The sea churned beneath them, dark and restless, as Charry gripped the Wavebreaker’s railing while the first Garvan ships appeared on the horizon. His heart raced with excitement, yet he did his best to control it. It wouldn’t be wise to act too soon now. This was meant to be a delaying and intelligence-gathering operation, nothing more.

  He had been ordered to keep the enemy navy at bay for as long as possible, and may the Light help him, he was going to do it. It's not like I have much to come back to. An empty house, no children. No, it’s better to be here, making a difference.

  The Wavebreaker had transformed over the past few months, just like all the ships of the Revolutionary Navy. Reinforced hulls, stronger cannons, and alchemical explosives had been loaded up—everything the research divisions had developed, every ounce of ingenuity and desperation they could muster, had been channeled into the fleet to make it a formidable force.

  Charry had witnessed wonders during his time as a Captain, including the battle between the Great Slitherer and the Deep One alongside Lady Amelia. But none of that mattered now. Only magic and the fire of cannons would determine their fate.

  "Three ships almost in range!" came the cry from the crow’s nest.

  Charry turned, narrowing his keen eyes. The Garvan navy’s vanguard had arrived, easily recognizable by their black sails snapping in the wind. They were fast, well-armed, and no doubt confident. The months spent skirmishing around the Scales might not have led to any significant loss for either side, but they had ended with Garva taking control of most of the islets.

  "Anton!" he barked, turning to his dwarven artillery expert. "Load the starboard cannon with the heavy shot. We’ll make a run alongside them and rake their hulls before they even have a chance to return fire."

  Anton’s thick beard bristled with excitement as he grinned. Making things explode was one of the few things that could make the surly dwarf happy. "Aye, Cap’n! Let’s show these bastards what a revolution looks like."

  Thanks to months of hard work, the crew sprang into action, moving almost entirely in silence. Powder monkeys scurried below deck to prepare the munitions while the gunners carefully positioned their shots. Charry felt the familiar adrenaline rush settle into his bones, and his worries faded.

  The first ship soon came within range.

  "Fire!"

  A deafening roar split the air as the Wavebreaker’s cannons unleashed hell. The heavy shot ripped through the enemy’s shield as if it wasn’t even there, splintering wood and sending men flying. Smoke billowed into the sky, and the cries of the wounded rang out across the waves.

  "Reload and prepare for another volley!”

  It’s like shooting fish in a barrel. They are so sure their protections will hold that they didn’t even stop to think we might have sandbagged them before.

  But the Garvans were not idle. Their forward cannons fired, and the Wavebreaker rocked violently as a shot slammed into her reinforced hull. Charry barely flinched.

  "Brace and prepare a boarding party!" he roared.

  The Wavebreaker cut across the enemy’s path, guns blazing. The second Garvan ship also took a broadside once its shield was down, its masts groaning as the impact shredded sails and sent crewmen tumbling into the sea. The third ship maneuvered sharply, trying to flank, but it was too late.

  "Now! Board them!"

  Grappling hooks flew, biting into wood. They unfolded, creating suspended bridges and sealing the enemy’s fate. Charry led the charge, sword drawn, as his men swung across the gap and landed on the enemy’s deck. Chaos erupted around him, and he had to keep a grin from forming.

  The enemy captain, a battle-hardened veteran with a cruel sneer, confronted him head-on. Despite Charry’s preference for theatrics, he didn’t let himself make that mistake and immediately lunged, trying to skewer the man. His opponent proved skilled, as he easily dodged, only to pivot to try and cut his extended arm off.

  Charry retreated easily, pirouetting away from a thrown knife and attacking again.

  A feint, a sidestep, and then—

  Charry’s blade found its mark, slicing through the man’s doublet and opening a deep wound across his chest. The Garvan captain gasped, eyes wide with disbelief, before crumpling to the deck.

  Victory.

  "Secure the ship!" Charry called out, wiping his blade clean. "Clear out the hold, take anything useful. We’ll sink it before reinforcements arrive!"

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  Anton and the others worked quickly, scavenging powder, weapons, and supplies before setting the charges. As the two remaining enemy vessels got close enough, Charry jumped back to his own and gave the order. "Detonate."

  A thunderous explosion tore the captured ship apart, sending debris and smoke billowing into the sky and irreparably damaging the rest. The Wavebreaker pulled away just in time, the shockwave jolting the hull.

  Unfortunately, there was no time to celebrate.

  More enemy ships emerged from the distance. The Garvan navy was coming in full force, and though Charry and his fleet had delayed their advance, they could not stop them forever.

  "Captain! There’s too many of them!"

  Charry gritted his teeth. The first fight had gone well, but they were reaching the tipping point. If they stayed any longer, they would be overwhelmed.

  "Signal the fleet! We’ll reform at point seven and harry their flanks!"

  The rest of the Revolutionary Navy’s ships who had volunteered for the mission responded with remarkable coordination. They struck fast, crippling rudders, shattering masts, and ensuring every Garvan ship that made it past them would be sailing slower and wounded.

  They continued to stall the enemy for nearly half a day, maneuvering through the chaos, striking with precision, and retreating before being overwhelmed. Charry himself boarded two more ships, cutting down officers and burning supplies before escaping the sinking vessels.

  But the enemy’s numbers were endless, and even the best tactics had limits.

  As the sun reached its zenith, he knew the time had come.

  He spun to his signal officer. "Raise the retreat flag. All ships fall back to Treon. We’ve done our part."

