"Nothing. I did nothing!" Glax replied, his eyes fixed on the warrior coming towards him.
"You should have done, Glax!" His comrade scoffed, still staying by his side.
"Damn it, man. I just collapsed in bed and didn't see anything else until this morning. "
The imperial guards let Chriseis on board without a problem.
"Where do you think you're going?" The general asked in the most direct way.
'Uhn, so did she really think I was running away? Why, exactly? '
"I came to get my things. I also thought about seeing the warship Temnos plans to lend us. Although I am a mountain man," he shrugged, using the knowledge he had just acquired from Rasmus, "I know very little about sea battles. Is that your forte, Chriseis?"
"AHEMMM!" Chriseis looked around, analyzing the vessel, to hide her sudden nervousness. "I have experience."
"You shouldn't have given in to Megara's cheap trick. She wanted to take revenge and ..."
"What are you talking about? Megara is not stingy or dishonored to the point of using artifice, nor am I a child to be manipulated. Don't fall as low as Proctius did in defaming the honor of a person without proof. Much less two generals from the clan, above you."
"...!"
Chriseis's harsh words were a lesson on the notion of social status and also of the 'face'. They certainly believed they should maintain an appearance of infallibility and high morale.
And he, although now officially a krios, or aristocrat within the clan, still had no place in the rank to question even his wife.
'I need to change that.'
But Glax did not apologize, turning his back on Chriseis. He felt the withering look in the middle of his shoulder blades and even wondered if he was going to be stabbed right there.
"General Chriseis, I will try to find out what Sillabot really is, since I will be of little help in preparing the ship and the men."
"HEY HEY! The champions decided to pay me a visit!" A loud, cheerful voice interrupted what Chriseis was about to answer. The couple turned to receive Medeia's captain, Laertes.
Glax had no doubt this was his father's friend from the cool assurance with which he entered the ship.
Laertes was a man in his late 40s, with dark hair that was turning gray, narrow gray eyes and an aquiline nose that made his gaze look threatening. But at that moment, he was smiling.
"General Chriseis, I had not yet had the honor of meeting you. You made the best choice," he pointed to Glax. "This young man is exceptional in every way, general. The Kroton bloodline can only win."
"He made himself noticed," she said, pleased, and Glax rolled his eyes discreetly. "So this is one of the famous 'flying ships' in the imperial fleet?"
Laertes nodded. "One of the 9 remaining in Stygia, General, and the last to be built. Adapted to our new reality, of course."
"But I thought the postal ships were the fastest in the empire."
"What she does now doesn't compare to her glorious past during the Steam War, when she was able to break free of the Steam People's attacks and counterattack them in minutes! But it's far beyond even regular triremes. It is a pride to command this ship." He squinted his eyes, nodding to himself, satisfied.
"How was it adapted?" Glax couldn't resist the urge to know. An idea was forming in his mind.
Chriseis also seemed interested, so the captain guided them on a tour of the ship. Starting with the double weapons next to the head of the ship.
"The onagers replaced the two devices the Vselys used to fire... you know, liquid fire," the captain explained casually, as if it were known to the general. And it probably was. If the ships still existed, that war had happened recently.
Glax looked at the simple, ballista-like machine. It was still possible to launch projectiles into flame with that type of tool, but possibly it was nothing as 'cool' as the liquid fire. At least that's what he understood from the respectful and slightly fearful tone with which it was said.
They went down to the galleys, still empty. Rows of benches arranged on each side, with special oars, connected to the intelligent force optimization system. But Glax noticed that, as Laertes explained, they were retrofitted from an old and more complex structure...
And Glax separated himself from the group, going to the front of the ship, where a black metal capsule, the size of a sarcophagus, was sealed by complex metal clamps. The entire complex power network connected to the oars had once been connected to this 'boiler'.
"What do you want here?" The sudden question took him by surprise. The voice behind him made him defensive immediately.
Turning around as calmly as he could, Glax said,
"What is this? The Captain was explaining to us..."
But he stopped talking when he acknowledged the figure behind him.
He had never seen a 'blue' person. Well, in fact, he wasn't entirely blue, but a man who, for the most part, exposed skin on his body, was unpleasantly gray and lifeless.
His lips were purplish, as well as the entire lower portion of his limbs, in a gradient of blue that reached purple at the tips of his fingers. In the small distance they were, he was sure it wasn't paint, but it had that color. As if he suffered from cyanosis, or...
As if he were dead.
But how could he be dead, if he was talking to him right now?
How could this tall, thin man, with rigid muscles like stone, with very light and thin hair and a hard, incisive face, be dead?
But Glax felt in his bones that he was.
'DAFUQ!'
"Oh, well, Laertes was showing us everything around here." He shrugged with a smile. "Are we getting in the way?"
"Yes, Malko, General Chriseis is visiting an imperial messenger ship," the Captain clarified. Laertes, Chriseis and Rasmus were coming in that direction.
The blue man, Malko, snorted discreetly.
Out of the corner of his eye, Glax noticed he had a tattoo on his left biceps - the symbol of the Empire, the two opposite heads. 'Is he owned by the Empire? Is he a slave?'
At the same time, his attention was drawn to Rasmus.
His big pal was behind Chriseis and the captain, and trying to signal him something in a desperate sequence of winks, grimaces, and not so discreet finger signals. What, Glax failed to understand.
'Stop!' He moved his lips in a mute plea. Even the fishes could see that huge man moving strangely. For sure, Malko was watching.
"What is it?" Chriseis pointed to the black capsule.
"A 'Valya's Cauldron', or 'Forge of Souls'. This could propel extra force to the oars at any time… they say. But it had a totally different operation than a steam boiler. "
"I didn't know there were revenants with permission to travel."
"Malko is special in this regard, as you can see. He has imperial permission to be on this ship and keep it going. There weren't many experts left after all the foreigners were expelled..."
Glax looked out of the corner of Malko's eye again. The blue man was staring at Chriseis's bionic arm.
And Chriseis, on the other hand, pointed to another part of the ship. He had realized that his wife's bionic arm had suffered involuntary spasms. At the same time, Glax felt a chill in his belly.
Whatever 'the forge of souls' used as an energy source, it was the same thing that functioned as a battery for Chriseis's arm! And he noticed her discomfort when he got too close to the boiler.
What was happening? And why was he sure the boiler wasn't really empty?