Chapter 182 - The Castle in the Sea III
“Took you long enough.”
Natalya nearly jumped out of her skin when an invisible hand suddenly grabbed her by the shoulder, its familiar, calming scent the only thing that stopped her from screaming at the top of her lungs. She did fly a whole five meters into the air—a rather impressive height for an impromptu leap—but a vector soon reeled her back towards the windowsill and into the bubble that contained her companions.
When she spun around, with a hand pressed to her heaving chest, she found herself face to face with two entertained halfbreeds. One was looking irritatingly smug, while the other cackled and rolled about.
“I can’t believe that worked!” shouted Sylvia, between bouts of hysterical laughter. “I think she might’ve peed herself a little.”
“I told you,” said Claire.
“I know! But I still didn’t think she was gonna fall for it!”
The cat took another few breaths before finally regaining the ability to speak. “P-please don’t ever do that again.”
“No promises.” Sticking out her tongue, the lyrkress glanced over her shoulder, at the window they had just exited. “We can listen if you want. But I don’t think we should.” She craned her neck upwards, towards the battleship in the sky. “This is a good chance to sneak in.”
“Are you insane, Claire!?” The cat shouted in a whisper. She knew that the bubble suppressed her voice, but hesitated to speak at a normal volume with the manor’s lord seated on the other side of the window. “Can you imagine what’d happen if we got caught!? It’ll be an international incident! We’d be wanted in all of Vel’khan!”
“I know.” The cat was silenced with a flick to the head. “That’s why I want to go now, while the hunter is away from his nest.”
“Does it really make a difference?” asked Sylvia. “There’s no way he’s gonna be able to see us through my bubble. It’s got like sixteen layers of illusion magic built in.”
“It might.” Dragging the catgirl with a tail to the wrist, Claire leapt off the roof, spread her wings, and moved towards the Cadrian fortress. “He’s one of my father’s lackeys. He’s at least six hundred, and centaurs are better at detection than most.”
“I still don’t really think it matters,” mumbled the fox.
“Wait, Claire! Hold on!” shouted Lia. “What’s even the point of sneaking on board in the first place!?”
“We can make it look like some of their parts broke down. And make it so they need more time before they can break through the wind.”
“Isn’t that just going to make it so we can’t get to the dungeon?”
“We have a fox.”
“Yeah! My bubbles are totally better than some dumb hurricane! We can bust right through!” said Sylvia.
“Somehow, I find that kind of hard to believe,” said the cat, with a groan.
The orange squirrel stood up on her hind legs and huffed, her hands on her hips. “That’s only ‘cause you’ve never tried to break one before! I can make them so sturdy that even I can’t bust ‘em open."
“Yes, but…”
Leaving the other two to argue among themselves, Claire did a quick lap around the fortress and surveyed its key features. The count’s carrier was far smaller than Augustus Manor. The central building itself was of a similar size, but everything else was drastically scaled down or removed altogether. The gardens were small enough for a team of three to manage on their own, the training grounds were barely large enough to simulate a small-scale battle, and there were only four tiny towers for defense, one in each corner.
There was so little real estate that the onboard atelier was built right into the manor. Because the facility was renovated to please the eccentric artificers that worked it, it stuck out from the rest of the building like a sore thumb. Its exterior was made of wood instead of brick and it had a dozen metal arms growing out from its base, tools meant for the carrier’s maintenance.
As evidenced by the occasional shimmer and the odd unlucky bird, the fortress’ barrier was deployed and active. It shrouded the entire floating castle in a thin but robust defensive layer. The magical shield would have to be reinforced to defend against any more powerful attacks, but it would hold so long as there wasn’t a squad of level 500 mages at the ready.
While it was certainly a powerful defensive structure, the battleship was not without its faults. There were several fixed openings used for ventilation, both near the structure’s base and at its peak. They would remain open so long as the fort was not engaged in battle. The same was true of its front entrance; the space set aside for its boarding platform would also remain fully exposed. There were, of course, guards to keep an eye out for any suspicious activity, but the trained watchmen were no match for the almighty stealth bubble.
Claire landed right in front of a bored-looking pair and walked past them, completely unconcerned with their presence. She carried herself as would the manor’s owner and proceeded with such confidence that they would have been unlikely to stop her even if she had been visible.
“I’m really not sure about this,” whispered Lia.
“Oh, come on! Stop worrying and think about how fun it is!” chirped Sylvia. A soft tune escaping her lips, she leapt off her usual seat and danced around in the grass. “I’ve never seen anything like this before. I mean, besides the place we just visited that I wasn’t allowed to play around in, but here I can do whatever, right, Claire?”
