The Nevan flagship was an impressive vessel. An advancement in Nevan maritime engineering. Although it still had many of the disadvantages the bulk of ships produced by Nevans had, it had new features to offset those. The ship itself was half again as long, with a third bank of oars. Looming over the low profile of Halder ships, it looked like a nightmare to attempt a boarding action.

Above its battering ram, attached to the prow, it had an extendable gangway for troops to storm an impaled ship and withdraw as needed. It had ‘safe pits’ that were lined with leather and had barrels of water secured to the deck nearby. These were to keep the ship safe from the braziers within the safe pits, allowing the deployment of fire weapons, a nightmare for all wooden ships of the age. Most notable, in its compliment, were more than a hundred fighting men. Unlike most Nevan vessels, this ship had no slaves. The oars, manned by rotating shifts of soldiers, served as a source of propulsion and a method for building endurance and strength. However, it still remained a coast hugging ship that didn’t fare well in rough seas, and speed was most certainly not a strength. It was fortunate that severe weather rarely affected the Sofjorland strait.

As Orn walked along the immense deck behind Thayn, Shufi and his parents, he silently confessed to himself this vessel impressed him. Legionnaires stood to attention, lining the deck. A show of discipline designed as both a show of respect and a display to intimidate. His eyes swept the entirety of the ship, taking in the lines, the rigging, and the amount of men that it was carrying. Strategies and tactics emerged in his mind as he internally calculated merits and detractions, strengths, and weaknesses.

Thayn turned to Shufi. “Well, looks like you’re up. Do you know this man? What can you tell me about him?”

“I know of him, my most honourable prince. From what I know, he is honourable. A man who uses his powerful voice rarely, but when he does, it is a voice of reason. He is an exceptional fighter and strategist, but despite his prowess, he abhors war. A complex man full of contrasts.”

“He is also a man who enjoys reading, fishing, robust debate and a good wine… in moderation, of course.” Censor Marius Vinnicus smiled broadly as he interrupted Shufi’s briefing. “Welcome Prince Thayn. And Shufi bin Sayid, I have followed your exploits. Quite the adventure your life has been.”

The party of Haldermen had bemused expressions as a deep voice with a pleasant timbre addressed them in their own language. Marius’ fluency had only a hint of an accent. He scanned the foreigners now aboard his ship, and stopped at Darius, and spoke in Nevan. “You look vaguely familiar. I am Marius Vinnicus, Grand General of the Legions and Censor of the Military. May I know your name?”

Shufi whispered his translation in Thayn’s ear as Darius swallowed nervously. “Darius Decimus, Praetor of Raugus. And my wife Appolina.”

The strong looking man in charge of the Legions greeted Appolina with a bow, before standing before Darius. “You are in… interesting company. Do you betray us?”

“No, Your Worship. I intend to bear witness to the senate. My hope is to stand before them and present testimony of criminal conduct and corruption that reaches the highest levels of our beloved empire.” The praetor stood proud, attempting to present an air of defiance, however unable to conceal his slight trembling in the presence of his empire’s greatest military leader and de facto ruler.

Marius paused for a short time, staring him down. A brief smile creased his lips before giving a simple response. “Good.” He then turned his attention to Vylder as he switched back into Halder. “This is the ‘Black Bear’?” The Nevan eyed Vylder with a neutral expression contrary to the usual Nevan reaction upon seeing him.

Vylder looked away, displeasure at the name clear on his face. Thayn spoke instead. “Ah, he doesn’t like that name. His name is Vylder Avdlak.”

Marius nodded, opened his mouth to say something when his eyes fell on Venna, and for the first time his neutral expression surrendered to astonishment. “I have heard of this, but I never believed… A shield maiden.” As he said this, he eyed Venna closely. Her hand drifted to her sword, as she began feeling affronted. Marius noticed, and returned his gaze to her slate coloured eyes, and then he bowed. “My apologies, lady. I did not mean to give offence. It is an honour to meet you. I am Marius, and you are?”

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“Venna Avdlak. Vylder is my husband.”

He looked from Venna to Vylder, and back as he arched an eyebrow, muttered to himself in Nevan. “Good Gods, these people are an enigma.”

“Not really. We are just people. We eat, we sleep, we hate, we love, we live and we die.” It was the voice of Orn. For the first time, a look of shock crossed the faces of the men lining the deck, shaking the discipline of their ranks. His mother flashed him an urgent, reproachful look.

