The next leg of their journey was surprisingly uneventful, all things considered. Well, uneventful when compared to the mess that the previous leg of the journey had been. Two near-death experiences and a mutiny in the span of a week felt less like bad luck and more like fate was toying with him, fickle thing that it was. Nonetheless, the crew had been able to get them through to Three-Streams without delay, and for that he was thankful.
Lawrence might have been new to leading such a large body of people, but thankfully his decades spent alongside the various captains that had piloted this old vessel seemed to have imparted him with at least rudimentary knowledge of the duties that came with his new position. Archer knew for a fact that the man felt out of his depth, but hey, he'd learn. It was the same thing the man had said to Archer when he'd first boarded the Sunbird, a day which now felt like years ago despite being three months to the day. God, three months. Twelve weeks and already he felt as though he'd always been aboard this ship, always lived amongst the skies. He chuckled to himself at that slightly dramatic thought. What would his father say if he could have heard that?
Well, Archer thought to himself with a fond smile as he looked at the underside of a boiler, he'd probably tell me to get back on with my bloody work for a start. Given that Lawrence was now the captain one might have expected him to have far less time for maintenance and repairs, but woe betide any man foolish enough to come between the engineer and his ship. No, he'd simply told the First Mate to see them safely to Three-Streams and to alert him if any threat to the ship was sighted, then left the man to get on with bringing the Sunbird to port. For sure, Lawrence spent maybe an hour or two of his workday actually piloting the ship, but most of the time he was down under grimy engines or inspecting rusted walkways just like he always had been. If it weren't for the markedly slower pace that the old bird was flying at Archer figured he might not have known there had been a mutiny at all. Well, assuming he hadn't been present for it either, obviously.
Still, even though Lawrence may have still been with him for the majority of his workday, the man had still entrusted Archer to a few of the more 'technical' tasks that neither of them would have dreamed of allowing him to perform only a couple of months ago. Nothing extremely dangerous or difficult, and usually with Lawrence's supervision, but he was learning nonetheless. It was a thought that sent a warmth through him, the knowledge that his friend had entrusted him to see to the maintenance and repair of his home, not just his ship, for to Lawrence the Sunbird was as close to a home as he had ever known. It was a mark of trust, even if the man hadn't said any words along those lines. Pondering on the matter a little led Archer to decide that Lawrence would almost definitely get along well with father. Well, perhaps a little too well, come to think of it; even mother would be hard pressed to drag the two of them from the garage or the maintenance shed if they bonded over their mutual appreciation for mundane mechanical work. Hell, before his contract was up, maybe Archer himself would be just as enthralled by the mechanical. God, mother was going to be so disappointed to find out that he'd be just as insufferable as father was when talking about sprockets and screws. Who knew he'd end up not only learning from his work, but enjoying it as well?
"Archer?"
"A moment, if you please."
He tightened the last of the screws into place and slid himself out from beneath the boiler, well aware that his face was probably caked in grime, sweat, and soot. Before him stood Michael, a little anxiety written on his face but nothing like those days after he'd killed his first man. Archer was glad that he was getting a little better. As of right now the man's nerves seemed to alleviate, probably since the marine was likely too distracted by the state of the face in front of him.
"You take a bath with the weasel or something?"
Archer huffed out a laugh at the remark. He took off his filthy gloves and held out a hand so that Michael could help him up, who complied only a little gingerly to his credit.
"What can I help you with, friend? Rifle playing up again? I keep telling Private Soldier David not to use it as a bat to play cricket on deck, but he never listens."
Michael shook his head, though not before laughing a little at his comrade's ill-fated attempt to organise a cricket match aboard an airship. Saying that, it had been a well-needed boost to everyone's spirits, so Archer reckoned that it had been a success in reality. It hadn't stopped the man from using the marine's rifles to swat at anything he could see on deck, with the exception of his fellow crewmen of course, resulting in more than one gun stubbornly refusing to fire. Archer had been able to fix most of the damaged weapons, given his experience mending hunting rifles for the baronet's family, and Lawrence had attempted to give the offending marine a stern talking to. Archer said attempted, since his friend and captain had been almost totally unable to hide his urge to laugh at the absurdity of what was being talked of.
