“Pirate kings?” Scherlic raised an eyebrow.
“Renegade nobles.” Deniz shrugged. “Self-proclaimed kings who built their own navy and declared their borders separate to Veldria. All educated men, trained from birth in combat, and ruling by force as much as right of blood. I was always hunting them down; they captured our merchant shipping and plundered our coastal towns. Added together, their navies could have rivaled the Emir’s. Fortunately, they fought each other as much as us. They may have suffered the same fate as Veldria.”
“Let’s just worry about what we know,” Miro said. “How are your men, Commodore?”
“Anxious, but disciplined,” Deniz said. “Ready as they’ll ever be.”
“Sailmaster?”
“We don’t work in formation like the Veldrins,” Scherlic said. “But here in Castlemere we have the three storm riders and two blue cruisers. In Schalberg we have another blue cruiser and two dreadnoughts—eight Buchalanti vessels in total. If the enemy fleet is in these seas, we’ll find them.”
“We’ve performed some tests,” Deniz said. Scherlic scowled. “The Buchalanti ships are fast and well armed, particularly the dreadnoughts. But their armor won’t stop cannon.” Deniz looked at Scherlic somewhat apologetically.
Miro gazed along the fortifications. “If we can stop them in the sea, I won’t consider all this to be wasted time. I’ll consider your people the greatest heroes of our age. Thank you, both of you. I’ll leave you to the business you know best.”
The men of Halaran and Altura cheered as Miro walked in his armorsilk, his new zenblade on his back, following the outside of the defensive wall. He nodded at soldiers as he passed, greeting many by name and thanking them for their efforts. Miro checked the cannon emplacements at the forts and inspected the gaps he’d left to allow men and constructs to make sorties. Upon exiting these gaps, Miro’s men all knew they had to immediately turn to the left. Every other direction, including the place in front of each gap, was marked by red warning flags.
He walked through one of the openings to the inside of the wall and checked the racks of spare weapons, the covered shelves where prismatic orbs and barrels of black powder waited, ready to be used.
Looking up, Miro could see the great carts in the forest where the constructs were housed. The heads of colossi poked above the treetops.
More than anything, Miro wished he had more orbs and dirigibles.
When he’d finished inspecting the defenses, he was halfway to Schalberg as the setting sun melted into the horizon. At mealtime he decided to go through the battle plan once more with his commanders.
Still no word from Amber.
That night Miro organized a feast. The quartermasters from the army and remaining tavern keepers from the free cities joined forces to give the men a better meal than the usual monotonous fare.
Miro knew he would have at least two days’ notice from the Buchalanti scouts, and morale was important. He spent the last of his gilden on the feast. It was probably one of the best meals many of these people had ever had.
Bonfires dotted the pale white sands to the east of Schalberg, far from the defenses, the fires banishing the darkness and continuing into the night. The men drank weak beer, but it didn’t stop them from singing. They toasted Miro and hid their fear behind jokes and tall stories about the women in Tingara.
Miro didn’t join in.
He stood alone near the water’s edge, looking up at the sky. A comet passed overhead, leaving a sparkling tail in the afterimage.
“An omen,” a voice came from behind him.
Miro glanced at Commodore Deniz. “Do you believe in such things?”
“No,” Deniz said, and both men chuckled.
“I feel it, though,” Miro said. “Something tells me it won’t be long now.”
Deniz nodded, his face clearly visible in the starlight. “I feel it too.”
“Tell me, Deniz. With all this talk of omens and Evermen, what do you believe?” Miro asked.
Deniz shrugged. “My people believe in gods who live under the sea and in the sky. They shoot lightning bolts at each other when they fight, like a bickering husband and wife.”
“And you?”
“I don’t know what I believe. I know, though, that I will fight this darkness with every ounce of strength I possess, even to my own death. Though the navy has always been my family, my homeland was ruined, and even if my people return and rebuild, Veldria will never be the same again.”
“Don’t lose hope,” Miro said.
“I have found something else to hold on to,” Deniz said. “Vengeance.”
For a time there was silence between them before Deniz spoke again. “And you, Miro of Altura, the man from across the sea, whom I once took captive, what do you fight for?”
“I fight for my homeland and for the lives of those I love. I fight so that my son, Tomas, can grow up in a free world.”