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I first met Admiral Lord Luther Denholme to discuss the events chronicled herein, on 14 December, in the year of our Father 968. Up until I had received the invitation, I had not realized that the Denholme family had purchased an estate in the capitol and had been living there for over two weeks. I had thought them ensconced at their home in the village of Circenshire to the far south, near Marshbank. I was, of course, rather interested in meeting the man I had written about so extensively and went to do so at my earliest convenience. I later learned that the new Denholme estate had, until recently, belonged to the Linden family. The fact that Lord Denholme's personal assistant is Master Wilhelm Linden made the matter clear to me.

My first impressions upon being admitted by the house steward were mixed: It was a fine house, of traditional design and build, but the furnishings were spare and gave a slightly bleak feel to it. Of course, the family was still very much in the process of moving in and making the house their own. Still, it was with a slight feeling of unease that I waited in the parlor for his lordship to arrive. Above the mantelpiece there hung a portrait of Lord Lucius Denholme, the father of the current Lady. His gaze, as it swept the room, was at the same time somber, but with a hint of amusement. I could readily imagine him as the sailor and leader of men that his record spoke of. The family had obviously brought it along with them from the family seat when they came to this new house for the season.

I was not kept waiting long. I had known, of course, that current Lord Denholme had been low-born. I had entitled my previous volume (detailing the so-called "Season of 41") "The Peasant Admiral", after all. None the less, it was still a novel experience to actually meet the man in person. Cattle Dogs are somewhat uncommon in Highvolle of course, but I was familiar with the breed. At his side was the assistant, Master Linden I have already mentioned and the younger man cut quite a contrast to his employer. Where Lord Denholme's fur was coarse and ill marked, the Akita's was luxuriant and impeccably brushed. Where Lord Denholme was dressed in his somewhat rough naval uniform (though it did include a splendid red top coat), Master Linden's suit was impeccable, in a more conservative shade of blue. But the most striking difference between the two men was in their expressions. Master Linden looked welcoming and kind, but Lord Denholme gave me the instant impression of overwhelming disapproval.

Master Linden made the introductions, bade me be seated and asked if I would like a drink. I remember asking if coffee would be too much trouble and a servant was quickly dispatched to fetch it. Lord Denholme had still said no more than a single "hello" to me and I was beginning to feel distinctly uncomfortable. I attempted to explain how excited I had been to have this opportunity to meet the subject of so much of my research, discussion and speculation. If anything, the impression of distaste I received increased at that. Master Linden seemed to sense it as well, and began to speak cheerily about the house and how happy he was to be back and how pleased he had been when the Denholme family had purchased it.

"Exactly what right had you to invade my privacy, Master Potter?" my host demanded rather abruptly. I must admit to becoming a bit flustered at the sudden reproach and stared in amazement. Master Linden attempted to soften his employer's words.

"I believe what Lord Denholme MEANT to say is that he tends to be a very private man, eschewing most of Pedigree society in favor of the quiet life of a country squire. I'm sure his Lordship is not the only member of the family who can't wait to return to the tranquility of the estate in Circenshire. I must say though, that we were all somewhat amazed to discover that you had written an entire volume detailing the year for which Lord Denholme was awarded the Golden Admiralty Star."

Said award glinted on the lapel of my host, the highest recognition for naval service our great nation can bestow. The entirety of the command officers in the Cerberus fleet had been awarded the Silver Admiralty Star with only Lord Denholme receiving the Gold. To my knowledge, the last Gold Star to be awarded to a living man prior to this had gone to Admiral Finch for his accomplishments during the Carvecian War of Independence. (The last to be awarded posthumously had of course been to Admiral Klaus Richter during Prince Maximillion's speech at the great man's funeral.)