"No, no, nothing of the sort. I was just wondering if you'd be willing to play cards over a few drinks later? I know you're normally with the officers, but it'd be nice to spend some time with you off-duty as well."
Archer beamed at his friend.
"Of course! I'm fine with that. You want me to bring up a few beers as well?"
Michael smiled back at him.
"That sounds excellent. Thank you very much."
"No worries. Will it just be us?"
Michael nodded, and if he heard the waver in Archer's voice he said nothing. Even if Archer hadn't made his desire not to be outnumbered in a room again known, it wasn't exactly a stretch to assume that he would not want to be caught off guard with anyone other than very trusted friends.
"Good. That's good. I take it you want to just stay in the mess in that case, unless you had somewhere in particular planned for our meeting?"
Michael shrugged.
"Meh, the mess seems as good a place as any, even if it'll seem a little weird to have you sat away from the officer's table."
Archer laughed a little before shaking his head.
"Nah, I don't think it will be. Besides, I'm pretty sure all the officers are on shift tonight, hence why Lawrence isn't with me right now. They're having a meeting or something, which only the heads of the ship are to be present for."
"That'd mean that Mr Rickard, the corporal I mean, and Mr Cooke are still available. Are you sure you don't mind skipping out on a night with them?"
Archer made a 'psh' noise and waved Michael's worries away.
"Of course not. If the heads of the ship are out then Owen will be sleeping, and Talon isn't able to join us most nights anyway. Why, are you worried about the Owens getting annoyed that you're taking away one of their regulars for a night?"
Michael smiled.
"Maybe a little. Mr Cooke as well. Talon, you said his first name was?"
Archer nodded, smiling.
"Aye, and he's an excellent person. Truly excellent."
Michael nodded, but his mind seemed to be elsewhere.
"Michael? Are you alright?"
"Doesn't he seem... I don't know, familiar, to you?"
Archer tilted his head a little in thought.
"I... I don't know. If he did feel familiar to me then I probably wouldn't notice it anymore, given how much time I spend with him."
Michael nodded again, seeming to half listen to Archer's words and half lost in thought.
"His voice, the way he speaks, his mannerisms... I know I've seen them all somewhere before, it's almost uncannily accurate to some half-remembered memories I have, official functions and the like, but where? Where could I possibly have heard him before?"
Archer sighed and shrugged at his friend's apparent mystery. There was little he could do to help answer it right now.
"A mystery for another time, perhaps. Not that I don't enjoy your company, but I've still got two jobs to look at. If you wanna hang around that's fine, provided you're not supposed to be doing anything at the moment."
Michael grinned.
"My friend, are you implying I would shirk my duties? That I lack a work ethic? Oh, Archer, I'm wounded! Wounded, I say!"
Archer laughed and shook his head before packing what was left of his toolbox.
"Come on then, wounded man. I need to check out where the bloody rattling is coming from in the air pumps."
Michael gave an exaggerated bow, and Archer realised that just four months ago the idea of a noble bowing to him would have seemed laughable, even insulting. As of right now? It just seemed funny. He smiled fondly and shook his head.
"Come on then, let's be off. There's no use wasting any more of the navy's time."
----------------------------------------
"So, how else do you plan on making a name for yourself?"
Michael shrugged, hunched over his cards. The two of them had spent most of the day together at this point, save only a brief stint when Archer had been called away to take a quick look at one of the cookers in the kitchens and another five minutes in which Michael had been given a report to run to Corporal Rickard by one of the serving-boys. The drink was good, dinner was even better, and the company was excellent. There was very little for either of them to complain about right now. Well, the standard toothless grumblings and gripes surrounding work notwithstanding.
"Three of a kind, sevens."
"Okay, you're definitely rigging this now. Two pairs, fours and sevens."
Michael grinned as Archer begrudgingly handed over another couple of chips to the insufferably lucky man in front of him. He took a sip of his drink whilst fighting the urge to tip what was left of it down the front of his friend in response to the three lost games.
