Ivy stood atop the Male fortress, eyes digging through the spyglass every inch of the endless ocean around her. The fortress, a formidable structure built at the edge of the only crossing available in such treacherous seas, only connected by a stone road suspended over the vibrant coral below, connected the fortress to the mainland, creating an illusion of a floating pathway. Beyond this, the floating city of Male stretched out, connecting the two sides of the pathway blocked by the fortress with two distinct atolls: both accessible without having to use the crossing but well used to access the city.
The north dock, almost deserted, showed only faint signs of life. A few small fishing boats bobbed gently here and there, little crews of local anglers preparing for the day’s work under the diffused light of a cloudy morning. A peaceful scenery, in stark contrast to the chaos at the opposite side of the city.
The south dock, a haunting reminder of the recent clash, was a graveyard of ships. Floating debris and rotting corpses mingled amongst remains of the smoky remnants of charred, shattered hulls. Other ships, other luckier ships, now all belonging to the Blue, huddled together to share the resources that came to them from the docks. Hurried repairs for what was coming.
Beyond the cramped streets of Male and on the other side of the city, the shallow waters expanded into a vast horizon. The maze of the Blue Kingdom., waters that could only be navigated by Marie’s shallow-draft ships. And they were doing so without ceasing and well. The fleet that the Governor of the Blue had now brought back and forth without ceasing to supply the conquerors and the conquered with what a blockaded city could not provide for itself.
As Ivy continued the scouting without a glimpse of rest, the weight of responsibility settled heavily. The fortress, the docks, the city: all of it was now under her watch. A conqueror barely desired by her fellows, and terribly feared by her foes.
As she checked once again the southwest, she squeezed the spyglass as tight as her worries did with her guts. The absence of Riko’s navy not only keep her awake, but had troubled her day to day. The reinforcements, much more powerful and many than what they had now, were the only option to face the large force of Tampra, and the Kraken had surely already sent south. Late by little, yes, but being right in time was vital to hold the grip on a stronghold vital for the control of the Ring of Commerce. An essential prize of the southern kingdoms and an invaluable asset to end the destruction of the Blue Kingdom.
A tap on her shoulder broke her convoluted storm of thoughts, but offered brief reprieve to her stomach. With a decisive turn, Ivy found the gentle face of Oleg, who raised aloft a piece of paper between their gazes. The document, densely written, appeared as a blur of blacks and whites. Her eyes narrowed as she snatched it reluctantly. Then, leaning back and extending her arm, attempted to read it from afar. With a frustrated sigh, she threw it back towards Oleg, who struggled to catch it as it flew in a swirl.
“I don’t have my specs,” she said, hands moving with frustrated strokes. “Would you mind explaining what it says?”
“The agreement with the Timber Guild. Marie has signed it. Eighty percent of the stored reserves for three-quarters of the stipulated amount.”
Ivy pinched the top of her nose before returning to her signs language. “We’ve conquered them. Can you repeat to me why we have to pay anything?”
Oleg fidgeted, his lips moving away before words came out. “Uh. Right. Well… We need that wood. And we agreed it was best to keep the citizens as pleased as possible to avoid revolts and sabotage. Do you want us to take it by force instead?”
“Nay, nay. Of course not. Anything else?” As a soft breeze ruffled her hair over the face, she glanced once more towards the empty sea, where Riko’s navy was expected to be.
“You’re needed at the meetings. The lookouts will let you know when they arrive.” Oleg froze for a moment at the gaze darting towards him. Then, almost as if he had almost familiarized with her outbursts, he cleared his throat and continued. “Since you skipped the morning talks, certain individuals have come here. They’re waiting for you in the ground zone.”
Her frown deepened, but this time Oleg welcomed it with a slight smile and an affectionate tap on the back.
Ivy stormed off so quickly that she almost trampled a crouching ranger who was fixing one of the delta wings. The boy gasped as she had to jump sideways to avoid the stumble. Without a complaint, though, the ranger returned to his work right after and Ivy resumed her scamper towards the stairs.
Way down, she waved her arms at the beat of hammers striking iron and wood. Echoing through the halls of the fortress, the repairs in the lower floors turned into a cacophony, forcing Oleg to shout. “Officers from the city, but also one of the Oozing mates and an officer from the city headquarters. There are representatives of the citizens and some of Marie’s clerks too”
Although Ivy’s quickened pace made Oleg gasp, the long, deep blow she released was not from exhaustion. “What do they want?”
“They want to talk to you. That’s all I know.”
“Have you sent for AhLong?”
“I have. But he’s not in the taverns. We’re still looking.”
