Falling Facades

First time you feel it, it might make you sad

Next time you feel it, it might make you mad

~ Huey Lewis

Chapter 3

Revenge is like a ghost. It takes over every man it touches. Its thirst cannot be quenched until the last man standing has fallen. ~ Vladmir Makrov

The small private dining room of the Redgrave's mansion in the capital had happy memories for Angelica Rafa Redgrave. When her mother was alive, intimate family gatherings where ceremony could be set aside had been the norm.

But since then, her father had more often eaten with his officers and vassals in the larger dining hall. Her brother Gilbert had been away at the academy, at war or out on the adventurer's never-ending quest to recover treasures of the old world in dungeons and islands, well out of reach of easy contact. And Angelica, when in the capital, had been attached to the queen's household much of the time - serving her as a maid, learning the skills that she'd been expected to need in a future that… wouldn't happen now.

But today dinner was served for the three Redgraves in private. Plates set upon the table, wine bottles left in ice… and then the servants withdrew. Angelica's father cast spells that should ensure they could not be overheard, her brother did the same and even she added a layer to the protections - as redundant as they likely were.

Vince Rafa Redgrave poured wine into his children's glasses, then his own. They all raised them in silent toast to the portrait of the late duchess before drinking.

Setting his wine down, the duke began to eat mechanically, his attention not on the food but on his children. "We may not have a chance to eat like this again, so I wanted to take the opportunity."

Angelica swallowed, though her first forkful of food wasn't even in her mouth yet. She lowered it slightly. "The war with Fanoss?"

He nodded, but it was Gilbert who responded. "The east is quiet for now - unlike much of our southern borders. Either Fanoss' diplomats had been spreading encouragement or our other neighbours are alert and simply taking advantage. Either way, the feudal lords of the south won't be able to send much to help defeat the invasion."

Vince nodded in agreement. "We're not on such good terms with the crown as we were, but Roland's not the sort of fool to put that first. He's offered me the red admiralty and command of as much of the royal forces as can be assembled on short notice."

"And you accepted, of course."

"Of course." He cut deeply into the pork on his plate. "It's too important to be bungled. The young princess might have ordered this, but she won't be the military commander. I'd expect Viscount Darian or perhaps Lord Kosigan to serve as her admiral. Experienced men. Leaving this to some blowhard who only knows how to run up a butcher's bill invites disaster."

She ate, chewed and swallowed, but tasted nothing. "I heard a rumour at the academy that some of the royal army's officers are encouraged to sacrifice their men, to generate more pensions for the widows."

Gilbert looked like he wanted to spit. "A battle won by wit and skill will have the monarch's thanks. But win a battle by throwing men at the enemy until they choke and you will have banquets in your honour and donatives for silver platters and the like - to pay tribute to your hard-fought victory. There's nothing official to it, but the sentiment is there."

Vince nodded. "It's true."

"Why does no one do anything about it then?!"

Her father arched a brow. "Because most of the feudal lords don't want the crown to be too strong, and the royal army is one of the pillars of that. The crown don't like it, but they need to keep recruiting fighting men so that they don't become too weak and the pensions are popular. And it's not as if they can outlaw giving gifts. Mind you, if Roland doesn't want to ruin the treasury fighting Fanoss, he may have little choice but to reform the pensions. At least with Atlee there it could work now."

"I heard Lord Bartford mention the idea while talking to Clarice Fia Atlee," she admitted.

"That boy has his fingers in too many pies for a sixteen year old." Vince gave Gilbert an amused look. "Prince Gerald was being talked about as the next ace to come out of the academy - who expected Bartford? A year ago, could you have even found their barony on a map?"

"I might have needed a magnifying glass," the younger man conceded. "But adventurers can come from anywhere. Centuries back, someone probably said much the same about Holfort and his merry band."

"Point." Vince mopped his beard slightly with his napkin, then sipped from his wine glass. "If I were looking to set you up with someone, Angelica, someone like him would be who I looked at first - not the young Claes. Not that Luigi's little foundling doesn't have potential, but Bartford has drive."

Angelica looked away. "I wouldn't do that to Clarice."

"They aren't married yet," her father reminded her. "I'd not suggest making an enemy of the Atlees by trying to break the two of them up, but if things do go amiss with their courting… Well, just think about it. Imagine yourself in her shoes: do you think you'd be happy?"

