Chapter 1 - Rossi - https://steemit.com/story/@fromage/an-introduction-and-chapter-1-yasht-to-the-waters-of-the-sky
Chapter 2 - Pient - https://steemit.com/story/@fromage/chapter-2-yasht-to-the-waters-of-the-sky
Chapter 3: Marchele - https://steemit.com/story/@fromage/chapter-3-yasht-to-the-waters-of-the-sky
Chapter 4: Rossi - https://steemit.com/story/@fromage/chapter-4-yasht-to-the-waters-of-the-sky
Chapter 5: Marchele
Marchele strained against the bulkhead door as the men behind it screamed. He'd jerked awake to the sounds of impacting cannon fire and the smell of burnt flesh. This is it. My chance to prove I'm not some worthless child. He'd rushed to release the men, but with his hands wrapped in his coat to block the heat it was impossible to get a firm grip. For a moment he stood helpless as the pounding from the other side of the door began to weaken. I'm not afraid. Dropping his coat, Marchele screamed as he grabbed the bare metal of the lock wheel and spun.
Finally the lock disengaged and the door burst toward him with a blast of heat, flinging him back against the far bulkhead as the men behind the door spilled out in a panicked mass. They were all burnt, but the last few were in the worst shape by far. Most ran by, their eyes blinded by terror. One noticed him and ran over, begging him for something. Marchele couldn't understand the man. It wasn’t clear if he was actually talking or just gibbering. His face had all but melted away.
Marchele shrieked in terror and edged backwards instinctively toward the door, tripping over the jamb in the bulkhead and crashing to the floor. Scrambling to his feet in a panic he ran full bore down the corridor.
His father had been to war as a young man. He’d even ridden a horse into battle, they said. It was all long before Marchele had been born though. When Marchele had seen him gear up it was to parade in front of the villagers in gilded armor much too heavy for any horse before touring the back lines to inspire the men. Marchele's older sister Paronelle had always shied away from his father in that armor. Even with his faceplate up the old man’s eyes had been hardened by darkness. His smile lines veiled in shadow. Paronelle would quail but Marchele had been so brave.
When he’d been sent away Marchele had cried bitterly. He didn’t like to think about how much he had missed his father. How kind he had always been. It didn’t occur to him until years later how most fathers treated their sons. How most noble children were raised by servants. His father had spent so much time with Marchele and Paronelle, even a boy of six had heard the whispers that they’d been spoiled.
In all that time away his father had never written, never come to visit. He’d not even seen Marchele on the day he and Paronelle had been taken to the Ducal palace. The first time Marchele saw him again, father wouldn’t even look him in the eye.
When he at last regained his composure, he found himself outside another marine bay with men streaming through the hatch to secure themselves to the bulkhead. Alongside the sporadic patter of enemy fire impacting the hull was the cracking and beating of trees as they shattered against the hull and pushed through the bay door. Chunks of wood rebounded off the wall and splintered to bits. Men fell to the ground screaming, pierced with shards of wood. The Knight and his squires did all they could to control the men and pull them back into the ship. A rolling thump silenced everyone, as the drop door burst fully open. They had cleared the forest. Several men were tossed loose and fell screaming to the ground as they finally came in for a landing. Marchele balled himself up on the floor shrieking in terror as the ground rushed up to meet them.