Chapter Ten
A message arrived by naval courier ordering the captain of the Lady Ocean to attend the High Admiral aboard his ship, the War Tempest. We had only been docked for half an hour and I was in the middle of gathering my report on recent events. My mind was spinning at the enormity of our undertaking and news. Was I mad? Did we truly just sail into enemy waters and pluck a copy of the rebel codebook from under the enemy's very noses? We had, I told myself, and we got away with it. We had been lucky, I knew that, but also foolish, and the men probably knew this. It was me that had led them into danger and it was me who had been foolish. Stop it, I chastised myself. It worked didn't it? Now we had the codebook. That was surely worth a little danger.
“Mister Olvan!” I shouted from the cabin.
A wet Olvan entered the cabin. It had started raining properly. “Captain?”
“Are your notes ready?”
“I have them here, sir,” he said producing a couple of sheets of paper from his pocket. I noticed very neat handwriting on a long list of ships with names and sizes. I had made the officer re-write his original notes as they were hurriedly made and hardly presentable.
“Very good. I want the launch made ready. I will see the High Admiral now.” I placed all the papers in a leather folder including the copy of the code book and tied it up neatly.
“Aye aye, Captain.”
I did my best to smooth out my uniform and brush of the salt and grime that had built up over the last few weeks. I looked unkempt, I knew, but I would have done so in a brand new, tailor made, suit of gold. It was just the way I was. Grunting, I made my way to the launch which had been lowered into the water. The rain was coming down heavily now and already seeping through my layers of clothing, waxed or no.
“Mister Harl!”
“Sir?” called Harl leaning over the ship’s side.
“I want this ship ready to go as soon as humanly possible. Mister Olvan is in charge, but you make it happen.”
“Will do, sir.”
I looked at the crew, a crew that had followed me on a mad quest. Where they standing taller now? Did they look proud of their work? I thought so. I hoped so.
The War Tempest was at anchor in the heart of the harbour’s wide cradle of calm waters, speckled by the fall of a million drops of rain. She was surrounded by a fleet of boats coming and going with crew and supplies. Cranes where used to haul up nets, packed with goods needed to feed a crew of nineteen hundred or so souls. A cow was bellowing as it was dragged up the side in a net. The ship was vast and easily the largest ship in the Ardalrion fleet. The War Tempest was old, with a basic galley shape that had been added to over the years. She would have had sails at one point in time, but they were long ago removed and replaced by three funnels that even now released a little of the black smoke from a boiler room that never slept. I could only wonder at the size of her engines, the massive pistons, the cooker and fly wheels.
Six crewmen were rowing the boat who pushed then hauled on the oars, all hunkered down against the rain. We had to take a circuitous route around the many ships and it took a long time before we finally came alongside the towering flagship.
Looking up, I admired the strength of the vessel. Not only its iron banded timber hull, and row upon row of gruesomely decorated gun ports, but also the strength it represented. It was the final word of the Imperial and Ardalrion Fleet in these waters and I felt an uncommon pang of pride for this monstrous killing machine. I guessed she could give a broadside of one hundred heavy guns. That combined firepower was an awesome thought, but the scale of the ship was even more awe inspiring with true castles at both aft and bow including towers and spires and crenulations. The ship was a small city with its own forges, a gym, a gallery, a library, barracks, boot menders, theatre, temple and anything else a small community might require. I knew all this from a previous visit together with my former captain, Crosp. I had been especially impressed by the squat array of the fire belching mortars used to bombard land targets. They looked like fat mouthed demons where massive, crushing round shot or fused grenades were simply placed upon a charge which threw the shot high into the air to fall like death from the heavens upon an enemy’s head.
Climbing a seemingly endless flight of steps to reach the main deck, I was welcomed aboard by a junior officer who politely led me through a large and ornate set of double doors into a wide gallery lined with portraits of previous admirals. The floor was polished to a mirror’s shine but we walked along a thick carpet that ran the length of the hall and was probably placed there to protect the floor from nailed boots. The ceiling high above me was covered with ornate scroll work. The lighting came from a long row of lanterns hanging from above which were lit even though it was only just after midday.
The gallery led deep into the aftcastle of the ship and had many doors running off it on either side, but the officer walked me in silence to the far end where another set of large double doors were opened. Above me was basically a compact fortress made of oak and iron. Above me and below me was a miracle of ship building and design. That it did not sink or collapse under its own weight was a miracle. Somewhere I had read that it took six thousand trees to build a battleship. The War Tempest must have been three or four times the size of a battleship.
“Captain Lord Ardalrion,” announced the junior officer stepping aside to let me into a vast near cathedral like hall with a long row of windows running along the far end. In the middle of this hall was a long, oval shaped dining table surrounded by finely crafted, tall back chairs. It could probably seat forty or so people and would have been used for dinners and also laying out large charts and maps as was now the case. I also noticed a copy of the Imperial Gazette.
To one side of the room was an open door, leading to what looked like a study. On the other was a large fireplace, unlit now. Behind me I knew would be the portraits of the Emperor as a young man and the Duke, both given equal precedence as the fleet served the Duke, and the Duke served the Emperor.
