5.Death of Chaos
C
Worrak, Hydlen [Candar]
THE MAN IN the tan uniform crosses the wooden slats that cover the iron-plated deck, repositioning the tan field cap over his bald scalp. He pauses beside the turret and studies the gun barrel that rises from the armor. Then he turns and climbs the iron ladder to the bridge.
“Marshal Dyrsse.”
“Commander Gurtel.” Dyrsse bows. “I came to wish you well and offer the Emperor's blessing.”
“Thank you. I received your orders, and I regret you won't be accompanying us. You won't reconsider that, ser, would you?” asks the fleet commander.
“Unfortunately not. The press of administration, you know. Force Leader Speyra and Submarshal Hi'errse are highly capable of handling their land forces, and I could certainly not improve on your knowledge of your vessels and their tactics.” Dyrsse offers a rueful smile. “My job is to ensure that our base of operations here expands to be able to supply and support the fleet. Not glamorous, I fear, but necessary, like coal. Very necessary.”
“We all appreciate your efforts, Marshal Dyrsse, especially in dealing with such a...” The white-haired commander shrugs. “You know what I mean.”
“A disrupted command structure and an unexpected amount of black magery?” Dyrsse asks with a smile.
“Yes, there has been that, too much of that, and after this effort, I hope we can turn to deal with the real problem.” The commander's eyes flick to the northeast.
“We all do the Emperor's bidding.”
“That we do.”
“I won't take more of your time. The Emperor is with you.” Dyrsse inclines his head for a moment.
“May he be with you, Marshal.”
Dyrsse receives the salute, then turns and descends the iron ladder to the main deck, where he crosses to the quarterdeck, returns the salute of the ship's guard, and walks down the plank to the stone pier.
Beyond the harbor's calm waters are thin plumes of smoke from the more than forty ships bearing the sunburst.
The marshal's eyes focus momentarily beyond the ocean and the ships, toward the unseen isle to the northeast. Then he looks back at the warships and shakes his head. “Poor tools.”