"I don't know."

He waved his fork. "No, you misunderstand me. Don't decide now. Think about it. It may help you to work out what or who you want to marry someday. There will be other young men rising up. War does that - it kills boys but forges men."

She nodded. Her and Leon? Some of his public displays of affection with Clarice came to mind and she felt heat in her cheeks. The girl picked up her wine and tried to hide her embarrassment behind it. "How long do you think it will be until Fanoss strikes at someone else?"

"I hope not to give them the chance," the duke told her. He set his cutlery down and folded his hands beneath his chin. "Giving them the initiative would be a costly mistake for us. There are too many possible things for them to do. They could clear out the border lords, strike north or south to offer other lords the chance to side with them or be burned out… So as soon as I have a sufficient fleet together, I'll be leading them to retake Marquis Field's island and that flying island that they brought. Without that, the invasion will be far less of a threat."

Angelica looked at her brother, who nodded in agreement. "I hope you're right, father. I've met Princess Hertrude more recently than you have and I honestly didn't get the impression that she hated us enough to lead such an invasion. If I missed that then I don't know what else we've missed."

"The best thing to deal with a clever scheme is to break it apart by brute force," Gilbert admitted. "That's the other reason that King Roland can't just purge every officer who gets a lot of his men killed. Sometimes that's the best of a bad set of options."

"The other advantage of striking first and hard is that I won't have Frampton and Dieke sticking their oar in," their father added with a smirk. "They're dragging their feet about having their levies ready now that they know that they'd be putting them under my command. If I have my way, anyone listening to their bellyaching won't know my fleet's on the move until it's been underway for a while."

"Can't they just count the ships in harbour?" asked Angelica curiously.

"No, the fleet will need to practise sailing in formation together. I'll take them out for that a few times and then on one occasion, when any spies think I'm still waiting for the rest of the levies, we'll be off to Field." He looked at her seriously. "Don't tell anyone that, Angelica. Not even your closest and most trusted friends."

"Don't worry, father." She made a face. "After my last so-called friends decided that supporting me was too much trouble, I've been a lot more careful in who I talk to. Most of them will understand if I say I can't talk about anything military, and those who don't won't have a good reason."

Gilbert tapped his plate with his fork for emphasis. "It's better if they don't ask at all. The easiest secrets to keep are the ones no one knows exist."

Vince nodded in agreement. "But let's talk about other things. Readying the fleet will have Gilbert and I busy… tell us about these new friends of yours, Angelica. I did a horrible job of arranging support for you at the academy, at least I should know who I would have been better introducing you to."

Angelica forced herself to bring her mind up to happier topics. Katarina's face came to mind and so she started by revealing the great vegetable garden scandal.

"Have we had this conversation before?" Leon asked suspiciously, looking at the three boys who'd interrupted his breakfast. "It feels like we've had this conversation before, Julius."

The prince flushed slightly. "I'd like to think that I can learn from my mistakes."

"So would I." He dropped his spoon into his bowl and stretched. "What got you involved in this, Lloyd? You're usually more sensible than this."

The general class student with Julius and Chris stiffened. "I'm not the only one doing this, Lord Bartford."

"Obviously." His eyes flicked to the prince and the swordsman.

"No, I mean from the general class." Lloyd met Leon's gaze seriously. "Yulia and I want to marry, but her father's a court baron. If I want to be worthy of her, I've got to earn some distinction before we graduate."

It was stupidly early, but that was one of the many problems with the idiotic expectations of marriage in Holfort.

"You realise she can't marry you if you're dead, right?" Leon asked. "Even if it wasn't technically necrophilia. And that is the most likely outcome of a bunch of kids that haven't even finished their education going up against experienced knights. Even if they don't kill you outright, most of you won't be worth any sort of ransom."

"This is our kingdom," Julius snapped. "How can we call ourselves men of Holfort if we're not willing to fight for its future?"

The dark-haired young man shrugged. "My answer hasn't changed since you asked me along on your treasure-hunting jaunt. How did that go for you?"

Chris caught hold of Julius' arm. "We all came back alive from that, Lord Bartford. Safely."