  The Wavebreaker turned hard, its battered sails catching the wind as it sped toward safety. Behind them, the Garvan navy pursued, but they were bloodied, and their advance was delayed by precious hours.

  As the docks came into view, Charry prepared to do something stupid.

  The Wavebreaker returned to port in battered glory, her hull scarred, sails tattered, and decks slick with the grime of battle. Charry barely had time to breathe before he began barking orders. He had one last gift to give the enemy. “Load up on alchemical explosives! As much as we can carry!”

  Some of the younger sailors paused, exchanging bewildered looks. One of them, a lean young man not yet in his twenties, hesitated before speaking. “But, Captain… we’re behind the ward line, right? Once they’re up, the city will hold.”

  Charry didn’t stop moving, shoving a crate of munitions toward the loading ramp. His muscles burned, exhaustion clawing at the edges of his mind, but he would not stop now. “Our duty isn’t to sit behind wards and watch the enemy come,” he growled. “Our duty is to keep them as far from Treon as possible. And when that fails, we make sure they pay for every damn inch.”

  Anton, standing at the railing, let out a gruff chuckle. “Ah,” he muttered, stroking his beard. “Now I see what you’re plannin’, Cap’n.” Without another word, the dwarf stepped forward, grabbing crates and hauling them aboard with his thick arms. “If the Wavebreaker is going down, we best give it a proper sendoff.”

  The thought of losing his ship—his beautiful, defiant Wavebreaker—hurt his heart. But his duty was greater than his love for the sea. Treon needed time, and if a single ship could buy it at the cost of its own destruction, then so be it.

  The crew worked tirelessly, ignoring fatigue in response to their captain’s determination. One by one, crates of explosives were stowed in the hold, nestled among barrels of oil and volatile compounds created by Lady Lia and her alchemists. Each pound of explosives meant more destruction, more delay, and more chaos for the enemy.

  As the horizon darkened with the sight of enemy ships drawing closer, Charry knew it was time.

  He turned to his crew, standing at attention on the dock. Each of them bore the exhaustion of men who had fought too long and lost too much—but their spirits remained unbroken. He wished he could bring them all with him, but this was not their burden to bear.

  “The Wavebreaker sails one last time,” he said, voice firm. “Anton and I will take her out. The rest of you will stay here. Fight for Treon. Make sure our work isn’t in vain if we don’t come back.”

  A chorus of protests rose immediately, but he silenced them with a raised hand. “This isn’t up for debate,” he continued. “Men are needed here, defending the walls, fighting on the ground. We delay them at sea; you have to make sure they don’t take the city.”

  His quartermaster, a grizzled old sailor who had been with him since the beginning, stepped forward. “It’s been an honor, Captain.”

  Charry smiled grimly. “No goodbyes, you hear me? Just keep fighting. We’ll be back.”

  With that, he and Anton climbed aboard the ship, pulling away the gangplank behind them. The crew watched in silence as the Wavebreaker drifted out to sea, a lone vessel sailing toward an overwhelming enemy force.

  The retreating Revolutionary Navy ships hailed them, but Charry ignored their signals. He had no orders to give, no explanations to provide. This was his decision, and he would see it through.

  The Garvan fleet loomed ahead. Charry could already see their sailors bustling across the decks, preparing for battle. But the Wavebreaker sailed straight toward them, unmoving, unwavering.

  “They’re gettin’ suspicious,” Anton muttered, tightening his grip on the railing. “Should’ve known a single ship comin’ at ‘em all quiet-like was too strange.”

  Charry nodded. “Good. If they use up their protections against us, they’ll be fodder for the city’s cannons.”

  The enemy ships slowed, cautious. Shouted orders echoed across the water as sailors pointed toward them, eyes narrowing in confusion. Still, the Wavebreaker pressed on, cutting through the waves like a phantom.

  Charry turned to Anton. “It’s time. You should get going.” He nodded toward the skiff they had prepared, the only means of escape before their deadly cargo ignited. But Anton crossed his arms and shook his head.

  “I ain’t leavin’ till you do.” He spat into the sea.

  Charry opened his mouth to argue, but one look at the dwarf’s set expression told him it would be pointless. Instead, he let out a slow breath, nodding once. “Fine. We’ll leave together.”

  The seconds stretched, tension thick in the salt-heavy air. Closer now. Close enough to see the faces of the enemy sailors, their wary expressions shifting into confusion, then realization, then panic.

  Charry struck the flint.

  The spark caught, leaping to the carefully placed fuse. It sizzled and raced along the deck, winding its way toward the belly of the ship where death awaited in the form of alchemical fire.

  “Go!” Charry bellowed, grabbing Anton’s arm and hauling him toward the railing.

  They leaped, plunging into the sea just as the chain reaction ignited. It was too late now to risk the skiff, and so Charry forced himself downward, kicking hard to flee the impending blast. The water darkened around them, pressure closing in—

  The world above exploded.

  A massive shockwave slammed into them, pushing them deeper into the abyss. Heat roared overhead, even below the water, and Charry knew without looking that his ship was lost.

  He closed his eyes, struggling against the water, before kicking hard toward the surface. Anton was next to him, swimming with steady strokes. It had taken a while to teach him, but it had been worth it.

  They broke through, gasping for air, just in time to see the flaming wreckage of the Wavebreaker rain down upon the Garvan fleet. The nearest ships had been torn apart, their hulls cracked, their masts collapsing under the force of the explosion. Smoke and fire consumed the sea.

  Charry let out a ragged laugh, watching as the alchemical fires danced on the water.