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advancing
really.”
    They had moved to a brisk trot as they
ascended and soon the spiraling stairway opened to a wide walkway
that overlooked not just the Rikonen harbor but also the Novostos
Sea. Soren saw the black line of linked ships that made up The
Blockade.
    Qala nudged him to look beyond out over the
Novostos. As he did, he could make out a dark wide mass. Qala
handed him a monocular and as he brought it into focus, the fleet
revealed itself to him. These were Lappalan ships, as though they
had jumped right out of the storybook pages.
    But there were other ships, huge ships that
were so mammoth Soren could barely believe it, “What the…”
    Qala nodded, “They’re some kind of new
vessel. I’m just guessing but they seem to be at least three
hundred yards long. We don’t know yet if they’re cargo vessels or
something else.”
    “What cargo though?” Soren muttered as he
stared through the monocular, “They’re not moving. They’re
anchored?”
    “Seems so,” Soren put down the monocular and
turned to listen to Qala, “When my people spied it coming they kept
quiet, not sure they were in their right minds. Once they got close
enough to make details out, then they came and got me. Apparently,
they’re in range to see The Blockade and that must be why this
armada has stopped in its tracks.”
    “But something this size,” Soren gestured
toward the sea, “could surely bully its way through The Blockade.
There must be a thousand ships there.”
    “We don’t know if it’s a military fleet or a
trade fleet. Maybe they don’t have the personnel to attack.”
    Soren shook his head still in disbelief,
“Still. Still.”
    “I know.” Qala guided him along the walkway
to a different vantage, her tone softened as she asked, “Do we know
for certain Lappala knows about The Blockade?”
    “How could it not?” Soren said
incredulously.
    “I know, I’m just saying. News travels
slowly, especially when it has to cross the Ragan Mountains or
travel the Novostos and Avostos before getting to trek across the
arid Aral to Lappala.”
    “You think that they…”
    “Thought maybe it was going to be a
short-lived thing? Decided to pick a side and constructed this
armada to aid that side? I don’t know.” Qala shrugged, “But not
knowing...”
    “This changes things.” Soren squinted trying
to see the fleet without the aid of the monocular.
    “Yeah, but what things?” Qala asked.
    “Everything,” Soren turned jogged back
towards the stairs, “for everybody.”

    The Blockade

    Admiral Lesur was not a fat man, but he had
grown soft these pass three years. He had come to realize that his
appointment to command The Blockade had not been a boon. At first,
in Elixem he had been damn eager to not just make the shortlist but
also be the admiral. Lesur had poisoned the right kyrios in
Ardavass against his only real rival, Vivao Paternii, by revealing
the marshal’s overly affectionate relations with the Cathedral’s
novices.
    The young Kyrio Knowles was easily disgraced
by encouraging him to use heavy-handed tactics to quell an agrigy
protest over crop pricing. Finally, a wicked bargain with Kyrio
Alois gave him the commission. He should have known when Alois had
refused to barter with him and gave in to his request immediately,
he wasn’t asking for anything of value.
    No one thought The Blockade would last.
Either the Cathedral would step in to put things right or the
Spires isolationist factions would end the siege calling the
marines home. Lesur thought taking command would fast track him to
a landed position; he would be one of the new lordlings. Instead,
The Blockade had calcified. His dispatches were progressively
ignored. He oversaw new marines, always inexperienced and barely
trained, and waited. There was no opportunity for glory here.
    Lesur rose from his chair and shuffled to
his cabin’s bar cabinet. Taking up a crystal carafe, he poured into
a tall glass far too much Elixem gin. He caught