Elder Sterling did not bother asking for a second set of orders.
He barked at the deckhands, and within three minutes the splintered mast was hauled down by six thick hemp ropes.
A spare spar of cured ironwood rose in its place, lashed with tarred cable and locked down with bronze wedges.
The six captured Star-Iron warships swung their heavy prows toward the open ocean.
Behind them, the smoking craters of Black-Coral Bastion faded into the twilight mist.
Kaelen walked through the narrow companionway into the flagship’s spirit-core room.
The air inside was thick with amber vapor rising from the auxiliary vein in the deck plates.
Under Stage 5 Hibernation Compression, two Fallow Hours accumulated for every single hour he slept.