"No rigging I'm afraid. Well, none save that which criss-crosses the ship. Why do we even have that rigging anyway?"
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
"Well, for ease of movement to hard-to-reach areas, of course."
Michael maintained his incredulous look.
"But we have ladders for that. Why the old-fashioned rigging?"
Archer opened his mouth, then stopped. Huh. That was a good point. Why did they have the rigging?
"Huh. I guess I never considered that. There must be a reason, surely, but I'll be damned if I can figure it out."
"Still, I'm glad for it though."
Archer raised an eyebrow at his friend, curious.
"Oh? And why would that be?"
The man lounged where he sat, reclining in comfort as though he were at the location he was describing and not sat on a wooden chair in the mess hall.
"Why, because it's excellent to lie upon and simply enjoy the act of soaking in the sun. Tell me you've at least attempted to bathe in the sunlight at least once upon our journey?"
Archer shook his head, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of his friend sunbathing upon the rigging of a warship.
"I have not, no. I'm not sure if you realise this, but some of us are kept rather busy aboard this ship."
The two of them laughed a little more, eventually lapsing into comfortable small talk. They spoke of the weather, the Sunbird, humorous happenings they'd been privy to, and the like. It was a welcome relief for Archer, for despite the fact that a respectable amount of time had passed between now and the mutiny as well as his near-death experiences, he still had yet to feel as though he had truly relaxed since then. Well, tonight was different. He was relaxed, he was beginning to recover, and he was damn well going to be happy no matter what.
"I take it you've had a great deal to write about to your parents recently? We've certainly passed through some strange and wonderful territories recently."
Archer smiled at Michael as the other spoke, trying to focus on the wonder of seeing the megaflora that made up the Thornbush Mortuary and not the terror at watching one of his friends nearly plummet to his death as they passed through.
"Indeed I do. I'm not sure what they'll make of it all, truth be told. Do you know if there's a postal service in Three-Streams? So I can send my letters back home, I mean."
Michael shrugged.
"I can't rightly say. I've never been to Three-Streams before, and I'm not sure how these republic, anti-monarchist types run their nations. I'd imagine there's some way you'll be able to get those letters home to your parents. Have you received any news of your mother's pregnancy yet?"
Archer huffed a little.
"They've got no way of knowing where I am, or where I'm headed for that matter. I wish I could receive some news, but our communications will likely be entirely one-way for the majority of my five years of service aboard the Sunbird."
Michael smiled sadly at him.
"A pity, but I understand your annoyance at such a situation. Regardless, imagine what your little brother or sister will think of you when you return. For the first few years of their life they'll only know you through stories and tales that your parents spin; I know for a fact that when you do meet them for the first time, they'll be very excited."
Archer looked at him, unconvinced.
"Really?"
Michael pressed on, unswayed.
"Of course! Their older brother, the sailor who saw the world! The explorer, the soldier, the hero! They'll pester their parents to tell them all about you a dozen times over, and strive to emulate you. That much I promise you to be true. All you need to do is make sure you have a few stories to tell them when you return."
Archer smiled. The thought was a pleasant one, even if he couldn't bring himself to see those qualities when he looked inwards. Soldier? Hero? He'd saved a man's life once, but not without help, and besides, knowing his parents the babe was more likely to grow up on stories of him embarrassing himself in a most un-heroic manner when he was their age, whatever gender the babe ended up being. Male, female, or any other besides, the stories they would be told were far more likely to involve him running away terrified as he was chased by geese than they were to be of exploits that his parents did not yet know of.
"I'm not entirely convinced, but then I'm trying to be happy and positive tonight, so I'm going to agree with you at face value and accept your veiled compliments."
"Veiled compliments?"
"I do believe you called me a hero?"
Michael flushed a little, but to his credit still managed to maintain his demeanour.
"Well, you saved Mr Walker, Archer. Without Mr Walker, this ship would be fucked. We'd all be headed to the Blacksnow Graveyards without winter-proofing, and without the man who has both literally and metaphorically held this ship together for quite some time now, if the stories I've heard of him are true. Do you know if they are or not?"
