by Ink Blood
Yet I see by the look on your faces that this is far too difficult an idea to comprehend after what you have just experienced. Please, follow me and we will have lunch together. The cooks have prepared an exquisite beef dish today, or so they tell me.”
Nate watched as Irving hobbled away from them. He could help but wonder how a man the age Irving appeared to be could have lost his leg. Perhaps it was in some great battle or some engineering accident. He noticed then that Anastasia was eyeing him close.
“If you have something to say about my brother,” she started, “then say it.”
“Oh no,” he replied. His voice seemed to break and tremble as he spoke. “I was just wondering how he lost his leg.”
Nate cowered back a little when the young woman approached his face. Her eyes were different from any he had ever seen. The left was green whilst the right was blue. Those eyes pierced him and he could feel his breath fade as they stared at him.
“He cut it off himself,” she said, her face appearing to crack as she tried to smile. “Now follow me. Irving wants you both to be comfortable, although I do not see why. It is not as if you could be any use to us.”
“What do you mean?” As he asked the question, Nate began to follow the brother and sister out of the hangar bay and down a tunnel-like corridor, Charles walking very slowly behind him.
The corridor was, however, divine at the worst. Although rusty iron pipes made their way overhead with the odd puff of steam escaping, the walls were covered with mahogany panelling on the lower half and almost a burgundy coloured paint on the top half. The ceiling had been painted clear beige with a delightfully carved trim at the sides. It was as if they had stepped into an entirely different world when compared to the cold and unforgiving iron box that was the hangar bay.
The rumbling of the massive engines that strutted out on girders above the decks almost added to the relaxing feeling. Candlelight lamps stretched all the way through the airship, each one attached to the connection bolts that held the passageways together.
“How do you like the Valkyria’s design so far?”
Irving’s sudden question made the young man jump back to reality from the daydream the décor had put him in.
“It is amazing,” he replied, noting the sly and semi-hidden smile on Irving face which had turned ever so slightly toward him. They turned a corner to the right and were presented with a very peculiar sight.
“This stairs will take us to the dining hall,” said Anastasia. The stairs themselves spiraled around in a semi-circle and were carved from mahogany as well. The ends of the rails were carved to resemble the warrior woman that Nate had seen on the uniforms of the soldiers in the hangar bay. The steps themselves had been covered by a maroon carpet that stretched upward to reveal a dining hall big enough for a feast.
Six tables stretched out for what seemed like infinity. One smaller table, suitable for four people sat at the front end. On the walls the same decoration as the corridors continued except that this time the walls were periodically interrupted by plain glass windows with crimson surrounds on the port side. The windows opened out to the sky, revealing the clouds floating by. Nate even saw a small white bird land on the outer windowsill for a few short seconds before leaving once again.
He could see one of the engines attached to a triangular girder that reached out from the airship into the open sky. Judging by the size of in and the volume of the engine sound, he took a guess.
“Mr Irving, I was just wondering. This airship of yours, the Valkyria, has six engines, correct?”
Irving took a seat at the smaller table, the wooden chairs lined with cream cushions so soft to touch that they felt like thrones rather than dining chairs. He gestured for Nate and Charles to take a seat as well.
“You are correct,” he answered as they all sat down. “Might I ask how you came to such a decision?”
“Perhaps you were able to get a detailed look at our ship before you crashed into it,” said Anastasia. The tone of her voice would have been more befitting some horse-faced lady of the night resentful for the lack of business. It certainly did not suit such a refined and beautiful young woman as she was.
“Not all, madam,” he said in his most polite voice in the hope of embarrassing the lady before him. “Rather I saw the size of your propeller system through those windows. It has a medium sized battleship propeller which makes a rumble of fifteen percent. Therefore, considering the amount of engine noise never decreased even though we walked rather a long way and were one deck below here, which appears to be three decks below the engine itself, you must have six. It is basic engineering logic, Miss Anastasia.”
Irving chuckled loudly as his sister gave a snort of dissatisfaction and took a sip from the wine that had been poured before they arrived.
‘It seems you are well versed in the art of engines, my boy,” said Irving. “Am I to assume the reason your little airship in our hangar bay is there because you are the creator and not the pilot?”
“Yes, sir. I and Charles here are the designers and builders of the Seadawn.”
“The Seadawn? So you have already named it. Perhaps that is why it is still in a fixable condition. Maybe if you had not named it, might you both have been gone from this world?”
“Mr Irving,” said Nate, interrupting the man. “I must ask this. Why exactly were the you and the Alexandria Empire here? Not that I do not accept the aid you provided us by firing upon them. I am just confused.
For you see, we lost a lot of friends when our boat went under and I would like to know why they died.”
A rather tall gentleman in black and white dress resembling a penguin brought a covered platter to their table and placed it in the middle. Behind him stood three more men dressed the same, only they were younger. One at a time he turned to them, took the platter from their hands and placed it on the table.
