Morwen blinked incredulously. Initially, she thought Lucinda was joking, but the lack of punchline quickly made it clear this was serious. She swept her gaze from left to right and back, taking in every inch of her new ship. Ship felt like a generous word. What was she was looking at was perhaps more accurately described as the detritus of a junkyard welded together with a spell drive slapped in for added laughs? This was an exaggeration, of course, but only just.

She tilted her head to the side, an eyebrow cocked upwards. “Is it safe?”

Lucinda simply nodded. Absent were the usual jokes and casual flippancy about her mortality. “It is. It cost far more than it’s worth, but it’ll get you off world. It’s the best I could do on such short notice.”

Morwen nodded, folding her arms as she studied the vessel. Afraid that a stiff breeze may blow through and reduce the vessel to a cloud of rust billowing away.

“I could probably do better if I knew where you were going? What your needs were.”

Morwen shook her head with a thin but polite smile. “It’s purely personal. This should suffice. I’m sure if I close my eyes and think hard enough, it should pass for the Crasher. So tell me. What am I working with?”

“Well, it’s a medium-sized freighter. I had the plasma reactor gutted and threw in a second hand spell drive. I’ve got a technician inside the ship now handling the retrofit.”

“How long will he need?”

“Not too long. He’s an efficient worker. He’s mousey, but reliable.”

“Weapons? Shields?”

Lucinda frowned. “That will cost extra, as they weren’t standard.”

“We’ll need basic defense and offenses.”

Lucinda gave an economic nod. The barest minimum of effort needed to convey the gesture. “I’ll arrange it.”

Morwen frowned. Something in Lucinda had changed. Maybe she’d gotten into a fight with her father again? She recalled her father mentioning something about not being able to trust anyone with the prophecy, and Lucinda wasn’t present for any of it. Maybe she was giving away too much already. She hated not knowing for certain where the arena champion’s intentions lay.

Still, Lucinda had done her the favor of finding a ship. It wasn’t exactly setting records as the most fanciful thing she’d ever laid eyes on. She studied the hull, a dusky grey coated in vast swatches of dark crimson rust. Multiple dark stains heralded fluid leaks of all types.

Morwen cautiously stepped forward, extending a finger to poke at an aged oil stain. She half expected the ship to collapse to pieces. Lucinda approached from an arm’s length away. She stayed a healthy distance back and Morwen wasn’t sure if it was the ship, or her father’s paramour treading lightly around her. She had threatened to confront him about Lucinda’s behavior.

She planted a hand against the hull of the ship and sighed, turning to face Lucinda. “We need to talk.”

“I’d assumed we settled whatever transgressions existed with this.” Lucinda said flatly.

Morwen’s brows furrowed. Her head cocked to the side and Lucinda’s blank expression shifted into an embarrassment and humiliation. “Sorry. This is just more difficult than I thought it would be. I didn’t mean for my lapse to cause you harm.”

Morwen turned to regard Lucinda. A warm breeze teased the arena champion’s bangs across her brows. There was a suppressed pain in Lucinda’s eyes. Like she’d been emotionally stabbed but was doing her best to put on a mask about it. That made her feel guilty about the extortion.

“I’m sorry about blackmailing you into this.”

Lucinda shook her head. “No, you deserve much more than this.” Lucinda’s eyes glistened, but no tears fell. The retired champion maintained a stoic composure and Morwen realized that it there might be more turmoil going on beneath her exterior than she felt comfortable showing. That maybe all the drinking was to simply numb her pain.

“It will be enough. Thank you. Now I just need to find a technician.”

“I contracted one for you. He understands the Brotherhood’s non magitech. A friend of mine from the Artificer’s guild is coordinating the refit with him. Once it’s finished, he’ll stay on with the ship.”

Morwen blinked. “Oh. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to stay shackled to this vessel. No offense.” Morwen didn’t want to seem like she didn’t appreciate the gift. But the vessel was extremely hard on the eyes. Even for someone who preferred a more rustic and military vibe than most the nobles from Aeryn.

“None taken. And I got the impression this was a home for him. When you’ve a chance, I suggest you get acquainted with him.”

“I see. And I’ve just purchased his home. Oh gods, he’s not a slave, is he?”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“No, would you wish him to be?”

Morwen recoiled and shook her head. “No. No, that’s alright. Thank you.” She already had to deal with Sala looking up to her like she was some kind of savior. She wasn’t sure she could handle that from anyone else.

A flaming missive unfurled before Lucinda, who quickly scanned and swiped it aside. The flaming illusory scroll broke down into motes of fire aether. Small glowing embers of magic energy that cooled and winked out. Lucinda’s face twisted, agony etched on her features.

“I have to go.”

“Of course. And thank you again.”

Morwen wasn’t sure if she should let Lucinda go so easily. Maybe if she just sat her down, and the two had a talk, they could hash out whatever was going on with her. It didn’t strike Morwen as a phase. Whatever it was, it was hitting her hard. She’d never seen her father’s paramour so… muted. She watched Lucinda leave for a few heartbeats longer before turning back to the ship. The registry laser etched into the grey hull read “Rusty Raven” and Morwen couldn’t stop the snicker.

