The heavy iron bar lifted from the door brackets with a dull, metallic groan.
Kaelen pushed open the thick oak hatch and stepped out into the cool sea breeze.
The midday sun shone pale through the thin mist, glinting off the wet iron plating of the flagship’s upper deck.
Elder Sterling, Guard Captain Brandt, and Sergeant Voros were still scrambling to their feet in the corridor behind him.
Sterling hastily stuffed two crumpled pulp pamphlets into his leather coat, clearing his throat with a loud, formal cough.
“Lord Kaelen,” Sterling said, straightening his breastplate. “We have arrived at the outer perimeter.”
Kaelen did not answer. He walked toward the bow railing, his straw hat resting loosely against the back of his neck.
Five miles ahead, rising out of the churning purple water like a blackened fang, stood Black-Coral Bastion.
