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Cinnamon Bun
Chapter Three Hundred and Sixty-Four - From Sylphfree With Love

Chapter Three Hundred and Sixty-Four - From Sylphfree With Love

Chapter Three Hundred and Sixty-Four - From Sylphfree With Love

After waving goodbye to the fleet and heading due west for a while, I finally let go of the Beaver’s wheel and let Calamity and Clive take over. Calamity was eager to learn how to pilot the ship, and Clive was a nice enough sort that he didn’t mind teaching others his trade. In fact, I think he liked giving lessons about piloting airships.

As I left the poop deck I ran into Awen who smiled and gave me a little wave. “Hey Broc,” she said. “Do you mind helping me a little?”

“Of course not,” I said. “But with what?”

Her smile turned a little rueful and she gestured down at herself. She’d shucked off her coat at some point, leaving her in a blouse and sturdy trousers, both of which were now splattered with grease and oil.

“Oh,” I said, giggling. “Sure, give me a second.” A liberal application of Cleaning magic later, and Awen was as fresh as new.

“Thanks,” she said. “I was just checking up on the engine. One of the pirate’s bolts actually lodged itself into the engine compartment. It broke right through the wall and jammed itself into the housing of an air intake.”

“Oh no,” I said.

“It’s nothing too bad. I pulled it out and patched the hole. There was a weird whistle as soon as I opened the door into the engine compartment, so I knew something was up. Anyway, we’ll have to get a new housing but it’s just a bit of tin, nothing too complicated, and it should work just as well now as it did before. It’s not going to be an expensive fix. The hole in the hull is more annoying, we just had it painted.”

“I know,” I commiserated. It really was annoying to have already collected a few scratches and scuffs right after the Beaver was refitted, but there wasn’t much we could do about it. At least the ship seemed to be in nearly perfect condition otherwise. Or... I guessed it was. “Is there anything else that broke?”

“No. I think the engine was pushed a little harder than usual, but it’s running fine. I oiled everything that moves and made sure that anything that wasn’t supposed to be moving wasn’t.”

I laughed again. “You make mechanics sound easy when you put it that way.”

“I don’t find it all that hard,” Awen said. “It’s a little tricky but it’s just like a puzzle. The bigger and more complicated the machine, the more parts there are to the puzzle. Only they’re all interconnected, moving parts which are very loud sometimes.” She smiled. “That makes it more fun.”

Awen loved her work, and it was just plain nice to see her enjoying what she did. I stretched until my lower back popped, then let out a big long sigh. “Ah, I think I need a nap,” I said.

She nodded. “Today was tiring, wasn’t it?”

I nodded at that. A glance at the sky suggested that it was still just the early afternoon, way too early for bed, but maybe not too early for a nap... although I supposed that I should have been preparing supper for everyone. “Want to help me in the kitchen? More hands will make it lighter work.”

“Sure,” Awen said. “You’d think cooking would be like mechanics, but it’s so much harder somehow.”

“Well, cooking’s like an art,” I said. “You just need to know what does what and go with what you think feels right. At least, that’s always worked out for me.”

“I’m not good at art,” Awen said.

I glanced at her, curious. “You’re not?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m really not. My mother tried to get me to learn all sorts of art things, but I was never able to get the hang of any. Except music. But I can’t make my own music, I’m just okay at playing the instruments and following along to what’s written in front of me. I tried to compose a little, but I don’t know, it doesn’t work.”

I tapped my chin, then shrugged. “That’s okay. Maybe try baking then? That’s less of an art and more of a science.”

“That sounds fun. We could make cakes and things like that. Um, provided we install an oven on the Beaver, which sounds a little heavy.”

“Right.” I said. That would be tricky.

“Or I could bake in the engine room. Some parts get hot enough. All you’d need is to box them in, I think,” Awen said.

“I don’t know if that’s a great idea. You’ll end up with engine gunk in some bread and I don’t think that’ll be healthy,” I said.

Awen laughed. “Yeah, fair enough. Maybe a heat exchanger then? But that would also be pretty heavy.”

We discussed the possibilities of an airborne bakery as we made our way to the Beaver’s lower deck and to the corridor lined by our separate bedrooms. I paused near the end. The door to the room we let Caprica take for herself was open a crack which wasn’t ideal. The ship rocked and turned sometimes, so having loose things meant that they’d roll around and bump into stuff.

“One sec,” I told Awen as I pushed the door open. It felt a little rude to enter what I’d started to think of as Caprica’s room, but in reality she hadn’t left anything behind. There were some blankets on the cot and it was possible that she’d left some things in the few drawers tucked in the corner of the room, but otherwise the space was still empty, same as Bastion’s room.

Except, of course, for a rather large crate left in the middle of the floor.

“Huh,” I said as I stared at it. She’d mentioned sending this over, but I couldn’t recall any details about what it was. It was just a box, about as wide as my shoulders and tall as my hips.