Archer smiled. He didn't know exactly which rumours about Lawrence his friend was talking about, but at the very least he trusted the knowledge that it was the chief engineer and not the former captain that had kept the Sunbird from destruction until this point.
"I can't say for certain, but I can in good conscience say that whatever rumours you may have heard surrounding Mr Walker's actions in keeping the ship afloat are likely true. He was born on this vessel, it's his home. There's nothing he wouldn't do to see it protected and afloat. He hates the idea of needing to settle down in one place like us lot who were born on the land."
Michael looked at him, eyes wide.
"He's an aetherborn?"
Archer nodded. Lawrence hadn't ever hidden that fact, but then the man wasn't exactly talkative outside of his, admittedly small, circle of trusted friends anyway.
"Yep, born and bred aboard this old bird. Are you sure I haven't told you this before?"
"If you have then I've somehow forgotten," Michael relied, "but that does explain quite a lot. Explains why he called the ship his home, to start."
Archer grunted his affirmations, stretching his arms and back. He'd been sat here for a while, and as such the resulting popping sensations were most pleasant.
"Indeed. He loves this vessel as fiercely as you or I love Albion, as fiercely as we love our missing prince. He'd never let anything happen to her, not so long as he can do something about it."
Michael looked at him, half incredulous and half genuinely amazed.
"Small wonder he became the engineer. If he'd genuinely do that much for the Sunbird, I can think of no other man better for the job. Hell, small wonder the officers chose him for our new captain! He'll see us through to Albion, and no mistake."
Archer nodded, raising his glass, and Michael did the same.
"To the health of Captain Walker!"
"To Captain Walker!"
The two of them drank from their glasses, Archer coughing as a small amount of his drink went down the wrong way. When he was finished with his little coughing fit, Michael continued.
"I'll be honest though, he scares me a little, even now. I know you vouch for him constantly, but-"
"Ah, Mr Haywood, Mr... apologies, we seem to have not been introduced to each other yet."
Michael jumped half a mile at Lawrence's voice, and Archer stifled a chuckle. Speak of the devil...
"Mr Griffon, sir. A pleasure to meet with you properly."
Lawrence's brow twitched just a mite at the use of the honorific, and Archer dearly hoped neither man realised how close he was to laughing.
"Mr Griffon, a pleasure. Mr Haywood, if you would be so kind, have you by chance seen Talon anywhere?"
"Certainly, Mr Walker. I believe he should still be in the kitchens; I briefly looked over a cooker he claimed was acting up, but it seems to have just been chance since I couldn't find anything wrong with it and it began working again after."
Lawrence nodded at him appreciatively.
"Thank you. We'll look at it again tomorrow after breakfast, just to be sure."
Archer mock-saluted, showing his intent to carry out the task tomorrow morning, then spoke.
"If you don't mind my asking, Mr Walker, why is it you have begun to visit Mr Cooke while on-duty so much since taking the captaincy? Does he have experience with the sort of tasks you must now perform?"
Lawrence nodded at him, a faraway smile on his face.
"Indeed. Whilst he may have little knowledge of the aeronautical side of my new position, he knows a great deal more about leading men than I do, that much is certain. It is wise of me to defer to his judgement on these matters."
Michael looked at the captain, confused.
"Leading men? He's a chef, not a captain. How can he know what it means to lead?"
Lawrence's lip curled slightly, and although Archer knew that Michael did not mean anything unkind, he knew how those words may be taken to mean something that the marine did not intend.
"What Mr Griffon means is that it seems odd to have a captain so ready to accept the advice of one whose position seems, on the surface level, to be far removed from leadership positions. I am correct in that assumption, am I not, Michael?"
Even though he seemed a little confused, Michael must have gotten the message that he'd accidentally said the wrong thing, and so he nodded at Archer before turning to look back at Lawrence.
"Of course. I apologise if my wording was incorrect in my statement; it was not my intention to speak ill of another, I assure you."
