Enlightened Empire

"Today, we honor those who have given their life in duty. Their bravery and commitment has given us all pause, and will forever burn them into our hearts. Thus, we entrust our comrades to the waves. Able Seaman Pehrsonn, shipwright Alyn..."

As Bas counted off all the fallen from the last combat, Atau looked over the bodies covered in rough cloth. In the end, their losses had been far more than he could have ever imagined. Six men had died as they tried to cross past the enemy vessel, a failure Atau would never forget. He would carry their souls together with those of all the other men he had failed in his time as a captain.

Around the barred up dead stood their crewmates, their heads held low. Maybe a third of them were Ekuo's watchmates. Their hands still held the brandy they had been promised for Ekuo's success, the brandy he himself would never have a chance to taste. For the moment, morale was terrible. Of course it would be. Funerals were never nice, but they would be even worse for a Yaku like Ekuo.

With worry, Atau watched as two of his crew stepped up to sew shut the cloths before the burial.

"Wait!" the captain shouted. Confused looks in their eyes, all the men turned to him.

"How will he fight with his body bound like that?" Atau asked, as if it was natural. Although the men looked at each other in confusion, no one had the courage to ask the captain for the meaning of his cryptic words. So Atau would have to explain himself.

"As a Yaku warrior, Ekuo will have to battle the underworld right below our feet if he wishes to reach paradise. Don't seal up the bag. It's what he would have wanted." Another of the newest ghost members on his ship added.

Although they didn't understand, the other men had come from all corners of the massive Arcavian continent. Everyone was used to each other's strange habits. After all, an average ship's crew had almost as many cultures as men in it.

While the other men believed in all sorts of ghosts and gods, among the dead only Ekuo was a Yaku. Like any other Yaku, he would hope to be barred up underground until decomposition. However, this sort of handling wasn't possible on the high seas, where the body would rot and fester to spread disease among the crew. They had to dump the body, and Ekuo would be left to fend for himself as he made his way through the depths of the underworld and into the afterlife among the stars.

Atau's grip tightened around the wooden handle of Ekuo's axe. It was a beautiful piece, as expected of a real Yaku warrior. Great balance, sharpness and weight, polished to a brilliant shine. Now it had lost its master.

With the slow movements of a priest at a ritual, Atau opened up the cloth above the dead warrior's face. Just as he had in the aftermath of the battle, he stood before the body battered by the enemy fire. Although Ekuo had been spared the misfortune of a direct cannon hit, his actual fate might have been worse. When the cannons had crushed through the hull, splinters had shot all over the warrior's body.

His cause of death was obvious: An especially large piece of wood, broken off in the form of a stake, had lodged itself into his face below Ekuo's right eye socket. Somehow, Atau was reminded of a plug, and wondered what happened if he pulled it. Even the seasoned captain's stomach churned upon the thought, even more when he considered his own role in the sailor's death.

To get it over with, he opened up the cloth up to Ekuo's chest before he stepped back. Like this, the warrior wouldn't be defenseless.

After everything had been readied, The crew mates who had held the needles carried the cloth and body over to the ship's starboard side. With a splash, lookout Ekuo went on his last journey. Throughout the entire process, the captain's eyes never left his fallen crew.

Only now did Atau look around again. When he did, he realized the lookout's watchmates still held their brandies in their hands. Without a word, the first of the men marched over to the waves, before he poured the drink into the water with his left and formed the wheel of Arcavus with his right.

Once the ice had been broken, the men came ahead one by one, to pay their respects to their fallen comrade. Everyone gave their comrade something along on his journey. Silent, the captain raised the weapon he still held in his hand, to inspect it in detail. Of course, after Ekuo's death his axe would return into the possession of the warrior's master, back to Corco. By all right, now it was no longer Ekuo's.

*Laqhis won't mind,* Atau thought as he stepped up to the balustrade.

With a splash, the axe followed its master into the depths of the sea.

"Now he's got booze and an axe. What more could a man want on a journey?" he mumbled.

__________________________

Once all the men had been buried at sea, the survivors resumed their journey north, or at least they tried to. Ropes squeaked and moaned as they they spanned the distance between the Homeward and the Sparrow's Flight, another ship of their fleet. Like an sleigh, the Homeward needed to be pulled along. Although it felt like an insult to her, there was nothing Atau could do about it.

They had managed to stem the tide and plug the leaks below the water line, but the enemy cannons had still ripped through their walls like paper and taken all those men with them in the process. Even worse, the enemy's second, final salvo had hit when they had been halfway past the Homeward. Their position and angle had caused a hit square in her rudder.

"Looks like our plans might have to change again." Atau mumbled. Before him, there was a buzz no less busy than the one he had seen right before battle. However, this time the men were busy trying to repair all the damage that had been done. The enemy's cannon balls had fired all the way through their hull and even damaged the main deck. Meanwhile, their grapeshots had mangled their sails. Like a miracle, at least the main mast and the keel had remained unharmed, but the Homeward would need support from the rest of the fleet until they could dock and repair the damages.

"Captain, we won't sail back into Porcero?" Bas asked.

