Chapter 27: Lucille

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"Everett Cadmus," Gerald said, as he lowered his spyglass.

"Who?" Lucille asked, a half-second before she recognized the name.

"Crafter Everett Cadmus," Maxwell said, solemnly. "He taught me how cold-stone regulates pipe temperatures, when I left the army. Good teacher, patient. Are you sure that was him?"

"I am. I took four of his classes in my first year." Gerald reflected. The Dragon's assault had reduced twenty stories of an apartment tower to a smouldering ruin. "There was a time I hoped to be his apprentice."

"He made a fierce effort. Was he a Combat Crafter?" Lucille asked. The initial attack had actually engulfed the Dragon, in an assault she hadn't imagined a Crafter was capable of.

Before tonight, anyway.

"He was on Benden's list, ma'am," Sergeant Redgrave said, as he approached. He looked paler than usual, wide eyed, and fearful. Lieutenant Kendor approached with him, grim faced.

"His list?" Lucille asked.

"The Lord Captain keeps a short list of Crafters to call on if the worst comes to pass. In case a position must be held," Valen explained, a note of pride and what might be awe in his voice.

"Oddly, your name is not on it, sir," Valen added.

Gerald turned to him, and the two locked eyes for a long moment, before Gerald nodded solemnly. "I suppose I should air it," he said, and turned to Amelian. "Your soldiers have been magnificent, and you deserve better."

"Captain, there's no need," Lucille started, wide-eyed, hoping to interject, but one look at Gerald's expression stopped her.

"You haven't graduated yet," Amelian said, nonchalantly. Everyone else turned to her, surprised. Lucille reflexively put a handle on one of her knives, before forcing herself to relax.

She already knew, Lucille acknowledged. And more importantly, she doesn't mind.

"The coat was the starting point. No Crafter would willingly leave their status symbol behind. But besides that, you're too young to have been a Crafter for long, and you know your ship too well for the few years you could have been a Crafter. It means you've been preparing for this ship during your apprenticeship, and I'm guessing your master probably tied the ships to your graduation."

To Lucille's surprise, Gerald was smiling by the end of Amelian's explanation. "Well deduced."

"Following your example, sir. It took you minutes to uncover a secret Valen kept for years," she replied. "And sir?"

"Yes?"

"You've already proven yourself to us. Don't question that."

"Aye, ma'am," Gerald replied, with a grin. "So what brought you both over here?"

"Missive, from the Lord Captain. As follows: Preparing for contingency: last gamble. Deploying war assets to counter Dragon. Decision left to Crafters on site," Amelian reported.

"Last gamble?" Gerald asked, confused. Lucille waited silently, as eager as her Captain for an explanation.

"A team of Crafters use the Bore," Valen explained.

"Hellfire of the endless night!" Gerald hissed. "Of all the flame-baked insanity a desperate fool could be allowed to entertain, that's what you come up with? That will doom the City!"

"The Dragon will kill us. This plan only might," Valen responded, fiercely.

"This 'plan' will break the distribution lines, immolate half of Central, and let the Gloam flood the City. And there's more than Golems coming for whoever survive," Gerald hissed, angrier than Lucille had ever seen him. "This is utter insanity. The moronic kind of insanity that will damn us all."

"Captain," Valen barked, and Lucille instinctively stood at attention. She saw that everyone, even Gerald, did the same. "If the Lord Captain ordered this, it means our enemy is beyond the military. We cannot kill this monster. All we have left are the Crafters. All we have left is you. And this is option the Crafters have given the Lord Captain."

Gerald met the old soldier's gaze, and Lucille instinctively stepped forward to put herself close enough to intervene. Valen looked utterly furious, so much that she was afraid the soldier might lash out.

Except, Lucille understood, Valen wasn't angry at Gerald.

"We are the walls, Captain," Amelian said, softly. "And tonight, we are not enough to keep the City safe."

"We never were," Valen added. His voice quivered as he spoke. "Not once in the history of the City, were we enough."

There was a howl in the distance, and the cacophony of exploding fires. Lucille turned away from the conversation, drew her spyglass, and saw the Dragon pass over the other ship, beating its wings furiously as it hurled itself towards the Bore.

And we are the only thing in its way.

"Ash-bitten beast! The Dragon! It's passed the other ship!" Lucille said, louder than she intended.

"Good," Gerald replied, and Lucille was taken aback by the peculiar audacity of his reply. "I was afraid I'd have enough time to try to give everyone a speech," Gerald added ruefully, before he stepped over to Maxwell and took the wheel. "So we'll skip the drama that I would have butchered, and get to the part where I tell you all what to do."

Gerald set the clutch for the propellers, and the Midnight Songbird surged forward as if it were eager to impress. He looked over his shoulder. "Amelian, move the starboard gun to the port-side of the ship. Maxwell, check the reservoirs and the sails, and have the crew look over every moving part on this ship," he said. "Valen, send a message to the Lord Captain, and convince him that his last option should not be used while the airships are still in the fight. Lucille, stay close, and knives out."

She saluted, almost immediately after he finished. The others followed suit moments after. Lucille grinned, as she drew her knife and held it lazily in her left hand.

Flaming hell, he knows they're his. That's going to go straight to his head.

"Rustov, Redgrave, one more thing," Gerald added, as he locked the wheel in place. "Your victory at the last wall marked the end of our defence of the City. From here on, we war with the Gloam."

Valen and Amelian both nodded, before they departed, but Lucille could see the change in their demeanour. Trust her charge's insane audacity to see the City's darkest hour as the start of its brightest days.

"You said you'd bungle a speech," Lucille said, once the other three departed.

"I was stalling for time, and inspiration," he replied, as he shook his head, with an expression normally reserved for unpleasant tastes. "Blight of the abyss and ashes of the stars, they're planning to wield the Bore? We can't let it come to that. It shouldn't even be considered."

"Why not?"

Gerald shook his head. "There is no wielding that kind of power. When I wield the flame, it becomes a part of me. Part of why it's so addictive is the primal need to burn, to consume, becomes a part of who I am. Wielding the Bore would drown my mind in the flame."

"It's pretty arrogant to think it's impossible just because you can't do it," Lucille replied.

"You're better at taking falls than I am. It doesn't mean you would survive jumping off the deck right now," Gerald replied.

"What about the Dragon? Could it wield the Bore?" Lucille asked.

"I don't know," Gerald admitted. "But it doesn't need to. It could sever the distribution lines, or break the dykes around the Channel and pour the river into the Bore."

Lucille nodded, understanding. "Either way, the Dragon will fly low and over the waters. So that's why you want both guns on one side of the ship. We hit it as hard as we can on the first exchange, and hopefully hit it hard enough to knock it into the water."

"That's the plan."

"It's a good plan," Lucille said, trying to sound reassuring. "Best plan the City has."

"Which is why it isn't reassuring." Lucille added, as the Midnight Songbird ran for the Bore.

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