"...I suppose I can recognise that at least," he allowed. "War is considerably more dangerous though."

Julius pulled free from his friend. "That's why I'm asking that you lead us."

Leon paused. Had he heard that right? "You want to form a squadron of students to join Duke Redgrave's fleet and you're asking me to take charge."

"I'm not exactly his favourite person. And… I am forced to admit that you have a point about expecting co-leadership to work."

"I can agree with the first point." He paused. "And I'm not your favourite person either. What's pushing you hard enough that you're prepared to put yourself under my command? Because make no mistake: if I am in command then I will command. I'll hear out your opinions if there's a reasonable opportunity, but if I order you to jump, then any questions will be asked from mid-air."

"May we sit down?" asked Chris.

Leon looked at the table and then around the dining hall. They were getting a fair bit of attention, he supposed. "Go ahead."

The other three took seats facing him. Chris took a deep breath. "There are two reasons that we're trying to organise this."

Biting back several witticisms, Leon nodded.

"Firstly, Brad's going to join the war if he has to do it alone. His entire family is missing or dead. If he goes alone… well, I know you don't think much of us but he's our friend. We don't want him getting killed trying to fight Fanoss alone."

"I wouldn't find you so frustrating if you didn't come so close to deserving my respect." He picked up his glass. "Alright. Brad. I suppose I can't really expect you to keep him locked up indefinitely for his own safety. What's your other reason?"

"Marie."

"...if you tell me that she wants you to go to war then we are done here."

Chris shook his head. "No. She's not really happy with it. But the thing is, even with her parents locked up, she's still a Lafan. Her brother has taken over governing their family's lands and he can insist she go home once the school year is over. I don't get the impression that it's going to go well."

Leon frowned. That was a problem, and one he hadn't considered. Damn. "And how does getting into the war help you with that?"

"We can't afford to marry her."

"It's kind of late to realise that," he shot back and then regretted it. "Alright, that was too much. I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted," Julius said, rather insincerely. "She's still a viscount's daughter, right now we're not even knights. But if at least one of us can distinguish himself enough to be granted a landholding as a baronet or baron, they can marry her. Her brother wouldn't have any grounds to refuse a war hero, not when their parents are disgraced."

"I'm not inclined to underestimate people's wilful stupidity," Leon told them. "If there's one thing I've learned here, it's that." He rubbed his forehead. "If I refuse, you're going to go ahead anyway, aren't you?"

He got three nods.

"I don't suppose anyone has the contact details for the Masked Knight of Holfort? If Vandel Him Zendel is involved, I'm going to be honest: I don't like our chances."

Chris and Lloyd shook their heads; a moment later Julius did the same. Leon wondered if anyone else noticed that hesitation.

"I'll talk to Duke Redgrave, but that's all I'll promise," he offered after a moment's thought. "Even if he agrees to take us, I'll be praying that we don't wind up in a situation where great heroism is called for. That usually means that everything has gone horribly wrong."

I can't believe I'm going along with this, but at least if I'm there maybe I can keep some of you alive.

"I can't say that I'd expected to have such an offer made." Vince Rafa Redgrave looked tired - the result of late nights wrangling with quartermasters and the shipyards, when he had to devote daylight eyes to working the lords and knights that made up his forces into something resembling order. "Nor is it really welcome. If there is anything I'm not short of, it's ill-equipped and ill-disciplined troops."

Leon nodded. "Unfortunately, I believe their resolution is sincere. And better to have them along and under some degree of control than blundering in and potentially causing a disaster."

The duke growled deep in his throat. "Holfort's idiot offspring would do that, wouldn't he?"

"The temple has agreed to give him access to the same skyship they did before. And some of the other students are on better terms with their families, who have made a few older and smaller ships available. So he'd have the capacity to operate on his own if he decided to."

"I dislike having my hand forced, Lord Bartford."

Spreading his hands, Leon let the man think for a moment.

"You're more closely associated with the Stuarts than with young Holfort and his friends," Redgrave said at last. "Are they involved?"

"They were invited," Leon admitted. "But thankfully their brother still has influence over them and he forbade it."

"If only other youngsters were so easily restrained."

Somehow, Leon wasn't sure that it was Prince Julius that the duke had in mind with that comment.

"How many ships are you looking at?"

