Chapter 131
Jeff looked up at white sails fluttering against a grey sky. The salt of the sea played across his nose while wind, proper wind, blew over now red skin, even including the portion on his slight chin. His grey hair and brown eyes were unaffected by the days scurrying up and down every crevice of the ship, but spending so long in the steaming south trapped in an air bubble left him drenched in sweat every night. He moved his gaze down to the left.
The purple wood beneath his feet was now more familiar to him than any other home save the one in the capital. Bits of yellow, pink, and teal glaze covered the thin hull just beyond the railing his arms rested against, courtesy of the Fairies who served as his shorter shipmates during the experiment. A crowd of grey heads sporting lettuce like skin for hair bobbed around his side of the deck, looking out over the water in blue robes that left their big eyes and slit noses exposed. Some had a puckering of lips as they peered over the railing, their wide jaws somehow allowing the expression.
The lightning mage now returned his gaze straight ahead. Rashton, the seat of the Fjord house and the center point of the kingdom's southern affairs. Ten-story walls of grey stone surrounded various square buildings reaching only six floors, each sporting a mix of smooth magical stonework and patches of more mundane materials. The harbor had the assortment of wooden fingers typical of any of its kind, though the large square sea fort off to the left was not so common.
None of it merited any attention.
Any time sightseeing was to be given to the giant wooden ship off to the right, whose true size was hard to properly visualize at this distance, thus its demands on the eyes. Comparing it to the size of men was a lost cause, as those specks moving around the masts did nothing to convey dimensions. If the ships around it looking like bits of floatsum, the bulges in the hull containing poisons for any prospective sea creatures looking for a snack, or tubes along its back for water enchantments to push the vessel against the sea did not catch enough eyes, then its comparison to the city would make up any deficit in fascination from onlookers.
The masts reached above the highest section of Rashton's wall. The stores within the giant would probably feed the masses of people ashore for months. To say that it was a separate city on the sea would not be accurate either, as the hulking mass of wood seemed to dwarf its destination.
Now at rest, the behemoth waited as cranes and relatively minuscule ships worked along the sides to deliver its bounty.
"To think the humans can command such things. What must it take to get that beast over the sea?" Some flute-like voice pondered somewhere to the right, sounding like it was ready to sing.
All of Jeff's self-control was summoned to fight the huff coming up his throat. Having been the president's son, he had a more intimate knowledge of the logistics of his country's main export. As impressive as it was, the sheer amount of labor that went into allocating space and figuring out port paperwork almost dwarfed the actual use of the ship. And the return trip, where the cargo would be magical resources? That was when the bureaucrats really earned their silver.
The show continued with the Fairy ship being forced to wait for an open section. Another hour passed with the sun approaching its peak through the clouds before one of the behemoths' attendants pulled away from the dock and a man waving flags back and forth bid them to take the empty spot.
As the purple ship pulled into port, the crowd of grey heads parted for one sporting a yellow cap. Large pink eyes looked Jeff up and down with a smile of sharp teeth showing as much warmth as the fairy's features could display. His right hand raised with a wing of his blue robes sleeve to shake hands. A gesture Jeff returned.
"It's been a pretty easy job for my crew, wind mage, even with that trip north. Now it's just us and the leather-bound one to make good on all your work."
'Oh?' Jeff pondered in his head as he shook the smooth grey hand.
The realization that they hadn't discussed much of what would be done after the ship was finished came and went. No matter. That the fairy had adopted that human greeting was a sign of respect, so Jeff kept it up for a good second before finishing the ritual and retrieving the sack that had been waiting by his left foot. It was then placed in the seemingly ordinary chest on his right.
The cloth bag was placed alongside a small ball of white cloth holding blue jerky and mana crystals below it. None would question any reluctance on his part to allow others to handle such treasure. That the chest itself was more valuable than anything he could put in it was a fact he kept to himself.
Fairy sailors placed a long plank of wood across the ship's railing to connect it to the dock. A final intake of sea breeze mixed with salt was Jeff's final act on the ship before taking off up the slab of wood, followed by messengers dispatched to their kind's embassy. The lightning mage pressed forward on the otherwise barren track of wood over the ocean. Something he savored as the crowds ahead told of a far different experience ahead of him.
Walking down the road of wood, Jeff got his first visit of the Central Continent's most hated denizens. On one of the left pier posts rested a mosquito the size of a human head. It stood still against the backdrop of waves, wings poised for use, and Jeff had the uncomfortable feeling it was sizing him up for a cup or two of blood. Short-lived insects didn't tend to live long enough to take on magical aspects, though he had heard of certain species of flies taking on earth abilities to encase rotting meals. Some, however, did manage to get enough meals of dead lightning wolves or other mana-enriched meats that they became more threat than nuisance. This danger, at least, was seen to with a quick wind blade from the lightning mage's mouth. The mosquito fell into the sea with its body cut cleanly down the middle and its murderer already thinking of nothing but the trip ahead.
Once he was on proper ground, the almost solid wall of traffic kept him on the dock for a minute before one man bearing a sack of grain let him into the flow. Any complaints about the fairy ship Jeff may have had were replaced with nostalgia. The press of sweat and body odor filled his nose as he took a left down the main street, all while trying to balance on uneven masonry. Unlike his first visit, Jeff tried replacing the growing sense of claustrophobia with anger at the slow pace of his fellow travelers.
It proved rather effective.
The towering abodes had narrow alleys between them, with only the main road down the center giving any real sense of space between jutting stone walls. Another minute of walking was endured before the shoddy brickwork trying to trip his feet gave way to proper magic stone sidewalks. The double-lane section of road that somehow ended up on his left was filled with horse and mule-drawn carriages sporting varying degrees of maintenance. Jeff's arrival onto the proper street was just in time for a tinge of sewage to permeate the other pungent odors. Being that this was a day for the offloading of the huge ocean-faring ship, the usual array of vendors alongside the streets was absent. For now, the roads were ruled by the carts moving goods to the warehouses.
Scattered about the traffic were teams bearing long paddles too wide to be used as oars. They struck at any large mosquito or fly brave enough to show itself and commanded a stop of traffic when they did so. A pointless task, if Jeff's meager understanding of insect breeding held any weight. A few men sporting long tubes from which blades of water spouted seemed to be a bit more effective in their occasional splattering of an oversized insect.
When Jeff got up to the end of the main street to a four-way intersection and moved to cross the road on the left, the man in a white shirt and blue cloth pants at the center of the four-way intersection was allowing the carts to go forward for far longer than those miserable peasants on foot. For a second, it seemed like Jeff was going to get to go on his turn, but the warden stopped his line on the sidewalks after giving them only half as much time as the animal-drawn traffic.
Eventually, his turn came again, and this time it wasn't a cruel joke. Taking down the sidewalk opposite the fairy embassy was a purposeful choice as he knew all too well the source of the yellows, teals, and purples that suddenly interrupted the plain stone wall of buildings on the right wall across the street. He kept going down the street until another left was taken. This road ended with a large square box of grey stone. It had archer towers at each corner and a wooden elevator behind it going straight up the nine-and-some-floor wall encompassing the entire city.
Jeff cared for none of the sights which grey sky already made dull. No thoughts of beauty or awe penetrated his skull save the end of this walk. Minutes of nothing passed in dull drudgery through bad smells before the front gate came within a stone's throw. Two large slabs of iron, large enough to allow two carts through side-by-side, seemed to dwarf the duo of guards in front of them. The men wearing shining steel moved towards him as the last few bits of traffic finally splintered away, leaving Jeff's intention obvious.
"Name."
"Harold. I have business with the queen."
Both guards nodded as a smaller door in the wider slab of iron was opened for him.
"She said as much. Straight ahead, then take the staircase on the left and climb to the top floor."
Jeff took the advice with a small smile before moving past them. Through the door was a wide yard of grey stone. The right had a stable that was surprisingly small for the center of government and military. Looking around revealed a scant few people, most of whom were moving up and down the stone stairs on the left to man the wall. There were a few doors scattered about, but it was the biggest one directly ahead sporting iron bands drew Jeff forward. Getting it open with the chest in hand took some struggle, but soon his feet were treading over oak floor. On the left was a long desk with an older woman in a simple brown dress looking over various pages. The right was a bare wood wall, while in front was an open room with chairs for those waiting on some appointment. All of which existed under golden light from mana lamps above. It was the staircase on the left wall of the large room that propelled Jeff forward.
