Aprilia stood at the edge of the new dock as a dozen sweat-soaked men leaned back against thick ropes, their grunts rising and falling in rhythm. The ship’s hull scraped and then settled with a deep wooden thud.

  For a moment, there was only heavy breathing.

  Then, cheers broke out as a gangplank thumped onto the dock. No more tedious hours of ferrying cargo on rickety boats.

  Jaklen was the first to disembark.

  She waited while he slowly walked down the gangplank in a triumphant pose, like a victor of some battle. After he had exchanged shoulder pats with the men, he finally approached her.

  “What have you brought us now, Captain?” she asked him.

  “Here’s what the Supreme Leader has sent us,” he said, handing her a manifest and a sealed envelope. It was made of fine parchment, with her name written in Jack’s sharp, impatient handwriting.

  She hadn’t seen him for seven weeks and this was the first time he had sent word after leaving for Falkenheim.

  Her emotions must have showed, as a sly smile played on Jaklen’s face.

  Eyebrows crooked in annoyance, she pocketed the letter and unrolled the manifest.

  Her eyes found themselves stuck at the first line.

  “Fifty sheep?” she asked in amazement.

  “Yes. Loud, smelly creatures. Good thing the trip from Nordhaven is short or I would have gone mad.”

  “Where are we even going to put them?” she said more to herself than him.

  She sighed. Typical of Jack to forget about the details that didn’t interest him.

  “So?” Jaklen asked.

  “We have no large enclosure other than the castle itself, do we?” she said in exasperation. The chickens were already bad enough with the horrible stench.

  Jaklen grimaced in second hand embarrassment.

  As her carriage trundled back toward Cradle, she took out the letter and looked at the elaborate seal. The falcon perching on a branch looked too pretty to break, but she cracked it with excited hands.

  The scent of bergamot wafted in the air as she unfolded the parchment. It was a short letter:

  Dearest Aprilia,

  I hope you and the rest of the folk are doing well.

  I had hoped to stabilize Nobart within a week or two and sail back to you with haste, but fate likes to mock me. I got stabbed by a boy whose father died in the Battle of the Bog. I have fully recovered and am now securing the baronies so the county can stand on its own without me.

  I’ve bought plenty of seeds and animals for Chadom with some of the money I got for the crossbows. More will be arriving in the next ship. Our people’s future is now assured.

  Ignore whatever Jaklen says. He loves being dramatic.

  I hope to have you back in my arms soon.

  Yours forever,

  Jack Nobart.

  P.S. Not a single day goes by without me thinking of you and your glorious thighs. Give them a nice squeeze from me.

  Her finger stopped at the line about the stabbing.

  On the word, boy.

  The hand holding the letter tightened, creasing it.

  A young man had almost taken him from her.

  She exhaled, letting go of the tension.

  Then her eyes moved to the last line. Her lips curved into a smile.

  The idiot almost died, and was thinking about her thighs.

  She chuckled. It came out unsteady.

  After making arrangements to have the sheep penned within the castle walls, she went to the industrial district. As her carriage followed the dirt road, the trees gave way to a quickly rising palisade. Armed guards stood in front of it every few meters, given leave to cut down anyone unknown who came too close. The ones manning the gate moved aside to let her in.

  Inside, two giant waterwheels turned under the power of Powerfall. One drove the trip hammers and bellows on one side, where furnaces turned stone to iron and men turned the iron into weapons. The other powered a machine with unmatched precision, hidden in a building on the other side.

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  The poor woodcutters had been moved out to the other large waterfall of the valley, located in the eastern mountains. They had complained loudly about it, and she supposed they were right to do so. Disassembling and assembling the saws and building a new waterwheel took a lot of time that could’ve been spent cutting more timber the city desperately needed, but losing some time was better than losing secrets.

  Aprilia had been to the place so many times that the loud crash of the waterfall had become background noise. She approached the smithing and furnace complex. The stifling air tasted of hot metal.

  As she carefully weaved through the men hammering glowing irons on anvils, she was confused why they weren’t using the waterwheel powered hammers, when she noticed they were all silent.

  That was odd. Blacksmiths and their apprentices had been working here from sunup to sundown to build the five hundred crossbows Jack had promised the Queen.

  A crowd was gathered near the waterwheel. She pushed past them to see a new massive machine placed right next to the wheel; a thick iron cylinder that rested upon rollers. It was smoother than anything she had seen, and spinning at a terrifying speed.

  Jack’s Ducklings stood to one side, looking at it like an object of worship.

  “Step back, gawkers,” Kovar roared, drenched in sweat. “I shouldn’t have to say this, but if the metal spills, it’ll go through you like a knife through butter.”

  She stepped beside the broad shouldered man. “What is it?”

  “Horizontal centrifugal caster. A . Took us four tries to make the bloody thing.”

  Her brows scrunched in confusion, then her heart skipped a beat as realization dawned.

  She rememberd the tiny “vase” that had cracked the wood plank like a hammer. What this thing would produce would be much bigger.

  If it was what she thought it was…

  It would shred men apart.

  But the Cha would never be prey again.

  “Are you making the big one?” she asked hesitantly.

  He nodded, eyes focused on the machine.