"Six including my own and the temple's. Nine knight-armours, although their condition isn't wonderful." In particular, Greg and Jilk's knight-armours hadn't really been fully restored since their duels months ago. Their families certainly hadn't been inclined to help and Leon was very conscious of the recollection he had from the books, of the group cobbling parts from damaged knight-armours into a single unit that had been actively hazardous to the knight riding in it. He'd have to ask Luxion to check for such flaws if he was going to take responsibility for the group.

Redgrave gave him a measuring look. "I won't throw inexperienced troops into battle if I can avoid it. They'd be slaughtered. I know you have a little more experience than most knights your age, but we won't be facing mere sky-pirates."

Leon nodded. "I know some of them are dreaming of a glorious victory. I'd be satisfied with getting them home alive. If any of them try to rush off in search of personal glory, I'll shut them down. I've already told them that I insist that they accept that they're subject to my orders. I'd like to say I'll comb out the least competent and disciplined, but I may not have time for that… and arguably I don't have the experience either."

"Your honesty is appreciated. If I could afford to assign experienced knights to you, I'd consider that but I'm short of both." The older man combed at his beard with his fingers. "I'm taking the fleet out for another training exercise in four days. Can you have this squadron ready by then?"

Leon had already known that schedule from having a drone spying on the duke's headquarters. Truly you had to spy on your allies as much as your enemies during a war. "It'll be tight for one of the ships, but I can have five crewed and ready to leave port by then. If I promised that they'd be ready to fight as a single force by then, I'd be lying."

Redgrave scowled. "I'll test that, but have them ready to join the fleet. Not all the levies have arrived so far, but I'll have your squadron posted to escort our supply ships and the transports for our ground troops. We'll see how you handle that. It's a necessary job and it'll free up better ships and crews for the fighting."

"I'll keep them in line."

"You'd better. I'll be keeping you under military discipline," the duke told him. He walked to the door of the office. "Gilbert!"

A few moments later, a handsome man in his twenties entered. "Father?"

"This is the young Lord Bartford who has kindly volunteered to bring a few ships to join our fleet. Lord Bartford, my son Gilbert."

"Sir Gilbert." Leon guessed that the man would prefer the title he'd earned as a knight rather than the lordship he'd been born to.

From the slight smile, he guessed he was right. Then again, the bone-breaking grip as they shook hands might have been a mark of less fondness. "Lord Bartford. I've heard much of you from my sister. Thank you for the help you've given her. A few more ships with your family's forces will be welcome."

"Unfortunately, it's not quite that simple." His father outlined the situation.

"Disappointing," the younger Redgrave concluded. He looked back at Leon. "Are you trying to get them all killed?" From his tone it wasn't clear if he disapproved of that as a goal.

"I'd rather they were under some degree of control rather than blundering around on their own." He shrugged. "I can understand their reasons for wanting to prove themselves at war. Hopefully seeing combat from the rear, the way I did at Olfrey, will shake them of the idea of easy glory."

"Even if this is just a training exercise, it's not impossible we might run into Fanoss ships," Gilbert observed with a glance at his father. "You understand what'll be expected of you?"

Leon ticked off what he figured to be the priorities to be on the fingers of one hand. "Obey orders from the flagship. Keep the ships we're escorting safe. Keep my idiots under control. If all else fails, get my squadron home as intact as possible."

"God, I wish Beaudon could be that concise and on point," muttered the younger blond. "Your father seems to have a knack for raising sensible boys."

"Don't say that to him unless he's sitting down. As far as he's concerned, we're all damned fools."

"All fathers see their sons like that," Vince observed crisply. "Alright. Since I'm pulling the other escorts into the divisions of the main fighting fleet, I'll issue you a commodore's pennant. It'll put you on par with your father's flotilla within the rearguard - but you're very much the low man among the commodores. Don't expect to give orders to anyone outside your own force. Count Seberg is my vice admiral, leading the van. Don't expect to be socialising with him or your father. In fact, given you've Seberg's son with you, stay as far from the other officers as you can. It'll be bad for discipline to see him brawling with his father. But if anything happens to me, command goes to Seberg and then to Count Roseblade with the rear guard."

