A Perverted Path to Victory

Tinvel

-------------------------------------

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Sara couldn’t either, apparently, because her laughter was incessant. It took them another quarter hour to bike back to their makeshift aeroplane hangar, and she didn’t stop chuckling the entire time. It was pretty apparent that she’d known exactly what Chona was doing, and had simply been waiting for the moment to present itself.

Tinvel had no idea how to address it, naturally. What was there to say? Chona was running around in her underwear for no actual reason. There wasn’t a good response to that. He just had to shut up and pretend he’d never learned the truth.

The imposed silence of the fifteen minute bike ride helped smooth things over. By the time they returned to the Fulleye, things seemed to have improved. Chona’s fur was still puffed out like a startled cat, but that was the only sign of her embarrassment. She had her face under control, and she spoke evenly.

To Tinvel’s relief, she also chose to ignore the entire ordeal.

“So,” he said, pausing to clear his throat as he stepped into the canvas tent. “Are we still planning to take off today? There’s only a few hours of light left.”

“A good question,” Evie said, stepping ahead of him. She squinted at the plane, her tail swinging low and slow, like a long pendulum. “You could use the additional time for more thorough safety inspections, could you not?”

“We could, yeah, but I’m pretty sure it’s not necessary,” he said.

Sara moved between him and Evie, giving her wife a meaningful look. “The plane’s fine, Evie, and we have plenty of time to take off tonight.”

The Steward of Tulian’s tail stilled. Her expression was unreadable.

“But,” she said, drawing the word out, “there is still considerable work to be done amongst the Powdered Lead. Several promotions have been suggested, and—”

“Evie,” Sara interrupted, the words soft and full of care. “I’ll be alright. You, Hurlish, and the Admiral are the only people in the world who knew I was planning to fly today. If I leave now, no one will have any time to prepare an ambush. But they might have enough time to figure it out if I leave tomorrow.”

The Steward of Tulian, one palm pressed to the Fulleye’s fuselage, locked eyes with her wife, resentment simmering behind slitted pupils.

It’s just four days, Tinvel thought, astounded. He shared a glance with Chona, who seemed equally surprised. Five days, tops. What’s going on here?

Evie turned to look at the plane, inspecting the seats.

“It would be cramped, but I could fit atop your lap,” she said.

“You could,” Sara tactfully agreed, “and the plane may even be able to handle the extra weight. But we both agreed that the Powdered Lead doesn’t have any officers ready to take full command right now.”

“The likelihood of a battle occurring within the next week is miniscule.”

“But possible.”

“We could allow our troops to dip into the emcotton stores should a conflict arise. Technological superiority would compensate for any deficiencies in command.”

“And we’d give away an advantage that we’ve been keeping secret for months.” Sara put her hand over Evie’s, pulling her away from the plane. “It’s going to be fine. I promise.”

Standing hand-in-hand with her wife, Evie’s eyes turned steely. “You can’t guarantee that.”

“But I can promise that I’ll be as safe as I possibly can. If a toddler tries to start a fight with me, I’ll run the other way as fast as I can.”

That was… not the best thing to hear from Tulian’s most powerful Irregular. Tinvel had been a little bit nervous about flying with such a critical VIP in tow, but had reassured himself with the fact she was more than capable of defending herself. Not anymore, apparently.

“It is absurd that we must separate,” Evie said, nearly growling. “That this nation and its armies are not capable of functioning without one of us present is shameful.”

“Maybe. But we’re working on it, alright?” Sara squeezed her wife’s hand. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Evie began to argue once more, but glanced to her left, towards Chona and Tinvel. That seemed to finally allow her to calm herself, but it clearly took a great effort.

Then she locked eyes with them both, and Tinvel found himself wishing for the argument’s return.

Evie crossed the tent, both hands resting on a pair of the pistols dangling from her hip. He tried not to flinch at her approach. He failed.

“If you are to be with her for this coming week,” Evie said, “you will both be armed appropriately.”

With a rasp of steel sliding across soft leather, two cryslock pistols rose from Evie’s belt. The Steward of Tulian spun them around and thrust them forward, the grip offered to Tinvel and Chona both.