"I do hope you will forgive me, Admi... Lord Denholme," I said to my foreboding host. "Please understand that it was never my intent to cast you in an unfavorable light. I was simply so impressed when I first heard of your accomplishment... and, in fact, when I began to research you and your fleet, my interest grew to full admiration... that I felt compelled to put pen to paper and write a full account of it all! In fact, the events of your LATEST adventure, if I might be so bold as to say, were so sensational, so grotesque... so SHOCKING that I've already begun writing another volume!" I'm afraid that the excitement caused by thought of all the lurid details of Admiral Denholme's season in Carvecia overrode the caution I had felt since I had arrived. I must have been grinning like a fool who expected to be congratulated most warmly. Instead, I grew distinctly aware of a growl coming from his

Lordship's throat and his eyes, as they glared at me, felt like the very flames of perdition.

from the historie by Master Joshua Potter

Prologue

23 October, Year of our Father 966

Because of our successes of the previous season, I was amongst the first to receive the priority commissions for the coming year. I was certainly appreciative not to have to pick and choose from the detritus that remained after my supposed betters had taken their choice from all the best assignments. Will's advice the previous year to accept what had, at first glance, seemed to be a joke of a commission had proven to be incredible in its insight. One might argue that that IS one of the reasons I employed him, but nonetheless, Cuthbert gave me no argument as I asked Will to joins us in appraising this new batch. After all, had it not been for the Akita's knowledge of Pedigree matters, we would never have chosen to escort the Verdi fleet and would therefore not have been in a position to make such an impression at court.

The fact that the Admiralty courier had also brought the news of Captain Addison's death had, of course been the main topic of discussion during lunch. The physician in charge had ruled it natural causes, likely an aneurism. I'm afraid Delilah, Will and myself had gotten somewhat carried away as we had discussed it, coming up with all manner of outlandish theories. Still, I had already made up my mind as to his replacement, though I was sure Cuthbert still hadn't finished saying his piece on the subject. I was determined meanwhile, to focus on the task at hand.

The commissions on offer for the coming year were examined without comment by each of the three of us. We would discuss them in detail once our initial survey was complete. Will caught my eye as he tried surreptitiously to move one offer in particular away from me and the look of dread on his face drew my attention like a magnet. I held out my hand for it and he looked completely crestfallen.

"It's nothing," He tried to assure me. "It's simply..."

"Serwich." I completed for him. Cuthbert looked up from the paper he'd been skimming.

"How bad is the situation?" he inquired.

Will hesitantly placed the scroll in my hand, a look of dread written large across his expression. I looked it over.

I let out a snort as I took in the details. "It's simply the same request for additional forces they send out every year," I announced with a bit of relief. "There's no sign that the dragons are reforming their alliance."

"So it's not a priority then?" Cuthbert asked, matter-of-factly.

I looked to Will as I made my answer. "Not this year."

Not this year... but I knew that I had unfinished business in that accursed place. I would have to return there one day, but thankfully, that day would not be in the coming season.

Will slumped in his chair as relief washed visibly over him.

Very soon after that, the three of us we had a small pile of possibilities in the center of the table... with the offers we had individually rejected going to each other for further review before being counted out of the running. I wanted Will to examine each one, just in case his research might allow him to see some possibilities Cuthbert and I might not.

When there were only five or so remaining, I was just beginning to read another offer when I noticed Cuthbert's cup of coffee pause on it's way to his lips. I watched him more closely, my interest piqued. Finally, just as I was about to ask him what had captured his attention so completely, he looked up at me. There was a look of incredulity in his eye tinged with something else. Had I not known him better, I might have suspected it was fear. Without a word, he handed the commission offer to me.

I knew Will was watching me as I read and I tried to keep my face from betraying my feelings even though I instantly understood Cuthbert's reaction. This was incredible! No, it went beyond the incredible to the unbelievable. There was simply no way this could be true!

"What is it?" Will asked, a definite note of concern in his voice.

I was about to answer when Cuthbert got to his feet. I smiled inwardly with relief as he walked to my sideboard and began pouring three glasses of rum. I felt as though I might just need all three for myself if this was to be believed. I downed my glass the moment he handed it to me, while Will, keeping his eyes locked on me, simply waved his hand to decline the glass Cuthbert placed in front of him.