Leon nodded. As admiral of the red, Duke Redgrave's flag would fly with the main fleet. The vice admiral of the red, as second in command, led the division at the front of the fleet, while the rear admiral of the red led the rearmost division. The flags were traditional, held by the crown except in war, for the bearers had theoretical authority over all forces in a given war. Only the direst of emergencies would see admirals of more than one colour assigned to fight the same enemy.

"If all three of us are out of action, don't worry about the chain of command," Redgrave continued. "If that happens then the situation's so far sideways you'd do better to focus on getting your charges back to port than worrying about anyone else's orders."

It seemed a little paranoid for a training exercise, but Leon supposed that you trained the way that you intended to fight.

They'd been a few hours out from the continent when Leon was called aboard Duke Redgrave's flagship and told that the training exercise was a sham. To seize the initiative and hide that fact for as long as possible, only a handful of officers had been told before now that the fleet was embarking directly for the occupied Field island.

Experienced sergeants from the footsoldiers aboard the transports had been assigned to help manage the crews of Leon's little squadron - which was appreciated. Beyond that, Leon had been kept busy dealing with more material failures and taking what time he had to drum it into the students how to work together. He hoped that this would deter any of them from rushing off in a lone attempt to seize glory.

And now one of the sergeants was calling him over to the temple skyship. There were only a few hours before they came into view of their objective. If the Fanoss fleet wasn't entirely blind, they could be in battle on very little notice.

"Let me know the minute you see any sign of Fanoss' forces," he requested as he mounted his new airbike.

"I'll be sure to do so," Luxion assured him. "I would prefer that you return before we find ourselves in battle. The prospect for collateral damage as the new humans kill each other is unfortunately high while you are aboard inferior vessels."

"I'm not eager to die either."

The wind whistled past him as he crossed the gulf between Dreadnought and the relative minnows of the rest of his little force.

The decks of the skyship were crowded, with sailors checking and rechecking weapons, rigging and every other fixture. But they made room as he landed the airbike in as little space as he could on the quarterdeck. "Permission to come aboard?"

The captain saluted professionally. He was a temple knight, disciplined enough to give no sign of resenting being placed under the control of a privileged child. Which was what Leon was, a thought that kept him up at night. "Granted. Thank you for coming over, commodore."

"This must be quite the problem, if you need my presence." Please don't let the prince's merry morons have had a 'good idea'.

"We have a stowaway, sir. She's been hiding in the stores and only coming out at night, one of the crew caught her pilfering food in the small hours. He thought for a moment the ship was haunted."

"...as tempted as I am to suggest throwing this stowaway over the side, I take it that it's not just some urchin trying to get out of the capital?"

The temple knight coughed to cover a laugh. "No sir. But the crew don't like it. You know," (meaning that he doubted Leon did) "how superstitious sailors can be. And she's of rank so your proposed solution would be…"

Leon pinched the brow of his nose. "Just tell me it's not Lady Lafan. I give you special permission to lie if necessary."

"I won't require that permission, sir. It's not Lady Lafan. She's… Well, the lady in question is in my cabin." The captain led Leon down to the main stern cabin, which revealed among other things that he hadn't surrendered his quarters to Prince Julius and his coterie. That was fine by Leon but he wondered how well the boys had taken it. Perhaps they hadn't even asked for it, which would be a welcome sign of maturity from them.

And, to be fair, not unprecedented. It wasn't so simple as pigeon-holing them as spoiled brats.

Speaking of brats though…

"Hello Leon!" Sophia greeted him with a broad smile the moment the door opened. "Where are my brother and Lady Katarina? I've come to join the adventure!"

Leon took the door handle and slammed the door shut again rather than entering. Then he rested his forehead against it for a moment.

"Commodore?"

"I need a moment." He counted to ten in three different languages, then opened the door again.

Sophia was still there, although she now looked offended. "What was that for?"

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I came to join Lady Katarina's adventure," the albino girl declared again. "It's my turn and big brother's. Can I go and join them now?"

"...how good are you at swimming?"

"I don't understand," the girl admitted honestly.

"To the best of my knowledge, Katarina and Nicol are still in Holfort," Leon told her stiffly, biting back insults that came to mind. "Probably frantic with worry for you. What in the world led you to believe that you should come here? This isn't an adventure, it's a war fleet! I can't turn a ship around and send it home with you! We're going into battle!" He took a deep breath and realised his voice had been rising sharply.