"Oh, lad." An elderly voice called as he walked past the reception desk.
"I'm Harold here to see Pache." He said casually without even so much as shifting his grey hair to look back.
"Y- I'm so-"
"It's fine," Jeff casually shot back as he began his ascent. Stopping to hear some groveling apology wasn't the prize, and three or four levels of stairs demanded his attention more than anything else right now.
Sea legs, it seems, do not confer greater power in the thighs. By the time he was at the last step, Jeff had to place his burden to the left of the floor. A solid minute of heavy breathing passed before he took up his burden to resume the march. Hallways shot off to the left and right but it was the shaft ahead with a large door that had the two brothers who served as Pache's guards. More than that, the smell was merely wood and faint ocean.
Quinton stood on the left side with his bulbous nose sticking out of his steel helmet. Strands of black hair were off to the sides of his green eyes. His sibling on the right was Shane. A sharp nose contrasted with his large, bare chin. Between those features and the longer brown hair, the brothers only shared green eyes and, for now, a slight smile at the mage's struggle.
Some notion of bringing up mage status wormed through his thoughts as he approached, but what lay beyond them didn't allow such distractions. Friends, they all may be, but the two brothers still required that he put the chest down and allow inspection of its contents. After finding nothing they weren't supposed to in it or his person, the giant radio was hefted back into the air as Jeff went through the door.
More wooden flooring laid out before him in a square room. The desk near the center was a bit darker than what it rested on, in contrast to the lighter crème color of the paint on the wood walls. All of which a window above illuminated as well as the grey sky could allow. If the bookshelves on the right or left merited any attention, their tithe would go unpaid, as the woman working at the desk demanded all the concentration Jeff had to give.
Pache's bowl of black hair was almost shoulder length now as it flowed over tan skin and the green dress. The curtain of midnight didn't obstruct thick puckered lips and a small chin with skin pulled taught by some struggle from the page. Green eyes, placed above a slightly crooked nose and smooth cheeks, ran side to side for only a second longer before turning up.
"Harold!" She squeaked in a tone far removed from the woman's thirty-something years.
Her sprint out of the chair was likewise youthful in its vigor. Wide ears poked out of the black hair in a way Jeff hadn't seen on a woman before. Perhaps it was that inordinate attention to those features that allowed her to get over the wooden box before he properly registered the queen's speed. The lightning mage hadn't even gotten his mouth open before Pache obliged him the labor by way of her tongue.
While the invasion was sweeter than anything he had tasted in weeks, the obstruction between them kept it from being all it could be. Something Pache seemed to agree on. Her tanned hands gripped the sides of the chest and yanked it out of her lover's hands. The intention to throw it on the floor was as plain as Jeff's panicked arms flailing forward and wide brown eyes. That made Pache pull back with a raised eyebrow for a second before some understanding lit up in the woman's jade eyes.
"Yes! The trip north to get some magic resources from your brother. That was very inconsiderate of me." She intoned with an embarrassed handoff of the chest back to him.
'The goods?' Jeff ruefully thought to himself as he took the burden. 'The damn thing could very well explode, killing us both. Or smother the sun. Or some other nonsense Eli packed into it.'
The working of the ultimate mage were beyond his meager understanding, despite his best efforts. Some half-remembered explanations of waves and….ectrons came as quickly as they left. Whatever provided the chest the ability to speak to unseen people hundreds or more miles away, the quad mage made it and that alone meant it was to be handled with caution and only in the way specified.
Setting it off to the left took only a second but that was apparently too long for Pache, who didn't wait for him to get fully upright to squeeze against him. Oral dueling continued for a minute or so until they pulled back to breathe. Behind Pache's head was the top of the desk and a page that had previously demanded his lover's attention. The trip across the room hadn't penetrated past the pleasure but it had apparently occurred all the same.
"And how have you been? Flipping from the north to the south so much must be tiring." Pache put in with an amused smile as her chest heaved almost in sync with his.
"Being on the ship properly at sea was better than the weeks before. I swear the sun here is a different beast."
Thick lips curled ever so slightly and those green eyes looked hesitant. She clearly wanted to ask more but knew what he wanted was more physical than exchanging information. Jeff, though, knew giving women some sweetness resulted in repayment often several times the initial investment. He slumped to Pache's right, trusting the desk to bear their weight. Pache appreciated the gesture with a laying of her right hand on his chest and a wide smile.
"They haven't been able to penetrate the clouds of toxic spores. A few Enten scouts were contracted and have been scouring about. Honestly, I think the Fairies agreed so readily to take me north for the new coastline."
"Wait," Pache put in with a furrowing of black eyebrows. "Why are they already hiring snake scouts?"
Jeff matched her eyebrows with his.
"I was told they were largely immune to the toxic spores. None of them objected to the work so-"
"No!" Pache interrupted with a roll of her head that matched the one her eyes performed. "I mean, is the ship….Finished?"
He loosed the joining of his eyebrows to raise his right one.
"Um….Yes. I suppose I should have led with that."
Pache, in contrast to his efforts, brought her eyebrows closer as she rose from her flat position.
"Harold, you-"
The words were lost for a second before she huffed.
"Harold! You weren't supposed to spend weeks out on the ship. Farave was going to send a report after your first break, so I guess I know what the delay in that was."
"I wasn't told to return at any specific time." He shot back with a knot of worry forming in his gut.
"Yes but…. The air mage wasn't meant to be out at sea for more than a week at a time."
"No one told me of that." The lightning mage shot back defensively.
"Because it didn't need saying. You can't demand any mage to toil like that. Not one who can make it as a freelancer, anyway."
The ball of worry in his gut shrank even as his lips puckered.
"How could I stop working when I knew what a smile victory would bring to your face?"
"Pff!" She sputtered back.
The hand on his chest pushed against him as she got off the desk.
"All right then." Pache coily announced with a mischievous look back.
Any questions Jeff may have had were squashed by the sensuous way the queen moved towards the door. She was clearly making an effort to emphasize the swing in her hips and chest as she pressed a previously unseen wooden circle by the door. A thin bubble of water formed around the only exit out of the room. Not thick enough to stop anyone, but the lightning mage's hopes for it being a noise-deadening enchantment rose when Pache turned around and started working the strings of her dress along the back. It was a tantalizing sight and even more so when she unceremoniously mounted him.
"You've got the blood of a sailor." She mused as the green cloth fell a little lower to reveal the top of her hills.
"Love gives men endurance far beyond our normal capacity," Jeff replied with an expectant grin.
An impish smile came over her face.
"Loving a married woman? Most would be content with the nights-"
The smile vanished as she sucked in her lips. She continued sitting atop him with a blank face for long seconds before he finally huffed.
"You said there wouldn't be a problem." Jeff put in with a clenched jaw. Right now, she was his woman, and her kingly husband was intruding on his domain.
"There isn't. It's just that we have a working ship."
Anger bled away to allow confusion its turn on Jeff's face. Pache noticed her lover's furrowed eyebrows and took a deep breath.
"I have a meeting at Nestel's residence. Along with the king and their daughter. Affairs of state and such. Food was going to be my big item for presentation. Part of which was going to be the idea you've been working on. Something you've already manifested into reality."
"Glad to help." He put in with a proud smile. Pache agreed with a lean down to kiss him. Sadly, his eyes were above his chin, so a view down the dress wasn't in the offering. Sweetness played on his tongue for a moment longer before she pulled back just enough to touch noses while lying flat on him like a bed.
"It is greatly appreciated." She purred with a smile and some pity in those green eyes. "Of course, now that it's manifest, I will need to bring the one who made it with me."
The knot of worry tightened right back up as sweat threatened to form on his brow.
"W-Why?" Jeff sputtered.
"Why do I need to bring the only person who can answer questions about how the most crucial component works?" Pache shot back with a pointed lean forward as if to say, 'Really?'. She gave him another quick peck on the lips before speaking. "At some point, Nestel and the king were going to want to be brought the details. Letters made the most sense when the work was going to be done over weeks and months, but now you can answer them all in one go."
His realization that a mage in his position would want to meet the royal family for connections cut short any other attempts at dodging the excursion.
