The Chronicle:

After the terrible fate that had struck Miranda, we stayed in San Cristobal at first, thinking surely the best physicians were to be found in the capital.  Or perhaps Ciùdad Vaticine would have offered even better, but we did not feel this would be the most suitable place for treatment.  However, a few weeks passed and brought no improvement in Miranda's condition despite all the medical consultations.  At last, uncle Andrès ordered her transported to the estancia.  I could see new lines in his face; how hard it must be for him to lose his daughter, to all practical effect, so soon after losing his wife.

Lucas and I accompanied Miranda while she was being moved, watching over her supine form.  Lucas was very quiet and pensive, an unusual state.  But as we got closer to home, he began reviving.  He fidgeted, drummed his fingers impatiently, sighing at the pace of the coach, and I knew he was thinking of his fiancée, doña Salvadora Veronica Lopez y Rodriguez.  It had been nigh on five months since we had left, and although he had clearly not been blind to other women's charms during our travels, I knew the only one of any consequence in his mind was doña Veronica.

At last we reached my cousins' estancia, and found the entire household in sorrowful readiness after having been warned of our arrival by a messenger.  Miranda was carefully moved to her room, and skilled attendants took charge of her.  Lucas and I refreshed ourselves after the tedious trip, not far but so slow, and checked on the state of affairs in our holdings.

I noticed that "home" was now a different place for me; before, I had been a typical young Castillan daughter of good family, almost a third child for uncle Andrès and aunt Lucia.  I could expect to be married off to a suitable husband carefully picked by my loving family – who did not yet suspect that I planned on trying to avoid that fate by studying hard and becoming a professor at any university that would take me.  I already knew that I would never rise above mediocrity in the traditional role of a Castillan noblewoman, for it is not in my nature; and yet I felt sure I could make a name for myself if allowed to do something I was good at.

After aunt Lucia's disappearance, things had started changing, but slowly, covertly; on the surface, everything still appeared to be in order.  But the loss of a parent to us all, combined by uncle Andrès' increasingly demanding duties as the King's advisor, meant that Lucas, Miranda, and I were more and more left to our own devices – in other words, we were finally allowed to be adults.  Then the mysterious mission from Lucas's equally mysterious 'friend' had propelled us into a journey of adventure and danger where we had to think fast, be resourceful, and sometimes even ruthless.

How could I ever go back to sitting quietly in the genteel and enclosed atmosphere of Castillan salons, listening to society gossip, exchanging litanies of anecdotes on children, and discussing a new purchase of cattle?  I could not.  More exactly, I did not want to, nor did I want to try to quietly trick my way out of it anymore.  I would ask for no one's permission now.  In less than two months I would be twenty-one, and legally in full control of my affairs as I was already in fact.  That was the main scheme behind my business with the shipwright a few weeks earlier and having that lugger built: I would make sure to depart so greatly from the traditional role that no one would even be able to consider trying to push me into it ever again.

And so, as I looked at my hacienda, checked finances with the manager, and listened to accounts of events home in the last five months, I could see everything around me with new eyes.  It all seemed smaller somehow, like when one looks at one's childhood clothing and discovers with surprise how tiny it really was.
 

I was still lost in these thoughts that night when a servant announced that Lucas was was at the door, looking very upset.  On cue, Lucas himself strode, eyes flashing with anger and radiating tension.

"She is gone!" he half-shouted in a furious voice.  "Doña Veronica has left!"  He brandished a letter and shook it, gesticulating as he spoke.  "She says her father demanded that she return home to Barcino – what is the man thinking of?  A city at war, occupied by those Montaigne swines, is no place for her!"  He was livid.

I cautiously asked a few questions, and he eventually handed me the somewhat crumpled letter.  She spoke of her duty to her family, in which of course she was right.  A young woman of quality must obey her her family's wishes...  Most wounding for Lucas, she said that the engagement was broken and she returned his presents.

"Her cur of a father will have to answer for this!" Lucas growled.  "I am leaving for Barcino!"

