The four Drakun forts of the Drakun-Iroden had already seen intense attacks from the so called "Kingdom" to the east, nothing that hadn't been repelled by a few waves of musket shot and cannon fire, but beyond that of what the lesser lands should posses. If it had not been for the presence of the Lordly Infantry it was quite possible that this new bastion of trade could have been extinguished in its youth. Despite the aggression of the tribes trade was still on the rise, if more cautiously. Prices had begun to level out and many opportunists were already pushing for the opening of more trade routes to other nations, ignorant of the costs associated with shipping.

Espionage has held something of a mixed history in the lands of Drakun, seen both as a coward's tool and the victors edge. Eventually with the establishment of the Arch-chancellor position came a unified intelligence branch, a largely unnecessary branch as it turned out. Between the rather isolationist position of Drakun during its civil war and the high sense of honour that drives its able bodied men into the armed forces the need for spies and counterspies was found to lacking. Regardless of this fact the newly minted Republic of Drakun encouraged citizen watchgroups to act as the eyes and ears of Drakun at home. One such watchgroup was currently alerting the local militia to a suspected spy. On paper the man wasn't an illegal, and he had all the requisite records of a Drakun born citizen to go with his lovely papers. However all the papers in the world did not change the man, and this man as legal in appearance as he was held a certain undisguisable disdain for the “fanatics” as he saw them. He was good at hiding it, good at being ordinary but not so ordinary as to be questionable, but as with all strong natured cultures there were some aspects one could not falsify. 

A bottle of champagne was broken, and for the first time since the unification of the Republic there was a Drakun navy, in theory at least, as of yet there were but two ships, one flagship for the great world ocean of western Drakun, one for the lesser northern ocean in the east. To most the celebration finished without much ceremony, but Arch-chancellor Cyk could barely contain himself as his dream slowly made its way off the dry-dock. For the longest time he had thought this design would remain one of the many machinations that would be left to future generations, but before him was not a ship of cannons, but of the largest mortars their hulls could float.
     
Hidden in the land between nations, just outside of the Kingdom of Stoludi a man meets with a Drakun platoon and gives his report. Unsettled by the whispers the man has overheard the two leaders of the mission step aside;

"A blue gas lighter than air which grants visions. Good lord no wonder these backwaters call it magic." 

"Perhaps we are the fools to disbelieve, after all the impossible is before our eyes."

"I know you Sons of Drakun are madmen out of necessity but I would ask that you keep it to yourselves."

"One day lieutenant, you might just be so lucky as to glimpse the wheels within themselves, and the design behind the madness. Now send for one of your scribes, I have a very interesting missive for him to take down."