"Well?" His eyes bored into mine. "What is it?" There was a hint of panic now.

"It's a request for aid from the Governor of Portsmouth," Cuthbert began. "That's our largest colony in Carvecia."

"I'm aware," Will assured him. "What's wrong?" He looked from Cuthbert to me. "Dear God... it's not war? Please, tell me it's not..."

"No. We are not at war with the UCN," I assured him.

"At least, not yet," Cuthbert added.

I gave him an irritated glance but looked back to Will. "We are NOT at war with the United Carvecian Nations," I repeated. "Though the news is no less remarkable."

Will looked as though he could scarcely stand not knowing any longer. "Please, I beg you: Just tell me what the request for aid is about!"

Cuthbert sipped his own drink, allowing me to explain the situation to my lover.

"It's the three southernmost colonies," I began, trying to decide how best to phrase this.

Will looked stricken. "Another rebellion?" He guessed. "The Amurescan economy still hasn't recovered from the Carvecian War of Independence, not to mention the war in the Perabic Empire!" he exclaimed.

"It's nothing like that," I said quickly. Cuthbert was giving me a look that said he didn't feel Will's nerve was sufficient for the reality of naval matters.

"Then what?" Will pleaded.

I took his hand across the table to try and help him nerve himself for what I was about to say. Cuthbert looked discretely away.

"They're gone." I watched Will's beautiful brown eyes carefully. He obviously didn't understand the full impact of what I had said.

"Meaning what exactly?"

"The three southernmost Amurescan colonies in Carvecia are no longer there," Cuthbert explained with a slightly harsh tone in his voice. "Beyond that, we know nothing. Have they been abandoned? Destroyed? Why? By whom? Is it the work of Carvecian natives? The UCN? Raiders? An act of God? The aid request gives us no pertinent details. We will have to discover those answers for ourselves."

The Akita looked at me for confirmation. I simply nodded, keeping my eyes on his.

After a long silence, Will gulped down the rum Cuthbert had brought him. After a momentary coughing fit, he just wheezed, "I have heard nothing of this! My network has said NOTHING about any problems in Carvecia!" He was suddenly on his feet and rushed to the door. He paused a moment and then looked to me. "I take it you intend to claim THIS commission?" I smiled grimly and gave Cuthbert the barest glance before I nodded. He regarded me momentarily before ducking out the door. I heard him call for Paul and a moment later instructing him to send Martin into town for a fast messenger and to bring the Admiralty courier back as well. A moment later, he was back in my bedroom, sitting down at my writing desk. "I'll put the Network on this matter immediately!" he assured me. A few minutes later, the footman knocked at the open door.

"Begging your pardon, sirs," the terrier started. "But Lady Denholme asks if there is any trouble."

I held up a hand for him to wait a moment as I looked to Cuthbert. "How long before we can set sail?" I asked him.

He considered. "The crews of all five ships have been dismissed for the season. We shall have to contact the Admiralty to have them rounded up. There are supplies to lay on. We will need to contact Captains Shaw and Addi..." he paused as he realized what he'd been about to say. After a second, he recovered and continued."We shall need to contact the first officers, as well. I also hesitate to remind you that Captain Reynalds has already announced his intent to retire when he turned forty which will be next month..." He eyed me curiously for a moment. "And did you still intend to hire a new captain for the Demon, sir?"

"Yes," I replied without hesitation. "I still don't believe Singh is ready. As far as Finn is concerned, we'll deal with that hurdle when it presents itself." I turned to Paul who was waiting quietly. "Please tell Lady Delilah not to worry. Master Linden simply needed to do some research to aid with our decision." He nodded to show he understood, glancing to Will. "Tell her I'll be there to speak with her in a few moments. Thank you, Paul." He bowed and departed.

Once the three of us were once again alone, Cuthbert suddenly spoke. "About the replacement for Captain Addison..."

I gave him a look that said not to test me. "I've decided. It's Tyler. End of discussion."