I can recognize both a veiled request for assistance and an opportunity when I see them.  I nodded briskly.  "I shall go with you, then," I said, "at least, if you will allow me."  Good tack.  Lucas generously allowed it.

The staff of the hacienda was bewildered that I would be packing again only hours after arriving from a five month absence.  Lucas and I left early the next morning, my cousin eager to be off and solve this new problem.  We followed the coast through Tarago, then up along the east bank of the Rio de Delia, and across the Rio de Dios to El Moro.  Periodic clashes between the Castillan forces and the Montaigne invaders still happened, but the Montaigne army had lost General Montegue's keen tactical sense and the whole situation was more or less at a standstill.  We had to use due care to cross the river to Torres province, but it was not as hard as it had been even two months earlier.  We avoided San Tropal, however, as too obvious a watchpost.

Once in Torres, we had little trouble making our way to Barcino.  In fact, the only difficulty was restraining our pace so that our haste would not attract attention.  But we were far from the only ones searching for news of a relative, a friend, or just some lost property; many were the hopeful and the dispossessed on the road, come during this relative lull in the fighting to try to collect the pieces of their lives.

All seemed to end at Barcino, the end of the road and the land.  Everything seemed to converge on this city.  Throngs of people poured into the city then came to an abrupt stop, since there is nowhere to go from there except back.  Then they started milling around, looking for one another like hundreds and thousands of players in some giant game of blind man's buff.  Most did not find what they were looking for, but still they aggregated in little groups, clinging to one another for safety in this see of vagrants, pilgrims, and pretenders.

So why should it be surprising that, coming here to find someone, we would instead encounter someone we were not looking for.  We had been in Barcino only a few hours when we ran straight into my cousin Juan Gallegos de Orduño!  We embraced and I introduced Juan and Lucas, since they were no more than nodding acquaintances.  Juan is a pleasant fellow to have around, witty, cool-headed, and well-spoken.  He is a skilled musician and a very entertaining storyteller to boot, it seems all my cousins are far more gifted with social graces than I am.  I am the bookish one...

We found a passable tavern, ordered some wine and a meal, and exchanged our tales.  Juan had come to Barcino in the hopes of recovering some of his family's property stolen by the invaders or by profiteers.  He had been here for a few weeks now, and had had very little luck; he was about ready to leave in disgust.  Like so many others, we decided to join forces or at least watch each other's backs.  The city was scarred with ruined buildings and teeming with enterprising beggars.  More skilled or self-reliant adventurers were also in plentiful supply, and it was a good idea to travel in larger numbers.
 

Our first task was to discover where Marquis don Rafael Rodriguez, doña Veronica's father, had his estate.  A few small coins well spent among street urchins procured the information needed, although we wondered why the gleeful urchins dispersed so quickly.  We discovered that the Marquis's mansion was situated in the most affluent area of the city, which was also crawling with Montaigne nobles and commanders.  We were less than delighted but made our way there all the same.  The place looked like one of the best townhouses of Barcino, you would scarcely have believed this was in an occupied city.

Lucas introduced himself, and asked to speak to doña Veronica.  He was told that the lady was not there, and at his insistence, the servant fetched the marquis himself.  Don Rafael, a thin greying man with a tired look, recognized Lucas and looked pained, but let us in.  He did not seem to welcome our presence, however.  Lucas cloaked himself in all his dignity and demanded to be allowed to speak to his fiancée, announcing that he did not and would not accept the breaking of the engagement.  Don Rafael shook his head with a bleak expression.

"You must accept it, don Lucas," he said.  "My daughter is now married."

Lucas gaped, stunned by the news.  For a second, he wavered between fury and dismay, then clamped his teeth and growled: "I must hear the words from her mouth!  Where is she?"

The Marquis pursed his lips.  "At the governor's palace," he said at last.  "I gave her hand in marriage to don Marcao Ontivarès de Ochoa de Torres."

Lucas sputtered and this added insult.  Married!  And to the traitor who had given Barcino, Torres, and ultimately more than a third of Castille to the Montaigne invaders!

"You had no right!" he shouted.  "How could you – we were engaged!"  Juan and I tried to calm him down.  The raised voices attracted attention, and the thin, reedy voice of a woman called from another room.

