The red ships sailed along the capital's perimeter.

Their admiral bellowed. "Tomorrow, words or war!" and tossed a body overboard to the horror of onlookers.


They carried him into the city; while chirurgeons plied their craft, the Mechanics alerted the maker.


"Who is this boy?"

“A warrior and a sky-captain. Awakened. He campaigned to burned plains and beyond. His men came back because they got sick there. He sent them back. “


Maker delicately pries open one eye, staring at its swirling whiteness.

"I know him. He was my blood-thane.

I'm not going to cure him! I must study him!"


A rough homecoming. "The orchestra of colour has nothing to do with the observed nor the observer. Things change, as they must..."

Next challenge - "Prime Mechanics"