Calm, he reminded himself. I have to remain calm. A commander has to look calm for his men.

Sophia shook her head. "But this has to be an adventure. You and Mary had an adventure with her on the school trip, then there was the Keith getting abducted thing! It's our turn!"

Leon was about to ask what was wrong with her. Then something seemed to crawl up his spine and he asked himself that question more seriously. What was wrong with her? Sophia was a bit sheltered, but she wasn't this naive.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention, captain," he told the temple knight. "I'll take her back to the Dreadnought with me. My crew won't mind one girl - particularly if she's locked up for her own safety."

"You can't lock me up! I need to join Lady Katarina!"

Leon turned his head very slowly back to Sophia.

"Master, as amusing as this is, you asked to be told when Fanoss ships were in view. They're beginning to crest the horizon. I assume that the merely human lookouts should notice them eventually."

"I'll show you to Katarina's room," he told the girl and extended his hand, wondering if she was tracking the conversation at all.

She eyed him dubiously. "You just said you'd lock me up."

"Once you're in her room, why would you want to leave?"

Sophia accepted Leon's reasoning and accepted his hand.

"Thank you, sir," the captain said.

Leon nodded and once on deck looked ahead to the north-west. He saw nothing but wasn't inclined to doubt Luxion. "Get your men fed and watered," he ordered quietly. "I expect we'll be seeing battle today. Whether or not we're involved directly is another matter."

Greg and Brad had arrived at his airbike before he got there. "Where did she come from?" the purple-haired young man asked bluntly. Being perhaps the last of the Field household was obviously wearing upon him.

"If you don't know that, Lafan will probably find you very boring in bed," Leon told him, mounting the airbike. "Get on, Sophia."

"I don't suppose you brought her brother along?" asked Greg. He was a little more serious than usual, although he was still posing with his favourite spear held at a jaunty angle. "Or Claes? Another mage or knight along wouldn't hurt."

Leon shook his head and felt Sophia wrap her arms around him. "Don't do anything foolish today," he reminded the duo. "It's possible to get killed even in a victorious battle."

"You think it'll be today, then?"

Looking ahead again, Leon could pick out signal flags on the masts of the warships in the lead. "Yeah. It'll be today."

Before the conversation could go further, he kicked the airbike throttle open and rocketed up and off the deck, heading for the reassuring bulk of the Dreadnought. At seven hundred metres it dwarfed all the transports combined, to the point he'd been asked if there was room for the soldiers aboard. Fortunately, his claim that there was not had been accepted without question. It was technically untrue - the hangar was cavernous - but even that wouldn't house all that many troops and Luxion would have thrown a fit.

He flew the airbike one handed, using the other to hold Sophia's arms just in case she let go. "Luxion, hoist a signal to the squadron - enemy in sight."

"Who are you talking to?" Sophia asked.

"My familiar," he told her, and then somewhat cruelly continued, "Someone who's helping me, not making my life more difficult." Banking the airbike, he skimmed the side of the Dreadnought, arching up over the rail of the forward deck and bringing it down to land almost up against the bulkhead that marked the front of the quarters aboard.

"I'm here to help!" the girl protested.

"Really? How?" Leon asked her sardonically. "I'm commanding a squadron of children, who think battle is all glorious deeds rather than death and pain. The enemy just crossed the horizon. And now I have a stowaway who's demoralised one of my crews just by her presence. Please tell me how you're going to help."

The girl seemed to have no real answer.

"Luxion," he asked the ceiling as he led Sophia aboard. "Do you have any way to check Sophia for dark magic?"

"I would need her to be in the lab," the AI replied through his ear piece.

Leon threw a door open. "Lady Katarina's room," he declared, ushering Sophia past.

She looked at the bunkroom, clearly unoccupied. "Where is she?"

"This is where she stayed when she was aboard to rescue Keith." Leon put his hands on his hips. "This isn't a romance novel, Sophia. This isn't an adventure. This is serious. And your brother and your best friend aren't here, because they apparently have the sense that god gives even to horses." He didn't add 'unlike you', but the temptation was there.

Then he closed the door and locked her inside.

