The King's Gamma (#Wattys2024)

Ninety Nine

The Nautican naval base rose before us, its limestone walls gleaming in the afternoon sun as the Stormcutter docked. Three days at sea had been more than enough for my berserker blood to purge the last traces of Thalassar's poison and seal my wounds completely. I strode down the gangplank with the rest of the crew, my thigh showing no sign of the injury that should have crippled a normal man for weeks.

The letter pressed against my ribs beneath my uniform, its coded message burning in my thoughts. The black fox circles the eastern gate. My vassals would understand the warning immediately - we'd used these childhood codes for years. But getting it to them unnoticed would require careful timing.

"Full debrief in one hour!" Deimios barked across the docks. His gaze swept over me, noting but not questioning my complete recovery. Berserker healing was legendary for good reason - no one would bat an eye at my rapid recuperation.

As the crew dispersed, I spotted a merchant ship flying Ruistevian colors preparing to depart. My chance. I moved toward it casually, fingers brushing the hidden letter-

"Going somewhere, farmboy?" CIS materialized beside me, his ever-present smirk widening as he caught my slight tensing. His sharp eyes missed nothing. "That's an interesting walk you have. Not a limp...but something in the right boot seems to bother you."

Before I could react, he moved with unnatural speed. A flash of his hand, and suddenly my letter was in his grasp. He danced back several paces, unfolding it with a flourish.

"'The black fox circles the eastern gate,'" he read aloud, his eyes lighting up with delight. "Now what kind of berserker farmer uses poetic metaphors?" His fingers rubbed the paper thoughtfully. "And this wax...no official seal, but the texture is distinctly northern Ruistevian. How curious."

Deimios and Rorin turned at the commotion, their expressions shifting from confusion to concern as CIS waved the letter like a trophy. The bustling dock seemed to grow quieter around us.

"Private correspondence," I said evenly, holding out my hand. "Return it."

CIS's grin turned predatory. "Oh, but I think the Admiral would be very interested in why our visiting berserker is sending coded messages home." He sniffed the paper dramatically. "And is that...sulfur? How unusual."

The alarm bells chose that moment to shatter the tension. A breathless messenger came sprinting down the quay, his face pale.

"Admiral! Scouts report a Thalassar fleet approaching - and they're flying Havenhell banners!"

Ice flooded my veins. My house's colors. My sigil. Being used by our worst enemies.

CIS's eyes locked onto mine, his smile turning vicious with understanding. "Well now," he murmured, waving my letter like a battle standard. "Isn't this a fascinating development."

I took this chance to sprint, running for the edge of the naval base and leaving the note I had snatched back in the commotion with the young and hidden Fen, Fenrir's son. 

"Hurry, as fast as you can boy. Tell your father Havenhell Banners are flying with Thalassar, and to send our troops as fast as you can. Get out of Nautica before battle breaks loose."

Fen nodded, and ran, his feet carrying him at a speed greater than any other. He was out of sight before anyone could spot him. I rushed back, ignoring the chaos around me and reaching the deck where the Admirals were watching the horizon. 

"Take me with you." I demanded, forgetting my play at being Hal, the order ringing over their heads and surprising them. "You will need me. Havenhell has no alliance with Thalassar."