“Caestro ire este?” Marius asked, switching reflexively to Nevan, an astonished look on his face.

As he looked around to find the source of the voice he heard, Venna’s face adopted a look of exasperation as she suddenly said, “ERIK! You stop that immediately! Leave him alone!”

Erik was making faces and throwing fake punches at a legionary, trying to make him flinch or lose his discipline. He stood up straight upon hearing his mother’s loud remonstration. Red-faced, placing his hands behind his back, he responded all too quickly. “What? I wasn’t doing anything.”

“I apologise, Censor. Children, what can you do?” Thayn explained the interruption. In response, Marius gestured from Erik to Venna and Vylder, an incredulous expression on his face.

Inclining his head, Thayn gave a subtle nod indicating that yes, Erik was theirs. “I am impressed by the discipline of your men, but do you think they could rest? We need to talk, and I think we should be comfortable. Don’t you think?” Thayn asked.

Marius inclined his head and then waved an officer over, gave him instructions and then turned back to Thayn. “I have arranged for some chairs and refreshments.”

When the soldiers returned with the furnishings, they sat around a table and began talking in earnest. Thayn began with a question. “First, why did you attack us? And second, why so few ships? Are you trying to insult us?”

Marius actually blushed a little as he answered. “Ah… well, ah, let us just say I owe you one for that.”

Thayn gave Marius a quizzical look. “I’m going to need more of an explanation than that.”

Marius sighed. “Our most prestigious legion is the senate guard. However, lately, it has become corrupted with appointments resulting from political favours and nepotism. The worst kinds of men indebted to the worst kinds of leaders have also filled the ranks. I needed them… to make a heroic sacrifice in service to their empire.”

After a brief silence, Thayn laughed long and hard. He wiped tears of mirth from his eyes. “Oh, that is good. I will tell my friend Gereld. He is feeling a little… upset at the loss of life. I am certain this will improve his disposition, I think.”

“Well, I am glad it worked out. I must confess, the empire has officially declared a state of war exists between our nations. But It is my hope we can work toward pulling our people back from this course of madness. This war will have no victors. Only misery, privation and death.”

“I am inclined to agree. We, Haldermen, never wanted war with your empire. Nor did we take action to provoke this. In fact, it is we who suffered provocation. So how do we manoeuvre around this?”

“That is something I do not dispute. I must say, your measured response to certain events was quite the surprise, and in many quarters, quite a welcome one. But I digress. What I think is that we need to get you and your companions before the senate. The man I suspect is driving this course is aiming to, if he hasn’t done so already, declare himself dictator of the Empire. I believe he may even declare himself emperor. We need to stop this at all costs.”

“I am hearing ‘whats’ and ‘believes’, but I am not so much hearing any ‘hows’. I would like to know how.”

“Before we get into details, I am curious about something. What was that voice I heard before? Who was that? What was that?”

“That is something that I cannot reveal at this time.”

“Really, prince? This is a time we need to establish trust, and trust begins with openness. I have declared my willingness to commit to a course of action that is tantamount to treason…”

“I am sorry, I cannot. That is non-negotiable…”

“It’s all right, uncle. I will explain.” It was Orn, in a soft voice, but clear enough to be heard. Venna desperately tried to move to Orn to stop him, but he held up his hand. “Mother, please. He is right. We need to trust. I am Orn, and that voice was my voice.”

With an incredulous expression on his face, Marius asked Venna and Vylder, “Your son as well? How old are your sons?”

Venna looked at Orn with an expression of helplessness, as Vylder answered. “Orn is fourteen, and Erik is fifteen.”

“So young! They are bigger than most men!”

“Most Nevan men. For Haldermen, Orn is about average.” Vylder’s face blushed. However, a father’s pride shone through.

“So Orn, how did you do this? With your voice, I mean.”

“My betrothed shared some of her power with me.”

Marius’ eyebrows shot up as he held his breath and then exhaled it slowly. “Hm… It would seem that the answers I receive only lead to more questions. I would like to discuss this further, but I will leave it at that, for the moment.”

“That’s probably for the best.” Thayn wore a sage expression and gestured for Marius to continue.

Marius raised his right arm and snapped his fingers. Without removing his eyes from Thayn’s face, he opened his hand and a legionary sergeant placed a scroll in his hand. He took the scroll and spread it out on the small table before them. It was a map of the city of Paqurineva. “All right, this is what I propose we do…”