“They were made by Hurlish’s own hand,” she explained, “And they share a similar design to those already being sold to the Empire. This lack of secrecy allowed them to be enchanted by professional Elven artificers in the city of Ta-Pet. Their services were purchased not with coin or bonds, but favors owed by a Champion. Their value, accordingly, is incalculable. Treat them as if they are worth your weight in silver.”

Chona hesitated to take the pistol, but Tinvel had no such compulsions. He seized the gun eagerly, careful to keep his fingers away from its hammer and trigger as he pulled it in for inspection.

The gun was… remarkably simple. In basic form and function, it was identical to the Harper’s Ferry flintlocks currently used as Tulian Army officer’s pistols, though the unreliable flint mechanism had been replaced by a superior crystal ignition source. It had a number of enchantments engraved across its skin, gemstone-flecked paint dabbed into grooves etched through wood and steel, but these weren’t some mythically powerful artifice. True, there were a number of designs and runes whose Intent Tinvel couldn’t decipher, but many of them were familiar. Borderline copies of his own designs, in fact.

There has to be something I’m missing, right?

If there was, he couldn’t find it. It was possible that the unknown etchings were the cornerstone of some greater working, the last piece to a puzzle whose true image could only be seen once entirely assembled, but if that was the case, he didn’t have the slightest guess as to what they could be.

“Thank you,” he said, belatedly, once he managed to stop inspecting the weapon. “I’ll bring it back in perfect condition.”

A single eyebrow rose to a thin, pointed angle. “I’m sure you could, but there is no need. I already have superior replacements available to me. I wouldn’t leave myself unarmed on the warfront.”

Perhaps that should have humbled him, or made the gift less interesting by contrast, but all Tinvel could feel was excitement. An elven artificer from a foreign land had enchanted this pistol, and now it was his. He wasn’t sure if their work would be superior to his own, considering the gap in firearm knowledge between himself and this unknown elf, but it was a certainty that they would be using techniques unfamiliar to him. It was an opportunity that he couldn’t be more grateful for.

“I’ll take excellent care of it,” he said solemnly, gently resting the pistol on the Fulleye’s wing. He didn’t have a holster for it. Something he’d have to fix once they arrived back in Tulian.

“Yeah, I appreciate it,” Chona echoed, slipping her pistol into the waistband of her sarong. “Not sure how much better it’ll be than a spell, but it’ll probably come in handy.”

Evie’s jaw clenched, her focus narrowing on Chona.

“I did not give you such a weapon to have you handle it so dismissively. You will carry it as often as is practicable. That is an order from a superior officer, Commander Chona.”

Chona’s spine jerked straight as she sharply nodded.

“Understood, ma’am.”

“You are an asset to Tulian that is not easily replaced,” Evie firmly stated. This was yet another new face to the woman, Tinvel noticed. Neither the empty-eyed terror nor anxious wife; he was facing the soldier who had trained a Champion. “Both you and Tinvel should consider yourself lucky that I have not ordered you sequestered within the University, surrounded by guards at all times. If you wish to maintain such leeway in your actions, you will maintain a proper grasp for the importance of your station. It will be many years before Tulian sees the full return of its investment into your training and education, and you must survive those years to see it done. I will not see you dead to childish arrogance.”

Evie removed her belt, slipping the holsters free. “The Governess believes you will yield the best short-term dividends when you are free to experiment as you desire. I have decided to accept her guidance in this respect, but my decision is not final, and I reserve the right to overrule her. Abuse these privileges and they will be revoked.” She handed a holster to Chona, then Tinvel. “Begin wearing this pistol at all times. Appropriate ammunition is amongst the supplies we have loaded onto your plane. Both of you are to practice your marksmanship with this weapon at least once a week. Am I understood?”

Chona and Tinvel’s feet dug lines in the dirt, heels clicking together as their fists thumped into their chests.

“Understood, ma’am!” They chanted.

“Good.”

Evie nodded, satisfied.

Behind her and out of sight, Sara theatrically rolled her eyes.

With four people helping prepare the plane, the work was finished in a few short minutes. Thanks to the highly compact design of the Artifice Engines, most of the space which once would have been dedicated to fuel and machinery was now an empty void. Sara and Evie exploited that advantage, replacing spent geodes with a variety of packages.

