The monster scrubbed the deck. To get the blood stains out of the wood, he needed to apply his full body weight. His armour chinked as he scrubbed, the joints not designed for the wearer to work on their hands and knees. The seas rocked the Crow’s Foot. The waves weren’t strong in the bay, but the frigate was a small ship and the monster oft felt the sickness of the sea.

  One day as the monster was scrubbing a stubborn stain in the captain’s quarters the Crow’s Foot shook so violently that he fell over onto his back. The monster’s armour wasn’t designed for lying down and it took great effort to roll over. It brought back memories of his duel so long ago with Elizabeth. In that duel she had him on the ropes and at one point on his back, but he had pushed through adversity and triumphed. She became a rival, a friend then someone who had abandoned him when he turned into a hideous monster.

  Pip often mocked the monster for his armour. ‘What does a deck boy need armour for?’ the pimple face, pug nosed, thirteen-year-old would ask. The monster used to reply, ‘I’m still a knight,’ in a voice that would come out broken and wrong. Pip would laugh at this and slap Bren on the back who would nervously chuckle along, ‘I don’t see no knight, just a boy who aint scrubbing fast enough,’ Pip would walk closer, more emboldened each day, ‘and if the boy don’t learn to scrub faster, he’ll be thrown overboard and the armour will drag him into the Leviathan’s depths.’

  Now the monster didn’t respond, he just scrubbed. From that day forward, he left his armour and sword at home. A monster didn’t need weapons to scrub.

  A strong swell hit the frigate and the monster climbed out of the cabin to see what had caused the high waves. A great crowd had gathered around a small boat that was docking. The people were clapping and cheering, but the monster didn’t see what was special about the raft. It was oddly shaped; twice as long as the crow’s foot yet only wide enough to sit four people at most, no sails and no visible oars. Two mages sat in the back.

  ‘Oh look at that, mistah knight o’ honour,’ Pip said, ‘that’s the ship we support.’

  ‘That floating plank of wood?’ the monster asked in his slobbering voice.

  ‘That’s the Crow’s Wing, the fastest ship in the world,’ Bren said, his eyes wide with amazement. ‘It just returned from the other side of the pebbles in three days.’

  ‘It’s impossible to cross the pebbles in three days.’

  ‘Not to cross it, stupid,’ Pip said, ‘It did a round trip in three days.’

  ‘It’s powered by magic,’ Bren said. ‘See those two mages on the back? They’re saint class in both water and wind magic.’

  Two men in deep blue cloaks climbed out of the boat and bowed to another round of applause. They moved lethargically with dragging feet, but with a proud posture.

  ‘So it’s a fast ship, doesn’t seem too important to me,’ the monster said.

  ‘It can deliver a troop on an enemy’s flank where they would think it impossible to arrive from and this is only the first. Imagine a warship powered by ten mages. Capernaum’s navy could conquer the entire continent,’ Bren said.

  The monster didn’t think Bren knew what he was saying.

  ‘We’d crush you bloody knights o’ honour, scrubber boy,’ Pip added.

  ‘Boats don’t climb mountains,’ Gabriel- the monster said. ‘It doesn’t matter how fast they are if we don’t meet you in the water.’

  Pip made a face of disgust, ‘Get back to cleaning, freak. There’s still blood on the floor from yesterday’s war-games.’

  The monster did as he was told, if he had one thing left it was discipline.

  You could cut them all down, a voice whispered, he was not sure if it was his own. You are magnificent and this work is beneath you. The monster was starting to go insane. You aren’t insane Gabriel and you are no monster. He almost wanted to believe the voice in his head. He was a freak, a failure and he had been abandoned.

  The monster shook his head and got back to work. He was determined to see this through. Prove his worth.

  Later that day war was announced.

  The entire city was in a frenzy; the warriors sharpened their axes, the ash-knights practiced their drills and the officers strategized at the war table, but life did not change for a deck boy. The monster scrubbed from dawn till dusk before the excitement of war had reached the shores of Matthew and he did the same afterwards.

