Kaelen had been hovering at the edge of the Iron Empire's airspace for over a week. In that time, he had nearly ordered a retreat on three separate occasions. The King's directive was absolute: gather intel, but do not provoke a war. Thus, his three Sky-Hunters continued their holding pattern above the cloud layer, strictly outside imperial waters.
This morning, a steel vessel finally departed the docks. Kaelen recognized its hull before he even had to lower his binoculars. He had been tailing it ever since, cruising high above the clouds, waiting for the ship to clear Iron Empire territory before making an approach. Radios were utterly useless here—the Sea of Mist swallowed all frequencies—leaving signal lamps as their only means of communication.