Finally, after placing a platter of vegetables, one of bread and butter, and one of fruits, the butler opened the sealed platter to reveal a meat roll of beef that looked tender and smelled like a dream to Nate. After all, he had only eaten rice and sunflower seeds for the past few weeks.
“Let us begin,” said Irving before continuing. “As far your rather forward and yet appropriate question, perhaps you could first tell me your name. You have named you friend here, Mr Charles, but have not yet introduced yourself.”
He was right. Nate hadn’t even said his own name yet and was asking such private questions. How could he have been rude?
“I apologize, Mr Irving. My name is Nate. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“And yours, Mr Nate. Now then, we caught wind of communications between the Trident; the Alexandria Empire ship you just witnessed the demise of, and a number of scout vessels that were sailing the seas. They said they had found ‘the ship with the miniature airship’ and were relaying its position.”
Irving took a slice of beef and placed it carefully on his plate with his knife and fork like a true man of stature.
“It appeared they had been watching your progress for quite some time and had decided to take their chances. They planned to either steal your prototype or destroy it so that it could not be used against the Alexandria Empire.
For you see, in recent weeks the Alexandria Empire has been amassing its forces and tightening its borders even more than usual. I fear something is coming that many hoped would never come again.”
“What do you mean?”
Mr Irving cut a chunk of red meat and put it slowly into his mouth, wiping his lips with a napkin before swallowing and looking straight at Nate’s eyes.
“Well, my dear boy. If they were using one of your shipmates; a man named Lyle, to gather information then they are using their underhanded tactics and hidden spies again.
The Alexandria Empire only ever does this when preparing for one thing. War.”
*~*~*
15
SERAN
The journey to the Ringlands passed f
ar too slowly. The boat was filth ridden and chugged along as if it were a dog trying to tear its chain from the ground to run free in the sun.
It had rocked and rolled along the waves, throwing Seran about in his little cabin. The cabin consisted of nothing more than a metal fold away bed and an iron shelf on the walls. The walls themselves were equally as dull with nothing but the bare steel to look upon.
When he finally arrived in the small port town of Neal he was beyond glad to set foot on dry land.
The town was larger than Karayol, yet was still little more than a town. Houses were laid out in a semi-circle around a fountain designed to resemble a gryphon. Flowers surrounded the base of the fountain whilst tiled pavements of arrows lined the floor.
“Lord Eerhart’s men should be here by tomorrow morning,” said the captain as Seran disembarked. “I suggest you take a long around and entertain yourself for a while milord.”
Seran titled his head before walking away from the small vessel. In the centre of the city it was lively to say the least. Children played with rags that had been filled with sawdust or other materials to create balls. Some of them played hopscotch in the streets, whilst in the windows of the larger, more elegant windows Seran could see yet more children playing with real toys such as rocking horses.
Men and women moved around the town with steamcarts, trundling along side by side in the cabin whilst the poorer people simply watched in envy. Nothing is really that different from Alexandria anyway. What good did their independence give them? He made his way across the central area to the small chapel on the right of the semi-circle settlement. A pair of small freighter airships flew across the sky as he walked, and the sound of hammer on metal caught his attention as a young engineer was moulding the different parts of a new creation.
Inside the chapel were long wooden benches half filled with men and women praying to the Arcana. A priest stood before them with a large brass organ behind him. The chapel was, however, rather on the small side. Nevertheless, Seran took a seat in the sermon as it had been days since he last prayed. The priest began the rehearsed speech they all used to start a sermon.
“Today we gather to pay respects to the Arcana, the engineers of life and of the world. We give respect and love to the engineers who keep the motor of our world turning so that we may live.
We pay homage to the Arcana who guide us through the trials of our lives and lead us to peace within their halls.
We give tribute to the Arcana who take the hated and the vile into the furnace of the world so that they may redeem themselves by maintaining the world’s engine. “
Seran listened with only one ear as the priest droned on. He closed his eyes and cupped his hands on his knees. Arcana, I beg of you that you allow my task to be successful. Again and again he asked and prayed as hard as he could. In all honest it was not the task he had been set that worried him, but rather the stories he had heard about the Inquisition.
In the bars people had told stories of how normal men could not even approach an Inquisitor if he did not want them to. Instead they were flung backward through the sky. They were said to be untouchable and yet here he was, in their lands.
He breathed deeply and rose from the bench as the priest finished his speech. Outside the same scene took place, as if it were a picture rather than real life. The only difference was that now a group of soldiers walked past him and into the tavern. Well I guess I will not be having a drink for a while.
Rather than risk going to the tavern, he decided to investigate the young engineer. Gathering information was a necessity and engineers were prized men and women. Surely this young man can tell me something.
He was working on connecting a strut of metal to his new contraption now, which seemed more like a miniature train than anything else.
“Good sir,” said Seran, “what, may I ask, are you working on here?”
“Well now, you certainly speak in a funny way, ‘good sir’. Why do you want to know? You think I will just tell a stranger about my work?”
