As the morning advanced, the enemy appeared. At first it was only a few sails glinting on the water, but soon the horizon was thick with them. Rows upon rows of vessels stretched far wider than Marco had expected, well and truly outnumbering their own armada.

Riv swore under his breath. "How does he still have this many? We’ve been smashing his people left and right. How does he still have this many?"

Even Elisa blinked in surprise, her calm composure cracking. "Is there any chance these aren't his?"

"Not much," Marco said. "Remember that he's been here a while. He had plenty of people he can call in for jobs and more than enough to pay them with. He has whatever loyal ships we didn't find. This is surprising, yeah. But it's not impossible."

Redd’s projection crossed his arms. "It’s a good thing you have help, Marco. Quill’s tricky. If you or we had gone alone, he’d have crushed us."

"But how did he know we were coming?"

"He probably didn't." Aethe gazed out at the assembled mass of enemies. "He was probably going to send this looking for us. We really were out of time. We just didn't know it."

"Well, he didn't know we'd be here in strength, either." Riv snorted. "We'll make sure the surprise goes our way."

The retribution fleet tightened formation. Signals flashed between ships as various crews coordinated attacks that would make the most of their synergy with each other. That was an advantage. These captains and crews had lived together. They had talked. They knew what other ships were capable of and how they could use that to bolster each other. Marco doubted the enemy fleet had that kind of knowledge.

The two navies drew closer. Captains barked orders, and sailors rushed to positions. The air itself was charged with dread and anticipation.

As they approached, enchantments came alive. Sigils flared along hulls, runes gleamed on sails, and crewmen shimmered as protective wards settled over them. Captains invoked battle rites and skills that glowed with their own inner power. Whole decks shimmered as buffs spread outward, lending unnatural speed to movements and hardening armor and flesh alike.

Marco leaned forward on the rail, eyes tracing the many ways the enemy prepared.

"Every ship fights differently. Some are setting their cannons for the opening barrage. Others are bracing for ramming. Those guys over there? In the fast galleys? They’ll try boarding the moment we’re close."

Elisa nodded. "Then picking the right targets will be vital. If we waste fire on the wrong hulls, we’ll be overwhelmed before we know it."

Redd inclined his head in agreement. "She’s right. I’ll coordinate. Get ready for the signal." His projection saluted sharply, then dissolved into mist as the real Redd turned his attention to orchestrating the breaking of the imminent storm.

The distance shrank. Marco gripped the wheel tighter and tighter. Two walls of ships bore down upon one another, and his skin prickled in anticipation of the clash.

Then, with sudden chaos, it was on them.

The first row of ships collided by throwing metal at the opponent. The largest ships of Quill’s fleet roared as their cannons thundered, launching cannon fire into the oncoming line. The smaller ships in the front of the retribution armada shuddered, wood splintering and sailors screaming as they caught the worst of it, but they didn’t break. They darted between the lines of fire, evading further damage and seeking gaps and weaknesses. Their own cannons flared to life as they hit the bigger ships low and hard, chipping away at their defenses as they circled like hyenas.

Marco and his crew gripped the rails of The Foolish Endeavor and watched. The lines were pretty well spaced before battle, and they were at the rear. Their time had not come yet, and there was nothing they could do but observe for now.

The big ships of their own side answered back, but with a different kind of focus. The various captains concentrated volleys on the smaller enemy vessels, working together rather than picking their own targets as they saw fit.

Cannonballs glowing with enchantments, their artillery smashed through hulls and masts alike. Healing spells and barriers sprang up across enemy decks, but crumpled under the focused fire, overwhelmed faster than they could be renewed. The sea churned with wreckage as the herd of smaller enemy ships began to thin. Both sides were taking damage from this initial volley.

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Meanwhile, boarding ships on Marco’s side streaked ahead, oars and masts flashing with magic as they drove toward the larger enemy frigates. Grappling hooks flashed through the air, thunked into wood, and found purchase. Sailors poured onto the enemy's deck like angry ants, swarming with blades and spells. Again, coordination was doing the bulk of the work. Quill’s larger ships, expecting to dominate with firepower, suddenly found their crews fighting hand-to-hand in a desperate melee.

Any individual ship among the biggest craft could have repelled a few boarding parties, but they were dealing with the accumulated boarding might of the entire fleet, hitting them one-by-one as the smaller cannon-oriented ships of the retribution armada kept their allies from turning to help.

