DOCK

The five-day voyage from the liberated Dwarven Sea was a period of strange, sombre calm.
The Obsidian Maw sliced through calm waters under clear skies, the disciplined routine of the ship a welcome balm after the chaos of battle.
The victory had been absolute, yet the ghost of it lingered.
I saw it in the eyes of the crew as they worked — a new hardness, a veteran's resolve.
I saw it in Tulote, who spent hours staring at the western horizon, his grief for Aquarius now became a silent, unbreakable purpose.
I felt it in myself, a hollow space where Yui's bright, determined presence used to be.

My connection with the Gladius Nobellus was different now.
Holding it no longer felt like wrestling with a star, but rather we felt intertwined.
In the quiet hours of the night watch, I would practice, not by creating great displays of light, but by focusing on the small things.
I learned to feel the individual threads of the ship's rigging, to perceive the faint stress in a timber deep in the hull, to mend a sailor's minor cut with a touch. I knit the threads of his flesh back together seamlessly.

It was a quiet, restorative power, and it felt more true to my nature than the raging inferno I had become.

On the sixth day, the lookout's cry rang out.

"Land ho!"

We gathered at the quarterdeck rail.
Ahead, the coastline of the Elven lands stretched out, and nestled in a large natural harbour was the city of Ormas.
From a distance, it looked peaceful, its stone walls and terracotta roofs gleaming in the afternoon sun.

But as we drew closer, the illusion shattered.

A pall of black smoke hung over the city's eastern districts, thick and greasy.
Even miles out, we could hear it: a faint, constant drumming, the unmistakable sound of siege engines, punctuated by the distant screams of men and things that were not men.

"They're already here," Triton growled, his knuckles white on the rail. "The demons have beaten us to it."

"Cassandra," Tulote said, "get us a clear picture. How bad is it?"

Cassandra nodded once.

"On it."

She stepped towards the rail, and for a moment, her form seemed to flicker, to lose its substance.
She became a ripple in the air, a wisp of shadow that detached from the ship and shot across the waves towards the besieged city at an impossible speed.

While we waited, Tulote turned to me.

"Her ability to phase through the world makes her the perfect scout. She can see without being seen, and feel the concentration of demonic energy." 

His gaze was fixed on the city.

"Pray she brings back good news."

But I knew, as he did, that there would be no good news.

Cassandra returned ten minutes later, coalescing from the shadows on deck as if she had never left, though her face was pale and her breathing was ragged.

"It's bad," she said, her voice grim. "Worse than I thought. The outer walls are breached in three places. The city militia is exhausted, fighting a desperate retreat back towards the harbour district. I'd say they have less than a day before they're completely overrun." 

She looked at us, her eyes wide.

"And they have a leader. I felt it. A Greater Demon, holed up in the city's captured citadel, directing the assault. Its power is immense."

"Then we have no time to waste," I said.

"Sailing into a besieged harbour is madness," Triton countered. "They'll have the harbour entrance covered. We'll be a sitting duck for their siege engines on the cliffs."

It was then that Tulote's authority as Lord War Master kicked in.
He unrolled a nautical chart of Ormas on the capstan, his large hands smoothing it flat.

"Madness is charging into a fortress," he said, "what we will do is change the fortress."

He looked at Triton, a fire in his eyes I hadn't seen before — not rage, and I couldn't quite tell what it was.

"Captain, your cannons are our key. You will ignore the city itself. You will target the cliffs overlooking the harbour entrance. Bring them down. Bury their siege engines and use the rock slide to create a new, narrower channel that we control."

Triton's eyes widened, then a slow grin spread across his face.

"By my grandfather's beard... block the harbour to save it. It's brilliant."

"Arda, Cassandra," Tulote continued, turning to us. "Once the entrance is secure, you and I will lead a strike. We will not engage the main horde. We will hit their command points, cut their supply lines within the city, and sow chaos. We turn their own tactics against them."

He then looked at the wider crew, who had gathered to listen.

"The rest of you, your skills are more valuable than a thousand swords right now. We are not just soldiers; we are engineers. We will turn this dying city into a death trap."

The plan was audacious. 
It was perfect.

The Obsidian Maw approached the harbour.

"PORT BATTERIES, LOAD HIGH EXPLOSIVE TERRACANE SHOT! TARGET THE CLIFF FACES! FIRE AT WILL!" Triton roared.

Our port side erupted in a deafening barrage.
The terracane-infused shells slammed into the cliffs, not just chipping them, but sending deep cracks spider webbing through the rock.
Entire sections of the cliff face, including the siege weapons and the demons manning them, sheared off and plunged into the sea with a colossal splash, creating a tidal wave that rocked the harbour.
The entrance was now narrow, just as Tulote had predicted.

