152 Wings of War (1/2)
The Isles, Anchor Island Fleet Docks
The creaking of wooden planks and cries of sea wyverns were mixed together with the chorus and clamor of voices and raucous yells of sailors and porters as the ships in the Fleet Docks were being loaded up with supplies and being prepared for sea, making the whole Port busy and bustling.
Wagons carrying supplies of grounded up flour, and barrels of salted meat were unloaded by porters who carried the cargo down the slippery and wet wooden planks of the docks nimbly, while coopers at the dock workshops labored to make barrels and casks to store water and rations.
Dozens and dozens of long boats ladened with supplies were rowed out further into the sea, where other three-masted ships were anchored, transferring supplies onboard. Crews onboard the ships spent their time, manning the pumps, coating and painting the wood hull and making repairs to areas were rot had seeped into the planks. Rigging was being coated with tar and spliced and replaced as the crew ensured that the rigging was all ship shape.
Others patched and replaced the sails while cabin boys polished brass fixtures and chipped away at rusted iron parts and painting them over. The decks were swabbed and cleaned and supplies were tallied and carefully stored into the ships' holds. The deck and under deck ballistas were checked and the iron-tipped bolts were polished and painted while the mechanisms of the ballistas were oiled carefully.
Third Fleet Master Dijon stood next to a pair of heavy ballistas that were sited facing the entrance into the Fleet Docks of Anchor Island, his sea dragon leather boot braced on top of one of the stone battlements as he observed the bustling scene from the stone fort protecting the anchorage.
”Fleet Master,” A white coated sailor with lesser braiding on his coat stood respectfully several steps behind Dijon, and in his arms held a silver tray with several scrolls stacked neatly tied with different colored ribbons, ”The daily fleet report is here.”
Dijon watched the activity going on down in the harbor for a while more before stepping down and picking up the topmost scroll. His gold braided long coat flapped in the wind as he slung it over his shoulders while wearing a dark blue pea coat with a white cravat and loose white pants and high boots. He unfurled the scroll after ripping off the red ribbon and quickly glanced through the report and snorted.
”The Fearless, Outrunner, and Ironwill had sprung a leak?” He tossed the scroll back onto the pile, ”They need three days to fix those leaks? Those idiots, I should remove their captains for not properly maintaining their ships!”
”Fleet Master, it will not be wise to change the captains with the date of departure so soon,” His aide advised, ”If we reallocate the other ship carpenters over to help out, we can complete repairs faster and still be within the schedule to depart.”
”Do it,” Dijon growled and gave a dismissal glance at the remaining reports, ”Give a summarized rundown of the rest of the reports.” He turned back to watch the ongoing fleet preparations.
”Ship of the line, Boar, Talon, and your flagship Fury, all reports their ships are ship shape and ready to sail once supplies have all being loaded,” The aide summarized as he read the reports. ”They estimate to be ready within the day.”
”Escorts Falcon, Justice, Striker, and Dauntless reports the same, ready to sail once supplies are loaded,” The aide continued. ”Other than the three escorts ships reported a leak, the transport Fastwind is also awaiting supplies.”
”All ship's Captains have reported that the chandlers supplying food and water to the ships appeared to be dragging their feet,” The aide rerolled the last scroll, and tying it up with a blue ribbon. ”Supplies were supposed to be delivered were either late or lacking in quantity or quality.”
”What?” Dijon turned his head, ”Light a fire under the quartermasters, make sure the chandlers are not shortchanging us!”
”My Lord, the chandlers appeared to be prioritizing the merchants' ships first,” The aide raised his eyebrow as he gave a word of warning.
”To the thirteen hells with the merchants, Fleet comes first!” Dijon spun around and glared angrily, ”They know better than to push this point! Send the quartermasters with armed sailors, and see what those chandlers have to say!”
”Yes, my Lord,” His aide bowed, ”I will advise the men to put in a few good words and it should ease the problems of the supplies.”
”Good!” Dijon grinned, ”Show those money loving grubbers what it means to play the fool with me!”
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Sawtooth Mountain Airbase, Dragon Pen One
Blue Thunder stretched his serpentine body out, his hindquarters pointed towards the sky with his tail erect like how a dog stretched its back. As several loud bone poppings cracks could be heard. ”Ahhh...” He ended the stretch with a large yawn, showing off his impressive array of sword length teeth.
”Ewww,” The ground crew coughed, ”Blue, you need to properly wash your mouth and brush your teeth! It stinks like a cesspool!”
Blue Thunder gave a toothed grinned and a wink, ”Will you do the honors for me?”
”Hell no!” The ground crew wearing a yellow jacket backed off, shaking his head. ”Your teeth are gonna decay if you not gonna do anything about it at the rate you eat those sugary snacks!”
”Hehehe,” Blue Thunder just laughed, ”Snacks yummy! Especially fried potatoes with ketchup and cheeeeeze!”
”Yeah, yeah, ok now hold still!” The yellow jacket ground crew stood in front of him and raised both arms holding a light wand in each hand. ”Alright, bring it up!” He yelled and waved the light wands.
Blue Thunder laid still with his limbs folded underneath his body and closed his eyes as a loading crane hovered over his back and lowered pallets of equipment and supplies down onto his back, and a small team of yellow jackets started to swarm over his harness and started to secure the items onto his back.