"If we were in better condition it wouldn't be a problem, but now we're in trouble. We can't turn south and go for Port Ulta since there's still a fleet of Bornish behind us. At the same time, we can't sail back, because we just don't know how many of their ships might wait for us in Porcero. Damn it!"

Just before his fist hit the wood of the balustrade, Atau caught himself. Soft and gentle, his hand landed on the tormented wood. She had already suffered through enough for today.

"Why would I be this arrogant? I thought that was Laqhis' strength," he mumbled again. Before Bas could ask what he meant, a sailor's shout interrupted their conversation.

"Captain, here's one of the cannon shots, just like you asked!" The man brought a heavy ball of iron up to the command deck. After the battle was over and the men buried, Atau had asked his crew to search for the enemy cannon balls. After all, they hadn't just fired grape shot, the enemy had fired just about anything they could find. If they analyzed their ammo, they could learn much about their enemies. They would need to. Before Bas could take the ball, the captain had already moved over and taken it for himself. With a frown, he weighed the iron in his hand.

"That's at least five pounds," he said and threw the ball over to Bas. "No wonder they managed to break the Homeward."

Just before it sank to the floor, the lieutenant managed to regain the power in his arm and pushed against the force of the thrown iron. "They're using heavier cannons," Bas stated, wide-eyed.

"Yeah, those cannons of theirs are at least five pounders. I've been stupid, doing the thing Laqhis does all the time. Since we haven't been using any heavier cannons so far, I assumed the Bornish would be the same, but they've leaned a lot since we last fought them. They probably don't have a lot of those heavy cannons yet, but the sea just got a whole lot more dangerous."

"So we can't return to the port," Bas concluded.

"Now less than ever. Since they have heavier cannons, that even means we got lucky in our fight." A bitter smile flowed around Atau's face.

"Lucky!? But if we had known about their power, we could have returned fire and destroyed them without trouble. After all, their ship was in terrible condition! We would have never lost as many men had we been allowed to maneuver around them!"

"That's why I said we were lucky. Since they have larger calibers, they'd also have more range. We were lucky that the terrain forced us so close together, and that they were on their last legs already. In an even battle on the open sea, we would be at even more of a disadvantage. We would be chasing their shadows while they could bombard us from distance."

As understanding dawned on Bas' face, all color drained from it.

"So what do we do?" he asked. Atau decided to take the cannon ball back before his shocked subordinate dropped it.

"First, we need to set course for someplace else. Somewhere the Bornish would never expect:" Atau looked north, beyond the horizon. "Let's go pay a visit to an old acquaintance. Bas, tell the fleet to change course North north east. We're headed for the bronze coast."

__________________________

When he had been visited by Taquais, Brym had been confused, even more so after he was told that Lord Saliena had called for his presence at the harbor. Normally, the lord of Porcero wouldn't call anyone, even less so on such short notice. Most of all, the lord would almost never wander into the commoner's quarters of the city. As someone who despised the fishermen and merchants of his empire, how could he ever deign come close to them? Only when Brym had seen the ships along the port of the city did realization dawn on him, even more so when he had seen the flags of Cahlia and Borna.

"Lord Herak, please meet young warrior Brymstock di Pluritac. As King Corcopaca's local administrator, in charge of the southern kingdom's goods, he oversees much of the trade in my little port town."

With large steps, the tall lord of Porcero walked towards the stubby Brym. By Saliena's side walked a man very much his equal in physique. However, the rough leather clothing and shiny bronze mask which covered the upper half of the duke's face equipped him with a menace the well-manicured Lord Saliena could never hope to match.

"Yes, we know each other quite well." Although Herak's eyes could not be seen beneath his mask, his smile had turned into a terrifying grin. In contrast, Brym retained his own mask. With his usual smile, he stepped forward and stretched out his hand.

"Duke Herak, what great fortune for us to meet again so soon. I hope we can cooperate well in the future, just like we have done in the past! If there is anything you wish to know about the local customs and the local geography, please do not hesitate to pay a visit to our little shops. Of course, you will be welcome to stop by even without a reason. Everything for an old friend."

While they spoke, Herak held on to Brym's hand, and the bear of Borna began to squeeze. Like his namesake, he showed off his inhuman strength. Although he was a cultivator of many years himself, a biting pain ran up Brym's hand and into his arm. Even so, he remained calm as he finished his little speech of fakery.

"Sure, young man," Herak said at last. "I am very interested in everything your master has built here."

As the local lord looked back and forth between the two Bornish, Herak's grin became wider.

"Ahaha, we will do whatever we can to accommodate Lord Herak. After all, now we are in the home of House Pluritac. This time, we should strive to be as hospitable as Lord Herak was back in Borna."

With a scoff, Duke Herak released his hand at last.

"Lord Saliena, although I have spent much time at sea, I really dislike the smell of seaweed and merchants in this place."

For a second the lord looked over to Brym, before he turned back to his new guest.

"Ahaha, yes, they are quite the plague, though occasionally useful. Please follow me to Ceros Castle. I am sure there is much common ground for us to talk over."

Ignored by all lords and servants around him, Brym massaged his pained hand and looked after the two figures. As he thought over his situation, he was reminded of one of his big bro's common saying.

"Well... shit."