Three factions. One non-human. Two Native-Human factions, and Foreigners.

  It was certainly a problem that was going to need solving. Most of the Westward Beaches were invaded with the Sea-kin horde. Less than a day ever since their arrival the sounds of war had started to go about in every direction.

  And what welcomed the horde was the bombardment of inferior artillery coming from their defenses around the coastal hill. That familiar boom of gunpowder made everyone understand that taking time to understand the enemy was the right choice.

  Other than the guiding words of the Chancellor. Steel and Gunpowder was the hammer that Aon brings down on those who would dare to rebel against the peace. Even the mighty Elven-kin could only sought peace when faced with the Might of a United Continent.

  But enemies could wield the same armaments that brought down the powerful to kneel. Even though they were certainly inferior to the cannons that the Fleet have. They wouldn’t dare to recklessly charge in without a thought.

  That thundering sound shook the air. Mist of blood and smoke seemed to intertwine as the horrid tribes of the Undersea charged in, raising barriers, and taking cover. They used these strange sea-grasses as slingshots and among the many that they saw was these creatures that dwell in some sort of magic that was alien to the tongue of the people of Aon and the Elven-kin.

  It could manipulate the elements, however it seemed to be inferior to the ones used by the Elven-kin.

  “That’s quite a lot of smoke.”

  “Ain’t that nice, Tim?” Gabrio said to the spotter on the crow’s nest.

  “Aye, haven’t been sleeping for a while now,” Tim chewed on the sour candy Gabrio gave him. “This is good, Doctor. Candy made out of booze, shit, you’re a genius.”

  “I ain’t giving you more, Tim.”

  “Tch, hey, Doc. You're going to be on our side, right?”

  “What are you even talking about?”

  “Nah, we’re going to make landfall soon. Everyone’s been talking about how many of us will survive this campaign.”

  “I’ll patch you guys up as long as you keep breathing.”

  “I believe you, Doc. No one cares about us more than you are. Hell, I think it makes us think better than you have our backs.”

  “Don’t be reckless.”

  “Course not, still, it ain’t hard to think that we ain’t going back with all of this trouble. It was easy when we had the advantage, but now we ain’t having it. We aren't taking on an entire continent here.”

  “We just need to get past this gate.”

  “How so? We know that shit ain’t happening until we get some of the natives to fight with. We charged into that channel and they’ll turn us into floating barrels with a lot of holes in them. The Channel is big enough for the fleet to pass through, but we’d be sitting ducks and even if we do reach that river. We have to deal with the water from the other side of that gate. Ain’t looking good.”

  If the fleet wants to barge in guns blazing. The fleet has to deal with the fact that the gate won’t open on its own. The fleet could only hope that they’d be able to somehow get that gate open.

  “Tim, you going round for another day?”

  “Don’t think so, Doc. We’re in rotation now so it might be hard. Jesters are going to be sending messages. I heard they start going around the island.”

  “Hope they can do their jobs.”

  “They will, Doc. New land it might be, but those bastards are beasts themselves.”

  Gabrio leaned on the mast. The firing on the Westward beaches was not going to stop. The boom in the air and skies being dispersed was slowly driving the mist away.

  “Doc, you should go now.”

  “Yeah, thanks for reminding me.”

  “I have time for you, Doc. Oh, and can I have more of these suckers, Doc?”

  “No.”

  “Stingy fuck.”

  Gabrio held on to the rigging and slid down. He landed his feet on the deck and sauntered back to the room with a sandbox on it while checking on the barrel of water. The constant banging of the cannons and the smell of gunpowder alongside the salty air was stinging Gabrio’s nose.

  On the deck there were soldiers hugging their rifles as if they were babes and just outside of the hatchway passage were barrels of gunpowder and paper cartridges.

  As Gabrio opened his small book. The hatching leading down to the decks opened and out were Terin and Caldor, Mardon accompanied by Rosalve, Felecia, and Zyra. All of them were armed to the teeth. Zyra was about to follow them out when she saw Gabrio in the hatchway room. Gabrio bid her a goodbye with a nod and gave her a crisp heart salute.

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  Gabrio went back to his small book. From the looks of it they were planning to head to the Spine of the World. It was a mission that they have solely taken and that mission was handed to Lady Rosalve.

  Come to think of it, he had never had a talk with Lady Rosalve alone. Not that he had planned to get fully acquainted with the woman who had Caldor Ando wrapped around her finger.

  Nonetheless she was a stiff lady hiding behind a mask of smile. Truthfully, he hated that kind of gentle smile. He had enough of those smiles in Fort Rava.

  The thought of Fort Rava made Gabrio’s face darkened. Fort Rava was its own city and despite being called a prison. It was a den of vipers and snakes and of people who he wanted to live and die.

  There were folks who were good to him. They had terrible reputation while some were the accused who were placed in the Fort to make up for the ideals.

  Gabrio didn’t understand why he thought of Fort Rava when looking at that despicable smile. He never thought of himself as a petty man, yet here he was judging by that smile the Lady wore.