Frustration gnawed, a tightness in her chest manifesting as a sharp snap of her teeth. AhLong’s regular disappearances to lose himself in alcohol were terribly problematic, a missing piece in the intricate puzzle of the city’s diplomacy. Her victory was undeniable, yes. So was her indisputable rule. Her position, may be questioned at the very beginning, either for being too young, or being a woman, had some opposing whispers daring to challenge her authority at first. But now they were all been silenced. And with the compliance of his allies and the terror of his opponents, his position was as strong as steel. Still, When the ruler is not a tyrant and is open to diplomacy, disputes flourish and when that happens, the old king, even if accompanied by the scent of liquor or the slur of a hangover, always make negotiations more manageable.
The last descent through the lower floors speed with the urgency to finish her tedious obligations as soon as possible. Her footsteps echoed as she flew down, leaping several steps at a time, her mind solely focus return to her watch at the top of the tower.
Ignoring the startled murmurs and hurried greetings, she snatched a bulky wooden chair, dragging it across the rough stone floor towards a corner. She dropped into the chair, cross-legged and defiant. Oleg, panting heavily, scrambled to her side, beads of sweat clinging to his brow. The men around, visibly unnerved by her aggressive demeanor, shuffled, apprehension and dauntlessness fighting to step closer.
The crematorium chief, a man from the Blue who once worked in tribal matters, spoke with the same reluctance with which he had accepted his new job. “There are outbreaks in the Eastern Quarters. We need more salt, more lime, more... everything to purify the areas. The sick are... multiplying.”
“Why are you here talking about the outbreak?” Ivy rested her cheek over a fist while Oleg spoke to her signs. “Didn’t we assign Ronald to that problem?”
The chief’s gaze flickered to the floor. “The old man is gone. It was measles, they say. But some of his men, all assigned to the Fleas market, are showing black bulbs. This is serious. We need to quarantine from Edon’s street to the market. No one enters, no one leaves.”
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A pang of sympathy hit Ivy. “That will sentence a third of the locals to death, isn’t it?”
“Maybe. But this is not the pimples or the blood-gums,” the manager chewed his words. “This is plague. Unless you want everyone to die, better act fast.”
Ivy’s heart ached, a sharp pain shooting from her chest and up to the temples. The eastern quarter was full of the widows and orphans of men who had fallen in battle. She had promised them safety. That none of her men would harm them. Yet, their actions had led to another kind of harm. Towards an equally terrible fate they could not escape.
“We’ll provide aid and start quarantining the people that show symptoms.” She finally signed. “Let me think about closing everything else.”
“Don’t do things halfway,” Oleg murmured. “A city-wide plague is the less we need.”
Ivy took a deep breath, the weight of an impossible choice pressing down on her. Not receiving a more extensive response, the crematorium manager nodded and moved aside.
Next, a city representative and a burly Oozing’s pirate strode forward, their faces set in stony opposition. The representative, a man with a neatly trimmed beard and a strident voice, spoke, his eyes scanning the pirate with intense loath. “The Oozing have been terrorizing the docks. They threaten and steal incessantly! Their behavior is unacceptable!”
The pirate, face smeared with tattoos and scars, roared back, “We’re promised the black market and if the fountains ain’t flow, neither the sewers! We want our promised share, dat’sit.”
Ivy held up a hand and waved it from side to side. “The war is not over, neither is the taking of Male. Shares will come later, as it was promised.”
“We have not enough food for no one, no enough powder. Half of the ships can’t be repaired. Ye taking nothing!” the pirate growled. “Let the markets open and the city run again. Or else this will be another Oozing and you another Ray.”
The pirate’s words, which sounded like a threat, made Ivy tense. Before she could question loyalties, the representative sputtered in protest. The room devolved into a cacophony of voices, arguments escalating into shouts. She slammed her fist on the chair’s arm; the sound echoing through the chamber. “Quiet!” her signs taking form in Olegs mouth. “Silence!”
The room obeyed, every pair of eyes fixed on her. She took a deep breath, her heart pounding.
“We’ll deal with food supplies later,” she said, settling her interest on the stern-faced officer in a faded uniform. The soldier stepped forward, his chest puffed with an air of authority he didn’t have.
“We need safe passage for our men, as promised. And the ships. Nothing has been provided.”
“Neither you have let us enter the quarters or surrendered your weapons.”
“We promised to stop the fight and grant you victory, nothing more. Without weapons, we are at the mercy of your retaliation. Give us passage and we will leave.”
“There will be no retaliation. Look at the villagers. After surrender, there have been no major disturbances.”
