in bursts. Men folded. Wooden barrels split, masts snapped midway, sails dropped into the river and dragged. The hawk-headed ship slowed.

He understood, then, that it was a weapon of the same family as a flintlock—recognizably so—but redesigned into something that required no pause, no reloading, nothing so human as a breath between shots. He could not understand how it had been done. Perhaps, in the end, the only explanation was the one he had refused: the Prince of the Western Region did not merely use demons.

He was one.

Soon the bullets found Eden, too.


This was Rodney’s first battle, and it ended before he got to fire a cannon.

He had waited at his station through everything—the ramming runs, the machine gun’s long sustained note, the fourth ship breaking apart—and the order to open fire never came. When the fourth hawk-headed vessel was left floating in pieces, the river fell quiet except for screaming. The survivors abandoned their faith and swam for the near bank, vanishing into the tree line. The badly injured lay against the wreckage and breathed themselves toward stillness. Roland gave no order to pursue.

“What a shame.” Jop put the unused shells carefully back in their cases. “I thought we’d be able to show the Gun Battalion what real artillery can do.”

“Agreed.” Nelson looked at the machine gun and then at his shells. “A round of cannon ammunition costs roughly what the heavy guns use in suppression fire. More powerful, though, by far.”

“That’s enough.” Van’er frowned. “Miss Anna made every one of those shells personally. They’re worth more than a hundred machine gun rounds produced daily. You’ll get your chance at King’s City—aim well when you do, and don’t embarrass me. I handpicked every one of you for this team.”

“You’ve mentioned that.” Nelson spread his hands. “We know. Three shells to open the King’s City gate—we’ve made the promise.” He nudged Rodney. “Say something.”

Rodney was still watching the place where the fourth ship had gone down. He said, “I want a ship like this.”

The other four looked at him.

“I want to command a shallow-water gunboat like this one someday,” he said, eyes lit with something that was not quite ambition and not quite awe—something in between. “I’d call it the Rodney.”

“Your elder brother should have that honor first,” Nelson said. “The second boat should be the Nelson.”

“No. That right isn’t yours to claim.”

“Save it, both of you,” said Van’er. “The second boat will obviously be named the Van’er. Need I remind you who brought you all into this elite team?”

“Here we go,” Cat’s Claw said, to no one in particular.

“Could it be the Cat’s Claw?” Jop wondered quietly. “Or the Jop?”

“No,” said the other three in unison.

The concrete support boats caught up to the flagship as the argument dissolved into comfortable grumbling. The expedition fleet reformed its line and resumed course downstream. Two days later, King’s City’s gray walls rose from the plains.

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