Tinvel and Chona weren’t, apparently, allowed to know what was in them. He guessed at least some of them were weapons, either swords or rifles, judging by the dimensions of the boxes containing them, but he couldn’t be sure. Whatever they were, they were important. Evie had Chona place several emcotton incendiary bombs within the fuselage, fuses connected to a spool of copper wire placed in the cockpit. If the plane went down or had to be abandoned, Chona was to unspool the line to a safe distance and send a spark through the copper cabling.

The final preparations were completed with only a handful of daylight hours left. Sara was still determined to set off, however, leaving Evie distressed. Hurlish had arrived a short while before, child swaddled to her chest, guards flanking her like a royal escort. As Sara crawled into the far-too-cramped cockpit, Hurlish pulled Evie into her side, practically smothering the woman.

“You’re gonna be alright,” Hurlish rumbled. “Chona and Tinvel are good kids. They’re gonna be fine.”

Evie’s expression was unreadable. “They will try their utmost, I am sure. I only worry about that which they aren’t prepared for.”

“You could kick one of ‘em out of the plane and take their spot,” Hurlish said, “but do you really think that’d make Sara safer? Which’ll be better for keeping ‘em safe in the air? A pilot and a mage, or a pilot and you?”

Evie’s jaw clenched in silence. An admission of defeat, Tinvel thought, if a reluctant one. The sight of such a threatening scowl squished up against Hurlish’s stomach was quite the juxtaposition.

“You’ll hurry back?” Evie asked plaintively, the words partially muffled by her orcish wife’s embrace.

“I will,” Sara said, buckling herself into the seat. The Fulleye, even when meant to carry two, hadn’t been made for someone of her height. Her legs were folded up into her chest like an insect’s. “I promise, Evie.”

“Five days,” Evie said.

“That’s the plan. Maybe I’ll manage it quicker.”

“Don’t sacrifice your mission for my sake.” Her face twisted like she’d tasted something sour as she spoke the words.

Sara laughed. “You three are the most important thing I’ve got in my life. I’ll let Tulian burn before I leave you for a single day longer.”

Chona and Tinvel shared a look. Not only was that claim almost nauseatingly sappy, it was, frankly, a concerning thing to hear from the Governess.

I guess we’ve all got our weak spots, Tinvel thought, trying to shove the comment aside. I doubt she really meant it, anyway.

“Alright, goodbyes are over,” Hurlish announced. She walked up to the Fulleye and leaned forward, giving Sara a quick peck on the lips, then smiled. “Love ya.”

“Love you too.”

Evie stepped up next to Hurlish and tugged at the hem of her shirt. Without looking down, Hurlish grabbed the collar of Evie’s shirt and lifted her, pushing her up to Sara.

“Love you too,” Sara said, giving her other wife a similar kiss.

“I love you. Be safe.”

Evie was dropped, replaced by the swaddled baby Tahn. Sara put both hands on the boy’s cheeks and gave them a light pinch, her beaming smile nearly blinding.

“And I love you tooooo,” she cooed, making his cheeks jiggle. “Just the mostest in the whole world! The whole whole world, ever and forever, every world there ever was. Yessir, yessirree I promise I do little Tahny-Tahn, my perfectest little baby boy, oh yes I do…”

It went on like that for a while. Tinvel faced forward in the plane, hands stalwartly locked to the controls. Though he’d had more interactions with the Governess of Tulian’s family than most, the Governess herself was proving herself to be… not what he expected.

Is she even saying words anymore? Tinvel wondered. I’m pretty sure she’s just babbling at him now.

“Oohhoooohe’sjustthebest ohyesheis ooohohohoho boobooboobobobobo-”

Sara pressed her lips to Tahn’s cheek and blew a loud raspberry, making the child giggle.

Finally, though she didn’t seem done playing with her kid, Hurlish lowered Tahn out of Sara’s reach.

The Champion of Amarat pouted, crossing her arms. “Hey! I wasn’t done yet.”

“Yes you were,” Hurlish said. “And I swear hun, if you’re gonna talk to him like that, why in the gods’ name do you keep telling us not to baby-talk him?”

“It’s good for language development!”

“If that’s true, he’d never learn a single word if you were the only one that talked to him.”

“Not my fault he’s so cute,” Sara huffed. She clapped a hand down on Tinvel’s shoulder, making him jump. “Alright, sorry about that. We’re ready to go.”

Thank the gods.

“Understood, ma’am,” Tinvel said.

