In the sky, a ship torn open at the stern wobbled in midflight. It tore through illusions and defensive shields that obscured the makeshift fortress hidden in the middle of the forest.
Radeon let the ship dive nose-first. He needed the spectacle for his plan. He needed the higher-ups to feel their own urgency.
He staggered down the gangplank as the vessel settled. Medical practitioners rushed in, chanting their spells.
Seeing no deep cuts and only minor splinters, they laid cool hands on bruised flesh.
The medical practitioners finished their healing arts quick, and moved aside as those in charge strode forward.
"Report, scouts. What did you find out there? Tell me this flight bought us more than broken planks," said a man, his voice authoritative.
Through Sail Knife's memory, he remembered the name. Radeon knew the badge.
It belonged to a famous mercenary commander of the Obsidian Horse Caravan.
Commander Kiel. The man was tasked to handle both itinerary cultivators and sky sailor crews like them.
Seeing the man, Serious Grey and his crew watched the imposing figure with admiration.
Who would not join such a crew if they had the chance?
Then they glanced at Radeon. None of them spoke, mouths shut as if waiting for him to start.
Radeon only looked at the Serious Grey, trusting that the memory of dangling midair would deliver the fanfare he needed.
The man caught his nod and began to speak. Scouting teams sent out in tens.
Arrows raining down at every twist and turn. Their boat nearly capsized under bolts of condensed energy
Each man was questioned one after the other. As if that was his cue, Radeon drew out the map.
"Commander Kiel, we've found the way into the cultist's den," Radeon said respectfully.
Radeon raised a hand toward the six before they could say more.
Naming the exact terrain here would be as good as shouting military secrets across the docks.
"Very well. I'll see what waits inside, and you'll have your pay in full," said Commander Kiel.
After they were dismissed, Captain Todd grabbed Radeon by the neck and pulled him close, his voice dropping low.
"You traced that map well enough in your skull, did you not, sailor? Draw it for me. I'm keen to see what game they're playing up at Ashlime Crag," Captain Todd said, trusting Sail Knife's judgement on what he saw.
"Captain, best we stay away this time, and let the great lords ram their prows," Radeon said, acting as Sail Knife, and gave him a stern gaze.
Without another word, Radeon pressed a folded slip into his palm. It was a list.
Numbers were pulled from Giovanni's head, names and totals that Radeon had dwindled, yet still enough to intimidate any sane man.
The captain read the paper and clenched it so hard his qi turned to heat. He looked back at Radeon with a grave face.
"A conspiracy, sure as storm tides. A hundred years we've sailed Sail Knife, and now we find ourselves dead center in some bastard's plotting," Captain Todd snarled.
Radeon clapped his fist over Captain Todd's mouth. He looked around warily, in case someone had heard what the captain said.
"Captain, hush. Walls have ears in a place like this," Radeon hissed.
The captain knew that all too well. He did not want to be swept away by whatever scheme was being cooked at Ashlime Crag.
Knowing Radeon would be sent out again for a second round of scouting, he instead gave him the ticket for his armor.
In his mind, the choice to retreat to the backline hardened into a quiet vow.
"Captain, this is more than my share," Radeon said, feigning refusal.
"Take it before I grow sensible. You've never failed me yet. I mean for every soul on this crew to come back breathing," Todd said, his eyes full of resolve.
Radeon nodded and walked to the armory. Rows of metal armor waited on their racks. Weapons lined the walls in neat, cold order.
The ticket in his hand allowed him to choose any of them. His fingers did not linger on anything heavy.
He reached instead for a long strip of black fabric, a cloth too thin to be any normal armor.
"Ah, good eye. That scrap came up from the far south, from some women's sect that keeps to itself down there," the armory advisor said.
"And what trick does it hide?" Radeon probed.
"They say you need some secret art to wake it. Some swear it can be torn into pieces and still hold together. Me, I just hand it over and stop asking questions," the armory advisor said, irritation creeping in.
"If I sign for this, can I take two lengths in place of a blade?" Radeon asked, pleased by its quality.
"No one ever signs for it, so take what you like," the armory advisor said, waving his hands to brush it off.
Radeon took two of the black, nearly see-through silks in his hands.
The men present started to murmur, saying his choice would please the women of his house.
Wearing the face of an old man, he pulled his wrinkles into a lewd grin and licked his lips.
Radeon did not let the mask slip for something as small as their banter.
When he returned to the docks for the spirit ships, he found Commander Kiel waiting, scanning the crowd as if looking for someone.
Their eyes met, and the commander beckoned him closer.
"Commander, where do you need me?" Radeon asked.
"You handled that run well. How long have you been flying spirit-ships?"
"Eighty years under sail and array, commander," Radeon replied.
The commander said nothing at first. Instead, he gestured toward the longship Radeon had flown.
"This arrow was only a graze, yet it near tore your hull apart, did it not?" Commander Kiel asked, his eyes searching for certainty.
"Aye, commander. Felt like a Gilded Core's work to me," Radeon said, without hesitation.
"Just so. The residue here belongs to someone on the verge of forming a nascent embryo," Commander Kiel stated.
Radeon schooled his features into horror. Inside, he reviewed the moment.
He had chosen which arrow to let bite into the hull, while he dodged the ones that felt lacking.
"I'm no madman, sky-sailor. Suppose I let you choose any hull in this yard, crewed with Gilded Cores. How far could you run her?" Commander Kiel said, watching him to gauge his confidence.
"Far, commander. As far as you'll let me." Radeon paused, his gaze drifting toward the frigate.
Seeing where Radeon's eyes had settled, the commander frowned, unsure whether Radeon meant to claim the main ship, so he pressed.
"Then what do you have in mind?" the commander asked.
"Give me only that frigate's sails, and the largest flight array your yard can spare," Radeon demanded.
Radeon knew he had not been clear enough. He bent over the parchment and sketched a broad sail fixed to a narrow platform.
When looked at closely, the sketch resembled a wide sail and a single plank ripped from a ship.
Then, he marked the array where wood and frame met. A sailboard Radeon had known in another life.
"Sky-sailor, you swear this contraption will fly?" Commander Kiel asked, careful not to betray how little he knew.
"For speed, commander? We could eat those hundred miles of sky in a quarter of an hour," Radeon said, puffing out his chest.
The array masters bent over the parchment and then leaned back to study Radeon.
Their gazes dragging across Sail Knife's lined face. Astonishment came first, sharp and naked, then a flicker of something like regret.
That this old man, Sail Knife, already had half a foot in the grave, and yet he was the one to lay such a design before them.
One of the array masters stepped closer, unable to hide his excitement at the prospect of a new ship design.
"How will we lay the defensive wards on this frame, then?" another asked, gaze scrutinizing.
The men around them drew closer too, as if missing a word would rob the array masters of some great secret.
"It will have no wards at all. One good arrow, and we all drop out of the sky," Radeon said, wearing a sinister grin.
The murmuring died at once. Soldiers and array masters fell silent at his words.
Only someone confident, or insane, would demand such a thing of a ship and its crew.