"Rafael?  What is happening?"  The call dissolved in a fit of hollow coughing.

The Marquis glared at Lucas.  "My wife is very sick and you are upsetting her," he said coldly.  "Please leave now.  Whatever arguments you may bring, there is nothing to be done.  My daughter is married."

Don Rafael quickly left the room, presumably to go to his wife's side, and a servant politely but firmly escorted us to the door.  Lucas was boiling.  If we had let him he would likely have tried to storm the governor's palace all by himself that night.  But Juan and I managed to convince him that at this late hour, he would merely be thrown out by the guards, or even thrown in jail.  A visit must wait for the morrow.  We needed lodgings, so Juan took us to the rather decrepit but relatively affordable (for inflationist Barcino) little inn where he had been staying.  He had also been earning a bit of money by entertaining the inn patrons with music and stories in the evenings.

The next morning, we made our way to the palace of the governor.  The place was crawling with Montaigne guards who treated us uncourteously, but stopped short of unforgivable rudeness because they could see that we were nobles and the Montaigne are very conscious of rank.  I think this must be because they have an excess of gentry and small nobility who fill up the musketeers and other elite corps and are sensitive to the issue.  Whatever their reasons, they were unpleasant but did not turn us away.  However, Lucas had great difficulty holding on to his temper.  He requested an audience with doña Salvadora Veronica and was told to return the next day.

We had nothing better to do then visit Barcino while we waited for Lucas's interview, so we looked around and I took abundant notes and sketches, hoping they might be of some use to Castillan forces; I would give them to uncle Enrique when we returned home.  Despite the flood of refugees and beggars, the city was in better shape than what we had seen in the rest of occupied Torres and Zepeda.  We made several acquaintances that would become of interest in the days to follow, although we did not realize at the time that would be there for more than a few days.

The two first significant such acquaintances were a priest, Father Cristobal, and his servant, an Avalon called Shamus O'Grady.  Father Cristobal was a very personable, cultured man who showed some discretion about his calling since the Montaignes were unusually cruel with men of the cloth.  Indeed, all the churches had been burned down and the Montaignes had forbidden that the ruins be cleared so that a clear sign would remain.  The Avalon was a former sailor and ship's cook, and this occupation had earned him the nickname of "Señor Picante."  The two men were not very forthcoming with details regarding their purpose in Barcino, and I suspected that they might be gathering intelligence for the Church.  But there was some mutual liking, and we ended up combining our forces, our small group snowballing again.

The second morning after our arrival in Barcino, we showed up again at the gate of the governor's palace.  The Montaigne guards snickered and told Lucas he should come back again the next day.  Lucas got angry, but we held him back and offered the guards a substantial bribe.  We had to obtained calligraphed petitions and present these, along with bribes, then wait a few days.

Eventually, Lucas was admitted to see the Governor and doña Salvadora Veronica Lopez y Ramirez de Ochoa and the rest of us waited in an antechamber.  We caught a glimpse of doña Veronica; she was as beautiful as ever, although she had lost her carefree demeanour since last we had seen her.  The Governor's office was appointed in Castillan style, and don Marcao himself was dressed soberly in black and silver.

Though the rest of us were not privy to the conversation, Lucas' and doña Veronica's voices spilled sufficiently for us to understand the gist of it.  Although she was careful with her words, what we understood was that her father was in a dangerous position as mayor, or alcalde, of Barcino.  Not only were the Montaignes suspicious of him, but because his wife, doña Veronica's mother, was very sick with consumption and could not travel easily, escape would be very difficult.  For now she had access to the best doctors but the Montaigne overlords had hinted not too subtly that her health might take a turn for the worse.  Don Rafael was making what allies he could, and doña Veronica's marriage to the Montaigne-backed puppet governor don Marcao Ontivarès de Ochoa helped bolster her family's fragile position.