Members of the Powdered Lead opened the tent’s flaps, letting light filter in. A pair of enchanted earmuffs went over Tahn’s head, and then they were ready to start.

“Make sure to take off quickly,” Sara said. “They’ve got mages hidden in the crowd to inspect the plane. The less time they get to study it, the better.”

“Hidden? Why? I thought this side of the Empire was our allies?” Chona asked.

Sara scoffed. “They’re business partners, and only barely. We’re holding them hostage with tech like this. If they knew everything we do, they’d forget we exist before next year.” She turned around in her seat, looking Chona in the eye. “If you end up surrounded by a bunch of Imperials, Chona, don’t let your guard down. You know enough to be tempting. Same for you, Tinvel.” She gave the seat in front of her a slap. “Alright! Let’s get this show on the road. I’ve got a promise to keep.”

Chona and Tinvel took over, coordinating their engine starts. Hurlish, Evie, and their guards stepped back, squinting against the dust blown up by the propellers.

Easing the brakes off, Tinvel taxied into the light.

Sara hadn’t been screwing around when she said there’d be a crowd.

The Powdered Lead was spread out across the perimeter of the airfield, one soldier stationed every ten feet. Bronze artillery pieces were flanking the runway like parade guards, tended by mercenaries in freshly-polished armor. Tinvel guessed it was supposed to look like a fancy display, showing off the best and most advanced of Tulian industry for their Imperial allies, but he’d bet everything he owned that every cannon had a double-load of canister stuffed down its muzzle.

As they bumped out to the center of the runway, the Imperial soldiers surged forward, trying to get a better view. Mercenary soldiers began shouting at the top of their lungs, swinging rifle butts, menacing the audience with sharpened bayonets. They managed to keep them from flooding the runway, but only just. There had to be thousands of spectators. If one counted those who had stopped on the road beyond, it was likely tens of thousands. Amongst the sea of plain steel, Tinvel caught sight of individuals that the crowd gave a wide berth to. Wearing fabulously elaborate armor, so covered in enchanted runes and gilding that the metal beneath was barely visible, they lacked the raucous jubilation of the common soldiers. They watched with narrowed eyes, quill-scribbling scribes standing at their side. Shadows of circling griffons flitted across the runway, a half-dozen of the creatures circling above.

“Ma’am!” Tinvel yelled over the sound of the propellers. “Permission to put on a show?”

“What?” Chona called back. “No way, Tin! You heard General Evie! We need to-”

“Hell yeah!” Sara cackled. “Permission granted, Commander Tinvel! Let’s see what you got!”

He leaned forward, pressing a knuckle to the crystalline engine. “Chona, emergency speed!”

“Godsdamnit, Tin!” She yelled as the forward engine began to roar. A moment later, however, the rear engine screeched to a new pitch. Chona hollered something, but they hadn’t put on their speaking gear. It was lost in the roar.

With both engines at emergency power, light began to leak from within the engine cowling, every screw hole and narrow slit spewing green flashes. Even with the brakes fully engaged, the plane began to groan forward, static tires digging a trench in the soil. He reached down, grabbing a lever.

“Brakes released in three!” A smile crawled up his face. “Two! One!”

Tinvel’s teeth rattled as the Fulleye began its acceleration down the runway, the clank of spell-beaten metal sending them screaming over the dirt. A dust storm erupted behind them as clods of early-morning mud, now dried by the sun, were crushed to nothingness beneath the rubber wheels. Looking over his shoulder, he saw only a wall of opaque brown, one that was spreading wider and wider by the second, as if born from the wake of a ship five times the Fulleye’s width.

Even when loaded to its limit, the Fulleye was a twin-engine plane. A whopping fifteen seconds passed before the set of pontoon-embedded wheels lifted off the ground. He pulled harder on the controls, guiding the tail boom’s wide elevator to take a better slice of the air. The nose rose, rose, and rose further, until it was pointing as far above the horizon as he dared, sending them soaring upward.

Tinvel rolled northward, teetering on the very edge of the Fulleye’s maximum rate of climb. The circling griffons tilted their wings accordingly, curving to follow his path.

Watching them spiral, eagle heads tilted toward him, a flash of inspiration echoed through Tinvel. He recognized them. Saw them in a way he never had before. The griffons may have been animals, their riders career soldiers, but they were still creatures of the air, just like he was. He knew what they were here for, what they were interested in. They were here for exactly the same thing he would have been, if he’d been in their place:

Pacing him.

