Giulio Cesare Ship Novels & Stories

It always does. A courier sloop slid up on our starboard quarter around first light, white, handkerchief tidy, hull meaner than her paint. She raised a trumpet and a writ together, the way men do who believe sound and ink are twin weapons. "Ship Gilded Wraith," the trumpet announced, voice too pleased with its own posture. "By order of Conclave, the Crown, and House Morcant." "That's too many fathers for one sentence," Jas muttered. "You are commanded to heave to and receive inspection and arrest writs for persons named herein."

“What about flights? Courier names?” “Falco Rosso,” Giuseppe said. “They use a cargo line called Falco Rosso for small parts and unmarked crates. For people they use private charters—call signs ‘Nibbio’ flights, mostly running between Lisbon and Milan.” Juan’s eyes narrowed at that. He kept his voice soft. “Are you done?” "Yes." Juan made a gesture with his head and then the guard ripped off Giuseppe's clothes. He picked up a smaller and thinner rod, placed it in the fire and made a move for Giuseppe's member.

“The hull is breaching in sector four.” “Not yet,” I said, my eyes catching something on the deck. The gold plated pistol Elio had dropped was sliding toward the edge. I reached down and snatched it up, the weight of the metal surprisingly light. I looked at the intricate carvings on the barrel... the symbol of the Carranza family. A relic of an old world. “What are you doing?” Sebastian asked. I walked to the edge of the railing, looking down at the churning, white foam of the Atlantic. The ship was sinking faster now, the bow already submerged.

Elaine Colton stood still for a moment, watching the scene in awe. In all her twenty-eight years of living, this was her first time stepping foot on a cruise ship. And not just any cruise ship. This was the De Ferose Luxury Cruise, owned by the powerful Ferose family of Sicily. A name that carried weight. A name that made people lower their voices.

It was d​ark,‍ grainy, and green-tin​t‍ed, but the shape o‍f t‌he cargo ship Iron Lady was unmistaka​ble. And so wer⁠e the three speedboats fla‍nkin⁠g it. "S​tatu‍s," Lorenzo barked‍, sitt⁠ing down a⁠n​d p‌utting on a heads‍et. "​P‌ir⁠ates are boarding," Giova‍nni said, his fingers flying across a keyboard. "The‍y have jammed th⁠e ship's distr‍e‌ss beacon. The crew is in the citadel (p​anic room), b​ut⁠ th‌e br‌idge is vulne⁠rable."

Augustus so wanted to kick him but refrained himself by looking in other direction. The spy coughed out loudly as his throat tried to grasp fresh air. Aurelius went near him and patted on his back and asked in stiff tone , " What made you say so? " Spy was still trying to breathe but mustered up to speak, " We recieved a news that around fifteen days back, a ship was standing on the port which had no flag on it. Since it was the time when Sicily, Sardinia and Corsica were fighting for sea dominance, nobody paid much heed to it . Our spies went deeper into the matter by capturing captain of the ship. He told us that they came from Sicily and after few tortures, he opened up to us that they we

Sighing in embarrassment, he told Barlin, "Sorry, sir. I've overestimated their tendency for altruism… why don't we wait for now? There's another research vessel from Canada still berthed in Ushuaia, due to depart tonight." However, Barlin was really upset and snarled through his teeth, "No! I'm not about to take this nonsense lying down! Full speed ahead! We're going after it!" Seeing that Barlin was determined, Cicero decided against talking the man out of it and turned to the helmsman, "Full speed ahead!" The ship might look like a fishing boat, but its function was anything but, as its propulsion system was heavily upgraded and could even chase down a 10,000 ton displacement vessel.

She noticed the gap the one port too insignificant to watch closely, yet perfectly positioned for interception. “She’s not just inside,” Bianca said. “She’s already taken one of your keys.” Matteo stared at her, his fury tempered by something else: respect. “Then we’ll take it back.” The message came not through whispers, but through fire. At dawn, word reached them: Romano ships had gone up in flames off the coast of Italy. An entire fleet, reduced to burning wreckage. Smoke spiraled across the sea, carrying the scent of ruin. Bianca and Matteo stood together on a cliff overlooking the water, the horizon blackened with smoke.

He snatched a heavy silver broadsword from a fallen guard, spinning in a lethal circle and clearing the main deck in three swift strikes. I focused my mind, drawing a wave of golden-purple fire into my hands and slamming it into the ship's main steering wheel. The wheel shattered into burning splinters, sending the giant warship veering directly into the path of the second imperial galley! CRASH! The two massive iron ships collided in mid-air with a terrifying crunch of wood and metal. Imperial guards screamed as fire spread rapidly across both decks. "Get to the escape skiff!" Kaelen ordered, pointing to a small wooden boat strapped to the side of the burning hull.

He inhaled slowly, trying to make out thoughts that wouldn't hurt his head this much. Calla. He groaned as his mind wound back to her. Her fair skin that turned red when he spanked it. Those red lips he’d bitten until they bled. Her soft hair, twisted in his fist like reins while he rode her mercilessly. Why must he end up in those memories when he's trying to find a peaceful place in his head? He blinked back to the present, and they were still at it, all on their feet. "...everyone knows the cause of those damaged shipments was a whore!" Associate Giuseppe said to Associate Pietro's face. "And he brought the girl back home with him! Pathetic!"