Doña Veronica bid Lucas to forget her, but he would have none of it.  In a distant, uninterested voice, don Marcao bid Lucas good day and gave him leave to depart; my cousin responded to this haughty courtesy with barely veiled insults.  I thought surely this would get Lucas thrown in some dungeon, and muttered to Juan that I had better round the horses and bring them under a window, ready for when we had to run for our lives.  But the governor shrugged off Lucas's challenges with lazy arrogance, and doña Veronica urgently asked Lucas to leave and not come back.

Lucas stomped out of the interview, extremely angry and distraught.  He could not fault doña Veronica for her devotion to her family, yet he needed a target for his wrath.  He resolved to challenge don Marcao to a duel, run him through, and claim doña Veronica's hand again.  We followed him with uneasy feelings.
 

We extended our stay in Barcino, Lucas snarling like a caged lion.  He made repeated attempt to obtain another audience with don Marcao, but was turned down with one excuse after another, all calculated to stay just this side of outright insult.  We spent the rest of the time examining the state of the city, father Cristobal and Picante occasionally disappearing for unspecified errands.  Barcino life revolved around a few centres: the governor's palace of course, and the Port that sprawled to the east of it; the Montaigne Port Authority and barracks, on the far east end of the harbour; and the market place, the Porchada, towards the south central portion of the city.  In the days before the invasion, the Cathedral of Santa Lucita had been another focal point, but it was now boarded up.

The market place was the best location to meet people and hear rumours while being relatively more difficult for any onlookers to keep track of us.  Some entertaining sources of rumours were the street urchins that ran everywhere; there was one outspoken, spunky one we particularly liked, Pablo.  His quick wits were matched only by his quick tongue.  Because of one of my cousin's jests, he somehow became convinced that Lucas was El Vago!  From this point on, he became Lucas's devoted shadow.

Thanks largely to Father Cristobal's shrewd questioning and Picante's acquaintances, we came in contact with an underground current of resistance to the invaders among the populace.  Some organization had risen from the initial chaos of treason and defeat, and a rebellion movement was beginning to coalesce.   We made a cautious approach, eager to help strike a blow against the invaders although we did not yet have a plan.  The resistants had apparently agglomerated in separate cells that did not communicate or co-ordinate with one another, so that if one was destroyed the others remained safe.  The one Father Cristobal managed to identify worked a clandestine soup kitchen for the poor, and included several of the last few remaining priests in Barcino.

At the other end of the social and political spectrum, we had the surprise, a few days later, of receiving an invitation for a ball at the Governor's mansion.  We suspected this invitation must have been contrived by doña Salvadora Veronica in order to meet again with Lucas.  Or was it completely the opposite?  Was it don Marcao's idea, in order to bait Lucas further?  Whatever the reason for this overture, we could not refuse it.  Lucas was eager to see his lady again and implore her to run away with him.  On the appointed night, we made our way to the Palace of the Governor.  Señor Picante was dressed up with a discreet livery that would let him accompany us as lackey.

We had had to dress in awful Montaigne fashion to gain admittance to the ball since of course in the eyes of the Montaigne invaders, Castillan fashions looked very "provincial".  In return, we thought Montaigne fashions were ludicrous, neither practical nor pleasing to the eye.  Many prominent Montaigne nobles were in attendance, and those who were able to use Porté sorcery did so flauntingly, going back and forth between Charouse and this ball at a whim to show off their loathsome sorcery.

Among the guests we already knew were, in addition to don Marcao and doña Veronica, the mayor don Rafael and his wife, and our old acquaintance, Lieutenant Charles du Chevalier.  He smirked at us, but the exchange of pleasantries was blissfully limited, since he was on duty.  A company of musketeers was there to ensure the protection of the Montaigne guests, and particularly of their captain Jean-Marie Rois et Reines de Rogné.  The latter was here as a guest, however, accompanied by his grandmother Duchess Thérèse Rois et Reines de Rogné, a former musketeer herself and a know Porté sorceress.  Of all the Montaignes present, she was probably the most pleasant, but we did not make any efforts to get better acquainted.