Tinvel grinned toothily.

You should have given yourself a lot more than a two thousand foot head start.

With the engines screeching, it took a little bit under a minute before the Fulleye found itself a few hundred feet beneath the griffons. They were closing in on all sides, riders leaning to the side, some raising spyglasses to an eye.

Tinvel waved at them, still smiling. He leveled the plane off, grabbing his communication mask.

“Chona?”

She grabbed her own mask, securing the cup over her ear. “Yes?”

“Get ready to cut back to combat power, but only when I say so.”

“Roger.”

Tinvel kept the plane at emergency power just a little bit longer. The griffons were flapping hard, using what little height advantage they had left to dive, trading altitude to barely keep pace.

Tinvel waited. And waited. The griffons kept descending, flapping hard. They were exerting so much effort for a reason, he knew. They had heard his plane flying in, had gotten reports from those who had helped guide the Fulleye to the army. They knew the screeching engine speed wasn’t normal, which meant it couldn’t be sustained. They were determined to outlast his burst of speed.

Thirty seconds after he’d leveled off, the griffons had descended to his flight level. Their riders were tucked low to their beast’s back, streamlining themselves as best they could. He could practically see their thoughts in the way they were flying:

Just a little bit longer. He can’t do this forever. If we just keep up long enough, we’ll prove something.

When they ran out of altitude to trade, a choice had to be made. Some kept descending, staying equal to the Fulleye in groundspeed, if not altitude, while others kept at the same altitude, falling behind by degrees. They began to tire, wingbeats slowing, but he could see the determination in them. They weren’t giving it up yet.

“Chona,” he said, speaking calmly into his mouthpiece. “Reduce speed to combat power.”

“Thank the gods!”

As one, they reached into opposing engine compartments, willing their Intent into the crystals.

The rattling engines calmed, brilliant flashes fading. The air around the Fulleye grew quieter, the wind’s whistle finally rising over the clatter of battered steel.

The griffons redoubled their efforts at the sound. Their wings pumped and pumped, mouths now hanging open, their riders cheering them on, some even dumping cool water into their steed’s feathers.

Tinvel leaned back in his chair, keeping one hand on the controls as he stretched his arm out. He pretended to yawn.

And now, even at this far reduced rate of speed, the griffons kept falling behind.

“Ha!” Sara’s laughter boomed, shockingly loud in his ear. “So that’s what you were doing!”

His smile grew.

One by one, the griffons began to drop out. Those who had chosen to dive were forced to peel away first, quickly running out of free space. One griffon who’d chosen to pace the Fulleye at an even altitude chose to dive, probably thinking Tinvel was bluffing about being able to maintain his current speed, but was soon forced to pull up and away as they came close to scraping the treetops.

Finally, maybe four minutes or so after liftoff, the very last of the griffons pulled away. It was a sleek, lean creature, and had paced the Fulleye a full minute longer than its fellows. But even the most successful of the creatures could recognize when it was beat; after the gap between them had grown to a full mile, the griffon finally slowed, spinning around.

As it turned, in the moment its full wingspan was silhouetted against the blue horizon, it shifted. Feathers flicked and its folded-in legs alternated extension, sending the bird rocking left to right.

He didn’t know what the gesture meant, technically. It could have been a congratulations, a formal wave goodbye, or an insult. Thankfully, whichever it was, Tinvel was happy to return it. He tapped the control stick, rolling his wings left, right, left, and back to the right, and then he leveled off. He didn’t know if the griffon and its rider could see the wave by then. He hoped so.

A few seconds later, they were alone over the jungle.

“So,” Chona drawled, irritated, “how much earlier are we going to have to land after burning all that energy?”

Tinvel winced.

-------------------------------------

Aurora Vesta

-------------------------------------

It was always quite the sight to see the vaunted aeroplanes of Tulian coming in for their graceful landings. Compared to the colorful jungle birds which darted about the city of Tulian, such a mess of sweeping canvas and jutting wood seemed far too indelicate a creation to take to the skies in such a manner. Yet as she watched the latest of Tulian’s industries slip in for a landing, there was no denying the incredible success of the small city-state’s industries.

