Aethosphere Chronicles: Winds of Duty Read Free

embrace of the
Sargasso Sky the crew and ship were battered and weary beyond
reconciliation. Then Bernard Lockney was taken from them through
promotion, and Zavier Moore came sweeping in with his Kinglander
sensibilities, and after that, the months of drilling and waiting
had taken its toll. It was hard not to get discouraged; not with
the Empire still lurking in the sky like something out of a
nightmare. They and their blasted iron behemoths reminded Bar of
the legends his father used to tell:
    “ Nearly two thousand years ago the
Nequam sailed the skies in the name of the Enox Unon. Those damned
demons, in the service of their damned devil, commanded great
flying fortresses—called them Basilicas—and they used them to rule
over the beleaguered Candaran tribes of Aethosphere for millennia
uncountable …”
    How similar that sounded to the present day
Great Skies War. Those old stories had always inspired terror in
the young Bazzon, but he would often make his father tell him
regardless; because little boys liked to be scared in the safety of
their homes, when they have their fathers close at hand to drive
away the nightmares. But after his father passed on, Bar was loath
to hear them, and eventually stopped thinking of the myths
altogether. That is, until the day he’d first laid eyes on an
imperial destroyer. All the old scare-stories came flooding back in
an instant as that terrible machine slipped from a storm cloud like
a wraith through tattered curtains. It was a terror to behold;
massive, and wrought in impenetrable black iron, turreted
long-range guns, blood red Atmium Core; and for the first time
since his father died, Bar knew what it was like to feel true
hopelessness again.
    That imperial monster had been a real life
demon alright, brought to life with hatred and science, and
afterwards it was hard to keep the men’s spirits up. Getting chased
out of the Giedi Cluster, and then having to flee from Midport
through the King’s Straight gauntlet had further eroded morale, and
now with the whole of the Sargasso Sky open to Imperial incursions,
no man could feel anything but dread anymore. Families were in
danger, and that left everyone on edge. So seeing the men laughing
and joking around him was a sight that stirred the fledgling
officer’s heart—made him feel like maybe everything could be
alright again.
    “Mr. Bazzon!” the master-at-arms’ voice
cracked like a discordant whip across the back of the men’s
merriment. Like a cold and savage wind, it drove away any measure
of mirth, and the room quickly gave way to frosty silence. “Why are
you outta uniform?”
    Bar spun on his heels, wobbling, and feeling
a bit drunk from the grog. Chief Master Stowe may have been nearly
half a meter shorter than the ensign, but he stood like a boar
ready to stampede over him regardless. The humorless man’s face was
even shaped like a boar’s, long in the front but wide and flat,
with a mustache that spilled over the corners of his mouth like two
tusks.
    Bazzon teetered, trying his best to maintain
that delicate balance between standing at attention and seeking out
his missing uniform top. It was Tolle that helped him out with
that, by tossing the missing shirt and catching Bar full in the
face. Raucous laughter burst through the crowd, but Stowe silenced
it with a growl.
    After wrestling the article of clothing
away, Bar found Stowe standing eye-to-eye with him, glaring with a
look that could have flayed the honor off a man just as surely as
the cat-o-nine-tails could cleave flesh from the bone. Shame burned
across Bar’s face. “We’ll have a discussion about the importance of
the king’s uniform later,” said the master-at-arms, “but for now,
the captain’s called all hands on deck for an important
announcement.”
    “Is it about the war?” asked someone
standing behind Bar.
    “Are we being sent back to the
frontlines?”
    “Where are the frontlines these days?”
    “I heard tell the admiralty’s