  Six men arrived, struggling to carry a large crucible slung between poles. The metal in it glowed white-orange. They carefully poured it into the hopper that led into one of the ends of the spinning tube.

  She watched in amazement as the inside of the tube glowed red-hot, the metal coating its insides. Her skin prickled from the heat even from a safe distance.

  Then, the sound changed.

  The steady hum became a tremor.

  The tremor became a shudder.

  The glowing liquid began falling down like rain inside.

  “Stop!” Kovar shouted, eyes wide in alarm. He put an arm in front of Aprilia, as if that could shield her.

  An operator disengaged the gear connecting the waterwheel to the rollers. The caster’s vibrations grew more frantic as it slowed down, until it shuddered to a halt.

  Kovar exhaled, his shoulders drooping.

  “What happened?” Aprilia asked.

  “Not fast enough. The waterwheel should have enough power. Maybe it’s the gearing.”

  “This will cheer you up,” she said, showing him the manifest.

  He took the parchment into his large hands. “Sheep?” he asked, when his eyes fell on the second item.

  “That’s a lot of coal.”

  “Good, right?” she asked with a smile.

  His face didn’t light up.

  “We can’t use coal directly in the furnaces. It will have to be converted to coke first. Another bloody process.”

  Her eyes roamed over the man’s body. Dark shadows haunted his eyes, and his rough hands were raw. “You don’t look so well. I thought the other blacksmiths were handling the crossbow production?”

  He lowered his voice, so only she could hear him. “They are, but I have two projects on my lap right now. The Supreme Leader wants both of them ready before his marriage.”

  Her eyebrows scrunched in annoyance. “He’s being a hardass. I’ll talk to him when he is back.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “He’s right. They are essential for our security.”

  “Then get some help. You’ll kill yourself working like that.”

  He chuckled. “They can’t help me when I’m still figuring things out myself.”

  She patted his massive shoulder. “You’ve made good progress. Don’t kill yourself just to be only a little faster. I’m sure Jack wouldn’t prefer that.”

  He nodded weakly.

  After checking up on the Ducklings, Aprilia slumped on her carriage’s seat on the way back to Cradle. The image of the broken plank and the dead men at the Battle of the Bog kept replaying in her mind, when her ears caught a faint noise of shouting between the rustling of the pine trees.

  “Stop,” she told the driver for some reason.

  As the crunch of the wheels faded, the voice became clearer. Disembarking, she walked uphill towards the treeline it was coming from. The air was cooler here, but she only felt unease. She remembered there was a large clearing not too far away.

  Angry voices rose for a heartbeat, then faded.

  “Go fetch the General or his second.”

  “My orders are to not leave you alone,” he said flatly.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Go.”

  When he didn’t budge, she exhaled. “I’ll stay right here. Be quick. It’s not that far away,” she pointed to the half built city sprawled in front of them, its edge only a few hundred meters away.

  He finally nodded, climbed onto the carriage and left.

  Aprilia turned back and focused on the voice. It was too faint to be intelligible.

  She crept closer, entering the woods. Fallen twigs crackled softly underfoot. As she neared the clearing, she could smell sweat along with pine. Backs of men filled the gaps between tree trunks. As the voice rose again, she recognized it.

  Elder Hyde.

  What is he doing now? She groaned internally.

  “… bringing in Nanoans into our land! How long until the Cha are a minority in their own home?” the old man almost screamed at the crowd of sixty men.

  Most of the heads nodded in agreement. Some enthusiastically, some with reluctance, but they nodded.

  Her throat tightened. That agreement was far worse than the Elder’s braying.

  Throwing caution aside, she walked up to the crowd and patted the back of the closest man. He turned back in annoyance, but his eyebrows rose as high as they could when he recognized her. She repeated the gesture until she was on the other side. Eyes followed her. Some angry, some measuring.

  Hyde stood alone at one end of the clearing, knuckles white on his cane. Shock flickered on his face for a moment as he noticed her. Then anger burned away everything else.

  She approached the old man, who looked more stooped than before.

  He glared at her, hatred dancing in his eyes.

  Only a month ago, she would have wilted under his gaze, but dealing with the refugees, and she had to admit, Lothar’s training, had hardened her.

  Aprilia raised her voice, so everyone could hear.

  “None of us know how to make anything bigger than a dinghy. Our best attempts look like children’s toys compared to what they are building in the Bay right now. You would leave our coastline undefended?”

  “I don’t need to answer to his whore!” Hyde spat.

  The words landed like a slap.

  For a moment, her old self tried to assert itself. She saw as they saw her; a nobleman’s plaything.

  She felt the eyes watching her, roaming over her body.

  Then she remembered the letter, the sacks, the animals and the machines. Embers smoldered within her.

  She inhaled. Slowly.

  Her voice came out steady. “I am the Supreme Leader’s secretary, authorized by him to act on his behalf. You were there when he made the position formal.”

  “We will do away with all that,” he spat, spittle flying everywhere. “This farce has gone long enough. The Cha will no longer kneel to any outsider!” Hatred dripped from his every word.

  “Seize her!” he shouted.

  To Aprilia’s horror, four men stepped out of the crowd.

  Her pulse thudded in her ears.

  They advanced slowly, forming a loose arc, their eyes burning with hatred and something worse.

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