Nor the impulsive idiocy of its ruler, Vesta thought, a deep frown decorating her face.

The aeroplane’s wheels touched the ground, accompanied by a high-pitched squeak and puff of smoke. As it trundled and bounced to a hasty stop, Vesta was treated to the maddening sight of Sara Brown, Champion of Amarat and Governess of Tulian, crawling out of her seat and onto the wing, the vehicle still moving as she happily leapt from the plane.

Oddry, at Vesta’s side, gasped. Vesta simply cursed under her breath.

Sara hit the concrete runway with her hands extended, tucking herself into an admittedly adroit roll. She tumbled end-over-end for a great distance, laughing as she did so, and sprang to her feet before fully coming to a stop. Alone in the middle of the street which was now dedicated to landing aeroplanes, Sara scanned her surroundings, squinting slightly until her eyes finally landed on Vesta.

Vesta scowled.

Sara grinned.

“Did she really have to do that?” Oddry asked, still aghast.

“Of course not,” Vesta tiredly replied. “But she knew we were watching, and that’s all the reason she needs to be a fool about something.”

“I would think we aren’t important enough to be worth impressing,” Oddry said. “Not anymore, at least.”

Lifting her dress with one hand and primly giving the other to her wife, Vesta sighed.

“You’ve gone too long without speaking to her. She isn’t interested in impressing politicians, Oddry. She’s interested in making a show of herself in front of beautiful women.”

“Ah,” Oddry intoned, a soft exhalation full of understanding. “That does make more sense.” She sniffed daintily, an affection of noble habits she’d picked up from Vesta. “Though I don’t see why she thinks it’s necessary for us. I’m fairly certain we’re both lost causes, considering how deeply we’ve drunk of her beauty already.”

Vesta rubbed at her throat absentmindedly, then changed the motion to covering a cough with her fist when she caught herself doing so.

“It seems to be part of her nature.” Vesta glanced at Oddry through the corner of an eye. “Just as I believe her flawless ability to read our lips from this distance is part of her nature, might I remind you.”

Still jogging their way from over two hundred yards distance, Sara barked out a loud laugh.

Vesta and Oddry walked towards Sara to help close the distance, but it was hardly necessary. The woman’s maddeningly rapid Level acquisition meant that even her light jog was beyond most lesser men’s outright sprint. They met in the middle of the runway, Sara beaming a dizzyingly bright smile at them both.

“Long time no see, Miss Minister!” She grabbed Vesta’s hand and pumped it in a brutish commoner’s handshake, then turned to Oddry and accepted the former maid’s extended hand. Sara bent low and pressed her lips to Oddry’s knuckles, making Vesta’s wife blush, then she straightened with a sly smile. “And it’s been even longer since I’ve got to chat with the Minister’s handler. How have her cooking lessons been going?”

“Abandoned, I’m afraid,” Oddry said, putting the back of her kissed hand to her brow in dramatic exasperation. “I’m sure she could have learned it eventually, but when the children began refusing to visit for dinner, we decided it best that I take over matters more permanently.”

Sara laughed. Even after all this time, Vesta’s heart fluttered. The Champion of Amarat’s joy came with a chime beautiful enough to drive fae princesses mad with envy. How many other women could kiss the hand of her wife and leave Vesta feeling frustrated, not with offense, but envy that it hadn’t been her own knuckles?

It truly has been too long since I was around her. It’s as if I’m a blushing maiden once more.

Taking a breath to help compose herself, Vesta produced a journal from within her dress, opening it to a heavily-warped page.

“If you two are done mocking my cooking-”

“Never,” Sara laughed.

“-then I have the list that Evie requested I prepare for you.”

Sara nodded gratefully, taking the journal from Vesta and scanning its contents.

“Thanks. I really appreciate you filling in for Evie while I’m here, by the way. I’m useless without someone to keep me on task.”

“Of course.”

As they walked, Oddry leaned forward and to the side, raising her eyebrows at Sara from the far side of Vesta. “Will we be getting similar forms and rates of pay as the Stewardess?”

Sara snickered. “You could try, but I’m pretty sure you couldn’t handle Evie’s rate. You gotta build up tolerance for that kind of treatment.” Her face fell as she continued to read the list. “Ugh. And I really doubt I’ll have time.”

