The Admiral's Golems

The battle was not a fight; it was a slaughter.

The *HMS Wrath* was faster, heavier, and armed with the Empire's secret weapon. As the Navy ship pulled alongside the *Rot-Wood*, grappling hooks shot across the gap. But no sailors boarded.

Instead, heavy, clanking shapes leaped onto the deck.

Constructs.

They were seven feet tall, made of brass and clockwork, fueled by steam and obedience. They had no minds to fear the pirates. They had no flesh to cut.

"Form up!" Silas roared, drawing his cutlass. "Hold the line!"

The pirates charged. Their swords sparked uselessly against the brass armor of the Constructs. The machines swatted the men aside like flies.

Silas fought like a demon. He vaulted over a Construct, jamming his sword into its gear-work, but the blade snapped. The machine backhanded him, sending him crashing into the mast.

"Silas!" Elara screamed.

She ran toward him, but a shadow fell over her.

Walking across the gangplank, flanked by two more Constructs, was Admiral Thorne—her uncle. He wore his dress uniform, pristine and terrifying.

"Elara," he said smoothly. His voice cut through the chaos. "Heel."

The command hit her like a whip. Old habits, ingrained by years of conditioning, locked her muscles. She froze.

"Look at you," the Admiral sneered, stepping onto the pirate deck. "Dressed in rags. Consorting with filth. You have stained the family name."

He gestured to the Construct holding Silas down. The machine raised a heavy brass fist.

"I am taking you back, Elara," the Admiral said. "And I am going to execute this peasant in front of you, so you remember what happens when you stray."

Silas spat blood on the deck. "Run, Elara," he wheezed. "Touch... the... Chain."

"Silence him," the Admiral commanded.

The Construct raised its fist higher.

Elara looked at Silas. He was going to die. He was going to be crushed into meat and bone, and she would be dragged back to the convent, and the gloves would go back on, and she would sit in the dark forever.

* Good girls sit still.*
* Good girls do not touch.*
* Good girls let the bad men win.*

Something inside Elara snapped. It wasn't a loud snap. It was the quiet, terrifying sound of a chain breaking.