We sailed into the stunned silence of the harbour.
The city's defenders on the harbour walls stared, their exhausted, hopeless faces turning to expressions of pure, dumbfounded awe.
We had arrived.

The moment our gangplank hit the stone quay, Tulote's plan exploded into motion.

"Riggers!" He bellowed. "To me! I want nets and trip-lines across ever major thoroughfare leading from the upper city! Use the rooftops! I want those streets turned into a tangled hell for anything bigger than a man!"

Sailors, men, and women who had spent their lives climbing masts and working with ropes, swarmed into the city.
They moved with an agility that left the city militia gawking, scaling walls and leaping across rooftops, stringing immense nets woven from the ship's anchor cables.
They created choke points with massive, swinging pendulums made from weighted cargo crates, ready to be cut loose on unsuspecting demon patrols.

"Carpenters! Mr. Finn!" Tulote commanded. "The main gate to the harbour is failing! I want it reinforced! Use every spare timber we have! I want that gate to withstand a battering ram made of a mountain!"

Finn and his crew, axes, and mallets in hand, set to work with a feverish intensity.
They buttressed the ancient gate with massive oak beams from the Maw's hold, driving iron spikes deep into the stone.

"Gunners!" Tulote pointed to two of the Maw's 24-pounder cannons. "Get those ashore! Set them up at the end of this plaza! I want them loaded with grapeshot, covering the approach to the docks! Nothing gets through!"

It was a master stroke of logistical genius.
Tulote wasn't just using his crew as soldiers; he was using their specific, ingrained skills as sailors, carpenters, and riggers to transform the urban landscape into a naval fortress.

While the crew fortified the harbour, the three of us prepared for our strike.
Our target was a bridge in the merchant's quarter, the main artery the demons were using to funnel troops towards the waterfront.

"Ready for a walk, hero?" Cassandra asked, her rapier now gleaming in her hand. 

There was a spark in her eyes, a thrill of the coming fight.

"As long as you're leading the way," I replied, my hand resting on the hilt of the Gladius.

The ease between us felt natural, a small point of light in the encroaching darkness.

We moved through the ravaged streets.
The sounds of battle were closer now, the air thick with the stench of death and demonic ichor.
We passed small pockets of exhausted militiamen, their faces lighting up with hope as they saw the Lord Regent and the legendary Hero moving among them.

"You're looking awfully serious," Cassandra murmured as we ducked behind a crumbling wall, the roars of a demon patrol echoing from the next street over. "Thinking about your fan club?"

"Thinking that I'd rather be anywhere else," I admitted, "but I'm glad I'm not here alone."

Her teasing smile softened for a moment.

"Me too."

The fight at the bridge was brutal.
A hulking, four-armed demon, a lesser captain, was directing a flood of smaller, screeching imps across.
We hit them from the flank.
Tulote was a storm of earth and fire, his Flamma clearing a path while stone shields erupted from the ground to protect us from crossbow bolts.

Cassandra and I worked in perfect, unspoken sync.
I would focus on a demon's blueprint, perceiving a weakness in its armor.

"Left pauldron!" I'd shout.

Before the words were even fully out, she would be there, her rapier darting out to strike the exact point I had indicated.
A hulking brute swung a club at my head, its corrupted threads screaming with malice.
I was focused on another target and saw it too late.
But Cassandra was there.
She didn't block it; she phased through my body, her own form becoming momentarily ethereal, and drove her dagger into the demon's armpit as it passed.
Its arm went limp, the club clattering to the ground, giving me the opening I needed to finish it.

Later, as we took cover to catch our breath, a piece of shrapnel from a demonic explosive grazed her arm, drawing blood.

"Hold still," I said, taking her arm gently.

My hand closed over the wound, and I focused my will, picturing the severed threads of her skin.
I guided them, coaxed them, knitting them back together.
The bleeding stopped, and in seconds, the skin was whole and unblemished.
Her skin was warm under my touch, and my hand lingered for a moment longer than was strictly necessary.
She looked from her arm to my face, her dark eyes searching mine.
She didn't pull away.

"Handy trick," she whispered, her voice a little breathless.

"It has its moments," I replied, my voice equally quiet.

We broke the assault on the bridge.
The demon captain, seeing its forces shattered, tried to flee, only to be crushed by a pillar of stone that erupted from the street at Tulote's command.
We had secured the artery.

As dusk fell, we stood on the newly reinforced harbour wall.
The demonic assault had faltered, confused by the new defenses and the loss of their forward momentum.
The city of Ormas, which had been hours from falling, was now a bastion.
It was not safe, not yet, but it was alive.

It had hope.

The fires of the demon war camp flickered in the distance, a reminder of the horde still waiting outside.
Cassandra came to stand beside me, her shoulder brushing against mine as she looked out at the enemy.

"You know," she said softly, "for a sky filled with so much smoke, you can still see the stars."

"Yeah, it's a beautiful thing."