“You could always spend an extra day in town,” Oddry suggested. She tipped her chin toward Vesta. “I have it on good authority that key members of your government would be rather grateful, should you decide to spend some extra time on… socialization.”

“Oddry, you know what would happen if I was late coming back, right? Evie would rip my cock straight off.”

“And then she would come for me, I’m afraid,” Vesta added. She gave Oddry a commiserative pat on the back. “I’m sorry, my love, but Sara must be kept on task. That is the role we were given, after all.”

“Hmph,” Oddry huffed, turning her nose up. The frustration was exaggerated… mostly. Vesta couldn’t blame her. Sara’s bed was a very lovely place to be.

“So it looks like you want me to start with Admiral Whistling Ash? Why?”

Vesta looked at Sara incredulously. “Why? Why did I want you to see the Carrion High Admiral, the representative of Tulian’s arguably most powerful prospective ally? The one which you have kept waiting in harbor for several days now, when it likely has been decades since he was ever forced to wait so long for an audience?”

“Yeah. He’s already been waiting for a few days. What’s the big deal with making him wait a little while longer?”

“I…” Vesta bit her cheek, holding back the borderline insult that instinct told her to throw at the woman. Sara was a young woman, young enough that Vesta would otherwise have considered her barely experienced enough to handle even the most minor of greetings, but that was a false image. The Champion of Amarat was asking her the question for a reason other than childish impetuousness.

“Because,” she said, choosing her words carefully, “Admiral Whistling Ash is a limited commodity. Though I don’t anticipate this first meeting to yield much in terms of formal agreements, he is clearly a man that is accustomed to having his presence respected. I know from our conversations that you approached him for his greater humility, but that attribute is only relative to Carrion High Admirals. If word reaches him that you were settling Union disputes and breaking Parliamentary tie votes before introducing yourself, I can only imagine he would be deeply offended.”

“Hm,” Sara said, tapping her lips. “That’s not the impression I got from him when we were exchanging letters. You’ve met him?”

“Twice, and only briefly,” Vesta confirmed. “But I believe it was enough to be confident in my conclusion. He is more humble than a Sporaton Duke, true, and a jovial enough conversation partner, but there is no mistaking his status. Were he humble by the standards you hold yourself to,” Vesta waved indicatively at Sara’s Imperial peasant’s garb, “he would not have greeted a Tulian Finance Minister whilst wearing sealskin coats sporting gemstone-encrusted buttons.”

Vesta reached over to the journal in Sara’s hands, flipping the pages to the blue bookmark. It was scrawled with figures in tiny columns, all narrowing down to one final number at the bottom of the page. One with many, many digits.

“By scouring publicly available shipping records, I believe his family’s wealth handily exceeds the current valuation of this entire city. He is not just a wealthy man, Sara. He could have bought out the Eliah estate at its greatest height.” Vesta was satisfied to see Sara’s eyes widen at that. “You see my point, yes? To use an appropriately nautical metaphor, Sara, you have convinced him to nibble at the bait. There is no reason to delay setting the hook.”

“Guess so,” Sara mumbled. Her attention turned inward for a moment, lips twitching as thoughts flitted through her mind. She looked up at Vesta. “I knew he was wealthy, but I’ll admit, I didn’t anticipate it was that far off the charts. Evie and I were focused on evaluating his political standing within the Carrion hierarchy.”

“And I’ll defer to your expertise on that matter, of course.” Vesta nodded graciously. “Keep in mind that most of my evaluation of his economic strength comes from his business ventures, not estate revenue. An odd man in that way; most his age would have long since stopped reinvesting the dividends into further ventures, choosing instead to ensure he could provide a larger immediate inheritance for his children. Yet every record I could find of his businesses stumbling into an unexpected windfall was near immediately followed by his estate purchasing some workshop here, a fishing fleet there, and, oddest of all for a Carrion Naval officer, he often preferred acquiring large swathes of farmland. Strange behavior indeed.”

“Less odd than you’re probably thinking, actually.” Sara’s lips twisted. “I think that might be my fault.”

“Oh?”