“Except at the docks!” said the city representative.
“Because you don’t obey!” yelled the pirate.
“We will not give up our weapons if we do not have guarantees!” snapped the officer.
Oleg, without waiting for a signal from Ivy, spoke up. “You are in no position to negotiate that! Do you want me to resume the fight? Think of your men. Half of them are wounded or sick!”
The air crackled as the argument reignited, voices rising more than ever. Words turned into accusations, each side refusing to yield. Ivy’s attempts to signal for silence drifted in the chaos, unable to find their voice in an Oleg caught in the maelstrom of the verbal battle. Frustration coiled in her gut. Her hands trembled, and she clenched them into fists, nails digging into her palms. tightening with every shouted word. With a sudden, explosive movement, she snatched the bulky chair from beneath, and waving it in the air as if it were a feather, she brought it crashing down onto the floor, splintering the wood into pieces.
A stunned silence returned to the room. She signed, precise and calm, directing Oleg to announce that she would consider all requests and offer a prompt response to them all.
The room emptied of visitors, but still others, Marie’s clerks, crowded around her and the shatters of the broken chair.
“Your Excellency,” the group’s speaker said. “We need confirmation for certain issues that require prompt response.”
Ivy frowned at being addressed in such a manner. She reached fingers to her eyes and rubbed them vigorously. Papers moved around, none reaching for her hands. “We need to decide whether to start preparations to retreat before the next batch of ships departs.”
“No.” Ivy replied dryly. Oleg glared at her, but she ignored him. “Not yet. Riko will come on time. Tell Marie we need those ships to bring more supplies. And tell admiral Kudos to sail half of his able ships to the north docks. We are vulnerable there. Send a company to the south docks to have an eye on the Ozzers. And send all available medical supplies to the clinic. Tell Marie we need more healers to contain these illnesses. Order captain Harold to disarm the Barracuda and leave its mizzen as it is. We’ll use it to get the Tampra soldiers out of the city.”
The clerks disappeared in the same gloomy silence with which the city representatives had left. Alone with Oleg, Ivy rubbed her face and sorted deeply. She knew he would chastise her later, but in this moment, him choosing not to say anything turned out to be a welcomed gift to her frayed nerves. She turned away, burying her face in her hands, the weight of responsibility pressing down on her shoulders.
The short calm ended with the thunder of boots and a frantic shout from above. A ranger, his face etched with exhaustion, scrambled down the steps. “Ships!” he gasped. “Ships on the horizon!”
Oleg’s reaction turned to be the reflection in Ivy’s heart. They both rushed upwards in a frantic run, although as soon as she reached the first floor, she had left him behind. If she went down the whole fortress in little time, the climb, supposedly much more difficult, turned out to be faster.
She reached the top out of breath and her legs burning. None of the men, supposed to be repairing wings, was doing the work. They all gathered in one corner of the balcony, all staring with hands over the eyes. many expressing excitement, few others doubt. A ranger tossed the spyglass, and she almost failed to catch it, impatience carrying her forward without time to stop. As she reached the crowd, it opened before her. With a grace only possible to her inhuman abilities, she leaped over the battlement in a single, impossible jump.
The little dots in the horizon coming from the southwest were an image she had been playing in her mind almost every day, and yet, seeing what she wanted to see, made her hair stand to an end. Not knowing why and unable to think clearly, she headed to the other side, where another of her men was shouting, finger pointing to the northwest.
From across the ocean, heading for the northern entrance, a similar picture unfolded. More sails approached. But if the others had made her feel unease, these made her stomach turn. Red junk rig sails. The red-seal ships of Jo.
Ivy rushed over the stone railing, almost losing her balance. Her powerful grip made the spyglass creak. Without leaving a single sail or masts unchecked, she searched for a detail. A clue to confirm her fears. Time slowed down. No word was spoken. Nothing until the fleet had crossed half of the distance to reach the shallows, points where engagement is notified by the raising of flags.
“Uwe’s flag!” Shouted someone from the other side. “They are Uwe’s fleet!”
As her blood succumbed to fire, flags from the side of the crossing under her current watch. Two different sets, neither from Tampra nor from the Kraken. And definitely not from Riko. Some gold and other maroon, but all bearing a hideous bird clutching with its claws an unfortunate man: The colors of Hanan and the new Harpy.
As the spyglass came down, almost broken by the punishment of Ivy’s grip, Oleg arrived. Panting, and with a hand at his side, he staggered closer. “Wa-what is it?” he asked, shocked at the surrounding faces.
“Find me AhLong right away,” Ivy signed. “The remaining Fingers of the Fist have come to play.”