"It's in." Henris Weber Ian reported to the prince. "Looks like the steel bolt penetrated deep."

  "Don't get too excited, Henris. Let's see if those ropes hold." The prince grabbed the railing and stood up, almost falling from the ballista's recoil. (Good thing they're all watching the fight. That was embarrassing.)

  "Haul them in!" the old man commanded. Slaves on the third deck began turning the massive winches connected to the ballistae. The thick hemp ropes went taut, vibrating and groaning against the pulleys. The pirate captain hurled curses, gesticulating frantically in hopes his first mate would take action, but the latter merely informed him there was nothing to do but continue firing arrows. The ropes held fast; the pirate warship was dragged inexorably closer, stripped of all ability to maneuver. "Have the Narwhal adjust her heading—I want to shear off their prow."

  The enemy archers started backing away, shooting as they went. The commander barked orders forbidding withdrawal, but his words fell on deaf ears. "Care to join me in the boarding party?" Henris asked as he helped Wally into his leather armor. "Think you can still fight?"

  "I may have spent less time fishing these past years, but that hardly means I've grown soft." Henris Weber Ian buckled the scimitar at Wally's side. "Besides, it's my honor to fight alongside Your Highness."

  "It seems my father showed wisdom in appointing you Grand Admiral," Wally said, recalling King Solomon Laren Ctiton, who even now stood in the salt breeze at Bilatra Keep. He smiled, a heavy meaning in his gaze. "We'll forge a legacy, Henris—one that will make my royal father tremble."

  The ships were about to collide. The spiral narwhal bone ram carved away half the pirate warship's prow; had the helmsman not desperately thrown his weight to steer away, the crude brass figurehead would already be resting on the seabed. The ships were side-by-side again. The pirate archers had retreated almost entirely to the safest position—the port side, maintaining the maximum theoretical distance from the Shahani Navy. The remaining soldiers clutched their weapons with white knuckles, cowering behind their commander, bracing for the inevitable boarding.

  The hulls ground together, the spiral narwhal bone reinforcements easily splintering the enemy's hardwood. The ships were stuck together. The Shahani People surged aboard, led not by Wally Laren Ctiton but by his steadfast Henris Weber Ian. With surprising agility, he vaulted the rail, landed with practiced ease, drew his scimitar in one fluid motion, and cut down a fleeing pirate who had turned his back. The battle erupted in earnest: men clashed across the blood-slick deck, arrows occasionally whistling through the chaos. The Shahani weren't great at close combat, but they had a lot more men. The Narwhal, including her galley slaves, carried nearly a thousand souls. Prince Wally waited until his men had secured the enemy's port rail before leisurely climbing over and dropping onto the pirate vessel.

  The pirate commander flung his hat aside, brandished his curved blade, and bellowed a war cry. At his shout, Godma soldiers came pouring out from below—mostly spearmen who quickly surrounded Wally and Henris. The remaining Shahani, facing the bristling spear points, dared not advance. (Should have delayed my dramatic entrance,) he sighed inwardly.

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  "You must be the Shahani prince, yes?" the commander demanded in Godma.

  "I'm afraid I don't understand your language," Wally replied in deliberately broken Godma.

  "Don't play the fool with me!"

  "Very well, very well." Wally shrugged with exaggerated resignation. "I am indeed the prince you seek."

  "What are you doing here?" The commander displayed not a hint of proper protocol.

  "And why shouldn't I be here?" Wally retorted with matching insolence. "I'm sailing my own vessel on the open sea, and as far as I'm aware, that's hardly a crime..."

  "I mean what are you doing on THIS ship!" The commander's lips twisted into a cruel smile. "This is a Godma Navy warship—and the longship you cleaved in two was a Godma escort vessel. Do you comprehend what that means, prince? You've initiated hostilities against Godma."

  Wally glanced upward. Where moments ago a pirate flag had flown—emblazoned with a golden tuna—now the Godma Three Sacred Swords snapped in the breeze, the change executed swiftly and silently. (So it was a trap all along.)

  "I'll ask once more, Shahani prince. What is your purpose here?" The short man drew himself up to his full height. "And will you acknowledge that you've committed an act of war against Godma?"

  "I'm merely on a fishing expedition," Wally Laren Ctiton replied airily, not even dignifying the man with direct eye contact. He turned his head, assessing Henris's reaction. The old man stood immovable as an ocean-battered rock, unflinching before the threatening spears. (Good.) Wally glanced behind him, noting with satisfaction that his Red Swan Isle Shortbowmen had positioned themselves at the railing, bows drawn and ready. (Good. Very good indeed.)

  "I strongly suggest you answer properly, prince. This isn't some chamber maid inquiring whether you'll grace her bed tonight." The commander struggled to contain his mounting anger. "One final time: will you admit..."

  Wally felt a subtle vibration through the planks beneath his feet. "I admit it."

  "What?!"

  "I admit I came out to fish today," he grinned broadly, "and happened to dispatch some pirates along the way."

  The pirate ship suddenly lurched violently—the embedded steel bolt was being forcibly extracted. The commander lost his footing, crashing unceremoniously to the deck. Wally and Henris dropped to a crouch. "Loose!"

  The Red Swan hunters' arrows shrieked through the air like vengeful spirits, and the Godma spearmen crumpled in deathly silence. With the spear threat eliminated, the Shahani People resumed their brutal advance. The pirate commander's first mate dragged his superior behind the mast, but could not stem the Godma Army's collapse—their regular soldiers were too few amidst the conscripted pirates. Grimacing with hatred, the commander pulled himself upright as Wally Laren Ctiton approached with unhurried confidence. "You see?" Wally smiled with mock kindness. "I spoke no falsehood, did I?"

  The commander spat contemptuously at the prince's feet. "Today you dared attack the Godma Royal Navy—your insignificant island kingdom will answer for this with war..."

  "I'll acknowledge only my fishing expedition and the righteous elimination of some pirates," Wally knelt to bring himself to eye level, "You must be aware that pirates have grown exceedingly bold of late. I've lost several vessels to their predations, and it seems only fitting that your fleet should serve as replacement. Wouldn't you agree?"

  The commander responded with a vicious oath.