Sara sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I think I know what he’s up to. Evie and I have been putting a lot of whispers into Carrion ears about their suffrage system. There’s been a lot of tension between ship captains and wealthy colonial elites for a while now, and it’s only getting worse. We’ve been agitating the land-based factions, trying to force the conflict to a head. The Carrions are the closest thing to a democratic meritocracy I’ve found, and they still only let ship captains vote. That was never going to be sustainable, not once they started to set up land colonies. I’m shocked the system’s lasted this long, really.”

Vesta’s brow creased. “The Carrion suffrage system is rather famously unequal, true, but what does that have to do with Admiral Whistling Ash’s investment habits?”

“Honestly? I think he figured out I’m behind the shit-stirring. And since he knows the Champion of Amarat gets what she wants, he’s preparing for the flip. Let me guess: those workshops and farms he’s been buying, has he been giving them a good deal?”

“A very good deal, in fact,” Vesta confirmed. “In some rare instances he paid thirty percent over the cost I’d have estimated in his place. I assumed it was simply the nature of his far-flung web of business interests making it difficult to personally manage negotiations. Better to offer an excellent value and be done with it. As you well know, a happy employee is a productive—” Vesta blinked, recognition flowing into her. “Oh. Ah, yes. I see.”

Sara nodded. “He’s playing his cards smart. Building himself a strong, loyal voting block, but doing it well before the suffrage vote is anywhere close to the Admiralty’s table. The other Admirals will do the same eventually, but they’ll only start once the suffrage rights change. The people they buy off will know it’s just a mercantile transaction: money for support. But Whistling Ash? They’ll just think he’s a damn good guy.” Sara smacked her lips, shaking her head. “Guess he didn’t get his position by screwing around, huh?”

Mind racing, Vesta took the journal back from Sara. She scanned down the pages, noting each land-based acquisition. She didn’t have the full figures with her, but she could recall them in vague terms. Many of the Admiral’s questionable decisions suddenly made sense. Buying out highly populated but low-profit margin farmland, heavily investing in industries in competitive areas rather than those with strong monopolies, and, perhaps most revealing of all, personally bankrolling the commissioning of harbor defense ships, whose captains traditionally did not get a vote in choosing members of the Admiralty. All of the purchases occurring at least ten to fifteen percent over cost, too. What she’d mistaken for wasteful generosity was in fact some of the most callous socio-economic maneuvering she’d ever been privy to.

“I… believe I may have underestimated this Admiral,” Vesta murmured.

Sara chuckled. “Don’t feel bad. He’s been working pretty damn hard to make sure you did. And he’s got a lot more pieces of the puzzle than you did.”

“Even still…”

They stepped into the streets, Oddry leading the way. Sara reached beneath her shirt and pulled out a hooded raincoat, tossing it over her head, and then reached into a pocket and whispered a word. An illusion shimmered over Vesta and Oddry, changing their dress and faces to those of the most average and unremarkable of Tulian citizens.

Vesta ignored it all, still focused on the figures. It was… fascinating. She wondered if they would have time to detour to her home to retrieve the full numbers.

With a smug grin, Sara stepped around her, slipping between Vesta and Oddry, tossing her arms over both women’s shoulders.

“I know you’re interested in that book,” Sara whispered, the words seeming to physically squirm into Vesta’s ear, “but I really did miss you. Why don’t we chat a bit more on the way to the ship?”

An involuntary shudder ran down Vesta’s spine.

“Chat?” She asked, shutting the book with a light clap. “Must we really do something so boring?”

Sara squeezed her shoulder tighter. “If you’re good, maybe it’ll get more interesting.”

Oddry looked up at Sara, a hungry expression on her spell-shifted face. “Well, Governess, I do believe that collecting such important monetary figures proved to be rather helpful, yes?”

Sara laughed. “C’mon, Oddry, aren’t you supposed to be the domme here? You don’t get very far in that field by hyping your sub up, y’know.”

“I’m afraid I have considerable ulterior motives at the moment, Governess,” Oddry said, squeezing even tighter into Sara’s side.

Vesta should have been jealous, she supposed. She was married to Oddry now, both legally and in their hearts. They had both agreed that Vesta’s old habits, of dallying with maids and sweeping them into her orbit, were done with. So it seemed terribly hypocritical of Oddry to be working so hard to ingratiate herself to Sara. Hypocritical enough that Vesta should have protested.

Vesta licked her lips.

“I have been rather well-behaved as of late, haven’t I?”

Sara’s laughter was as beautiful as always.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!