The exhausted individual just narrowly detects the words directed at him. A pause as he plunges his memory, unable to correctly find a reply within the confines of foreign military tradition. So instead, he plays the political game.

  “General Marchland, it is a great honor to meet such a decorated hero.” The young man firmly acknowledges, his tone commanding but not overbearing; keeping his lofty royal authority yet maintaining the respect towards what was a flag officer of a foreign nation (and his aunt in law). “Thank you for your generosity in providing passage. This vessel is quite…” he lets the words fall a moment, allowing this General to truly appreciate the compliment. “The Argent Dawn is quite a marvel, I’m certain she is the pride of the Imperium.”

  “I doubt she is comparable to the Pride.” The General coldly cuts him down, naming out the Second Legion’s massive aerostatic bulk carrier (Natan’s personal contribution to his very loosely commanded legion of shock troops).

  “Oh.” Zai is barely in the moment, but manages to somehow find a reply as he dips his voice into a thoughtful tone. “I imagine the Argent Dawn far surpasses it. This vessel did, afterall, circumnavigate the world in record time.”

  “Ah, that she did.” General Marchland is taken aback at the well deserved acknowledgement, part of her ego flaring alongside a tempered realization of this well thought out path of complementation. A small, almost imperceptible smile flaring on the edge of her lips. “Of course, she is quite capable in many terms.”

  Prince Zai dredges a hint of military intelligence from his nation’s report, purposefully obfuscated so as not to raise too much suspicion. “Four main guns, six rounds a minute. Ninety knots top speed?”

  “Six, dual mounted.” The General corrects, pausing as she herself is almost carried away by the charm of the young man. “And the rest is up to your imagination.”

  Sophia’s barely awake mental faculties whistles at the perfectly chosen series of words. Have you ever seen a stranger disarm your Auntie like this?

  The General cracks her neck, removing a silver pocket watch from her coat pocket and reconfirming timeframes (seemed like everyone in the Marchland family had one of those watches… Sophia included but she never used it). A small scowl pulling on her face, disrupted and disturbed. “However, as much as I’d love to chat about this grand vessel, I have called you two here for something much more important.”

  The middle aged woman turns over to her staff, a dozen currently in the midst of either operating radios, planning routes on table spanning maps, or discussing logistics plans, and shouts her order with a gentle sternness. “I need the room please!”

  And with military precision they all leave, filling out of the command deck without a single objection.

  They’re alone now, bar just a single Royal Guardsman and Impericutta who remain as shadows against the door; keeping a vigilant watch at their relative charges.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “I suppose we can trust the Tianci Royal Guard to keep their silence in sensitive matters?” The General asks the young prince, eyeing over the man standing on her deck.

  “They have sworn upon it.” The Prince informs.

  “Yes, but I don’t suppose the threat of a Blade of Error wouldn’t do any discouragement to this matter.” General Marchland sighs, pausing as she switches back to the main topic. Daggers stared at the young man, with a slight hint of wariness. “Prince Zai Tianci, I am continually impressed. I have been living with the impression that, in fact, your people are schemers of the highest degree; and as of now I see no reason against believing that.”

  There’s a pause as she once again checks her watch. “I suggest you brace yourselves. This will be… a quite rough few seconds.”

  As if on cue the entire vessel shutters, like a seizing beast the Argent Dawn is thrown hard starboard. Arms reach out for handrails and bolted down furniture, Sophia letting out a short but distinct yelp of surprise.

  General Marchland doesn’t even flinch, remaining standing on the observation floor of the deck. “Prince Zai, I have been briefed by your ‘Political Apparatus’ on the circumstances in Tianci. I believe the term they used was ‘unacceptable political risk’ in terms of your…” She swallows distaste in the next word. “... relationship with Sophia here.”

  Across the vessel the piped whistle sounds like a drilling alarm, the stern voice following with unearthly panic. “General quarters, all hands general quarters.”

  Prince Zai turns in a panic to his single royal guardsman, who remains standing at the door with unearthly calmness.

  The General begins to calmly stroll past the two and towards the series of nearly two dozen telephones mounted on one of the armored walls. “I was briefed quite suddenly, alongside your mother, Sophia; and your father, Prince Zai before we left. Your destination for this trip will not be Landfall.”

  “How…?” The Tianci Royal begins to object, interrupted by the General.

  “It was not my idea, and obviously not yours either.”

  She takes the phone, speaking with that distant coldness towards the other side. “Command Deck - Bridge, status report.”

  Some garbled, near-inaudible speech comes from the other side, the General replying as she acknowledges the report. “This is General Marchland. Follow the landing instructions from our Tiancin… observer. That is an order.”

  Hatred in those last words, as if she was being robbed with a sword to her neck; the General taking a deep breath before returning to the conversation with the couple. Waving them forward towards the pit, ordering for them to step towards the viewing window. “We should be above it right now.”

  Sophia leans over the railing, while Zai keeps a good distance away from the supposed edge.

  They were right in the cloudline, demons slipping between the white fluffs of cotton like snakes through fallen leaves. But here, in just a small break, they can see the town below them.

  Nested within a small bay on the Adratic Ocean, the azure colors of breaking waves on pale white beachheads almost melt with the small buildings built on the shorelines of bedrock.

  Even this high up Sophia could almost see the colors; terracotta roofs capping brick homes, their walls adorned in a palette of pastel shades—bright cerulean, soft ochre, and warm sienna. Colors dance against the natural greens of windblown palms and the faint silver glimmers of sea spray hanging in the air.

  Below the Argent Dawn the streets are abuzz with motion. Cobblestone lanes twist through the town like the veins of a dissected animal, lined with shop fronts that spill their wares onto the streets. Stalls brim with exotic goods, shops seat customers beneath the brilliant blue sky; people bustle between them, on foot and in carriages, their movements weaving a vibrant tapestry of daily life.

  They all look up.

  Monstrous forms of aerostatics descending through the clouds casting shadows below them, warships to bring an unknown terror to this peaceful town with an ocean view.