Camilla cast a covert but admiring look at Cydric as he changed. Fashions were different here in the Empire, Cydric would have been considered too muscular by the aesthetic standards of Tilea but there was an appealing solidity about him. A sort of bedrock of granite that seemed emblematic of how these grim northerners had hewed an Empire out of their mutant infested wilderness.

[b]"Beueno!'[/b] she exclaimed and grabbed the bottle of whine. She removed the cork with a deft twist of a wrist and raised the bottle to her lips. It was resinous and hadn't traveled well, but it was unmistakably the rich bouquet of grapes grown in sun drenched Tilea.

[b]"Any sommelier worth is name would skin me alive for drinking it like that,"[/b] she confessed, handing the bottle to the now fully dress Cydric.

[b]"Try it!"[/b] she encouraged, if the voyage went on like this it would be one to remember.

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[b]"Fire! Fire on the river!"[/b] cried the lookout in the cross trees. The sailors tensed for a moment, a cry of fire on a wooden vessel was always an occasion for alarm, the relaxed as the rest of the call made it clear that the problem of burning alive was delayed, at least for now. Camilla sat up from where she had been drowsing against a gunnel, her eyes were drawn westward where she fancied she could see a slight glow on the horizon.

The previous day and a half had gone by swiftly. Camilla was no judge but Schmitt seemed to know his bussiness. He wasn't a risk taker with the barge that was his livelyhood, but he certainly cracked on with all speed when the light and wind was fair. He was dressed now in a flannel dressing gown, clearly dragged from his bed by the look outs cry.

"Ease the sheets!" he yelled to the sailors scrambling up the tangled mass of ropes that Camilla had come to realize was the rigging that directed the ship. The sheets thundered as the ropes holding them were released, they snapped and popped with a muted fury. The barge slowed noticably with a groaning rumble of timbers giving up the stress that had been imparted to them. 

Ahead of them a low wall of flame began to grow. Camilla moved to the bow and peered out but she needn't have bothered. THe lookouts aloft had telescopes and a far better vantage point.

"Burning ships blocking the river!" one of them shrieked down. Camilla noted that all of the small crew was above decks now, some of them seizing poles, others standing by the heavy metal anchor at the rear of the barge. The rate of growth slowed with each passing moment, the glow on the horizon slowly resolved into a line of barges, less sophisticated than the Imperial Pride, they were strung across the river, perhaps in a makeshift bridge or barricade.

[b]"Ranald's teeth,"[/b] Camilla breathed. Each of the burning vessels flew a strange banner, a single large fish on a white field, though the fires were beginning to consume some of them as their masts fell into ruin. Numerous smaller boats, fisherman's smacks and smaller dingies were engaged in pulling people and produce from the swiftly running river.

[b]"LET GO THE ANCOR!"[/b] Schmitt screamed, and the sailors complied instantly, heaving the anchor over the back of the barge. The heavy hemp anchor cord played out quickly. Slithering over the deck in a disconcerting echo of the spilled entrails Camilla had seen far to recently.

[b]"BRACE!"[/b] Schmitt roared, and every sailor grabbed for the nearest solid object. Camilla was a second slower but managed to get her arms around one of the balustrades before the cable snubbed up with a violent jerk, throwing cargo and unsecured passengers into dissary.