At the far end of the room stood five people in conversation. They stood silhouetted against one of the large windows looking down upon the harbour and its many ships. The tallest was High Admiral Barron Villor. I recognised him by his strong chin and short cut hair. The Admiral was dressed in a midnight blue uniform with a high collar and golden epaulets. His clothing was smart but functional with little other than the epaulets and obvious quality of make to say that he was a high admiral.
Villor turned to look at me. The Admiral said something to his guests, and then strode over to the table with his hands held behind his rigid back. The man did not smile, but looked me up and down as I reached the table and stood to attention.
“My lord,” I said.
“Captain Lord Ardalrion,” the Admiral returned the greeting and to my surprise, bowed his head respectfully. His voice was deep and aged. In fact the man’s hair had gone white since last I had seen him. “I do not remember if we have met. I know your father and your brother of course.”
“We have not been introduced, sir. My father preferred to present my brother’s face to the world. I am the reserve as it were.” I realised how petty that sounded but it was too late. The Admiral did not seem to care.
“The Emperor has requested that your father crush the rebellion. Your father has placed the fleet in my hands in order to execute the Emperor’s wish. You have a ship now?” The Admiral got straight to the point.
“I do, Admiral. She is a steam frigate, not much larger than a gunboat, undermanned and under gunned but ready for service. I have just returned from her trials. She’s a good ship and she is yours to command.”
“Excellent.”
I leaned forwards and placed on the table the leather folder I was holding. “In fact, we sailed to the port of Sulenfir, sir.” I let this sink in.
The other guests in the room now took an interest and as they came forwards, I recognised one of them as the stranger who was talking privately that day with Ajator, hidden
behind ship's supplies. The stranger was in a long black, fur coat. His face was gaunt and pale. His black hair was thin and fashioned in a simple round pot cut. He was a little shorter than myself, but if I had a reputation for looking like an undertaker, this man looked like death’s doorkeeper. The stranger gave me a long and cold look as he approached. I could not help but shiver under the icy scrutiny.
The other two stood a little behind him. One was a pretty woman, petit, dressed in a simple yellow dress. The other was a bulldog faced man nearly as tall as the Admiral, but much broader and carried the scars of many fights. His nose was broken and his right eye was a milky white. The man emanated an aura of violence and pent up rage. I felt as though the man was about to explode into a murderous rampage at any minute. He watched me with a furious hatred, and I wondered what if anything he had done to anger this man so much.
The stranger obviously noticed my discomfort and said, “Mister Crurt is angry with the world, Malspire. Don’t take it personally.”
The stranger’s voice was oddly high pitched and smooth like polished marble. “He is my body guard and he suspects all. Ignore him.”
I noted the use of my first name. Who was this man? The woman just smiled at me. It was not a friendly smile. She was golden haired and looked quite innocent yet I suspected that she was anything but. She wore simple slippers with her simple dress.
“May I introduce, Lord Pavantu,” said the Admiral. “He is... an advisor.”
I nodded towards Lord Pavantu. Had I heard the name before? Perhaps my father had mentioned it at some point.
“Sulenfir?” asked the Admiral.
I returned my attention to the Admiral. “Yes, Admiral. The trials were going well and we had already headed far west in search of shipping and thought we might test the enemy's guard. We found it lacking.”
“Lacking?” The Admiral raised an eyebrow at this.
Lord Pavantu had taken the folder and opened it up, placing the contents on the table. I was about to stop him, when the Admiral waved a hand so as to say it was alright for this Lord Pavantu to share in the folder’s secret contents.
“It is my report, my lords.”
“And a copy of the rebel code book,” Lord Pavantu noted with interest.
“Indeed. As requested, we managed to obtain a rebel code book.”
“Do they know about this?” asked Pavantu, leafing through the document.
“I think not. Perhaps if you read my report, all will become clear.”
We all sat. The Lords Villor and Pavantu went through the report. The lady and body guard sat further away at the end of the table. Some drink and fruit was brought in and I spent the next hour answering questions as they arose while the papers were studied.
The Admiral was quite serious, and frowned at the words as he read while Pavantu chuckled here and there. He seemed to be enjoying my account of my espionage.
“You’re a born spy, Malspire,” Lord Pavantu eventually said. “You’re also lucky.” I nodded in agreement. I had been lucky.
“It would seem the rebel fleet are on the move,” said Villor, studying the list of enemy ships. “They could be here within days, and I have not gathered enough ships yet. Why have your people not told us the rebel fleet was on the move?”
Pavantu ignored the question. “They will not be making full speed and a large force is as slow as its slowest ship I suspect they will reach us in another four or five days.” said Lord Pavantu.
“We are not ready. Half my ships patrol waters on the other side of the continent. Others bolster pointless blockades or run petty errands. All the same, I must send word at once and call any and all who can hear us. I must destroy them or at least send them back to their treacherous ports. But how? I warned the city of this, as did you, Mornight.”