Other Montaigne guests of note, at least in our eyes, included the famous duellist and Champion de l'Empereur Rémy de Montaigne, a haughty and cold man in his thirties, his face marked by a vertical scar; and the military governor of Barcino, a fat and greasy general of coarse manners by the name of Alzais Bisset du Verre.  Don Marcao was, of course, merely the civil governor and figurehead; he circulated among the guests, making a few comments and greeting guests, but generally speaking little and acting very detached.  He, doña Veronica, and don Rafael had caused a certain stir among the guests by appearing dressed in Castillan fashion.  This redoubled our own discontent, since we were trussed up as Montaigne pigs.

We did not mingle much, nor we were sought out by any of the guests.  Lucas tried repeatedly to get close enough to doña Veronica to exchange a few private words, but his efforts kept being thwarted.  Whenever he tried to claim a dance with her, someone would cut in, or as hostess she would be called to perform introductions between guests.  Lucas became increasingly agitated, and the sneering of Montaigne guests trying to slight us was too much for him to bear.  He began exchanged cutting comments with some of them, consciously or unconsciously looking for a fight.  He offered insult again to don Marcao, trying to drag him into a duel, but the civil governor deflected Lucas's sharp words with weary, cynical humour.  I cringed, as Lucas's unyielding anger was likely to get us all thrown in jail or worse if the Montaignes ceased to find it entertaining.  Already, I could see that glares that were all but amused from some of them.  I recalled my earlier half-pleasantry to Juan about bringing our horses under a window so we could jump on them and flee, and considered the idea again with renewed interest.

But as I was becoming convinced that an incident was imminent, the ball took an entirely new turn.  From outside the large windows lining the ballroom, we heard shouting, and gunshots clapped.  There was a moment of confusion as guests, servants, and soldiers tried to understand what was happening and react to events.  We would later learn that a band of guerrilleros of the resistance had infiltrated the palace grounds to attack, and were engaging the musketeers.  What we saw was a stream of men pour into the ballroom from the windows, yelling, brandishing weapons, and throwing grenades.  It was the first time I had seen grenades used since La Batalla de los Vados Ganados at the Rio de Delia.  The confusion became pandemonium; some guests used Porté magic to escape, others tried to flee the room on foot, and others yet drew weapons or grabbed makeshift ones.

The guerrilleros seemed to be looking for specific persons.  They acted in close co-ordination, encircling some guests and repelling the others.  They seized don Marcao, don Rafael, and General Alzais Bisset du Verre, making to abduct them.  I admit my sympathy was for them, and I think most of my companions felt the same; but since she had at the time of the attack been dancing with her husband, doña Veronica was also rounded up by the guerrilleros.  Lucas could not let her be thus taken, and he fell on the attackers with a sword grabbed from a guest, since we had not been allowed to bring any weapons.  We helped him half-heartedly, as unwilling to let his former fiancée be captured as to fight Castillan resisters.  As soon as he had doña Veronica free from the men, Lucas tried to convince her to seize the opportunity and run off with him, but she would have none of it.  She yelled at him that he must help her father instead.  To my personal disappointment, the guerrilleros were eventually repelled, though they were able to escape.  They had not manage to capture their intended hostages.
 

The Montaignes were furious.  It was late into the evening before everything and everyone was sorted out, and we were allowed to leave.  We were let go, but thanks to Picante's ear for rumours among the servants, we learned that don Rafael de Rodriguez was being blamed for the rampant unrest in the city and, by order of the military governor, had been arrested.  We made as to leave, but Lucas was not content with this and decided he must return to speak to his lady love.  He slipped back under cover of the dark and climbed the wall of the Governor's Palace to doña Veronica's balcony.

Doña Veronica was very upset; she told him the Montaigne authorities had decided to hang her father as an example and a scapegoat for the attack.  Although she had begged don Marcao to plead with the Montaignes, the truly ornamental nature of his role had become clear and he could obtain nothing of them.  Doña Veronica, wringing her hands, demanded that Lucas save don Rafael from this ignominious death, and managed to extract his promise that he would do all he could.

Then don Marcao himself walked in on the conversation.  Lucas, his blood now boiling, challenged him outright to a duel.  But don Marcao flatly refused.  "I want to things from my wife," he said, counting off with raised fingers.  "A son... and a second son.  Once she has given me this, she can do whatever she wants as long as she is discreet."  Lucas left, white with anger.

