It took four days of sailing from the logistics outpost before they stumbled into their first stranded imperial ship.

  A badly damaged corvette on the brink of sinking, riddled with cannonfire. It still flew the imperial flag, however, and the men on board wore imperial uniforms.

  “Fifteen men, twelve wounded. I know this ship. It belongs to one of the larger patrol fleets from another outpost. It’s way off its usual route,” Kain reported.

  “Treat the men, then question them. Though I suspect they will remember nothing,” Amber sighed. “This reeks of Drake.”

  As Amber had expected, most of the men were confused, even amnestic. They could not remember how they got there. Some did not even know their names.

  “It’s how Drake stays hidden. Her allies don’t even remember what she or her ship looks like, even when they swear they have met her in person before,” Amber explained. All the high-ranking members of the expedition were in the frigate’s war room at the moment. “As for her enemies, well… If they manage to escape her clutches, they will be lucky to still remember their names.”

  “Fae magic, or perhaps some more esoteric form of Drow Arcana,” Peythra suggested. “Either way, it is most likely Elder magic.”

  “That puts the Duskcrowns as the most likely culprit,” Captain Lauren realised. “Could Drake be a half-blood?”

  “We will know when we find her,” Eri said.

  The expedition discovered another isolated ship the next day, though the findings were more disturbing. The brigantine was completely intact and undamaged. Though it still flew the imperial flag, when a party boarded the vessel, they found no one aboard.

  “Supplies are intact. Guns and munitions as well. No damage to the ship,” Kain said, slightly disturbed. “We even found half-eaten meals in the mess hall. It’s as if the entire crew just disappeared at the same time.”

  “Have thirty of our least superstitious men board it and get it sailing. We will add the brig to our fleet,” Amber shrugged.

  “I’ll send five of the Throngdravi dwarves as well. They will get the guns upgraded,” Eri offered.

  The find was fortuitous, but the missing imperial soldiers, as well as the suspiciously pristine condition of the vessel, left many unsettled.

  The fleet arrived later in the evening at a burnt-out imperial island outpost. No survivors were found. Corpses littered the beach.

  “Guess our island wasn’t the only one hit. Poor bastards,” Amber sighed. “Salvage what you can and burn the dead. We move on in the morning.”

  There was a pragmatic and jaded efficiency to the imperial troops' movement. They were used to the sights of corpses, stripping their fallen comrades bare and transporting their bodies to be burnt, uncaring of the maggots that infested the waterlogged or rotting flesh.

  “Better them than us,” Julie murmured as she watched on, looking green.

  “Remind me never to join the military. I’ll take killing demons as a mercenary any day over stripping week-old human corpses,” Bori groaned. The crystal parrot on his shoulder squawked in affirmation.

  “Those men are veterans of Officer Amber’s venerated company, are they not?” Joarris asked. “The one who accompanied her during the 24th Crusade.”

  “I’m not sure. I know Lieutenant Kain is one, as well as the few Ruby and Gold Cores that are in her command group, but I doubt everyone here is one of hers,” Eri said.

  “Either way, having them around is good for us,” Raharim nodded. “Feels like we are a proper army now.”

  The next day, the expedition set sail with three ships in the fleet. They reached the next imperial-fortified island outpost by the late afternoon.

  The good news was that it was occupied. The bad news was that they were greeted with cannonfire and magical artillery.

  Pirates stalked the walls, while naked corpses of imperial troops hung from the entrance and parapet. The wounds on them spoke of slow and painful deaths.

  “Once we reach the beach and the ramp fails, charge their walls!” Kain shouted to his men — three Gold-Core veterans who once fought in the 24th Crusade and seven other hardened Silver Cores. “The commander wants this fort taken before sundown!”

  The landing craft they were in — an armoured and speedy warboat built by the dwarves — was one of many closing in on the island from all sides. Above them, magical artillery fell overhead, with the ones coming from the fort severely weaker than the combined arcane bombardment fired from the biovore corvette and the dwarven-modified, oversized frigate.

  Suppressed as the pirates were, they could not stop any of the boarding crafts from reaching the beach. The fighting afterwards was bloody, but well-managed on the expedition’s side.

