Chapter 33: A Tour to the New Dreadnought
A week later
The salt wind of the harbor cut sharp against the morning sun as the royal motorcade approached the massive drydock at Cádiz. Seagulls wheeled overhead, and the sound of forge hammers and hydraulic lifts echoed through the coastal shipyard. Smoke trailed in spirals from distant chimneys, and everywhere, men in naval blue bustled—welding, hoisting, measuring, adjusting.
But the true marvel stood docked before them.
A leviathan of steel, freshly painted in muted gray and black, its armor plating gleamed beneath the light. Her hull cut like a blade through the water even while idle, and atop her superstructure, massive gun turrets lay still like sleeping giants. This was the INS Resolución, the first completed dreadnought of Aragon.
Regent Lancelot stepped out of his motor carriage in full dress uniform—navy with silver trim, matching the naval colors. His cloak fluttered behind him as he walked across the pier, flanked by aides and guards.
At the gangway, waiting with a stern expression, stood Admiral Sebastian de Castro.
"Regent," the admiral said with a salute that was crisp, if not warm.
"Admiral," Lancelot returned the gesture with ease. "Is she ready?"
"She’s seaworthy. Gunned. Armored. And to my eternal shame," de Castro admitted, looking up at the battleship, "you were right."
Lancelot offered a faint smile. "You were right too, five years ago. If I had given you ships of the line, we’d have a fine-looking museum fleet."
The admiral’s lips twitched, but he said nothing.