We had very little sleep in what was left of that night.  After much talk, we agreed that in order for Lucas to keep his word to doña Veronica, we needed to find something to bargain with General Bisset du Verre for don Rafael's life.  He had a reputation for limitless greed; we had even heard that he might be cheating the Montaigne army on supplies.  If we could find proof, we might be able to make a deal with him.  The next day, we went to the Porchada to make enquiries.  But no one would talk to us at the marketplace, except little Pablo; word was already out that we had been at the Governor's ball the night before and had fought against the guerrilleros.  Pablo seemed most disappointed with us, but vaguely hoped that this was a clever plan on Lucas-El Vago's part.  Despite Father Cristobal's best assurances and most beguiling smile, we could convince no one to help us.

We decided to go examine the Montaigne Navy Port Authority building in the hopes of shedding some light on General Bisset du Verre's supposed peculation.  We spent a good amount of time observing the premises, the activities taking place there, the arrivals of merchandise, and the forces guarding the warehouse.  We waited until late in the night to get closer, when the Montaigne soldiers' watchfulness had relaxed somewhat.  Señor Picante revealed himself to be a most discreet and nimble young man, skills he informed us had been acquired running up and down ship's rigging.  It must a most interesting ship indeed.  Picante demonstrated his skill by slipping into the offices of the Port Authority building unseen.  We waited a long time, fearing he must be trapped somewhere, when at last he returned.  He brought with him some documents for our examination, thinking we would be interested in the registers, ledgers, and inventories of the military governor.

Father Cristobal pored over the pages with a keen eye, discovering interesting discrepancies.  The accounts were well enough disguised that, were it not for the good father, we would not have realized the worth of what we held.  In the end he selected a few pages, then bid Picante return the rest so that the theft would not be too easily discovered.  He also instructed Picante to slip into the warehouse and obtain samples of certain materials, and in particular of the gunpowder kept there.  He explained that the falsified accounts indicated that General Alzais Bisset du Verre was cheating the Montaigne Navy by getting substandard supplies and pocketing the profit.  In particular, the poor quality of the gunpowder should be enough to cause the General a good deal of trouble if the embezzlement was discovered.  The sample would confirm what the ledgers indicated.  After more waiting, we saw Picante return with physical evidence of the swindle.

What we needed now was conclusive proof that the General was part of this scheme, and not merely cheated by his clerks as he would be sure to claim.  We resolved that we needed to pay a visit to Bisset du Verre's commandeered mansion.  We needed to act fast, for don Rafael was to be hung at dawn in just over twenty-four hours.  For now it was too late to do more, so we returned to the inn to get some sleep and plan our next nocturnal expedition.  We entrusted the documents and powder sample to Father Cristobal, who made arrangements to have them taken to doña Veronica if we did not return in time.

The next evening, we made our way to the mansion occupied by the General and his Etat-Major.  We discovered that he was well guarded, with a good number of alert troops patrolling the grounds.  Without Picante's skill, I do not think we would have been able to effect this incursion in enemy territory.  But thanks to his help we burglarized the compound and climbed unnoticed into the the upper levels of the mansion.  Inside, we found what looked like the scene of the wildest pirate tale, a monstrous accumulation of wealth without use.  Objets d'art, bags of doubloons, relic boxes inset with gem stones, jewellery, chalices of precious metal stolen from churches, fine drapes, music instruments, paintings, statues, and many more disparate objects were piled indiscriminately everywhere in the house, often damaged by the careless way in which they had been treated.  This treasure trove bespoke of a ravenous greed that was incomprehensible to us.  What good is wealth piled up and unused?

We managed to discover a room that gave all indications of being used by the General as his personal office.  The opulence of the furnishings was unlikely to be wasted on some underling, and the stolen wealth was arranged somewhat more usefully than in the rooms that seemed used merely for storage.  We opened the lavishly decorated desk and started going through the contents.  Father Cristobal carefully examined everything for additional proof of the General's shady dealings, pocketing the documents he thought were most useful.

