The average trade fleet is, roughly, five or so skiffs large. A surprising amount of cargo can be ferried from one point to another with a single medium skiff. In the cases of skiff fleets, there needs to be a good mix of small and large skiffs for proper protection against any possible threat. Unless it is a military fleet. They can annihilate anyone they want from miles away if they have good gunnery crews.
-Excerpt from ‘Toil of Trade,’ by Eaner Ductur
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Mori leapt backwards as a misshapen hand slammed into the sands in front of her. She hopped backwards with her momentum, smirking at the creature before her, “Come on, I know you can do better than that.” The creature hesitated, and she seized the chance by launching a beam of light at it.
With a smooth movement, it dodged to the side right before the spell launched, the lance missing by a hair. With a deadly, resigned gleam in its eyes, it launched at her with a garbled, staticy snarl. She grinned and danced under the lunge, laughing as she spun a barrier spell. With a flash of mana, she launched a quick barrier at the creature, sending it flying above her. Holding out her hand, she spun another light lance and let it fly.
The blinding light struck the creature as it tumbled, its short fall ending with a resounding thud sounding out as it hit the ground. Mori sighed and walked over to her newest undead, crouching beside it as it lay on the ground, “Look, Frank,” she began, “I know you don’t want to hurt me and all, but I need to know how strong you are. I mean, you’re apparently a ‘greater revenant,’ whatever that means… Well, either way, I think our playtime’s over,” she said as she looked to the horizon. From outside the outer walls of the fortress, she and her newest undead creation had been able to spar without being in anyone’s way, but it also gave her a good view of the western sands.
Southwest of the fortress Mori guessed, judging by using Granulous’ odd reverse rotating sun, a massive combined fleet of dozens of types of skiffs kicked up a dust cloud so massive Mori almost had trouble seeing through it. There were many, many skiffs, all bearing down on the fortress. Looking from left to right, she was able to see a clear disparity between each member of the fleet.
To her far left, a relatively small detachment of skiffs coasted on the sand as if on ice. They had massive cannons and large hulls, all made of some sort of alloy between Clocksteel and something else, judging by its pale coloration.
The fleet beside it could have been divided into three styles in terms of what she could only call ‘fashion.’ One style was bulky, brutish, and blocky. The skiffs like that seemed to favor thick armor and large cannons, the largest of which almost matching the cannons of the first group’s second smallest vessels.
The second style was much more sleek. The armor was obviously thin, and the crafts were small, but they wove around the other, larger skiffs like mosquitos. They also had a consistent theme of harpoons and grappling hooks.
The last type was something Mori had only brief mentions of in her memories; they were junks. They had the oddly-shaped sails, each of which was staffed by a person with a large cannon-like magical device blasting air into them, and the very low freeboard. Living up to their namesake, they were also all made of actual garbage. Scrap metal of all kinds, weathered and battered by whipping wind, was used and welded together to make a thin and fragile skiff. They also happened to be the largest in terms of individual forces.
The last two groups were so similar to the third style in the second group she almost mistook them, but the unique flag they both brazenly waved about was enough to put the confusion to rest. They were, like the third style, weathered. But, unlike the similar junks, they had their own unique style, an odd mix between a trireme and a caravel, as well as a different type of weathered appearance. They seemed far more rusted and hastily repaired than cobbled together with whatever was on hand.
The two subgroups in the third also seemed to fly flags opposite of the other, which was the flag they both flaunted around but with minor changes. An odd coloration here, a changed shape there, or a flipped image between them. Mori could almost feel the hate each of the fleets felt for their counterpart, but it could have simply been her imagination.
She nudged her head towards the fortress as her minion stood at attention, “Come on, looks like we won’t be getting any more leisure time.” Frank nodded, following behind her as she made her way back to the sandstone gates of the fortress. The guards atop the walls, a mix between poorly-equipped conscripts of Gribnik and professional Green Oasis soldiers, quickly opened the gate for her; the one time they decided not to on account of her, admittedly, unique appearance, she simply scaled the sixty foot walls with a quick bout of climbing. She was a bit surprised, but shrugged it off; though she was a bit worried about falling from such a height.
She made her way into the massive sandpit between the outer wall and the second-outer wall. Skiffs were all lined up close to the inner wall, with sandstone towers erected beside them all to allow for easy access to the upper decks. The number of skiffs in the fortress had ballooned from a couple hundred from Green Oasis to nearly a thousand. Gribnik arrived with a fleet about five hundred strong while Nikolan arrived with a fleet two fifths that number.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Of course, Gribnik’s skiffs were all horrendously underequipped and understaffed, with untrained levies having to pick up the slack. There was a large collection, though, of armor-wearing, sword-wielding, pompous pricks calling themselves knights that had followed along in the massive luxury skiff that still sat parked near her own. The most difficult thing to understand, however, was that she had still failed to find any sign of one Duke Jiklac, the Military Overseer of the feudal kingdom’s force in the expedition.