  Officer Amber, despite her supposed cowardice, demonstrated considerable competence in her strategy. The woman orchestrated the assault on the fortified isle with a calm, almost surgical detachment. While not exactly an impregnable bastion of guns and stone, the island fortress was still formidably protected. Eri had even proposed ignoring it entirely to prevent casualties on their side.

  Amber had refused. “The men already saw the defiled corpses strung on the walls. If I refuse to attack, they will think I’m a coward. What if they get mad and rebel afterwards? I’ll be killed!”

  Eri had pointed out there was literally no one in the whole expedition that could feasibly win against her in a fight (except, perhaps, for himself), but Amber was adamant in her belief, almost feverishly so.

  Eri suspected there was some trauma behind her rational, but was polite enough not to question it.

  Regardless, her strategy had been impeccable and perfectly timed. Though the element of surprise was lost, Amber executed a series of lightning-fast strikes that crippled the foe. The frigate formed a moving wall, absorbing the fortress’s cannon fire while smaller and faster landing crafts darted through the gaps, landing troops under overlapping barrages of covering fire. Shore batteries and ammunition stores blew apart as Amber identified hidden artillery positions in the island foliage and targeted them with her magic before her troops reached the beach.

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  She participated in the assault herself, to Eri’s surprise. When asked why, she said, “If I don’t, the men will ask questions, because apparently the Hero of the 24th Crusade isn’t allowed to sit out a fight.”

  That confused Eri, because Kain had blatantly requested Amber to stay in the frigate rather than risk herself getting obliterated by a stray artillery shell. Once again, the officer steadfastly refused.

  I think there’s something wrong with her head, Eri thought as pirates screamed around him. Still, can’t deny she’s good in a fight.

  He fought beside her as the officer tore through corsairs after corsairs, moving far ahead of her men. Her fighting style was strange. At first, she only used her exotic clockwork pistol. Then, when she ran out of ammo, she took her sword — still sheathed in its scabbard — and started using it to clumsily bludgeon her opponents to death.

  “Aren’t you going to unsheathe it?” Eri asked, confused.

  “Only for emergencies,” she grunted as she caved in another pirate’s skull. “If you ever see me drawing the blade, you run, because it means we are fighting something that can’t be killed.”

  Eri decided to chalk her bizarre statement up to another fragment of her post-war trauma.

  They eventually reached the pirate admiral that had taken over the fort — a Ruby-Core Chosen with a literal ship cannon for an arm.

  Both Eri and Amber attacked together. The pirate died before he could even fire his weapon.

  “Is this also one of Drake’s admirals?” Eri asked sceptically, pulling his dagger from the corpse.

  “Unlikely. Taking over forts is not her style. Her pirates specialise in hit-and-runs,” Amber said. “Not Oleander either. Stringing up bodies wastes materials for his precious experiments. Could be Lord Augustus’s people, but we are pretty far from the heart of the inner sea. Last I checked, his flying flagship is still stuck in repairs, and his corsairs are reinforcing Lord Oleander in his battle against the Church.”

  “You think it's Lord Baroque’s men, then.”

  “Makes the most sense. His fleet is the largest, thanks to his shipyard-dreadnought. He can afford to waste men taking minor targets.” Amber frowned. “Still, it doesn’t really make sense. He’s still fighting the independent forces of the Coalition, last I checked. Why send ships all the way out here into Drake’s territory? Unless…”

  “Unless?” Eri prompted.

  She sighed. “Unless the independent and mercenary forces on our side are already all dead. Lord Baroque’s forces would be freed up, so maybe he’s out to take a chunk of Drake’s territory before the alliance between the Four Pirate Lords is finished.”

  The thought sent a chill down Eri’s spine.

  Amber’s theory was not an outrageous one. In the first place, the independent forces of the Coalition were a mixed bag of random Chosens and mercenary groups. Their level of strength and loyalty was the most questionable within the Coalition, and the Pirate Lord they faced — Lord Baroque — possessed the largest fleet in the Slaver Isles.

  Last any news came from their battles, the independent mercenaries were outnumbered three-to-one. It was only thanks to the many island forts they had captured beforehand and the aggressive boarding actions of the famed Doomhowler Brigade mercenaries that the independents barely held on against the corsairs.