We had gathered all the evidence we needed, when suddenly the door to the study was thrown open and a man walked in, carrying a light.  We recognized the General himself!  We chose to confront him; we informed him that his peculation scheme was discovered and the evidence would be given to the authorities if we did not return in time to stop it.  We would return this evidence to him instead if In exchange he pardoned and freed don Rafael.  Threats and sneered were exchanged, and the negotiation was tight, but the General eventually agreed to our demands.

However, he placed a condition of his own.  Since he had no way to know how many copies of the documents we had made and who had seen them, he wanted to be granted time to remove all financial and physical evidence from the office and warehouse of the Port Authority before releasing don Rafael, and demanded that one of us stay as his guaranty that we would not simply bring in the authorities to have him caught red-handed.  Although the rest of us were inclined to refuse, Lucas agreed to remain as hostage while we retrieved the purloined documents and the General had the defective gunpowder removed.
 

The rest of the night was a mad scramble both for us and for the General's hand-picked thieves.  It was almost dawn when we completed the exchange, our documents for don Rafael's pardon, and Lucas rejoined us.  He had apparently not suffered in any way for being the General's guest for a few hours.  Then we rushed to show the official pardon to the Montaigne officer in charge of don Rafael's execution, reaching him barely in time.

This should have been enough for any night and day at this point, but the day was in fact only beginning, as we were to discover.  We were already directing our steps to the inn when an enormous commotion was heard from the nearby port.  Since we were only a few streets away, we rushed to discover the source, for we were hearing gunfire that had nothing of the ponderous stateliness of an official salute.  When we reached sight of the piers, we discovered a magnificent sight: a splendid Castillan galleon, thundering with both broadsides as it forced the Montaigne blockade and burst into the port!  I recognized uncle Enrique's flagship, the Corazon de Castilla herself, supported by a fleet of smaller vessels.

Unthinking, we rushed for the wharfs.  The Corazon looked like she was headed for the main pier, and we could see a crowd of marines ready to land.  We drew our weapons to go and assist them against the Montaignes, who were hastily mustering their forces for defence.  Then Corazon de Castilla made her landing and the marines poured forth, rushing the Montaignes with a great cry.  We attacked the Montaigne forces from our side, cutting a swath to meet with the Castillans.  The Corazon's cannons were causing great damage to the port and the ships trapped along the piers.

Ashore, teams of marines were running to set powder kegs in strategic locations and light the fuses, causing yet more destruction to the port installations.  Somehow, I found myself fighting like I never had before; without thinking, I seemed to know just what to do and where to be.  When my pistols were emptied, I grabbed a sword from a fallen Montaigne soldier and kept on fighting.  In the thick of the fray, I saw a Castillan officer and a small group of marines had been cut off from their companions and surrounded by Montaigne forces.  I recognized my aunt Margarita, first officer of Corazon de Castilla!  With a great cry, I rushed to her help by cutting through the Montaigne line.  I was able to open the circle just enough to give Margarita and her men the chance to force their way through, though I could see she had suffered a serious wound.

No one wasted time asking questions.  My cousins, our companions and I followed the Castillan troops back on board the Corazon de Castilla and the small fleet, having rendered the port of Barcino unusable for the next several weeks, sped out!  This is the battle that would become known simply as the "Barcino Raid", and would earn my uncle Admiral Enrique Orduño much praise.  My uncle was greatly surprised and happy to see us, and even happier that aunt Margarita, though hurt, was back on board.  We told them the tale of how we had come to be there in Barcino, and there was a lot of rejoicing on all parts.

But this raid was not our last surprise.  When we finally stopped and took stock of our situation, Father Cristobal tended our wounds.  He noticed that a cut on Lucas's arm looked most unusual: the cut skin had peeled off to reveal not bone and sinew, but a hard, dull substance that resembled an insect's chitin.  Stunned, he asked Lucas how his wounded arm felt, but Lucas seemed to notice nothing amiss.  We learned of this strange occurrence a bit later, when Father Cristobal confided his concerns to Juan and I, outside Lucas's hearing.  We were puzzled – what could this possibly mean?