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officers and crew alike adjusted. Even the Brass Paladins shifted their stance with a sudden, alarming internal whirr of clockwork.
    The prince’s blow proved a bit too much, however. It sent the Paladin toppling over, arms flailing for balance. The mechanical warrior slammed into the deck and slid towards the portside railing as sailors and marines alike scrambled to get out of its way. One failed to move fast enough. The Brass Paladin slammed into him, bowling him over and pinning him up against the rails. He screamed as the deck settled again, legs crushed underneath the weight of the automaton.
    Sailors rushed to assist their crewmate as the bosun blew with alarm into his whistle. They surrounded the Paladin, which flailed around like an overturned beetle, clockwork whirring inside its carapace as it attempted to rise. Its gyrations only compounded the agony of the sailor beneath it, who cried desperately for help.
    As twelve pairs of hands grabbed at the automaton, it suddenly went berserk. The Brass Paladin flung four men away with one arm, sending them sprawling across the deck. Then it balled up a gauntleted fist and swung out as it kicked at those near to its feet. Both blows missed, but the surprised sailors had barely any chance to recover before it was rolling aside, reaching for the heavy pepperbox musket at its back.
    Crown Prince Gwydion ran past, a blur of red and gold. Admiral Wintermourn felt his eyes bug out as the prince leaped onto the heaving chest of the automaton. It slammed back down to the deck, and Captain Broadlow, the marines, royal guards, and officers all echoed the screams of the wounded sailor with their own shouts of alarm, struck out of their surprise by the sudden danger to their liege lord. They scrambled forward into a tight mob before Wintermourn could open his mouth to bellow commands. He watched in horror as the Brass Paladin pulled back its arm for a blow aimed at Gwydion’s head. 
    The prince neatly ducked the armored fist, though it caught his tricorn hat and flung it away. He reached up to grab something hidden up underneath the chin of the automaton and twisted. The Brass Paladin froze, then went limp as the steam puffing from its exhaust slowly died. In moments it stilled, and the only noises were those of the belated scrambling of the crew and the agonized groans of the wounded sailor.
    Gwydion laughed aloud and slapped the now-inanimate helmet. The sailor beside him gave a long, barely conscious moan. Gwydion twisted around as if noticing the man for the first time. He grabbed the fellow by the lapels and shook him hard.
    “Oh, don’t be such a child. You’ll have such a tale to tell the grandchildren!”
    Then the royal guard were there, gently reaching down to support the crown prince and raise him back up. Gwydion stepped away from the lifeless automaton, shaking them off. His two attendants appeared and knelt by the machine, directing the sailors in moving it away.
    “Off,” said the prince to his guards. “Off! I’m not some high-society socialite, to faint at a bit of excitement. I came out here for a bit of action, and by the Goddess, I’ll have it!”
    One of the royal guardsman stammered an apology while Captain Broadlow looked on, white as a sheet. Admiral Wintermourn considered his own reaction. Having the son of the king himself die on his ship, on his watch, would have been a career-ending debacle of the highest order. However, the king was not here at the moment. Gwydion was.
    He surprised himself by deciding on tact. “That was deftly done, sir. But perhaps such a threat should be left to your subordinates? It’s what they’re here for, after all.” Admiral Wintermourn flicked a glance at the crippled sailor being carried away. It was obvious he wouldn’t survive the night. “And we might have saved that fellow.” The words felt awkward in his mouth. Sailors were cogs; one was replaceable as any other. Still, it felt a bit off to lose anyone