"She is only sealed, not destroyed. The seal is like a dam holding back the ocean of the abyss. A single unsealed stone, and the deluge will engulf everything I have saved."

  — Words of Solar?s, XV

  Revealed to Thérion the Veiled, Year 1 of the Endless Day

  At a run, the squadron bypassed the Index to take the stairs that descended toward the Sea Markets, located on the banks of the canal that cut the West Outskirts in two along its entire length.

  Halfway down, R?chard broke the silence, his voice slightly trembling.

  "Sieg, do you think we'll be enough? Two hundred men against... we don't even know how many they are."

  "We will be sufficient," his chief replied curtly without slowing. "The Golden Lances aren't just two hundred soldiers. They're two hundred wild beasts who have already survived worse than this."

  "But..."

  "There is no but, R?chard," he cut him off. "Even if they're more numerous. Even if Death awaits us there. Our duty is to go. We made an oath, it's time for us to honor it."

  During their descent, Mei had noticed that the young archer, to hide the trembling of his hands, was gripping his bow far too tightly. She decided to taunt him.

  "I do believe our little prodigy is going to wet himself."

  The archer jumped slightly, releasing his grip.

  "Pfffff," he breathed before continuing. "If you think I'm trembling with fear, you're wrong, specter. It's excitement."

  "But yes, of course, excitement."

  Siegfried slowed his pace, turning halfway toward his squadron. For the first time since they had left the Index, his face relaxed slightly.

  "It's useless to lie to yourself, my young friend," Juuh'ma advised, standing just in front of him.

  "You're going to stop! If I tell you I'm not..."

  "You're not the only one afraid, R?chard," the paladin cut him off again. "Look."

  He extended his right hand before him. A slight tremor ran through his fingers.

  "Our body is preparing itself," he explained, closing his fist. "My mentor often repeated to me that fear was often our best ally. In certain situations, it's what will keep us alive. It's what will make our senses sharper, our reflexes faster. We must not chase it away but use it."

  "And how do I do that?"

  "By doing what your body knows how to do best," the specter told him, her voice having become serious again. "You aim, you shoot and you cover us. Nothing more."

  The boy nodded slowly, clutching his bow against him.

  The Stoneskin acquiesced with a grunt and descended two additional steps before stopping, his imposing mass almost blocking the entire width of the staircase.

  "Our little shadow is right. We don't know war, but combat, yes. So we'll fight as we know how to do it. And we will survive."

  A silence settled, only broken by the clapping of their boots on stone. R?chard swallowed with difficulty. Feather emitted a small cry on his shoulder, rubbing her beak against his cheek.

  Siegfried briefly placed his hand on the archer's shoulder.

  "Each in his place, each his role. You know what you have to do."

  He resumed his descent without waiting for a response. Young Desrosiers breathed deeply and followed suit, the fear still present but less paralyzing.

  In this strange calm, they descended the rest of the steps, each preparing mentally for what awaited them while the view widened over the western Outskirts. The air progressively changed, charging with salty fragrances and scents of maritime commerce. The watercourse and the Chains of Aagard?ne shimmered under the golden rays of the Sun, their crystalline waters bordered by port taverns with colorful signs and shops where the treasures of the sea piled up: seafood with shimmering shells, dried algae in greenish braids, exotic shells with iridescent mother-of-pearl and silvery fish, according to the catches brought back by fishermen returning from their expeditions.

  At the foot of the stone steps, they approached the majestic arch pierced in the thick wall that sheltered the city's maritime warehouse. The heavy forged blancfer doors that ordinarily barred access to the reserves were wide open in the urgency of the situation, revealing the dark interior of the edifice. Halberd in hand, eight guards in gleaming armor, four posted on each bank, only let authorized knights pass.

  Followed by several other soldiers, squadron VIII penetrated into this warehouse carved into the secular wall itself. The vaulted space extended over several dozen meters in depth, carved with a master's hand in the massive stone of Solheim's foundations. Its walls oozed humidity and history. The whole was bathed in a golden light coming from the ingenious mirror system: luminous beams sprang from two reflectors positioned outside to ricochet on a series of other polished surfaces strategically arranged, a revolutionary lighting mechanism designed and perfected by the scholar Maxvell in year 300 after the Endless Day.

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  There, several buildings aligned serving the sailors and N'zonki working in the maritime sector, a massive block at the back, embedded in the rock, where the Chains of Aagard?ne were attached as well as two galleys that waited side by side, their flank pressed against the chains. These war vessels were immediately distinguished by their elongated silhouette reinforced on one of their sides, designed to support the weight of traction mechanisms. At the front of the ship, near the prow, a massive metal arm rested folded along the hull, while a second identical arm was against the stern at the rear. These mechanical appendages evoked the mandibles of a sleeping giant insect.

  At the center of the deck stood an oversized capstan, a cylinder of black iron, pierced with multiple holes for the operating bars. Around it, the space was cleared to allow the Stoneskins to turn without any hindrance.

  As the squadron approached the ships, a fascinating spectacle unfolded under the orders of an N'zonki on the ship of the south bank. The two arms of each ship deployed simultaneously with a metallic grinding, one toward the front, the other toward the rear, revealing at their extremity steel head wheels with teeth sharp as metal fangs. These twin gears spread apart then closed on the chain with a sharp double clap that resonated in the warehouse.

  Already present on the north bank craft thanks to the interior stairs reserved for high-ranking officers, his axes in hand, Lieutenant Bjornhold bellowed orders at soldiers in a guttural din. His massive silhouette dominating the disorder, his shaggy gray beard beating against his chest, he spotted Siegfried and his squadron.