She passed by a few men in black robes, noticing how they looked at her with barely contained interest, and mentally sighed. Over the course of the recent days, the necromancer’s guild had become more active in doing… something. They occasionally went out into the desert in small, man-sized skiffs and came back with a small group of random beasties trailing behind them. Were it not for the fact that she could raise Clockworks, the reason still unknown to her, she would be a bit angry with the necromancers giving her a wide berth. Nevertheless, she continued on, passing the last two walls, until she reached the inner keep of the fortress.
She suddenly remembered Frankie, following behind her, and remembered that he needed to go back to the Kharon. And she needed to get Fara. After another moment of self-deprecation, she brought Frank to the Kharon and picked Fara up; she was working on a low-priority project, so she was willing to follow along with the inevitable meeting.
When they arrived at the keep, Yutrad was there to greet them, “Good, you’re on time for this. We’re having a mini-meeting before the big one. Come on.” He brought them back to the little room, where both Ushkia and Aetra were seated. Before Yutrad had a chance to sit, Aetra turned to Mori, “I have discussed your proposition with my superior-”
“Wait,” Mori said, “How did you talk to your superior from here?” she asked.
Fara elbowed her in the metallic chest, “Don’t ask. She’ll never tell us.”
Aetra nodded, “Not unless you agree to sign on with Mount Averus’ discovery program, but that is beside the point. My superior has expressed interest in your project, even the conceptual idea of a mechanized soldier being a mobile weapons platform, but we cannot justify the extra expenditure of manpower unless results are proven.”
“So,” Mori grumbled, “You want us to prove that our idea works before you’re willing to put any real resource into it.”
“Exactly,” Aetra said, “Normally, a project such as this would be a massive expenditure in resources and manpower that would be needed elsewhere, but we are talking about a Hive here; metal and bodies are the least difficult things to aquire here. All we really need to offer is expertise, which will not be in short supply around here. That is, until we begin pushing into the Hive. Otherwise, we can use time to build up your proposed army.
“I apologize, we have wasted too much time. I believe it would be best to get back to the issue at hand.”
Yutrad nodded, sitting down and folding his hands on the table, “I agree.” Ushkia made some small noise of agreement, “Now, do we all remember the plan? I believe I sent the details to you before, Aetra?”
Ushkia waved her old, wrinkled hand, “Oh, it will always be the same. The Gribbys have sticks up their asses, the Nollies are just waiting to take something, and the Affies just want the other ones dead. It’s always a balancing act, but now we have to do it on a large stage. Now, what I think will be interesting to see is how each of them play off of each other. Unless they go into this with a plan in mind, they will argue and bicker with each other just as much as they would with us.”
“I believe,” Fara began, “That there is a good chance of them going into this with a plan. I am, by no means, a master diplomat— I’m just a mechanic— but there is too much to gain and too much to lose if they don’t play their best game here. It is in their best interest to stop us from putting any of them in a disadvantageous position. At the same time, it’s in their best interest to do the same to us. By pure numbers, they win, but with the extra players at the meeting…”
“We can turn the tables,” Aetra finished, “The priests will side with Gribnik, and the secret necromancers will go against them on principle,” Mori suddenly realized the oddity of there being a necromancer guild separate from the Blue Robes while the blue robes also controlling necromancy licenses, but she seemed to get her answer immediately, “If we offer to curb the Blue Robes’ power, they could side with us.”
“I think I have a friend or two, but that’s beside the point. Will Eaner be at the meeting?” Mori asked.
“The merchant?” Ushkia asked, smiling at Mori’s nod, “Ah, he’s a good man. I believe he is part of the meeting; after all, his base of operations was in Aekan for a while and he is here because of his crew. Are you friends with him?”
Mori wibbled her hand, “Sort of. We have an odd… history. It’s just… I won’t get into it, but we know of each other and we’re inclined to side with the other. Other than that, who will be represented there?”
Aetra slid a small piece of paper over to Mori, “We have a lot of people joining it. You’re in a bit of a unique position, since you only really have a few forces to bring, but you have proven to be a good enough ally to bring to this meeting. Since we’re letting you in, there will likely be a lot of others. Pirates, Hunters, powerful wandering mages, maybe a mechanic or two.
“The point is, we can swing this if we have the third parties on our side. Agreed?” Yutrad asked. They all nodded, “Good. One last thing, Mori. Do not tell them about your project. Trust me on that. Anyway, meeting adjourned.”
After a bit of shuffling, they made their way to the ‘main’ meeting room. Through the halls of the fortress, Mori began noticing more and more people scurrying around. At first, it was simply soldiers running about, carrying supplies or files, but it soon became grizzled Hunters and captains all marching in the same direction as them by that time, Mori pulled down her mask and Fara had fiddled with her mask a bit, probably keeping it solidly in place.
They came upon a large door, already opened, that led to a large hall, much like the rest of the rooms but with a full wall of windows unlike the occasional small windows elsewhere, with a multitude of tables scattered around in a rough circle. They stepped through the door and Mori noticed Fara stop, she turned to her friend, only to see her stare at a seat just a bit away. She followed her gaze, landing upon a middle-aged man with blonde hair, silver eyes, and a rough beard, sitting beside a lizardman woman with green scales and large muscles.
Mori turned to Fara, poking her in the side with a finger, snapping her out of her funk. The woman snapped her head to Mori, a mortified look in her eyes, “That’s my dad…” she muttered.