"So when will we visit the rest of the royal family?" he pondered with a raised eyebrow and coy smile that hid the sigh trying to force its way up his throat.
"We'll be meeting royalty in a few days. The log in the sky should be here in two, and the trip west to Nestel's famed private abode will be a full day from morning."
Intrigue finally overcame worry as Jeff mused on the prospect of seeing firsthand the legendary abode of Rodring's widow, which lasted until Pache started working the back of her dress again. A moment passed before he reached a decision and seized her thighs. That drew a questioning gaze from the queen, though the sudden flip around onto her back made her giggle despite the forceful delivery.
"I feel like taking my prize rather than receiving it." He explained with a rough pull downward on the sides of the green fabric.
No objection of propriety or his overt aggression came from thick pink lips. Trusting she knew when it was safe for such activity, he, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, turned off his brain.
Re-acquaintance continued for days in her bedroom until the morning of the airship's arrival.
The radio serving as a chest had been moved to her office in preparation for the trip, and it was after a quick breakfast of fish stew that Pache had to leave him there to arrange the last few items for said excursion. That left him where he had first met her, with only a bit of very early sun from the window above to reflect on his white shirt and brown pants. All of which allowed him to contact the airship with the first minutes of solitude he had received since arriving.
Taking the small cylinder of metal out of his pocket with jagged pieces sticking out on its sides, the steel was pressed to the newly acquired lock's hole and rewarded his ears with a click. A simple pull on the metal ring holding the lid and bottom together and the top of the chest was pushed upward. Opening the false side and pressing on the top of the inner panel past the blade, he then stuck his head into the gaping maw of wood. Memory of Andrews' instruction came, but the specific mesh of iron threads he was supposed to speak into didn't come as quickly as the rest of the remembered words. Any residual outside noise died as wind enchantments in the chest took effect.
"Reporting in, Ocean Strider." He said to the bare metal and wood, pondering, not for the first time, how ridiculous he must have looked using a radio.
"We're here, Jeff. Finished." A metallic voice from the nothing intoned as Jeff rechecked the door.
"Right, finished. We'll be taking off in an airship to visit the royal family. If memory serves, it will be a long log of wood to your view….Finished."
"You-…. Ok. Finished."
Not feeling like explaining, Jeff nodded to lifeless metal as he opened his mouth.
"Goodbye. Finished."
"Goodbye. Finished." The tin voice replied as he shut the chest lid.
Jeff got up and idled about the office for a while longer until Pache walked through the door in a fine black dress that sadly didn't sport a deep V on her chest.
"The last bits are ready." The queen mused more to herself as she fussed over the dress's left sleeve.
He distracted her with a kiss on those thick lips. A content, feminine hum emanated through their physical connection and continued even when he pulled back. Green eyes met him with joy. That didn't stop the puckering of those lips beneath the crooked nose.
"Harold, we're going to have to be more careful with such things when we get on the ship. And her abode, obviously. I will want you more nearby as Shane and Quinton won't be coming, but some decorum will need to be maintained."
"Don't molest the queen where anyone can see. Got it." Jeff offered with a serious nod.
A playful swat on his gut accompanied by a snarl was her first answer. An instructive nod towards the door was her second, which Jeff followed up with a seizing of the chest he had been talking to. Beside Pache strode the two brothers and a few messenger boys, still delivering her pages and taking them in turn.
The lightning mage trailed behind as they descended the stairs directly ahead. While the front of the dress was more modest, its backside was less so. There was no less cloth, yet the way all the portions of her sides pushed against the fabric still agreed with his eyes. They made their way to the ground floor and past the reception area until they were all standing in front of two horse-drawn carriages in the middle of the stone yard between all four walls. Rather plain in presentation, Pache still gamely moved to the front one while laborers moved several chests to the one in the back. One of the men took his and, after making sure it was secure, he was free to join his beloved.
Getting inside required only a single upward heft from the stone floor. Awaiting him were two wooden benches on each side. The right held the two guard brothers while the left had Pache sitting alone with an expectant look his way. Jeff obliged her highness and settled beside her with a close of the door. Brown curtains covered the windows on both sides to leave the inhabitants in their own little world.
It took only a second longer before the swish of horse reins jerked the inhabitants forward. Due to the woman's nervous demeanor, any fun on the trip was restrained to a simple arm over his lover's shoulder, which Pache leaned into. Pungent smells penetrated through the wooden walls, but the two kept close enough that their noses filled with more of each other than anything else. Such contact, bereft of lust or heat, still agreed with the lightning mage, and his disappointment was no less for it when crashing waves started cutting through the traffic, prompting Pache to vacate his arm.
When the carriage slowed to a complete stop as the noise of surrounding traffic seemed to lessen, Quinton stuck his bulbous nose between his curtain on the left and pulled back to nod at his brother. Shane pushed open the door and moved out with a swing of his long brown hair over a steel chest plate. Pache motioned for Jeff to go first. Unsteady legs obeyed as best they could. Before him lay a wooden pier jutting into the sea. A raft off to the right clung to one of the wooden posts. Two sailors with paddles shuffled inside and helped three younger men load their goods into the boat, inculding the radio chest which was nestled among the other boxes and cloth bags.
Soon the people were loaded in with Pache taking a seat opposite of Jeff. Quinton took up beside him and Shane the opposite of his brother. Waves smacked against the boat with greater fury as they pushed away. Taking off treated them to a sight of endless sea with the occasional white top basking in the late morning sun. No behemoth of an ocean ship waited in the harbor but the giant square of stone serving as a sea fortress on the right of their boat was no less intimidating for the lack of competition.
It took a few minutes of rowing before they made their way around the back into the only sea bound means of entering. Coming around the corner of the wall gradually revealed a single platform of wood breaching the water. It sported rope rails along the sides. The surface was about the size of a house resting on thick wooden beams reaching below as it stood alongside the slightly sloping fort walls. Above, the arm of a crane was being extended as its intricate system of ropes and pulleys brought another slab of wood down. Unlike its cousin, it was only slightly larger than the carriage they had arrived in, but the railing on this section was solid wood.
Time and sun passed into midday until it was finally Jeff's turn to go up as Pache's remaining luggage required two skyward trips and the crane was evidently built more for stability than speed. Still, soon his knees were fighting to keep him up from the crude elevators momentum. When he was finally standing on top of the walls, the first thing he noticed was the long arches of shiny metal reaching from various sides of the inner fort walls. Each was comprised of a single thin core of solid steel while thin blades resembling leaves sprouted from its sides like a cylindrical bush. One was close enough that he instantly recognized the item from his studies in a life since lost.
Rodrings string. Supposedly a defensive measure for the use of those whose blood descended from its namesake. Serving as a constant reminder of who was in charge proved to be an aspect that never merited writing down. The next thing he noticed was the large platform in the middle and about a good floor down. It sported two sections of rounded wood with empty space in the middle. The one on the right sported a ramp leading up to what was presumed to be the entrance to the airship. Both rested above a forest of wooden beams that took up most of what little open space there was. If anything seemed amiss about these items, the archers on the walls and men walking on the ground floor didn't notice it.
Looking rightward to his party, Jeff saw the two brothers and Pache huddled together. The serious faces and nods between them said the conversation was more work than any tearful goodbyes. Minutes of watching waves too small to distinguish and conversations in spirit connections passed before a loud whoosh of pressure drew his gaze skyward.
Through the clouds came a large spear of wood with a round front and a bulge in the middle. An airship. The famed item found regular use only in the central continent, for it was their mana reserves alone that could sustain this marvel of human invention and magical ability. Gold covered the triangles, squares, and circles that showed the air enchantments keeping their cargo afloat.
All of which brought on a sense of utter disappointment.
"Oh, don't be so grim," Pache scoffed in his left ear.
Jeff only just registered the frown on his face. Thankful that his emotions had been misinterpreted, he turned to his partner.
"Once we get back, some time to discuss our plans for the trade ships is in order." She cooed further, suggestion and innuendo making it clear logistics would not be the main subject at hand.
He let a smile come over his face, one as genuine as his previous frown.