Compared to the speed Dreadnought was capable of, the war fleets seemed to creep towards each other. Duke Redgrave had turned his fleet to the left, forming a wall of ships that was inching towards the similar formation of their counterparts, both sides trading speed for keeping their main batteries aimed at each other.

"The Fanoss fleet is outnumbered," Luxion reported, displaying the battlefield on the screen of the navigation bridge. "However, the edge in numbers is offset by their incremental advantages in quality."

Leon watched the display. His own flotilla was well to the rear, out of range of cannon fire from the enemy fleet. "We're in range for the Dreadnought's cannon, aren't we?"

"Correct." The AI projected lines across the screen. "If they close to typical point-blank engagement range, we could even shoot through Duke Redgrave's fleet to do so, inflicting severe losses on both sides."

"This is just one fleet," the boy observed. "Even if Fanoss wins, the Holforts can field at least another this large before they're risking serious instability. The losses would grind down Fanoss until they'd be too weak to defend themselves from their own neighbours. They must have some kind of trump card in reserve."

"Military strategy broadly favours holding such weapons or tactics in reserve until the decisive moment."

"Yeah… let's see how this develops before we do anything more than play escort."

A blinking light, marking a ship in the vanguard - now the left flank - of the Holfort fleet, began to close more rapidly with the enemy.

"It would seem that not everyone in the kingdom's fleet is as patient as you, master."

"That fool. Who is it?"

The screen switched to a much magnified view of the vessel in question. "Viscount Bourdon's ship," the AI reported.

Leon read the signal flags flying from the masts. "Engage the enemy more closely? He's not in command of any other ships, is he?"

"Not according to the organisation charts you've shown me. Count Seberg's flagship is flying instructions to maintain formation."

"Which he's ignoring." He shook his head. "Well, I did warn Jenna that he was an idiot."

Guns began to fire from the Fanoss fleet - rather heavier guns than those typically mounted aboard the Holfort vessels. Normally the larger number of guns per ship would offset most of that advantage, but right now Bourdon was advancing alone and several enemy warships were able to catch him in a crossfire.

"Pull back the view," Leon ordered quietly.

Luxion complied, bringing Seberg's division of ships into view. Some were wavering, but there was a puff of gunfire from the flagship. Not weapons fire, a signal gun to emphasise the last instruction.

The ships of the division steadied, none going after Bourdon. It couldn't have been a popular decision, but at least discipline was holding.

Leon didn't watch closely as Bourdon's ship was blasted into wreckage, signals appealing for support raised up the aft mast only moments before the entire mast was reduced to splinters.

But nor did he look away. Not until the once-proud warship's suspension stone shattered and it plunged thousands of feet to the ocean below.

"The price of idiocy," he said flatly. "Good men died following that fool."

"The Fanoss ships are opening the distance," warned Luxion.

The young man blinked. "They're what?" He glanced out the window, checking his own squadron. While a few knight-armours had launched, none were rushing off so he wasn't minded to reprimand them. Then he looked back at the screen. "When did they start that?"

"As nearly immediately after Bourdon's vessel showed signs of fatal damage."

Leon chewed his lips. "They're probably switching their plans. At a guess they hoped that the fleet would break formation and engage in a melee. That could have favoured them. But since we didn't cooperate, except for one idiot, and not even to save that moron… they're looking for something else."

Luxion sounded confident. "A trap."

"Yeah." He shook his head. "And Duke Redgrave has no choice but to spring it. Are you seeing any sign at all of other Principality vessels?"

Luxion paused before replying. "Not vessels as such, but we are now in sight of the island that the Fanoss fleet towed across the border. If the enemy continues to withdraw, they will eventually be forced to fight for it."

"How long do we have for that?"

"Some hours unless one side or the other begins a decisive engagement."

"So we'll be worn down. Joy." He couldn't even stand down his own squadron, in case of a surprise attack. "What's the situation with Sophia?"

"After a brief period of hysterics, Lady Ascart fell asleep on the bunk that she assumed to be Lady Katarina's. Her reasoning was verbalised and in error."

Leon nodded and headed for the case where he stored the dart guns. "Right. Well, keep me alerted in case something changes… but right now I'm going to be a creep and take her down to the lab while she's asleep. Whatever's going on with her, she's not behaving normally."