Lawrence's scowl disappeared, and he nodded slowly.
"Apology accepted, Private Soldier. I must apologise as well if my reaction came across as standoffish. It is a habit of mine. Please, know I also meant no ill towards yourself as well."
Michael nodded.
"Of course!"
Archer rolled his eyes at the two of them and smiled.
"It is a little odd that you're going to Cooke for advice on dealing with people, Captain Lawrence, but I more than most know he's got some excellent advice stored away in that mind of his. I hope he's able to give you the advice you're looking for. I take it he and you will be off for the night after you talk?"
Lawrence smiled warmly and nodded.
"Indeed, Assistant Engineer. Enjoy your night as well, both of you. Mr Griffon?"
Michael's name was said sternly but not unkindly. Still, it was a contrast to the warm tone of the rest of Lawrence's words, and did seem to put the young marine a little on edge.
"Yes, Captain Walker sir?"
Lawrence smirked a little, and at that moment Archer realised that he knew the man was a little intimidated by him, and just toying harmlessly with him. God, if half the crew realised Lawrence will never show his teeth unless threatened then he'd never be able to pull this sort of shit off again.
"Do make sure Mr Haywood isn't too drunk when you send him on his way, won't you? I'd hate to have to make him take a day off and deal with the engineering myself, and if I do I'll know exactly who to blame."
With that he walked off, smirking all the way until he reached the door, and Archer burst out laughing.
"Hahaha! God, you should see your face right now! You look like you're about to piss yourself!"
Michael shuddered.
"Lord, he threatened me! I've been threatened by Lawrence bloody Walker! Fuck, that's it, I'm dead."
Archer couldn't stop himself from laughing all the way through his friend's tangent, nearly ending up bowled over with laughter by the end.
"Keep your head on man, good Lord. He was toying with you."
Michael stopped, looking at him in confusion.
"Toying with me?"
Archer nodded.
"Yeah. He knows you're intimidated by him, so he's just having some harmless fun. He won't do anything to you if I'm pissed by the nights end, especially since you're my mate and he knows I'd be annoyed at him for it. So no, you haven't actually been threatened. I think that was just his way of asking you to make sure I don't go overboard and get a hangover."
"Why, does he work you that hard?"
Archer shook his head and laughed again.
"No, no, nothing like that. Well, okay, the work is a little hard, but that's not why he asked. He's my friend! He'd rather I'm not bedridden all day since that means he'll be fretting constantly. That and Talon will probably drown me in chicken noodle soup, which while nice would probably not be too good for the rest of the crew, what with none of Cooke's food on their plates."
Michael let out an exhale somewhere between a sigh of relief and a laugh, both happy that Lawrence was only joking around with him and amused at how affectionate Cooke could be for his friends.
"You really are in deep with the officers, aren't you?"
The words were genuine, not insulting, and so Archer just nodded whilst smiling.
"I sure as hell am. I'm not entirely sure how it happened, but I think I'd follow them anywhere at the moment. I trust them to make the right choices."
"Genuinely?"
Archer was a little taken aback by the earnestness with which Michael had spoken in his response, but answered nonetheless.
"Yes, genuinely. Why?"
Michael exhaled again, this time just relief.
"You're a good person, Archer. You're a good judge of what makes someone good. I just wanted to get your opinion on the officers for true. I need to know if... if it was worth me killing that man."
Archer patted him on the shoulder, smiling sadly at him.
"I can't tell you whether or not it was worth it. Only you can decide that. But what I can say is that I'm intensely grateful for what you did. Lawrence is one of my closest friends aboard this vessel, rivalled only by Mr Cooke and yourself. If something had happened to him then I don't know where that would have left the rest of us. The Blacksnow Graveyards, probably. You saved a great many people with your actions, Michael, even if no-one else recognises it. That doesn't count for nothing. Now come on, lets get pissed and play cards. That's what we're here for, after all."
Michael cracked him a small smile, Archer's reinforcement seeming to resonate with the marine.
"Yeah, that sounds good. Thank you, Archer."
"Think nothing of it. You'd do the same to me, I know it."