The sudden blast of wind drew all attention back to where it should be. Above them the giant log showed it sported two rounded ends in addition to the bulge in the middle. Its descent was so slow that it seemed to be falling in water. The last few feet were almost agonizing as the bottom of the flying log finally settled into its cradle to a chorus of accompanying groans from the forest of beams. Surprisingly, the top of the ship didn't peak out over the walls.
Some of the men working the fort started moving the luggage around to the other side of the stone domain where stairs allowed descent onto the platform. Jeff's group followed behind until they came to stone stairs leading directly down to the airship. Pache stayed on his left for the short walk. About halfway there, she suddenly turned around to the brother guards behind them. They gave her a slight bow that she returned with a nod.
Jeff and the queen then moved forward together without their two shadows. Getting across the stone stairs was easy, and the ramp up to the oval outline only just visible in the wood didn't seem to offer any more challenge. As they came up, the oval suddenly pushed open. The culprit was a black haired maid with a sharp chin and passive brown eyes. Her clothes had the typical black dress and white apron, though these sported more frills. Most striking of all was the small silver crown around the maid's black bun.
Pache went up first without so much as a look at the woman. Jeff followed and gave the maid a simple nod as he walked past, getting a faint raise of the woman's right eyebrow in return. Reminding himself to treat the servants as background, as was royal tradition, he took in his surroundings.
It was a square room serving as an entrance area comprised entirely of fine oak. Hooks along the left wall were for holding whatever spare coats or hats the arrivals may wish to rid themselves of. The floor was bare in this area, but as they moved forward towards a hallway directly ahead, the center of the floor was taken over by a fine white mesh.
"Oh," Pache exclaimed as she moved ahead of Jeff. "I thought we got rid of the carpet."
"A temporary absence, miss." The maid between him and the queen intoned in equal parts respect and coldness. "King Jeremy brought a special kill from an excursion. Some bird with water magic. It's blood required work our soaps couldn't perform."
Ahead was a wooden door past a four-way intersection. They took a right and he followed like a duckling behind the pair. They went down the hallway towards a door the maid hurried ahead to open for them. Once through, Jeff couldn't help but be impressed.
The middle of the room lay a hard oak table with fine chairs sporting gold trims. Wide windows on the sides revealed the stone walls outside. In every corner of the room, there was a quality that couldn't be denied. Noticing his perusing, the maid got a slight smile above the sharp chin. Something Jeff decided to press.
"How many floors does this ship have?" He asked.
Both women raised eyebrows askance at him.
"Floors?" Pache pondered.
Their companion coughed.
"A lot of the inner space is taken up by mana crystal. Emergency fuel should we hit a patch of low mana. One floor is the standard for all such vessels." The maid answered with a ghost of amusement on her lips. Something that didn't match the ball of dread plopping into Jeff's stomach.
"We best get settled in," Pache announced as some of the laborers came up from behind with their luggage.
Jeff could only nod as he concentrated on keeping his face still.
The group kept moving forward to another door, which the maid again opened. Another hallway greeted them, though this one had doors along the left and at its end were wide doors currently open to reveal stalls of toilets on its inner left and showers on the right currently being stocked with the essentials. Their guide brought them forward and opened the first door on the left for Pache. The queen moved inside as the two movers started bringing her goods inside.
Jeff followed the maid to the next one. Going inside revealed a room no bigger than most found in taverns. At the opposite end was a bed sporting red blankets and white pillows by the window. On the right was a wardrobe open to show its lack of contents. A white fur carpet covered the wooden floor, save around the bits touching the walls. Perhaps it was the window showing lifeless grey stone outside, but the room felt a little lacking.
"Orders for the meals can be taken now." The voice of the maid suddenly announced, almost making him jump in place.
"Meals?" Jeff asked incredulously as he turned around. The notion that an air-bound trip could take so long when they were in the same region left him too baffled to hold his tongue.
"Yes, this ship comes with a full kitchen." She said with a smug smile that pulled the skin on her sharp chin.
Since correcting her impression required admitting things that would get him killed, Jeff only nodded.
"How soon until we're in the air?" He inquired with a turn back to the plush bed.
"A half hour or so. The main mana crystals used for fuel were almost entirely expended on the trip here, so it needs a full belly of mana before we can start."
Jeff gave a slight nod before the men brought in his chest and set it to the right of the door.
"If anything is needed, do not hesitate to ask." The maid stated in a rather serious tone. "As a guest under royal invitation, every luxury will be made available to you."
"I'll wait to see how my stomach handles the air before making requests."
She gave him a light bow before closing the door with her exit. Turning back to the bed, Jeff put out up his left hand to feel the wall. A moment passed before he closed his brown eyes.
Thin.
There was a sense of frailty about the interior of the ship that added to his anguish. In the days of early youth, he often pondered riding in such magnificent creations. When they had visited for a trip to these lands under some diplomatic functions, he had wanted to ride such beasts. Time, security, and life denied him that. But now he was going to realize his childhood dream.
Only it was the inferior sibling of his experiences. The images of those lost years passed through him like a physical sensation. Dreams and aspirations all soon, in relative terms at least, to be ash. He joined Eli to kill the man who took Annie through negligence, and the price was the murder of the world he knew.
It was only now, with the object of longing at hand, that he truly comprehended what exactly he had signed up for. If this ship could have proved itself superior to the one he had trekked to the Central continent on, he might have felt something sharper than anxious nostalgia.
Alas.
With nothing left to do, Jeff plopped into the red blankets to lie headfirst in the silky pillows. The maid proved accurate in her prediction as a half hour or so passed before a rumble went through the ship. Jeff looked out of his window to see grey stone pulling away to reveal sea and beaches. He allowed himself to take in the surrounding landscape. After a minute, the ascent stopped. Pulling himself up, Jeff's brown eyes took in the ocean and endless waves of tall grass and brown scars in the dirt. It took nearly a minute to realize that the ship wasn't going any higher. Whether through convenience or inability, the features beneath the ship seemed more like small toys as opposed to specks.
Another point for science.
The morning and midday passed at the dining table with steaks and hearty beef stews whose meat faintly tasted of heat hinting at a magical aspect. Having nothing else at hand, Jeff blankly stared out the window in a manner not dissimilar to a house dog. As the sun was beginning its descent, the ship slipped so close to the ground that some animals could be distinguished. Endless bark scars and bushes eventually gave way to their destination, whose size now resembled small models of their real counterparts.
'Yes. A woman definitely owns that.' Was his first thought.
The only portion of civilization sticking out among green carpet, rolling hills of grape vines, and brown spots was black metal square bearing a blue brick road through the middle. Around the sides of the blue stripe were various buildings all neatly hugging the central road, contrasting with their tiled red roofs. This pattern held until the very end, where the bricks looped back in a circle around a fountain whose features were too indistinct to guess from this distance.
The rectangular, two-floor mansion just beyond it was large enough that it was easier to distinguish. Though, it seemed so simple that details didn't need much focus. Sporting a red roof and crème stone, the overall structure was as plain as its colors. The top sported a ring of open floor with chairs and small tables, which overhanging tiles helped shade against the southern sun. Two large windows spaced a dozen or so feet from the front door held white curtains. A tall slab of dark wood ringed in iron served as the main entrance once one came up the stairs and simple wood railing touching the blue stone. All of which filtered through the occasional long slab of cloud that he thought would be too close to the ground to form.
The ship's speed must have been too great to allow an immediate landing, as the flying log continued past the mansion before turning to do a slower descent onto another platform near the iron gate serving as the main entrance to the famed abode. Their dock resembled the one they had taken off in but this one sported white stone stairs leading up to the position of the exit.
Slowly, the world came to ground level and a small retinue of workers and maids came up to the unseen side of the ship where their exit would be. Jeff got up to ready himself for the coming ordeal.
*Knock*
*Knock*
Walking to the door, he opened it to see Pache in a simple white blouse with lines of frills over her chest. He took in the way her bowl of black hair clashed with the clothing and the moistness of those thick pink lips. Those wide ears sticking out of the hair did nothing to hinder her appearance in his eyes. Not content with visual appreciation, he grabbed her hips and pulled her into him.
Some patches of red came up the woman's smooth cheeks, and if she found the move objectionable, the way she looked to the right before giving in to his force and molding herself into him said otherwise. Pache made a spirit connection touch his shoulder while he pressed his lips to hers.