“Hm.” Lord Mornight Pavantu was tapping the copy of the code book as he thought. “The Emperor has a greater plan, or so I am told. You’ve done well, Malspire. Well indeed. Perhaps a surprise attack?” This last question was to the Admiral.
“If we could surprise them, then it would even the odds,” agreed the Admiral. “Did you have something in mind?”
Lord Pavantu pulled one of the large maps over and studied the coast line, running a long finger along it in contemplation. “A large force will follow the coast as long as they think it is safe. Then they will probably head north to try and avoid our scouts and then come at us from the north.”
I saw the Admiral’s eye follow Pavantu’s finger and nodded in understanding.
“If we come at them from behind in the dark and in their own waters, we will most certainly give them quite a surprise. The trick of course is getting our fleet so far into rebel waters and then hidden, all undetected,” said Villor, the previous frustration written on his face now washing away as a plan formed.
I now understood what the two men had in mind. The plan was simply to place the Imperial fleet in hiding, deep in rebel waters. When the enemy pass, the fleet heads after them under cover of darkness. I also understood the importance of the code book for this plan to work. Pavantu was again looking at the copied code book.
“There is at least one enemy watch tower that I know of, my lords. If we can get the fleet beyond that tower, the enemy will not expect us.” I said. Watch towers where used to track shipping as it passed and report back using lectrocoder machines or old fashioned semaphore paddles.
“Indeed, Lord Ardalrion,” said Pavantu smiling a wicked cut of teach. “But thanks to you we can capture it. We can take control of the tower and tell the enemy that all is well.”
“We must move quickly,” said Villor. “How do you suggest we proceed, Lord Pavantu?”
“Why, we send the hero of the hour, Admiral,” said the strange advisor, waving a hand in my direction. “He seems to be able to come and go in enemy waters. Send him. You have competent marines?” This last question was to me.
“They seem able. We’ve only been on a sea trial but they have proven willing to fight.”
“Good. I can attach the Lady Lamient to this mission.” Pavantu indicated the pretty lady sitting quietly at the end of the long table. “She is a killer, Malspire,” Pavantu said happily in response to my look. “Young and pretty, but deadly. She will help you.”
“If the Admiral wishes it.”
Admiral Baron Villor was deep in thought. It was obvious that he had his doubts about the plan. If I were in the Admiral's boots, I did not know what I would have done. The Admiral was clever enough to know that the enemy might suspect that the Imperial Navy had made a copy of the book, and they could turn it to their advantage by turning the Imperial trap into a trap of their own making. It was a risk.
“The enemy is too large to fight head on, my lord,” I said. I was now quite keen on the plan, risky though it was. If it worked, it would most certainly hurt the rebels, and allow for the further expansion of Imperial forces in the region.
The Admiral gave me a look. “Your father would not approve of this plan.”
“He is a cautious man. He wouldn’t want to make a move without detailed planning.”
“Planning we do not have time for,” said Pavantu, adding his voice.
“What would your brother do?” asked the Admiral.
“He would probably want to send the fleet into enemy waters now and meet them head on. He is no fool, but he does think highly of the Imperial and Ardalrion Navy and its capabilities.” Of course one day Ajator would probably be the Lord Admiral and so it made sense that Villor wanted to understand the young man.
“Hm. They have a capable navy… So all the Ardalrion’s have different ideas on how to wage war at sea. Interesting,” said Villor.
“You are wrong however, Malspire,” said Pavantu. “Ajator would only take such action if he was commanding the fleet. Only then would he feel that we would be assured a victory.”
I was annoyed at the idea that this man thinks he knows my own twin brother better than I. Annoyed, but I realised tha
t Pavantu was probably right. I had to ask. “How do you know my brother?”
Pavantu smiled and leant back. “I know the both of you very well. It is my job. You are the sons of a lord admiral, and I serve the Emperor as his eyes and ears, and he of course takes a great interest in those that might one day lead his fleets.”
A Secret Servant! I realised then that Lord Pavantu was one of the Emperor’s Secret Servants, a spy masters. The Secret Servants were agents who answer directly to the Emperor himself. They are his spies and personal messengers. They seek enemies both outside and within the Empire and bring them to account. Little is known about them, even to the Navy, but they are feared, as a single word from such an agent could lead to the enmity of the Emperor, and the enmity of the Emperor means certain death.
I now felt distinctly uncomfortable in Pavantu’s presence, and wondered what my brother’s business was with such a man. Why had my brother talked in secret with Pavantu and why did my brother not share this with me?
“We’ll do it,” said the Admiral finally. “Captain Ardalrion. You will take your ship and capture…” He ran a finger along the coastline until he reached the lookout point. “Tars-hard. If memory serves, it is a lone tower ten or so miles north east of a rebel stronghold. Capture it, and then station a lectrocoder officer there to report back that all is well to the enemy. You are to take it by surprise so they cannot send warning. Do you understand?”
“I do.”
He ran his finger a little further until he reached a small indentation in the coast line. “We shall place the fleet here, and hope it provides enough cover to hide us. If not, we strike at once. We will still catch them off guard."