“Well, at least you’ve got personality.” She mused.

She walked a perimeter around the ship. It was squat and wide. They mounted the cockpit to the right of the center. A curious design choice in her own opinion. The underside of the vessel was black with carbon scouring from so much re-entry runs, giving the ship a grey and black color scheme. It kind of reminded her of a negative of a shark. Her fingers traced rough paths across the pitted and dented hull. That implied a far greater sturdiness than its otherwise faded, rusty, and scorched appearance suggested. She caught herself wondering if the decrepit exterior was for show.

That faint ember of hope extinguished as soon as she ascended the cargo ramp into the hold. Only to find it in just the same shape. It reeked of old oil stains and carbon. She sighed. “Well, at least it’s not too dissimilar from the Crasher.”

The air inside had a tangy taste to it, like the recyclers weren’t quite fully charged. She wondered for a moment if that system would run on magic, or be powered by whatever system the Brotherhood built. She knew their vessels were primarily non magic powered. Knowing Arefhel, that wouldn’t remain the case for much longer, though.

The further into the vessel she strode, the less sunlight spilled into the ship from the open bay. A short corridor led straight from the aft storage bay and split left and right. She assumed going right would take her to the bridge, so she cut that direction. As she approached the bridge, she noted it lacked a bulkhead to seal it off. She frowned at the obvious safety concern.

Stepping into the cockpit area, she frowned at how much smaller it was than the Crasher. This was more like an oversized fighter cockpit with a large chair in front of the primary spell drive controls that appeared to be haphazardly bolted onto the console in front of the chair. She noted there were additional controls mounted to the left and right of the pilot to facilitate additional spell functions.

“Well, at least we can erect wards or fire a spell cannon, eventually.” She mused.

Just then, a pair of short legs shot out from an exposed panel in the wall. Eventually, a small mousey man wiggled out of the wall. It covered his face in grease and smudge fluids she didn’t recognize. He had light strawberry blonde hair that twisted into short curls tucked under a stained cap turned backwards on his head. He pushed a pair of glasses up his nose and squinted, finally seeing her clearly.

“Actually, ma’am, the Raven won’t be able to make use of those stations until they install the cannon and I get everything all wired up.”

Morwen’s brow quirked upward, and she realized Lucinda had made mention that the other supplies would need to be installed afterwards.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, you must be the new skipper. I’m Arjun. the mechanic, technician, and everything in between.” Arjun’s hand shot out, and she eyed it curiously. It took her an embarrassingly longer stretch of time than she’d care to admit he was greeting her with a handshake. It was a mostly human custom and one rarely practiced here on Eryn.

“Please, call me more Morwen. And well met.” She extended her hand, and he pumped her hand several times with an eager gentleness. Afterwards, she studied her hand and wiped the excess lubrication fluid on the back of the seat. Arjun beamed a bright smile as he looked up at her. “I have to confess, you’re the first mage captain I’ve had the pleasure to work with.”

“Are you familiar enough with the principles to make sure the ship stays functional?” That was the last thing she needed. Getting into the abyssal realm and losing power. Or certain systems giving out in critical moments.

“Well, I confess I don’t understand all the details about magic, but on a basic level, it’s essentially just energy moving from one point to another. Not too different from electricity, really.” Arjun shrugged, and his work overalls shifted around his small frame. “I’ve already handled most of the retrofits. Seems those Artificer Guild folks weren’t’ too keen on touching the Raven. Something about it might be cursed? Whatever that’s about.”

Morwen stifled a smirk that threatened to form. The way he casually recalled their indignant attitude towards the ship. He was oblivious or simply didn’t understand enough to get the slight they’d offered. Regardless, he simply didn’t care.

“Well, if anything, I’d say the curse is a good thing. What we’re about to undertake will go smoother with the less attention and fanfare we can manage.”

Arjun brightened up. “Oh, the Raven can manage that in spades, ma’am. In fact, she’s sore on the eyes, sure. But she’s got heart. I’ve flown this ship for years and while I’ve had some close scrapes, I’ve never been worried she’d let me down. Like my old man always told me. Take good care of your bird, and she’ll take care of you when you need it.”

Morwen smiled at his enthusiasm. She’d been lacking that lately. Getting it from the mousey tech was a nice boon. She gave him a polite bow in thanks. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for the ship, and by extension, for me.”

“Are you a pilot as well?”

“Who me? No Ma’am. I keep ‘em space worthy. Flyin em is for someone better suited than I. I just get how technology works, that’s all. Never been one for a fight.”

She frowned and the small tech shifted uncomfortably, sensing he may have made a misstep. “That’s not to say I wouldn’t. Just that I’m a much better support guy than I am a direct fighter like yourself, of course.”

Morwen’s lips cracked into a smile. “Flattery is a dangerous weapon, but you needn’t wield it in my company, Arjun.”

“Oh, no ma’am. I’m just stating the obvious. Everyone knows about the Valkyrie of Tohruun.”

“Well, it’s just Morwen now. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Now then, why don’t you show me around the ship?”

“Right this way.”

‎