'Harold. Remember the decorum. Where we are,' Pache pouted without attempting to break the kiss.
'You dress like this and expect me to keep it polite?' He demanded as his hands pressed her bum to him.
A contented hum came up the woman's throat. After a few seconds, the sound of someone approaching from the hall finally registered. Jeff quickly released his catch with a move to the bed.
"Oh, Harold." Pache called a bit too loudly as she moved to the door. "The servants will get the bags."
Jeff nodded before turning back to the queen who had since vacated the room. He moved out of the room and followed behind the woman waiting on the right as men in white shirts and brown pants moved past them. The duo trekked on as more arrived to retrieve their items.
"Gentle with the chest," Jeff called over the chorus of feet on wood. Nods from the men let him follow his beloved without worry. Moving past the dining table to the hallway directly ahead was easier now that the press of movers was behind them. The lack of intimate touching as Pache walked ahead of him was a burden none could carry for him.
After a few seconds, they took a left at the intersection and moved through the oval door. Dull late-day sun played across the open field of grass with the occasional scar of brown bark now pushing upward. Blue bricks cut from right to left with a small bulge on the side to connect it to the airship dock. The lefts destination was unknown but the right led up to a black iron gate sporting two waiting guards.
Despite being the domain of one of the kingdom's most important figures, the wall of black metal around the buildings seemed to be more for decoration that to fortify against intruders. Thin bars sported decorative flowers and vines, some of which were living examples among the cold imitations. Jeff followed Pache towards the gate as a stiff breeze brought with it the first proper scent of verdant plant life in what felt like years. And without so much as a speck of salt. After all these months, such a thing felt impossible. Here, miracles could be made manifest, for his nose was clear of the rock's assault. Looking over the fields to the left and right, the lack of blue specks usually found in such breezes was almost as noteworthy as the other absent element.
No fly or large mosquito was to be found. The lack of buzzing in his ears or the tickling of small insect feet on his skin was welcome after weeks on the hot coast. Perusing the fields of grapes and hills further ahead, he finally realized what was protecting this place. A ball of mist floated up before seemingly hitting an invivsible curve which it followed up. Jeff had heard of such large enchantments. Like his work these previous weeks, enchantments on appropriate materials prevented the movements of outside intruders, no matter how small. Strategically placed vents allowed for air flow, while the use of mist expulsions prevented the sun from turning whatever was inside into an oven.
His musings left him surprised when the ornate iron gate made of black vines and flowers suddenly stood before his group. Passing by the guards was easy for the queen. Jeff, however, was an unknown quantity and had to undergo a thorough inspection by the steel-clad man on the right.
"Arms and legs in an X shape." The man commanded with a tone expecting obedience.
The lightning mage did as he was bid. As much as his white shirt and brown pants would allow, at least.
"Any materials bearing enchantments or weapons on you or your bags? If any are found later, know that it will be considered a crime and punishment will be meted out personally by Lady Nestel." The tanned man said, his fearless brown eyes fixed on Jeff as he ran his hands up and down the lightning mage's inner and outer sides.
"I have my own magic. As well as some mana crystals. And a.... blade in a hidden compartment in the chest. Just in case." Jeff said, deciding at the last second that the blade inside the compartment would invite too close inspection of the chest if found without prior warning.
The man nodded as leather hands continued their perusal of Jeff's midsection. No fear or hesitation came across the plain, tanned face in a steel helm as it moved up and down. Either he was a mage himself, or the difference in magical caste was rendered inert before his station.
"Are any of those crystals large enough to hold an enchantment?" The guard continued in a strict tone.
"One or two might. I haven't thought to try doing so."
As the physical inspection was completed, the next round of perusing was started on the radio chest. Jeff immediately opened the false side and produced the crude blade. The guard stuck out his open palm.
"Any enchantments on this?" He asked casually as he inspected the 'hidden' compartment before closing it.
"None. That's what I use when there's no mana," Jeff explained offhandedly as he tried to keep down a sigh of relief.
Then the lock on the lid was undone. The very act of them opening it made bits of sweat form at the lightning mage's brow. As the bag of clothes was pulled from the inner pile, the man apparently assigned to him nodded to one of the laborers who immediately took off past the gate.
"We will hold off until scales are produced." The guard said with a rise from the chest.
Jeff kept his face still as he tried to comprehend the delay. It took several seconds before Jeff realized his nervousness had been noticed and his minder had assumed it was the magical resources that had moistened the lightning mage's forehead. Minutes of life were wasted weighing out all the exact portions of mana crystals and dried blue jerky. but eventually the guard nodded for him to pass.
Now free from suspicion, he was treated to a ground-level view of the fabled domain. Along the left were long rows of open stables bearing horses. Each bore a coat of black, brown, white, or some combination thereof. The shiny gloss of their fur spoke of diligent care if the pristine walls and absence of dung didn't already make such an impression. What did linger on the air was a faint hint of something fruity. The source, both in smell and production, wasn't readily apparent even with late-day sun still illuminating everything.
On the right was a longer building with windows along the top and several chimneys. Looking further ahead, both sides held similar-looking constructions whose purpose wasn't clear from this distance, though the mansion directly ahead needed no such pondering. As the group moved down the center of the blue brick road, one of the buildings on the right gave off an aroma of yeast and fresh breads.
It wasn't exactly what he thought a member of the royal family deserved as far as welcomes go. Something about it must have shown on his face, because Pache slowed down until she was on his right.
'Do you not like it?' She mused through an electric buzz on his right shoulder.
'It's…. not bad. Just not matching expectation, a feeling the welcome certainly emboldens.'
'Occasionally a carriage comes through with supplies, but everyone else approaches the feared abode in the same manner. Queen, empress, or servant with a bag of flour for the kitchen, all walk blue stone so as not to chip the beloved bricks. Save the true royal family, of course.'
Seeing as this matter had seemingly been long settled, Jeff didn't attempt any argument over the last sentence. Silence his partner took as permission to continue.
'I must admit something rather embarrassing,' Pache continued. 'There is another item we're here to discuss. Matters of lineage will have to be-'
They had gotten within a stone's toss of the circular section of the blue road when the front door opened. Standing just outside the slab of wood and iron bands was a pudgy, mid-40s man sporting a white shirt under a brown coat that matched his pants. While his hair sported brown with grey flecks, a bald cap rendered most hair care obsolete. Despite the physique, green eyes regarded them like a hawk behind black glasses. The man took a deep breath with his wide nose before stepping forward.
'Hansell. He's the most loyal member of the queen's personal retinue. Be careful, as insulting him is as good as besmirching her. Something a few have found out to great regret.' Pache whispered into his mind.
The man stopped just out of arm's reach with a polite smile and hand extended for a shake. A gesture Jeff returned. Hansell's palm was bereft of anything indicating hard labor, yet the handshake still had some muscle behind it.
"Greetings, I am Hansell. An insignificant man for a very important woman." The man put in with a withdrawal of his hand. He then turned and did a light bow to Pache. The degree of his tilt bordered on a full prostration as servants for proper royalty did, but it kept just a hair or two upward away from such a display.
"Queen Verness, Lady Nestel is ready in the office," Hansell stated with clear expectation.
Pache bit her thick pink lips as Hansell motioned them forward. While his lover maintained a stoic face, the set of her jaw told of frustration. Whether it was the pudgy man now walking in front of them or the forced walk forward, Jeff couldn't say.
Coming up the railing and through the door, the open space was surprisingly bare. Dark boards on the floor contrasted with the crème colored stone walls. These almost black wooden slabs formed a stairway on the right with a stone side going up to a walkway that cut across the ceiling with more dark wood for railing and black metal for support arches. Along the far wall were two more windows matching those in the front. Slightly lighter doors were on the sides with two along the left and right residing near the panes of glass. This darker aspect was emphasized by the fading light filtering through the windows. Future illumination seemed to be from the chandeliers drapped down from the cieling in a quad. Each resembled a carriage wheel forged from more black metal with cups spaced out on the top for candles.
"If it would please you."
Jeff looked to the left where a waiting Hansell was pointing an open hand to the door on the immediate left. It was an inviting gesture, but the man's face had a tightness in the accompanying smile. They followed his instruction and when they approached the dark oak door, Hansell did them the courtesy of opening it for their walk inside.
