The Aragonese fleet had been patrolling the waters of the Maraz Strait for weeks, their wooden hulls creaking as they bobbed on the waves. It was just another day at sea, the same monotonous routine—until the lookouts spotted dark shapes emerging from the mist.
Aboard the flagship, Admiral Hernan Cortes stood on the quarterdeck, gripping his brass telescope with a steady hand. He had expected to see sails billowing in the wind, the familiar sight of enemy masts cutting through the sky. But what he saw made his breath catch in his throat.
The Pendralis fleet was unlike anything he had ever encountered.
There were no sails. No towering masts. No ropes fluttering in the wind. Instead, massive vessels of iron glided across the water, spewing thick black smoke from towering metal chimneys. Their hulls gleamed in the pale morning light, dark and menacing, like floating fortresses. These were not ships. They were leviathans, forged from steel and fire.