Across the field, some ships went for instant kills by means of direct contact. Thick-prowed ships built like rams charged and struck, cleaving through hulls in devastating blows. Not every ship, Marco saw, was built for prolonged combat. Some spent it all in one big powerful shot, and in more than a few cases this was enough to scuttle a ship outright.

Some vessels exploded, swallowed by fire before their crews had a chance to resist. Others were cleaved in half, beyond hope of recovery. That destruction wasn't limited to the enemy. A few of their own ships had gone down in the battle already, and smaller magical outboats were doing their best to pick up the survivors of those sinkings as the battle raged around them. Marco almost veered to help but was stopped by a simple headshake from a saddened Elisa. It wasn't their job right now.

Still, Marco saw that their side was getting the better part of that bargain. The coordination was paying off. Somewhere Marco couldn't see, Redd picked targets with precision, and the armada overwhelmed one enemy ship at a time, breaking defenses before reinforcements could arrive. Where a vessel fell, the next was already under fire. Where enemy crews tried to rally, boarding ships hit them in unison, distracting them before they could find footing.

Riv grinned grimly. "Looks like we’re winning."

Elisa’s expression stayed serious, but she gave a small nod. "For now. But we can’t assume Quill hasn’t kept something back. This feels too good."

Marco kept his gaze fixed on the carnage ahead. For the moment, their side was pressing the advantage, turning the tide in their favor as the battle roared on. In the next, anything could change.

And change it did. High above the waves, air shimmered, and a new orb of violet light began to form. It pulsed hungrily, already crackling with power. Given the fact that they had just fought one such orb and only barely defeated it, Marco stared into the object and itched to go into the fray. On top of that, this one struck Marco as particularly strong, maybe because they were closer to Quill this time. His hand tightened on the wheel.

"Another orb. We gotta take it down before it’s too late. I’m going to veer. Elisa, prepare to fire at the thing," Marco commanded.

Redd’s projection appeared instantly, cutting him off. "No. Leave it."

"We can take it. We have before."

"No." Redd was firm. "Other ships are better equipped for this kind of work. You need to conserve energy. The big ships have a lot of cannons, Marco. They’ll pour everything they have into it. There's still time. You have to trust your allies here."

Marco gritted his teeth but nodded and trusted the older captain’s wisdom. Soon enough, several of the fleet’s heaviest ships pivoted from their targets, backtracked, and pointed their guns skyward. Explosions filled the space as volley after volley of cannons pounded the orb before it could fully stabilize. For the moment, it also wasn't growing. It seemed that enough damage could disrupt the things before they came into full bloom. Marco prayed they'd be able to maintain that level of damage long enough to stop it completely.

At the same time, The Foolish Endeavor drifted into her own firing range. Elisa was already moving the mounted arbalest to aim at a particular vulnerability in their closest target. Her hands sparked as she infused each bolt with fire magic, the first shot streaking across the sea to slam into the enemy vessel’s mast, which was already cracked. She loaded magic and fired again, hitting the mast dead on and snapping it in two.

Those first ten seconds of fire showed her improvement, and that demonstration did not stop. Nearly every shot hit true, searing wood and scattering enemy sailors in panic. By the time the enemy force had repositioned to deal with this new threat, she had sunk another two ships outright.

The surprise was gone now, however. Marco wrestled with the wheel, steering the ship into the sharpest turns he could manage as enemy cannonballs whistled past. The Foolish Endeavor shuddered but as some of them found their target, but the ship held as she cut through the chaos.

Riv braced beside Marco, eyes fixed on the enemy. "Should we board when we close the gap?"

"No," Aethe snapped before Marco could answer. She loosed three arrows in quick succession, each cutting down enemy gunners before they could reload. "Too risky. We keep to our strengths. I’ll give all the covering fire I can, but we have to do this from range"

Her bow twanged again and again, every shot suppressing enemy crews, pinning them down as the ship’s enchanted bolts found their marks.

Out on the edges of the battle, the great artillery ships of the armada were still firing. Their salvos had done real work, and the orb was already looking fragile. Leaving the field to the leaner craft had evened the odds a bit for the enemy, though, and until the artillery ships were able to refocus, it was going to be a close thing.

Marco felt the shift in his bones. Victory was all but eventually ensured, but the losses they took in the meantime were the threat now.