Jeff took in what was a smaller room with bare walls of the crème stone and more dark oak floor. No windows were found here, though a mana lamp on the ceiling provided light. On the right, beyond a shiny onyx stone desk formed into a half circle, was a man in black pants and a shirt with a puffy grey collar leaning against the wall. Brown facial hair took up most of his features. Despite this, Jeff still guessed his age to be in the range of fifty or so. Any real attention to give the man was taken up by the woman at the center of the circular desk.
Her skin was almost doll-like in its paleness. Long silver strands of almost too perfect hair barely distinguished themselves against the white cloth of her dress. Any comparison in stature or demeanor to those toys ended there. A sense of authority radiated off her despite the lack of finery or jewels. That sharp chin came up with the piercing gaze of those blue eyes that seemed to peel back his very skin to reveal the core within. Around those blue pools were lines that defied whatever treatment the rest of her skin went under, but she was no less intimidating for it.
All it took was her moving a soft right hand towards the two chairs in front of her desk for Jeff and Pache to scamper forward. They plopped into the wooden seats without resistance or a word. Nestel nodded to both before reaching below the desk and producing several pages.
"This agreement annuls any right any children Verness produces from your union to the crown. The head of the Magical Progression Front will also sign a page vouching for its authenticity." She said in a soft tone with an equally gentle laying down of the papers while Hansell fetched an ink bottle and quill from the left side of the desk. He laid them down next to the page before retreating behind his better's left shoulder.
Jeff, while still terrified, got a shot of anger. As was typical of that emotion, it crowded out anything else on his tongue.
"I'm not signing away my children."
The words had barely left his mouth before red splotched both men's faces. The bearded man's brown eyes held a fire almost as fierce as Nestel's personal servant's murderous gaze. There was no doubt in Jeff's mind that they would have beaten him right then and there if Nestel but gave the word. Looking back down to his judge in question, he saw the famed widow was unmoved save a slight smile creeping at the edges of her mouth.
"The Literrean house, line of Rodring, is not interested in taking any of your children. We must, however, have certain assurances that they will not interfere in our affairs with talk of certain birth rights." She finished by raising her right eyebrow in amusement.
"Oh," Jeff said, feeling profoundly stupid at the misunderstanding.
Stealing a look to the right, Pache was clearly as stressed as he was. Something that didn't stop her lips from being sucked in to contain a laugh. Jeff only huffed as he took the quill and dipped it in the ink well. Scratching paper filled the room for only a second before the feather was laid down beside the page.
"I must say, Verness," Nestel mused with a look to Jeff's right. "It seems you've found a good one."
"Aye," Pache agreed.
Heat came up to his smooth cheeks. More interestingly, the color was absent in the other men's faces. Both regarded him rather approvingly now, even the Front head, who leaned over to sign his witness statement. Drastically changing their opinion of him based on Nestel's word alone was a bit disorienting. Given his experience around centers of power back in the Coalition, perhaps their motivations were simply more honest than most.
"Now," Nestel announced with a placing of the paper in an unseen drawer. "I was told we have some unexpectedly good news as far as this new trade route in the south is concerned. Normally, we would commence such discussions immediately. However, it seems in politics it never drizzles but pours. My husband and daughter will be coming by with another big item, and I'd prefer to have it all in one go. Dinner will be served soon. In the meantime, consider my estate's hospitality fully open to you."
The two got up at the dismissal and turned to go out the door. Jeff opened it for Pache and closed behind their exit just as a butler came up to them.
"Your rooms are ready. If you would follow me."
He immediately turned around and made towards the staircase. The couple went along and up the wooden stairs to get to the second floor. Having a single walkway over the empty floor below was a unique design that Jeff was not to traverse as the butler took them to the right down a long hallway bearing doors on the left and right.
"All of the preparations have been made and suitable attire is waiting on the beds. We also have a bell system, so if anything is less than exemplary, don't be afraid to let us know. The gentleman's is on the first left while Lady Verness's abode is on the second right."
Pache gave him a slight nod before walking forward. Jeff matched her for a few steps before turning left to the thick oak door. Gripping the black metal handle, he went inside with a heavy heart. The room was a simple thing with a small hallway sporting an open door on the left and a wide room at the end. From this angle, he could see a wide bed of crème sheets and pillows held in a frame of more black iron on the left. Neither of which matched the dark oak of the floor.
Walking forward, he saw the door on the left revealed a washroom with a toilet. The ground was white tiles that contrasted with the wooden sink on the right and the showerhead on the left sticking out of the ceiling. A fixture he left untested as he went further down the hallway. Moving into the proper main room revealed the long posts on the bed's back and a small desk on his immediate left covered by a white cloth. On this rested a pitcher of water with slices of lemon on a plate to its left and an empty cup on the right. Above it was a long piece of rope from the ceiling with a wooden ball at the end, presumably the aforementioned bell system.
Not one to deny free luxury, Jeff helped himself to a glass of the surprisingly cool water and topped it with a lemon slice. Bits of sharp sourness punctuated the refreshment pouring down his throat. The cup was only set down on the second swig. Turning around, the rest of the room was simple with a wooden wardrobe opposite the bed sporting a mirror on its left door and a window on the far wall. Most importantly, the radio chest was resting at the foot of his bed. On the crème sheets was a white shirt and black pants, but it was the quad mage's craft that demanded his immediate attention.
Working the lock with the metal key in his pocket allowed him to inspect the contents. The goods had been shuffled about with the bag of clothes on the left and mana crystals now in a solid pile in the middle and the cloth holding blue jerky sitting atop the shiny glass. At no point would Jeff think to care about having the weights of such goods inspected again, as he was too nervous about the entire ordeal before him. Would a freelance mage care enough?
Probably.
Possibly.
Offending the widow of Rodring, however, was enough of an excuse that he could convincingly lie about the typical obsessions of mage kind. A few seconds of inspecting the chest passed before he closed it and started putting on his new clothes. The white shirt had frills around the wrists and neckline, which sported a V at his collar. It wasn't as deeply cut as women's more revealing displays, yet there was more open air above his upper pecks than he typically favored.
A fully clothed Jeff proceeded to lay on the bed, his mind going over all the things he should and shouldn't know as his brown eyes perused the wooden ceiling. His false self was a mage from the Coalition. So more informed than a peasant. Yet…. There were certainly things about statecraft he had been taught as the president's son that most wouldn't. Minutes of trimming his tree of knowledge and musings on his situation passed before the awaited knock at the door came. That he only just noticed the sun had died was an omen acutely ignored.
When he arrived at the entrance and pulled the door open, Pache stood in her white dress, which apparently was already acceptable for the evening attire. His left arm went through her right, prompting a smile below the queen's crooked nose. They moved to the right, where their butler stood by the stairway. On the ceiling beyond him were round chandeliers sporting candles that illuminated the otherwise dark residence. Their guide went down first with them following until they stood on the first floor.
Some impulse to get a handful of Pache's feminine flesh welled up from Jeff's lizard brain. Her pressing against his side did nothing to discourage the notion. It was only the constant grate of fear and buzz of nervousness that kept the facade of propriety up. The duo were guided to the far door on the right that stood on the same side as Nestel's office.
Clacking shoes rang in his ears as they approached two wide double doors of lighter Oak and iron bands. Earlier, he had managed to keep it together. Time, however, wore him down with ever greater whispers of discovery. Maybe the servants would open the radio chest in such a way that its fantastical nature would be revealed. Perhaps his tongue would slip in front of Rodring's widow, revealing things that only those familiar with Ultimate mages should know.
Whatever fate awaited this meal, the smell of cheese, breads, and searing meats from the room beyond helped alleviate worry. The butler opened the door for them to reveal a wide, dark oak table in the middle of the space bearing long lines of ornate chairs sewn in with red cushioning and thick armrests. On the left was a long table, in the middle of which stood a cooking section. Contrary to expectation, this section sported a wood-fueled stove along with steaks, fish, and cheeses on its right and assortments of pots on the left. The door to its right was rather plain and of a lighter wood than the floor. Even the chandelier above held the usual wax candles more typically found in the houses of the peasantry.