Seran coughed a little before changing his tone of voice. I am supposed to be a Traveller, not a Lord. He shuffled a little before giving a slight smile.
“Well my name is Seran,” he said. “I have just got to the Ringlands and will stop here for a short time before continuing on my way west.”
“West? Why in the world would you go west? There is nothing out there but sea.”
The young engineer was right. Nothing had ever come of anyone heading west. Sailors or pilots would either return with stories of endless sea or not return at all.
“Just because no one else has found anything does not mean I will not. You are looking at one of the greatest Travelers in the known history.”
What am I saying? If he asks any questions about travelling I will have no answers. Seran could feel the sweat beginning to slide down his face. I hope I have not ruined my cover already. The engineer stared at him with eyes half closed and one eyebrow raised for at least ten seconds.
“Well, if you really want to then why should I care? As for this little wonder; it is a new type of catapult, designed to fling bombs at super-intense heat and great speed.”
“Why would you need something like that here in the Ringlands?”
“Simple. I need it to remove Eerhart from his little throne up on the mountain over there. Word has it that he is an Alexandria Empire supporter so we need to remove him.”
Well Lord Eerhart, it seems you are not so well versed in the methods of keeping a secret. Seran moved closer to the engineer.
“This Eerhart man, how would I meet him?”
“Why would you want to?”
“Well, I would like to see what kind of man would support the Alexandria Empire after everything they have done,” replied Seran. If this fool can get me there earlier that will be far better than waiting.
*~*~*
16
EINAR
The storm had cleared completely, and it seems as though it had never touched Argent. The city was so much more than beautiful to Einar as he stepped off the boat.
The buildings stretched into the sky as if they wanted to fly, reaching at least ten floors. Between them flew air-taxis like most cities, but also other airships. Cargo ships! I cannot believe I actually get to see cargo ships! Through the windows of the higher level apartments he could see red walls and stunningly carved furniture, but in the lower windows the apartments resembled his own hut.
The screams and wails of children running through the street kicking a pig’s stomach echoed in his ears. Men in fine shirts with bow ties conversed with women in exquisite dressed of blues, reds or purples.
Steamcarts rolled around the cobblestone roads alongside horse-drawn carts. The steamcarts were uniform black in colour but stretched out at the front to hold the engine as steam poured out of them. On the side of the road stood an aging man playing the violin as people dropped coins in front of him.
The city was alive with energy, and Einar could not help but succumb to the magnificence of it all. As he stared around the area he noticed a group of young girls pointed and laughing at the group of boys kicking the pig’s stomach. The girls were dressed in long gowns with their hair resembling a finely carved statue. The boys, however, were wearing rags and tunics much like Einar and Alexia wore. Alexia. I have to find her.
Einar started forward, wondering where to begin when he noticed a great airship coming into the port five floors above him. It was a delicately designed machine yet it was obviously strong in build. The young boy continued on his way, every now and then gazing in awe at the airship once again. After a good ten minutes he arrived at a small tavern, the smell of ale in the air giving away its position.
Inside, the sound of a harp and horn filled the atmosphere as smoke filled Einar’s lungs. A youthful woman was spinning and dancing on a large platform in the middle of the tavern, her surprisingly short skirt fluttering around a she moved. The men were gawking at her with their mouths w
ide.
Einar made his way to the bar and placed four coins on the counter. A rather elderly man hobbled over to him, his hair seeming to run away from his face leaving a very pale area of skin behind.
“What can I do you for, boy?”
“I want some information. My sister is missing and I need to find where she is.”
Einar stared at the bartender who gave him a most strange look. The man turned and poured some ale into a glass and passed it to Einar before continuing.
“What do you mean by missing, lad?”
“Well,” started Einar, “she was home with me a day ago when we went to bed, but when I awoke she was gone. I have reason to believe she has been kidnapped.”
“You sure she did not just run away?” Einar shook his head and gave a very forced smile.
“She took no food or possessions with her, so she must have been taken. Have you seen any young girls around here that seemed as though they were not sure where they are?”
The bartender stroked his chin, which was covered in a slightly red beard.
“Well, there was this strange little girl trying to get in through the north gate last night. She did not seem to understand why we would not open the gate.”
“What happened next? Where did she go?”
Einar lent forward on his elbows as the bartender poured himself a drink. The smell of ale was almost getting too much for the young man now.
“Well,” answered the bartender, “she was not allowed to enter the city so she walked back up the mountain path. That only leads to one place, Lucia Village.”
“Lucia Village? Alright, thank you for the help.”
The bartender nodded as Einar stood from the bar and manoeuvred his way around the ever growing number of men that started open mouthed at the dancing girl.
Outside of the bar he glanced around to find directions until he noticed a map of the city. From his current position the North Gate was just twelve streets away. Alexia, I am coming. He turned around the first corner and began to work toward the large stone wall that surrounded Argent.
