On the open bridge wing, Prince Bastian lowered his brass field glasses.
Three miles off the bow, thirty iron-hulled merchant vessels rode at anchor in a precise, three-line tactical formation. Each ship was a heavy five-thousand-ton freighter, built with reinforced ice-planking and powered by twin triple-expansion steam engines. From their tall steel masts flew the crimson ensign of the Sovereign Assembly.
At the center of the formation lay the Ardent—a nine-thousand-ton armed freighter fitted with auxiliary naval guns and heavy steam cranes.
"They're signaling, Prince," the bridge officer reported, leaning over the brass voice pipe. "The Ardent is requesting permission to close and transfer passengers."
"Grant permission," Bastian said, his deep voice calm over the thrum of the engines. "Tell them to bring their captain's launch to our port ladder."