The ravenous needs of healing enchantments to fight aging were well known, and often the first studied by new mages, but seeing firsthand the sheer gluttony of the crafts was something else entirely. That not even the few specks for mana lamps could be spared put the rough descriptions into a new perspective.
Despite the costs, the woman currently sitting at the head of the main table certainly enjoyed the benefits with her smooth porcelain skin and centuries of life. She now sported a darker blue dress that allowed some contrast to her silver hair. It was the man on the right that Jeff took in with the most interest.
Her husband sported a black beard and full scalp that flowed backward, both of which were oiled to reflect candlelight. The hair did nothing to hide the wide face, strong cheekbones, and broad chin. His green eyes immediately went to his wife.
"God, I forgot what having pups is like. Near fifteen minutes early warning and they were still last." The king mused with a rueful sigh.
A sympathetic smile came over Nestel's pristine face, slight enough not to produce any wrinkles even as she nodded.
As Pache nudged Jeff to the left with her, the bearded man from the first meeting came up behind them to take the seat right next to Jeremy. Both men politely nodded to one another as the Head of the Magical Progression Front sat down. As Jeff made his way to the left with Pache, he was surprised when she stopped him four seats from the head of the table. She took up the fourth seat closest to Nestel, after he pulled the chair out for her, while he sat to her right in silence.
At no point in the minutes-long wait did a servant come by to indulge them in any services or assist their docking into the table. Even discounting Pache's status as royalty, if such meager hospitality had been on offer to mages anywhere else, most would have stormed out at what could only be slights at their station.
Here, however, even leaders of organizations spanning all the known continents had to make due. Between the sparse servants and overall lack of finery, Jeff surmised it was because that is precisely how Rodring's widow wanted it, without thought or compromise to the niceties or opinions of others.
Another minute passed before the last three joined with a swing of the door. The first through was a six- or so-year-old boy, barely taller than the table. His bowl of black hair swung back and forth over chubby cheeks and irritated green eyes. Though the hair matched his vest and pants, the white undershirt didn't show any of the hair hitting it or the stubby chin. Behind him came a slightly older girl about ten winters old. Despite the age difference and similar hair, the girl had more of a timid air about her. Grey eyes immediately went to Jeff, the sharp chin wobbling above a frilled black dress that hid her midnight locks among them.
"Grandma!" The little boy announced as he moved past Pache to the head of the table. "Would you hate me if I had a red shirt on?"
"Oswald!" An approaching voice called from the door.
From the entrance came a woman who had to be the children's mother. She had a sharp chin, long black hair, and a thin nose that matched the girls. Her attire was a simple blue dress matching Nestel's, who her green eyes went to as the boy approached the famed widow's chair. The woman put a hand on the girl's shoulder to usher her forward while the boy shuffled onto the ancient woman's lap to smiles from all around.
"Why would I ever hate you for the color of your shirt? What lies has Palta been whispering in your ears?" Nestel inquired with a coy smile as she fixed the boy onto her right leg.
"I was ready to eat when mom started saying all this stuff about att-t…. Dressing for dinner. How it was disrespectful. But you wouldn't hate me for wearing a red shirt, would you?" He asked with puckered lips.
"Ah!" Nestel put a hand to her chest before dramatically pulling back. "How could I ever hate a boy with cheeks this pinchable, no matter what he wears?"
A point she emphasized by clenching his left cheek with her right hand's thumb and index finger for a brief second before pulling back the hand. Oswald nodded with a look of satisfaction as he got down and went past his mother and sister, both of whom regarded him with remarkably matching grimaces. The lad continued his free reign of the conversation by giving Pache a nod before looking directly at Jeff as he fixed himself into the oversized chair.
"Hi, I'm Oswald. What's your name?" The boy inquired with a pointed lean over the table.
A quick look around the table said it was safe to answer.
"Harold."
The boy opened his mouth to speak further just as his older sister put her hand on his shoulder to lift his upper half off the table. Nestel then coughed as she adjusted herself into a more upright position. She finished the motion with a raise of her hands into the air before bringing them together in a solid clap.
From the door by the cooking station came a small stampede of servers sporting wines and dishes covered by silver dome tops. Their attire was loose white shirts and black pants covered by white aprons. Such was the speed of service that the glasses and long plates on the table seemed to pop into existence. One more portly man wearing a white hat lifted the lids and revealed freshly baked breads, cuts of cheeses, and seared bits of meat more meant to be nibbled on than to fill.
The way the king and queen leaned forward to get their portions onto small plates made it clear the meal would be no more indulgent in servant labor than any other portion of the visit. Sloshing red wines cascaded into cups while the children were given a selection of juices. No orders for the main meal were taken as two men started working the pots on the stove with handfuls of pasta in boiling water.
From the way bread crunched under his teeth and meat melted in his mouth, Jeff decided that nothing that came through that door, no matter the lack of choice, would disappoint. The wine was also excellent, from its taste to the waft of fruit and faint earthen musk. This was a dangerous meeting, no matter the current atmosphere or servings, so the lightning mage rationed himself on the red liquid. As he was placing the glass down, a cough from Nestel silenced the whole room.
"So, Harold, some business before the proper meal. Pache said you spent weeks out there on the ship. Far longer than anticipated. And that you finished the work?" She finished with a pointed look that drew every gaze.
King Jeremy raised his eyebrows in some small surprise while the rest sat patiently. Taking a deep breath, Jeff pleaded with any higher power listening that his tongue would see him through this night.
"It feels a bit brief to describe all the sun, sweat, and struggle that way. But, yes, the ship went through the poison clouds no problem. And it has enough considerations for mana batteries that it could last for days in the mushrooms."
The royal couple nodded together. It was a casual setting that did nothing to impede the duo's piercing gazes typically found at court. An attention the children idly poking their bread couldn't possibly maintain. Jeremy then took his turn to speak.
"And given your newfound expertise, how soon could we start employing other mages to do the same if you instructed them?"
Jeff tossed his head back and forth for a moment before the rough calculations were finished.
"Making them is easy. Creating them the right way is another matter. I've talked with a lot of sailors over these past few weeks, and a rather big problem has presented itself. It turns out none of the ships are an exact match to each other."
"We base all of them on the same crafts, the same measurements, and the same constructions." The king put in with a raised eyebrow.
"Right," Jeff nodded. "But the ships don't all settle the same. Wood bends and twists with time, and not always in the same way. Whether it be from the weather conditions or the temperatures of the seas it travels in. To say nothing of what changes occur from repairs."
"And these differences are significant enough to keep drawings of what's needed from being used?"
Jeff bit his lip before he stuck up his right forefinger.
"The air crafts need to be tight enough to keep out any of the spores while also making sure they don't deplete the mana batteries by pulling on each other's air in opposite directions for any extended period of time. All while accounting for bends from waves, wind, and the positions of the sails. I can recall at least a dozen times where the thickness of my finger would make that difference. If you want to outfit a ship with those enchantments, it will be a custom job each time. That's without considering the need to personally supervise the various tests."
"We don't need an armada of them." Pache put in with a small smile. "With the shortened times, just five or six ships can haul the cargo of as many fleets running the current routes. Bringing in the goods from around the edge of the Screaming Toad's domain would also help inhibit the pirates' ability to pilfer."
Jeremy nodded in silent contemplation. When Nestel opened her mouth, every eye at the table followed it.
"It would also free us from having to wrangle the Beastmen and Orc gangs. You've done more toil than most would without immediate payment of magical resources. A minute's jog is not the same beast as an hour's, however. Doing this six times over or more will be expected going forward. Are you properly compensated to see this task to its end?"
Somehow, Jeff's brown eyes didn't shift to the payment wrapped in a white dress on his immediate left.
"I am to be given a certain percentage of any goods transported over the ships I'm making ready. Either in coin or mana crystals. A figure of five and some percent is still being negotiated. Given how long it's taking to find any route through the swamps, I'm not fussed about getting the final figure set in stone."
Nestel then looked to the left and gave a smile at whatever unseen expression Pache was making. The widow of legend then lifted her arms again, setting off another cascade of servants from the door to the left. Large plates were placed in front of each guest as a cart was brought to the head of the table. A wheel of white cheese nearly two feet across was presented before the boiling noodles in one of the pots were fished out and set on top. It must have already been partially melted on the top because the thick strands of tortured dough were immediately moved around with two forks to form a sauce. This stirring continued for only a few seconds before the meal was placed on the plate in front of Nestel with a garnish of some green herb Jeff couldn't identify.