*****

  The mask remained the same. It was incomplete and the more he modified it. The more he realized that the mouth area inside the mask was getting complicated.

  “I need to see if I can create the same sound, but I wonder what I am doing this for, anyway?”

  Curiosity? Desire? Gabrio didn’t understand it himself, but this rather silly thought had become something he looked forward to when he had nothing to do.

  “The mask cannot imitate the dit and dahs of their tone. The click of their tongues, and the way they change their voices using their mouth.”

  It stumped him how they could do that. He had tried mimicking those sounds, but it ended deaf to the tone. There was no ‘vibrant’ sound that was coming out of the ‘tongue’ that was attached to the mask. Not only was it impossible for him to mimic them with the structure of his tongue. He didn’t have the right organ in his tongue that could produce the sound. The ‘tongue’ that he had made were created from a simple mimicry of the elven-kin’s tongue.

  “Teacher,” Gabrio opened the tome containing the drawings and illustration of the Butcher of Fort Rava regarding the diseases, body parts, and anything that he came across was written in the tome. It was a large tome wrapped in the finest leather and was waterproofed and treated for the sake of preserving it. Most of the work on the mask’s ‘vocal cords’ were done using the tome as a reference.

  He only held the key to the tome. Once the tome was forcibly opened, he was sure that the acid on the layer would melt the pages and the dye and powder would cause a spark that would turn the contents into paper ash.

  It was a masterpiece of the Butcher of Fort Rava and this was one of the tomes that Gabrio didn’t want to give to anyone. He didn’t know why he kept it instead of handling the key and the tome to the rest of the students of the Butcher.

  “But it sure is helpful,” he flipped a page. He placed the mask on the side and started molding the rest of the organ that he needed to complete the mask. Though the mold was certainly not flesh. The clay and the plaster he mixed should be enough to fit his face. The mask looked like the face of a twisted devil. Other than that, it had no function other than the few sounds it made and maybe protecting for the head.

  “I’m wasting my time on this hobby,” Gabrio muttered. “But I wonder what those writings were on their staves. If I could just get one of those creatures and rip off their tongues. Maybe I can make their tongues a part of mine? But would they suspect if I suddenly brought a creature in the ship? Maybe, I will get an opportunity to do so.”

  Gabrio got rid of the thought and made the wall of the cheeks. Then he refined the mask after noticing that his chin and jaw was itching the moment he wore the mask to test the sound. Truth be told, the moment he made tunes with the mask. It sounded like a badly tuned flute. It was tone-deaf and irritating to the ears.

  He put away the mask and tome under his bed. He went back to disk, checked on the records he made for the day and closed his eyes for a moment. Sleeping was hard with the artillery fire from the Westward Beaches. All he had was worry about the lives that would be taken or be at risk.

  Four weeks was all they had until the mist covering them was gone. It was impossible to recreate the same effect without the know-how and even the Elven-kin refused to do so after seeing the Sea-horde attacking the beaches of the Icean Spine.

  They were waiting for the Jesters and the Soundless to make their move. Not to mention that some of the troops were eager to stand on the beaches of this new continent.

  “If they are going to make a landing then that would mean I have to go as well. The Grand-Galleons will be keeping their distance alongside the artillery. If the Westward have defenses then the Eastward should have one as well. Is that why they are sending the Soundless and the Jesters to make their moves? Not to mention that Lady Rosalve should be heading to the people that might help the fleet.”

  A groan suddenly made Gabrio alert. He climbed to the topside and saw that the fleet’s signalmen were directing the fleet’s movements to the beaches.

  “Are we going to land on the beaches now?”

  “That’s right,” a voice said.

  Gabrio turned and saw Officer Claudel Serran wearing his coat and kit.

  “Sorry to say this, Doc. But we’re going to need you on the beaches as well. Do you have any personnel that can handle the affairs of the clinic?”

  “Wiles and Millie can.”

  “Then keep them there. Bring Robert with you, I need someone to watch your back just in case, doc.”

  He followed Officer Claudel to the railing. “What’s the plan here, Claudel?”

  “We surround the Eastward and make a landing. The Soundless and the Jesters should have taken care of the defenses. The small ships will be defending our backs and the longships commanded by Ishma will try to survey any other paths. We can make a landing point and settle the defenses while they are having time on the Westward defending. We’re going to send soldiers on the beaches and then make a Regiment led by Commander Harrington.”

  “Harrington Strongarm?”

  “That he is. The 1st of Milostiv and the Grand-Galleons are going to be part of this campaign alongside the Protectorate Warriors of Arkshelled. You’ll be assigned with Miss Ristina.”

  “She’s going as well?”

  “None of the Doctors and Surgeons have prior experience to war and some of them are old and fragile to be out there running. And you are one of the few alongside the Miss who have field experiences and fit for fieldwork.. We don’t want someone green to be in the field if things happen, Doc.”

  “I understand,” Gabrio nodded.

  Officer Claudel thumped his shoulder. “Gear up, Doctor. We have one hell of a trip coming up.”