The adrenalin faded quickly after that, tiredness closing down my field of vision and turning the usually short journey to the bridge into a shambling mess. It was an arduous task even aided by the handrails lining each corridor, quickly devolving into a fight between overtaxed muscles and sheer willpower.

Somehow or other, though, I made it up there and saluted Firus as best I could (swaying slightly with the exertion of the last few steps). He took one look at me and ordered a deck hand to get me back to my bunk. I protested weakly, but Firus was insistent. “We’ll talk in the morning, lad,” he said firmly. “You’re in no fit state to be doing any kind of duty right now.”

I hated to back down so easily, but I did rather agree. My whole body ached, with a particular shooting pain in my side that I couldn’t easily attribute to any event during the battle, but nonetheless joined other tender patches and bruises I’d acquired today.

I leaned gratefully on the man’s arm and allowed myself to be steered away.