As slow as it was for so many people, the lightning mage couldn't argue with the smell as his portion was finally set on his plate, nor could his tongue refute the decadence of the cheesy goodness. Fresh garlic bread was shortly brought out and enjoyed with the rich pasta. When the last bit was swallowed with wine, Jeff couldn't say he was full despite the density of the offering. Fortunately, the servers started bringing in spiced fish fillets and aromatic rice mixed with herbs. The famed staple of the Far Shores was the same as he had first tasted it all those long years ago, and it was only the cough of Nestel that pulled him away from the half-finished dish.
"Our neighbors to the north have had some rumblings recently." She then turned to her husband with a shift of that silver curtain hanging from her head.
"We've got confirmation directly from our watchers on the demon coast. It's brood mothers. Three of them."
Some faint whispers of the lands of horror always came across his ears in those visits to the Central continent. Foul smells and ripping bodies were mostly all that filtered beyond the Bodding lands. Hearing more about it from such a high source made his brain light up through the haze of hearty food to pay even greater attention. Even if he wasn't more alert, the way the leader of the Front went a little pale would not be missed by him, nor the children for that matter. The two little ones now paid keen attention to their grandfather, who continued the report.
"Such a thing hasn't happened in generations. Possibly not since the fool king Ballud, if my scant memory of history holds. There is a lot of talk of trying to pit two of them against each other, but the one along the water's edge has a clear shot at the Wall and is going to hit no matter what happens with the other two. The Bodding navy has been harassing it as it makes its way along the shore. That will only slow it down, unfortunately."
"Will it be coming here?" The little boy asked nervously.
"No," The grandparents and mother replied in unison.
Jeremy stretched his arms out over the table in a wide swing.
"The wall the Bodding empire has along their border with the Lost Lands is bigger than anything you've ever seen. Built by one of the kingdoms Bodding took over, and the second he saw what lay beyond it, he reinforced it with the great magics of an ultimate mage. Also, there are mages from every country to keep the demons on the proper side."
"Why not just take them out with an airship? Or some crafts?" The young girl asked. Apparently, the youth demanded full control over the conversation, and their grandparents, in the typical way of such relations, gave into their demands without resistance.
Jeremy shook his head.
"The beasts are still a great distance into the Lost Lands. More to your last question, demon-infested lands spew out a red mana that renders our crafts useless. Even if we wait until they near the wall and build a craft with enough mana reserves to make the trip, it's much the same problem with the water-bound ships. Nothing small enough to fit on a ship will be big enough to hurt something the size of a castle."
"Then how do you stop it?" Oswald demanded with a concentration thought impossible for a boy so young. The King and Queen sported small smiles at the enthusiasm while Palta regarded her spawn with an indulgent grin.
"A big ditch," Nestel announced with a smile. The seemingly nonsensical answer only made both children lean closer. "Demons are not wholly ignorant beasts. They tear up any constructions we make in their domain. Filling holes, however, is apparently beneath them. Out on those planes are huge digs for threats such as these. Rain and plants smooth them out over time, but never fully erase those wounds in the soil, which we come back to re-open in dire times.
When one of their kind gets big enough that they can threaten the Bodding wall, spikes the size of a man are forged in mana crystal and taken to these digs. These use leather strips and special enchantments so that if the leather is burned away, it will activate the fire portions of the craft. Set one spike ablaze, and an entire field of them turns the pit into an open oven. Anything between them is reduced to black specks on the wind."
Her grandchildren looked on in amazement with small 'ooh's' at the mental image.
"But that is something for us adults to get ready for." Nestel finished with the rest of those present breaking into spirit connections to discuss the latest news.
Jeff, being the son of the Coalition's president, already knew most of this from his studies. Of course, right now, he was Harold, son of a random mage. Someone who would have at least one pertinent question. A spirit connection was quickly established on his lover's right shoulder.
'It sounds like they were talking about the Rodring kingdom helping.' He inquired.
'Because we are.'
'Why are they helping the kingdom's long-time rival?' Jeff asked incredulously, even as he already knew the answer.
Pache gave him a small smile and raised eyebrow above her crooked nose.
'The City, with all its power and resources, already struggles with the demons who float over the sea from the cursed place. If Bodding should fall to the demons, the entire continent would succumb in quick succession. From there, your own home would soon be surrounded and eaten just from the sheer amount of demons floating over from both sides of the sea.
As….Ambitious as the Bodding empire can be, they have the only means of plugging up the tide of murder. So we play a game of balance. Everyone helps them enough that they don't tip into ruin but not so much that they can start taking up matters of conquest to their east and south. There have been times where the pendulum swung in one direction too far and it always ends with everyone paying in blood.'
Jeff nodded in reluctant understanding at the already known answer.
The next person to talk was the head of the Front, who pulled out a bright red candy wrapped in clear wax paper from his coat pocket.
"Lad," He said with a playful smile towards Oswald. "While you still have the podium, ask if Rodring ever had casting pains after extensive magic use like ours."
The last word was emphasized with a toss of the candy into the boy's open palm. A look of greed spread over his pudgy face as he unwrapped it before turning to Nestel while conveniently missing the severe stare from his mother.
"What he said." The boy announced with a pop of the treat into his mouth.
"I do believe the quota for questions has been filled, Reginald," Nestel said with a small smile towards the true source of the question.
"Love makes people do crazy things. And the love of knowledge is the most maddening of all." He responded with a pointed look into his cup as he brought it to his lips.
A question, genuine in the ignorance behind it this time, worked its way onto Jeff's tongue. He struggled with whether to ask, and it was only when he noticed Nestel staring at him with a raised eyebrow that the inquiry was finally let loose.
"Considering how borderless the Front is, is something about Rodring special compared to the others or is it just his widow being around?"
Far from irritated, Reginald put his wine down with a broad smile as his brown eyes fixed on Jeff.
"Oh, they're all special. My life has been dedicated to parsing the depths of their enigmatic existence. Spirits! We don't even know where they come from. Before the bastards on the committee fitted my neck with the noose of leadership, I had enough time to study the scraps left behind by their giant steps through human history.
Of course, to your last question, only one of them has someone around who can recall their time among the living. That does perhaps favor my inquiries into Rodring more than the others. A special someone who, despite my best efforts, has yet to thrust her bread knife through my eye. Though that may change if I continue to commandeer her beloved grandchildren." Reginald finished, giving Nestel a pointed smile as he did so.
'I know nothing. I know nothing. I know nothing.' Jeff repeated internally as he felt the gaze of Rodrings' widow on him. Thankfully, Reginald then turned to Nestel, who pulled those piercing soft blue pools off him.
"In fact, I believe this very residence is based on the Ultimate mage's taste, is it not?"
Nestel nodded with a smile and far-off look.
"Yes. It's quite a departure from his other style. Rodring never lived in a place like this, rather, he took frequent vacations to such abodes. Living in a vineyard never much agreed with me. Yet, like all his suggestions, it proved itself with time."
Small nods went around as servers brought in the dessert. Small bowls of grey stone with flames on top were placed in front of each guest. When it was laid in front of Jeff with an accompanying spoon, the black, shiny top on the yellow pudding didn't immediately make it obvious whether the glass smelling of burnt sugar was edible. A sudden snap to the left drew his gaze to Pache. The woman was using her spoon to crack the pudding's top and scoop up the shards with the yellow goo. Following her example, Jeff soon had the same mix up to his lips and was not disappointed when caramel sugar inside a vanilla liquid played on his tongue.
Minutes of smacking and slurping, kept to as polite a volume as possible, passed before Nestel coughed for attention.
"A good meal with better company. This is, however, an official meeting of kingdom business for the upcoming convention. I assure you, my estate has many amenities for those not on the docket."
The pointed look she gave Jeff in dismissal left him in no doubt as to his assigned absence. Something the children and Reginald shared as they left their seats. As he pushed the chair back, Pache leaned closer to him.
"I would go for the heated baths. They mix them with scented oils and flowers for a marvelous soak." She said with a smile on her face, a gesture he reflected to her.
'How does a place of stone, wood, and metal become so female?' Jeff mused to himself as he got up.