  "YOU!" he yelled, pointing at him with his weapon. "The kid who wants to defend Solheim, you climb with me! We'll see what you and your soldiers have in your guts!"

  But before the squadron could board the ship, a noise stopped them. A distant song began to be heard. Louder and louder. To the point where no other noise present in the area could be heard, a carnivorous smile barring the lieutenant's face.

  WE ARE THE LANCES OF THE KINGDOM

  We are the lances of the kingdom

  ALL UNITED AS ONE MAN

  All united as one man

  SOLAR?S GUIDES OUR EXPLOITS

  Solar?s guides our exploits

  OUR PRIDE NEVER BENDS

  Our pride never bends

  THE ENEMY WILL FLEE OUR BLADES

  The enemy will flee our blades

  OR BURN UNDER OUR FLAMES

  Or burn under our flames

  Under this war chant, the Golden Lances unit and its two hundred men arrived in the warehouse from the north side in military file, led by knight Regg?s. In almost perfect synchronization, they separated into two groups and awaited their chief's orders.

  "Not too soon," Dragar shouted at them, waving his hand. "We were only waiting for you. Come on, climb aboard! We've already lost enough time."

  All the knights, the Vaan Hart squadron included, climbed without a word, passing from one ship to another by a wooden bridge connecting them, their boots striking the ground in a sharp sound. There, a dozen colossi with ebony skin waited around the immense capstans. Juuh'ma respectfully saluted his brothers. In their arms, operating bars of dark steel so large they looked like tree trunks from the Lake of Infinity, the last remaining forest in the kingdom of Solheim. Once all the soldiers were on the ships, the Golden Lances lieutenant climbed on the bridge connecting the two vessels, and addressed the two Stoneskin units present, speaking loudly enough so they could hear him.

  "LISTEN TO ME, CHILDREN OF THE N'ZONKI CLAN. THE SURVIVAL OF PORT-FOAM AND OUR KINGDOM WILL DEPEND ON YOUR STRENGTH AND WILL TO ADVANCE THESE SHIPS. SO MAKE YOUR PEOPLE PROUD AND PUSH THESE CAPSTANS FOR ME AS IF THE SEVEN LORDS OF THE HELLS WERE BEHIND US!"

  "YES CHIEF!" the Stoneskins replied in chorus.

  Rahk'im, the N'zonki captain, posted beside the lieutenant, raised his fist, and his voice thundered throughout the entire vaulted warehouse.

  "DID YOU HEAR WHAT THE LIEUTENANT JUST SAID? SO TO THE BARS, MY BROTHERS! AND MAKE THESE VESSELS FLY FOR ME!"

  The sixteen colossi positioned themselves around the capstans, their massive hands seizing the long dark steel bars to activate them in the mechanism's holes. At the same moment, the war horn resonated from the first ship's prow, its deep call reverberating against the wall's millennial stones to propagate through the West Outskirts. On the ramparts, the sentinels made their own horn sound in response and already the heavy chains of the maritime gates began to creak.

  "PUSH!!!" Rahk'im shouted, launching his two enormous arms forward, making the dozens of gold bracelets on his wrists clap against each other.

  In a synchronized movement, the colossi pushed on their bars, making the capstans groan. They began to turn slowly, then faster and faster. The gears bit into the Chain of Aagard?ne with a metallic clap, and suddenly the ships stirred.

  The first ship's prow emerged from the warehouse, cleaving the clear waters of the interior canal, followed by the second, the stone walls passing on each side like tunnel walls, the echo of the gears still resonating under the vault.

  The boats slid in the canal that cut the West Outskirts in two. On each bank, inhabitants stopped to observe the spectacle. Some applauded, others shouted encouragements, their faces marked by worry. Children ran along the quays, trying to follow the galleys that were already speeding too fast.

  In the distance, the maritime gates opened in a dull rumble, freeing the way toward the outside of the city and once crossed, the world changed suddenly. Only the desolation of lands abandoned by life remained.

  Immediately, the N'zonki chief ordered his sailors to push even harder.

  "FASTER, MY BROTHERS! FASTER!"

  Carried by the titanic force of the Stoneskins, the vessels now rushed at high speed toward Port-Foam.

  Barely out of the capital, Siegfried ordered R?chard to climb to the crow's nest, the observation post of the main mast, to send Feather as a sentinel in the maritime city's sky. Once at the summit, the young archer whispered in his goldenbeak's ears and immediately she flew away, so fast that in little time, even the boy and his piercing eyes lost sight of her.

  The two ships continued to lacerate the canal with savagery, their dark flanks gleaming under a leaden sky, pushed by the power of sixteen warriors. Fifty kilometers still separated them from the battle. They would cross them in as much time as a rider would have done on zu'hun, a feat that owed less to the gods than to the obsession of a genius dead long ago.

  King Aagard?ne. His name still resonated in the Memories That Must Not Be Forgotten, engraved in ink of blood and regrets. During the era of Harmony, that blessed epoch when men still believed they could defy destiny without paying the price, he had conceived these monstrous mechanisms to facilitate and accelerate the sending of cargo for future generations. Two entire reigns had been sacrificed to their construction: his own, then that of his beloved daughter, Lyséanne, of whom it was whispered she had gone mad from overseeing the completion of her father's work.

  The invention had kept its promises. Trade with Emporium, the market-island where all souls had a price, had exploded. Making Solheim the richest kingdom in all Istalith for centuries.