  But they could not survive forever. With little loyalty to the Coalition and losing odds on their side, many might have already abandoned their positions.

  “It will be terrible news for us, but nothing we didn’t really anticipate,” Eri sighed. “It makes our purpose here all the more important. We need to gather the surviving Imperial forces, defeat Lord Drake, and then link up quickly with the Church before Lord Oleander destroys them.”

  “Tall order. But I don’t see any other choice. Unless we abandon this suicide expedition and head for the mainland?” Amber suggested.

  “That’s not an option for me.” Eri grimaced. “I won’t force you or your men to stay if you do not wish to. You can take the frigate and head for the main continent with my blessings. With such a powership warship under your command, you should be safe from any raiders.”

  “Don’t fret, I won’t abandon you now,” Amber sighed. “Besides, the frigate is Drake’s, so no guarantees we will make it back home before the bitch and her ghost ship show up. I just want us to be realistic about our chances here.”

  “I understand. If Lord Baroque has truly defeated the independents… It will be grim days ahead for us.” Eri looked at the corpse of the pirate admiral. “It’s too bad we killed him. We should have kept him alive for interrogation. Maybe I can get the elven twins here fast enough?”

  “No need for your blood-haired sisters. I have a way.”

  Amber knelt next to the corpse. Outside, the sounds of battle were dying down. The expedition forces were clearing out the last holdouts within the fortress.

  The officer pulled out a smoking pipe. The material of it was strange. Ivory, or perhaps even bone. She placed a few grey leaves into the bowl and lit it with a snap of her fingers.

  And then took out a card, intricately decorated and coloured. She placed it over the dead admiral’s heart.

  Eri observed without saying a word, intrigued. Amber huffed on the pipe. When she blew out, a wisp of blue smoke formed, moving to enter the dead man’s nostril.

  Once that was done, she placed the strange pipe away before pulling out a curved bone. Whether it was a claw, a fang, or a rib, Eri couldn’t tell.

  The officer raised it high before stabbing it through the card and into the corpse’s heart.

  The dead pirate’s eyes suddenly opened wide. He screamed.

  Eri swore and recoiled. Amber laughed.

  “Always a fun trick to scare recruits with,” she chuckled.

  “Is this… necromancy?”

  “Sort of. A distant cousin of it, I suppose. Nothing like what Lord Oleander practised, or those Death Cultists closer within the inner seas. Still heretical, though, but what’s a little heresy in these tiring times, eh?”

  It’s one surprise after another with this woman… Eri breathed out shakily. “Impressive. Did you resurrect him? Can he talk?”

  Eri was referring to the undead pirate admiral. The animated corpse groaned.

  “Won’t be that impressive if he can’t. Only for seven minutes, though. Then the magic compelling him fades, and I won’t be able to do it again,” Amber said.

  “Seven minutes are more than enough. I suppose we should ask him why Lord Baroque sent him out here?”

  “Sure.” Amber cleared her throat. “Spirit, answer me. Why did Lord Baroque command you to capture this island?”

  “Not… Lord Baroque,” the corpse rasped painfully.

  Eri frowned. Amber glanced at him, then shrugged. “Guess we were wrong. Fine. Spirit, answer me. Which Pirate Lord ordered you to take this island?”

  “No… Pirate Lord,” the corpse croaked. “We… took it ourselves… Had to…”

  “What?” Amber blurted out in surprise. “Which Lord do you serve?”

  “Lord… Baroque…”

  Eri’s confusion doubled, as did Amber’s. “So you serve Lord Baroque, but you came and took over this island even though he didn’t order you to? Are you all mutineers?”

  “Not… mutineers! We had… to flee!” The corpse was convulsing, as if the spirit inside was afraid.

  “Flee from what?” Eri pressed. “What happened in the inner seas? Is Lord Baroque bringing his forces into Lord Drake’s territory?”

  “No… No, no, no!” The corpse was shrieking. “Not Lord Baroque! No Lord Baroque! The Howling came for us! Came for him!”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Amber recoiled at the corpse’s intensity. “Where is Lord Baroque now?”

  “DEAD!” the corpse screamed in horror. “Lord Baroque is dead! The fucking Wolf… Infernal Hand of the Doomhowler! The Wolf tore him to pieces!”