“Gotta admit, you Woltworks have a mindless appetite for chaos,” Rick chuckled, his gaze lifting toward Amelia as if he had just stumbled upon a warm memory. “No wonder you took to chewin’ on Quadrant Seven's minin’ life. Outta’ all the rockwork, Conkle’s the worst there is. There’s a reason you Yardrats are local heroes and not just another batch of black-lunged workers.”

“You don’t know Bolton or Michael the way I do. I’m the best of the three!” Amelia declared, a smile tugging at her lips as her voice echoed through the chamber with a hint of incredulity. “I don’t have a throne to sit on, but… I fend for myself. Despite the creatures—monsters, whatever—the Yardrats take care of each other. I might not be the strongest, but I make up for it by being crafty. If Bolton had gotten lucky after the Greisha Ceremony, maybe he’d be one too.”

Her gaze wandered into the distance, lost in contemplation. “That stupid ceremony… the stupid Greisha Ceremony,” she murmured, her words heavy with frustration. “Shoves us out of the capital at eighteen, only to float by while one of us gets to be King and the others get hunted by monsters for the rest of their lives. Should’ve read the fine print that never existed.”

“Or Queen,” Rick interjected, his tone gentle and reassuring.

Amelia’s eyes gleamed with introspection as she continued, “Because of some spirit-binding contract, all royalty is born with a twin. Sometimes a triplet. Doesn’t matter, though. People don’t tend to remember anyone without a crown.”

“Don’t need a crown to be remembered. I hear Yardrats are notoriously rude. Considerin’ their job, they’ve got more grit and spirit than most,” Rick remarked with an affectionate grin. “Notoriety can’t be ignored. Ask the other Hammers.”

Amelia laughed, the sound bubbling up from deep within. “And you? You’ve been responsible for almost every large-scale incident—and I quote ‘incident’—we’ve had at the capital,” she retorted, barely suppressing her laughter. “I can remember that detail even from when I was eight years old!”

“Crowny, I’m an inventor! There are steps to the inevitability of success! Very doughy, snappy, golden, meticulous steps,” Rick explained with a chuckle.

“Old man, are we still talking about inventing?” Amelia teased.

“NO,” interjected Roy from afar, his voice cutting through their banter.

A strange wedge of silence settled between them, broken only by the wind whistling through the massive swirling fans that kept the airship aloft. Amelia’s smile faded into a more thoughtful expression as memories of her life in New Dwarden’s capital flooded back. Rick noticed her eyes glistening with unshed tears, lost in thought. He leaned against a waist-high metallic barricade beside her, ready to offer comfort.

“Tammer—ah, Rick…” Amelia sighed, her voice tinged with weariness. “I appreciate the bread.”

“I don’t know what else to do,” Rick replied with a sympathetic smirk. “I think life’s gonna change for both of us soon. Whether we suck the spoon or spill it.”

“Seems serious enough,” Amelia said, slipping another piece of bread into her overall pocket. “Tradition, contracts, houses… all just rules with different names.”

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“Rules are usually there because some bloke took the time to smell the air and didn’t want to shit in it,” Rick mused as he wandered deeper into the mechanical heart of the cockpit. “But truth be told, they’re broken for the same reason too!”

“Are you suggesting I break the rules?” Amelia teased, her tone lightening.

“What was that!?” Rick shouted, his attention abruptly snapping to the control panels.

“Nothing!” Amelia replied, leaning on the same barricade Rick had just vacated, the wind tousling her hair.

“Hmm…” Rick muttered dismissively as he brushed off Amelia’s smug smile. “Keep your fat noggin’ busy! I need to set our course. Go look around! Take a breath of that borrowed time you and I’ve come to be so lucky to have.”

“And where might this next destination be, royal kidnapper?” Amelia asked, approaching the cockpit with a hint of curiosity.

“To Veranos! A miracle city in the sky, just outside of New Dwarden,” Rick proclaimed, his voice carrying through the air. “Your younger brother’s done a better job than we have in capturing the thing that attacked you. Whether you choose to come with us or stay in those blackened mines, we’re likely to meet more of those creatures gunnin’ for a royal snack! Doesn’t take much imagination to figure that situation out. I suggest you at least give this new nomadic life a try,” he shouted from deep within the lantern-lit cockpit. “Oh, and do take a moment to look around. Ya might have to cozy up a bit.”

“Rick!? What am I supposed to say to my boys below? That I quit?” Amelia’s frustration carried over the roaring wind.

“I told the local scrapper you’re under arrest. Maybe I should’ve said you died,” Rick replied sternly.

“Rick!?” Amelia exclaimed in disbelief, stepping toward him anxiously.

“Relax! You’re in my custody. Your job’s legally waiting until you return. So buckle up!” Rick’s voice echoed from afar as he busied himself with various levers and contraptions. “Besides, the damage that creature caused won’t be forgotten anytime soon.”

Amelia paused, taking a moment to absorb her surroundings, her breath escaping in a relieved sigh. Rick’s words echoed in her mind, providing a strange comfort amidst the uncertainty. With a few grunts and effort, she pushed herself away from the waist-high swinging wooden door of the cockpit, turning her gaze toward the expanse of the ship before her.

Her spirit stirred with anticipation as she surveyed the Pappy Long Legs. Multiple masts reached toward the heavens, colorful flags fluttering in the wind. Giant fans, moist from clouds, hummed rhythmically. Wood and metal intertwined in a symphony of craftsmanship, each component contributing to the ship’s formidable presence. It was a marvel of engineering, its design reminiscent of familiar machines and tools yet transformed into something entirely new. As Amelia marveled at its intricacies, the weight of her worries momentarily lifted, replaced by a sense of awe and excitement for the adventure ahead aboard this extraordinary vessel.

Amelia moved swiftly across the deck, her eyes darting to every corner of the ship. She first glanced at the giant rotating cogs that lined the ship’s exterior, their rhythmic movements hypnotic and precise. Then she tilted her head toward the numerous plump pipes bursting with hot steam, blasting into the air like a giant organ.

The sight and sound of so many moving parts and wiggling mechanical bits filled the atmosphere with palpable energy, creating a symphony of industrial ambiance that set Amelia’s senses on edge.

“Spent too much time underground…” Amelia mused aloud, excitement bubbling up within her.

She paused, taking a deep breath to steady herself as she shuffled toward the thick metallic railing encircling the airship. With a hopeful glance downward, she leaned over the railing, her gaze fixed on the world stretching below. And for a timeless moment, she was lost in the vast expanse of the horizon, the weight of her worries forgotten amidst the awe-inspiring panorama.