The wolfhound's mustache twitched as it sometimes did when he got especially exasperated with me. "Sir," he began in a tactful manner. "If I may remind you, Lord Lucius would never have considered a sea otter for Captain."

"Perhaps not, Cuthbert... But I'm running the fleet now, not Lucius."

"And I still own the ships, sir," he reminded me in the same tone.

I looked at him in surprise. "Are you certain you want to play that card? I expected better from you than a threat, old man." My tone may have been jolly, the look in my eye was not.

He seemed nonplussed. "It wasn't intended as such," he assured me. "I merely thought that it might entitle me to have my opinions considered when you make your decisions, sir."

I lowered my ears slightly at the rebuke. "Cuthbert," I started. "I have always valued your insights and your friendship. If I have ever given you the impression that that is not the case, I offer my most sincere apologies." He looked surprised at that. "The fact of the matter," I pressed on, "is that most Pedigrees would never have allowed ME to become admiral because I was low-born. Do I therefore, have any right to deny the best qualified man the promotion he deserves simply because he wasn't born a canine?"

Cuthbert considered for a moment during which, I noticed that Will's pen had ceased writing and I knew he must be listening intently. "There ARE those," Cuthbert began again, "who might consider Tyler's species to be a sign of disapproval by God."

The grim smile I gave him made it clear he'd overstepped what I was willing to discuss. "No doubt you're referring to the same Fancies who used to spit on me when I was a child and desperate for something to eat... Are we now catering to THEM when deciding how best to run our fleet?" I asked him in a frosty tone.

"I simply meant..."

I cut him off. "Name ONE man who has more experience with the Garmr or her crew!" I challenged him.

He shook out and straightened his sleeve while he thought. I knew that was a habit he'd acquired in Serwich, to guard against the poisonous or disease laden insects that swarmed in that hellhole. I'd caught myself occasionally making those same motions in the years since I had been there. Finally, my old friend sighed in apparent defeat.

"I cannot," he admitted. He looked wistfully out the window at the gnarled trees of the vast oak forest swaying gently in the afternoon sun, not unlike the waves on the ocean. "I'm afraid there are times when I think that perhaps the world has passed me by. I admit my views on many subjects differ most strikingly from your own."

I suddenly felt very close to him. I knew I had thrown his entire world into upheaval when I first came into his life eleven years ago. He was still coming to terms with the new world he'd been thrust into every bit as much as I was.

"That is precisely why I value you so highly," I admitted. "You represent tradition and discipline... two qualities that built the Cerberus fleet in the first place." I looked at him warmly. "You shall always have a place at my side, Johannes."

He seemed lost in thought, though I could have sworn I saw a slight crinkling around his eye which often indicated when he was smiling as he continued sipping his rum. Satisfied, I turned back to the writing desk.

I watched Will as he continued to write for a moment, cursing fortune for taking me away from him so early this year. These winter months were supposed to be MY time... my time to spend with Delilah, the children... and Will. My time to be neither Admiral nor Lord Denholme... to simply be Luther. I loved my family with all of my heart and soul but I was away at sea, on average, for seven months of the year... often longer. Now it was becoming clear that the time this year that I would be allowed with them... with him... would be halved at the very least.

Cuthbert cleared his throat and I looked to him. "If you wish, sir... I shall write to the command officers and our suppliers. We shall need to move quickly if we are to avoid the worst of the winter storms."

"Thank you, Cuthbert," I said with real gratitude in my voice.

Just before he reached the door though, Will looked up from his task. "Oh. And don't forget: Master Vyachislav and his lover are scheduled to arrive for their visit in less than a month."

That HAD completely slipped my mind. "They'd be on the road before any message could reach them," I said to Cuthbert. " It takes a good horse two weeks to cover the distance between Highvolle and here and they live half a day north of the capitol, as I understand it."

The wolfhound gave me the sour expression I had expected. Time had not mellowed his opinion of Mikhail one bit. The fact that the fox was not only returning to Circenshire but bringing his lover with him was not something he was anticipating with any great zeal.

"If you will excuse me, sir," he said as he slipped out the door.