Prelude to Crystal Cove Chronicles

Chapter 1: The Cycle of History

It was said that the great port city of Tantagal no longer had any true naval contemporaries among the other developed nations of the world. A powerhouse of heavy industry and metalworking, Tantagal's naval fleet was unmatched and generally unchallenged.

Heavily armed and armoured coastal defence ships prowled the shallow waters around the city, their angular metal hulls effortlessly cutting through the waves thanks to the latest in magically-infused engines, and their weapons were enough to give pause even to the other major nations, never mind raiders or pirates.

It was a brave—or foolhardy—pirate indeed who would risk the coastal waters of Tantagal. The elemental cannons on a coastal defence ship could fire thermal, explosive, or even ice-based shells capable of crippling wood-construction enemy vessels from such range that the raiders wouldn't even see their assailant until their own ship was already on fire, exploding into matchwood, or frozen solid.

But while the sight of a coastal defence ship was enough to make most pirates, slavers, and other raiders from the south think twice, it was—as the name implied—a ship primarily designed for and suited to shallow water duties near the coast.

Tantagal's primary naval fleet was a different breed of warship altogether, comprising steel leviathans which had replaced the galleons and other old and outdated vessels of the past, plus their attendant vessels of cruiser, destroyer, and frigate classes.

Beyond Tantagal's shores, pirates were rather more bold, knowing that most of the vessels they attacked were lightly armed or, if they had an escort, could be taken with sheer weight of numbers via boarding actions and liberal use of anti-personnel grapeshot cannons, an older but still effective weapon.

The frozen lands far to the south of Tantagal were positively bursting with raiders of one form or another, simply due to the harsh conditions in which they lived. Farming was difficult, magic was strong but incredibly unpredictable that far south, and the local wildlife was sufficiently bad-tempered and dangerous that pirate activity was deemed an overall safer option.

And these were merely the outlaws, the malcontents, the ones who had fallen afoul of the local authorities and been exiled. The major power in the Southern Steppe region was Musea, a long-time rival of Tantagal and its inland sister cities of Taridia and Tragost.

The Museans were isolationist to an extreme degree, and not simply due to the permanent blizzards and other inclement weather down there. Few people truly knew what they wanted or what ideologies they might follow. All they knew was that the Museans were after something, and that the Tri-Cities stood in the way.

With a strong navy, Tantagal was almost impossible to assault from the sea. But Musea bordered their land territory to the south and, while it was still a difficult trek, attacking by land was a much safer proposition than facing Tantagal's impressive navy.

As the old saying went, 'Where there's a will, there's a way', and the Museans had found that 'way' some fifty years ago when they launched their first major offensive against the city of Taridia.

So had begun what became known as the Steppe Aggressions. Time and again Musea tested the land defences of the Tri-Cities, ultimately being defeated and driven back each time. Not as a result of stiff defence, though that was certainly a factor. Rather, it was simple logistics and supply lines that defeated the people from the south.

Several hundred miles took a long time on foot, and even the more recent raids using mechanised infantry carriers ran into the problem of figuring out how to feed their troops in these snowy, mountainous regions where sources of nutrition were scarce.

Hardtack, dried beans, and other forms of long-lasting food could get the Musean army to where they needed to be, but it was hardly enjoyable, and rationing combined with the unpleasant weather led to disastrous situations where the Taridian defenders were well-fed and in high spirits while the attackers were miserable and lacking the energy to perpetrate full-scale war.

Every few years another Musean war party from the south would attempt to bring down the strong walls of Taridia in order to pass through to whatever their ultimate goal might be. And every few years they were defeated and driven back.

It had been just under three years since the last incursion and the people of the Tri-Cities were collectively holding their breath, for the next attack could only be months—potentially even weeks—away.

But while the Museans certainly had no intention ofgiving up on their enigmatic goals, they also had a new trick up their sleeve...