A thin veil of mist shrouded the sea that morning, glowing gold in the sunlight.
Nine warships advanced slowly through the waves like nine silent Steel Behemoths.
The Dawnlight led the way, with the Dawnlight and the Tide on either flank. The remaining Dawnlight-class Escort Ships followed close behind, their formation as disciplined as a moving city wall.
The gold-plated Red Tide Emblems on their bows gleamed in the sunlight, reflecting a piercing radiance like burning suns.
On deck, sailors gripped ropes and moved with measured steps.
They wore standard-issue Red Tide windproof coats, their brass chest buttons polished bright by the sea mist.
Some adjusted signal flags at the mastheads, while others wiped down the deck railings. They laughed as they passed water around, discussing whether there would be a little more butter on their lunchtime bread.
A kitchen apprentice passed by carrying a food bucket, and someone teased him. "Boy, don't make today's soup too watery."
The apprentice scratched his head and answered with a grin, "No problem."
The sailors took turns resting. Some dozed against barrels, some gathered to throw dice, and others hummed old songs from the Northern Frontier.
Even far out at sea, they kept to the prescribed routine: patrols on the third watch, sail changes on the second, and daily reports on the wind and currents.
No one shirked, and no one complained.
"You really can feel safe aboard this ship," an old sailor said with a laugh. "Back on the Empire's ships, whether you lived to reach the next port was down to luck."
"Thank Lord Louis for that," the old sailor beside him said with a broad grin.
Both were veteran sailors recruited at Dawnlight Harbor. They had expected a ship from the Northern Frontier to be unreliable, yet it had turned