  ‘We will not meekly bend over to the tyranny of the church’s cock!’ Sanya announced to the city in a call to arms. It appeared that the Church – or the holy-order, no one really knew the difference - had decided to take forceful control of all twelve apostle-plates. Every man, woman and child who could fight was urged to apply for the resistance. Bren, as a larger boy with a strong grip, was drafted the next day. Pip tried out, but was told to come back when he was a foot taller. The monster, a trained knight, was told to keep scrubbing decks.

  You are wise and strong, the voice whispered, it should be you leading troops into battle.

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  One day, under the setting sun, the monster was walking home from the port when he passed by the barracks. Out the front a crowd had gathered around the sand pit, a place for sparring, duels and sport. In the pit were two men of Capernaum, each holding a battle-ax and dressed in nothing but loin cloth. Their skin was tanned and their muscles were lean. They circled each other, trying to find the right position to attack.

  ‘What are they fighting over?’ The monster asked an ash knight watching the duel.

  The ash knight glanced at the monster and grimaced. The monster nearly retreated from shame, but then he answered, ‘They are fighting to see who will lead their platoon in the war. The commander and second in charge were both promoted out of the troop.’

  You have more strength than the two of them combined, the voice whispered.

  One of the men had long braids of hair and he was the aggressor, he repeatedly made the first swing and chased his opponent around the pit. His bald opponent ducked back, then swung his axe in a counterattack. They both fight like untrained savages. The back and forth continued, but after the bald man tried to block the braided man’s blow, the blade cut the head off his axe.

  The braided man went to deliver the finishing blow.

  ‘I yield,’ the bald man said, and the blow stopped short. The winner extended his hand to help his opponent to his feet. Without letting go the bald man raised opponent’s hand into the air, proclaiming the victor. The crowd clapped and started to disperse.

  ‘Well that settles that,’ the ash knight said, ‘time to pack- wait don’t.’

  The monster jumped down into the sand pit. This was his chance to prove his strength, with everyone watching if he defeated the champion they would have no way to deny his strength. He was unarmoured and weapon-less, but they were weak.

  Capernaum’s order was maintained by strength and now he could prove he was the strongest. He could take the position as troop commander.

  ‘What are you doing, freak?’ the braided warrior asked, ‘Shouldn’t you be scrubbing a boat somewhere?’

  They mock you, the voice whispered.

  ‘I challenge you to a duel for command of your platoon in battle,’ the monster declared in a slobber.

  The bald man laughed.

  They laugh at you, the voice whispered.

  ‘Why would I fight you?’ the braided man asked.

  ‘Because if you don’t, you are a coward.’

  Yes, they are scared of you because they know you are better than them.

  The braided man stepped forward with a scowl, but the bald man put a hand on his shoulder, ‘it’s pointless brother, ignore him.’

  The monster spat in his face, the crowd murmured.

  ‘Kill him!’ one shouted, ‘give us a show!’ cried another.

  ‘I have no weapon,’ Gabriel said. ‘If you refuse this fight then you would be better suited to cleaning chamber pots than fighting at war’

  The braided man pushed the hand off his shoulder. The bald man sighed and moved out of the way, ‘don’t regret this freak, I tried to help you.’

  The braided man cracked his neck as he approached. The monster took a defensive pose, but then realised his blade was missing from the position, so he switched from defence to offence. He ran in, the braided man swung and he ducked to the side. Gabriel was quick, he would have outpaced the warrior with full plate armour, but he was twice his speed without it.

  The man tried to back away, but he couldn’t escape and Gabriel punched his wrist. The axe fell into the sand. Fear was in the braided man’s eyes, Gabriel liked it more than disgust.

  See how they are nothing to you, the voice whispered, with me you would be even higher above them.

  The man tried to grab his axe, but Gabriel kicked him in the ribs, sending him sprawling across the sand. Gabriel picked up the axe.

  Gabriel walked over the man who clutched his chest, huddled in the sand. Gabriel stood over him, glaring down, savouring the moment. Fear feels good. Gabriel lifted the axe above his head. It feels better than disgust.

  ‘Wait, I yield!’

  The axe sliced through his neck.

  A splatter of the loser’s blood streaked across Gabriel’s face. The crowd screamed, they loved him, they had to. Capernaum respected strength and he had proven it beyond any doubt. Finally, after all his injustices he would return to the fight.

  ‘Guards!’ the ash knight screamed, ‘take this monster to the dungeons.’