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“Are those air-holes?” Awen asked, leaning around me to see into the room..

There were, in fact, little holes drilled just under the hemp handles on either side of the crate. “That’s a little weird,” I said as I moved closer. I expected to find a note or something, but there was nothing, just a big old box.

Then the box shuddered and I jumped so high I smushed my ears against the ceiling.

“It’s alive!” I squeaked.

Awen frowned and walked right up to the box and placed a hand atop it to stop its wobbling. “What’s in here?” she asked.

“It’s me,” the box said.

I blinked. The box said with Caprica’s voice. “Caprica?” I asked. “Are you in the box?”

“Yes?” the box said.

I looked to Awen who shrugged. “It’s nailed shut,” she said.

“Maybe it’s a mimic,” I suggested. “Caprica, can you prove that it’s you? What’s your sister’s name?”

“Gabrielle or Sylvia? You haven’t met my other sisters yet, as far as I know,” Caprica said.

“Should we, ah, open the box?” Awen asked.

“I guess so,” I said. This was a little strange. “You might want to go get Amaryllis and tell her that we have a stowaway onboard.”

“I’m not a stowaway,” Caprica said from within the box she’d used to sneak aboard our ship, kind of like how a stowaway would.

“If you say so,” I said.

Awen looked at the box, then back up to me. “Right, I’m going to go fetch a crowbar,” she said before leaving.

I sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the crate. I could just make out Caprica’s eye through one of the air holes. “So, want to tell me why you’re, uh, nailed into a box and onboard the Beaver without permission?” I asked. “Because you could have just asked. You already have a room and everything.”

“It’s not your permission that’s complicated,” she said. I had to imagine her very unprincess-like pout. “It’s my guards. It was complicated enough just getting onboard in this box you know, without a trail of guards and servants and all the usual train of sylph that follow a princess around.”

“You wanted to sneak away?” I asked.

“Well... not just that,” she admitted.

I frowned and thought about it for a bit. Caprica didn’t seem to dislike her role as princess. She was a rather active one, and she sometimes pushed the boundaries, I imagined, but for the most part I think she enjoyed her life. Of course, there was... ah.

“Caprica,” I asked.

“Yes Broccoli?” she replied, voice a little muffled by the box.

“Did you do this so that Bastion would follow you and come to your rescue?” I asked.

The box was very, very silent. I could almost imagine it was a normal, stowaway-less crate. Finally, after a long wait, I heard a faint and very unconvincing, “No.”

“Uh-huh,” I said.

Awen returned with a crowbar and an Amaryllis.

“What’s all this about a stowaway?” Amaryllis asked. I pointed to the box and she stared at it for a moment. “Toss it overboard,” she said. She sounded serious, but there was a hint of a smile in the corner of her mouth that suggested otherwise.

Caprica thumped the inside of her box. “Let me out,” she said.

“Broccoli once used this phrase on me... I found it quite insulting at the time, now what was it... oh yes,” Amaryllis grinned. “What’s the magic word?”

“Is it ‘now?’” Caprica asked.

“No, it’s ‘please.’ You should try it sometimes, Miss Stowaway Princess.”

“Please let me out?” Caprica asked churlishly.

Awen was holding back giggles as she moved around the box and jammed the end of her crowbar into the wood and forced it up bit by bit. Whomever Caprica had convinced to help her into the box had really done a nice job nailing it shut.

“Ah, thank you!” Caprica said as she finally stood. The space in there wasn’t all that much bigger than she was, so I imagined it wasn’t a comfortable fit. Though it looked like she had a thin blanket squeezed into the bottom for padding.

“Care to explain?” Amaryllis asked.

“I thought you could use the help,” Caprica said.

Amaryllis snorted. “Yeah, sure.”

“She did it for love,” I said. “It’s kind of sweet... even if I’m pretty sure her plan won't work.”

Caprica shot me a dirty look, but it faded soon enough.

“Anyway,” I said. “Want to help us make supper?” I asked.

“Just like that?” she replied.

I stood up and got off her bed. “Well, yeah, what did you expect us to do? You obviously want to come with us, and I don’t think any of us mind.”

“I mind the heat this will bring,” Amaryllis said. “The sylph might decide that we’ve kidnapped one of their precious princesses.”

I shrugged. “We’ll deal with that when the time comes, right? Besides, maybe Caprica can write a nice letter home.” I patted Caprica on the back. “Now, did you pack a change of clothes? Some gear? Did you bring more than just one blanket? You know, you should always bring a towel with you when stowing away, just in case.”

Caprica seemed a little overwhelmed for a moment, and I almost hugged her on reflex, but she shored up her resolve and stood taller. “I’m alright. I didn’t bring any clothes, but I’m certain I can endure these for a day or two. And I stashed a spare shield and sword under the bed, just in case.”

“Cool!” I said. “In that case, want to help Awen and I in the kitchen? We don’t know what we’re making yet, but I bet it’ll be really tasty!”

***