Predicament

In late autumn, the docks of Cologne lay beneath low, gray clouds. The north wind carried the reek of river water, and a row of warships not far from shore loomed like mountains, weighing on everyone's heart.

Marlene von Ranke lightly covered her nose and mouth with a silk handkerchief. Her icy-blue eyes could not hide her shock and solemnity.

Beside her, Bastian von Schuyler Steiger stared at the Angland Fleet on the river, his brows furrowed.

Though Bastian wasn't wearing his uniform today, his upright bearing still carried the sternness peculiar to a soldier.

There were plenty of spectators with that same air about them by the river.

His gaze swept over the foreign fleet, its presence oppressive.

The warships had a structure similar to traditional seafaring vessels, with their decks at the stern. They had no masts, but did have a lookout platform that could be dismantled.

Paddle wheels sat beneath the decks, while sturdy steel-plated oak panels covered the sides and tops.

The dense rows of gunports along the warships' sides made one shudder. What drew people's curiosity were the many devices covered with canvas around the upper deck—boxes over a meter long, their purpose impossible to guess.

Bastian drew his gaze away and turned toward Marlene's somewhat pale profile.

Marlene didn't turn around. She simply leaned unconsciously toward him, her cool shoulder brushing his firm chest. His familiar warmth seeped through their clothes, easing the taut strings of her heart a little.

"They're showing off their strength," Bastian said in a low voice, making sure only she could hear. "Or rather, flaunting it openly."

As he spoke, he placed a hand on her shoulder, his fingers tightening slightly.

Marlene nodded softly and continued studying the Anglanders' warships, as if trying to etch them into her memory.