“Yeah.” The lyrkress gave the cat’s wrist another tug. “Hurry up. You’ll slip out of the bubble if you lag too far behind.”
“R-right.” Natalya took a deep breath. “What did you say we were going to destroy again?”
“Everything!” said Sylvia.
“Stupid fox.” Claire picked her up by the tail and lightly booped her nose. “That would draw too much attention.” Taking the lead, she began by treading towards the atelier and all its moving parts. “It depends. On how many artificers there are.”
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If there were only a few, she was confident she would be able to wreak enough havoc by damaging the barrier device directly. Outright destroying it was sure to arouse suspicion, but literally throwing a wrench into the mechanism would pin the blame on one of the artificers’ heads. The countless checks and evaluations to follow the repairs were sure to take a single worker a few days at least, and that was assuming they trusted him after he insisted that it was no fault of his.
Peeking through the window, however, revealed that such an approach was impossible. There was a full team working within the atelier, a score of men, grinding away at the various metals that they were in the midst of enchanting.
“There goes that idea,” muttered the lyrkress.
“Are they making artifacts from scratch?” asked Natalya. “I wonder what they're for.”
“Uhmmm… weapons, maybe?” said the fox. “They look like they go boom.”
But while the lyrkress turned away with a grumble, her companions remained, their faces glued to the glass. One was focused on the craftsmen, her eyes sparkling and her tail swishing, while the other had pulled out her notebook and scribbled away.
“Shrapnel bombs,” said Claire, after taking a closer look. “Nothing impressive. Only good for hunting monsters under level 100.”
“Then why are they making them?”
“I don’t know.” Shrugging, Claire grabbed both her companions by the collar and dragged them away from the atelier. “Stop dawdling. We should get our business done and leave. Before he comes back.”
“Right…” Natalya closed her eyes and slowly took a breath. “Good point.”
“Awwww, do we have to be done here already?” Sylvia, on the other hand, continued to pout, even as she was lifted off the ground. “I wanted to watch them make some more stuff.”
“The quicker we move, the fewer tracks we’ll leave.”
“I don’t think they’re gonna be able to follow us anyway,” said the fox, with a groan.
“Well I do. Now let’s go.”
“Fine! But you have to tell me everything you know about artifacts later! They were taboo back home, so I haven’t really gotten to see much of it ever.”
“Your father’s friend was an artificer.”
“Yeah, but it’s not like I actually knew him! Dad’s friends were all boring old dudes.”
Sylvia scampered up the length of Claire’s hand, settling down atop her head as the group followed along the manor’s wall. The entrance that they chose was not the front gate, but rather the first wide open window. Floating over the petunias positioned directly beneath its ledge, the longmoose drew the curtains and wandered inside.
“You mean back in the lost library?” Natalya asked the question as she was magically lifted and set on the floor.
“Mhm! Al, the celestial there, is really really really old fashioned and acts like artifacts are still taboo.”
Hearing the statement again led Claire to bring her tail to her chin. It almost didn’t seem to make any sense. Though certainly physically isolated from the other members of the pantheon, Alfred was connected to world chat. Even if a relatively old event, the unbanning of artifacts was the sort of change that would be announced and discussed. But while the half-moose thought the inconsistency strange, she decided not to question it. Something in the back of her mind warned against bringing it up. Even though she knew that she had gained enough divinity to stay connected for longer.
“I don’t think most people care much for artifacts anyway,” said Natalya. “I know some nobles like to collect them as novelties, but I don’t think they’re used much beyond that”
“Because Cadria keeps all the military technologies to itself,” said Claire. “Most other countries don’t have any proficient artificers to begin with. They can’t replicate them and we hadn’t exported much. Until recently.”
“I still don’t understand how the barbarians were the ones to revive the dead craft in the first place,” mumbled the cat. “Wait, Claire? Are you sure we’re going the right way?”
They were quickly approaching a dead end, with only one more room on each side. Both appeared to be bedrooms for the servants, like all the other suites that lined the end of the hall.
“I’m sure.” The lyrkress’ ears twitched as she answered. “All of these are set up the same way.” After checking to ensure that there were no maids present, she walked into one of the bedrooms and placed her hand against a spot on the floor. “Listen closely. You can hear them.”
Having already done the same thing hundreds of times before, she felt around for three tiny bumps and channeled her magic into each. The mana spread through the device, completing a circuit that caused the hatch to slide open and reveal a corridor made of stone.
“Follow me. And don’t touch anything.”
The layout differed slightly from that of her home’s, but it was similar enough that she was able to navigate it without any problems. She walked past the janitorial closet, with all the various weapons mounted therein, slipped by the conference hall, and waltzed straight into the bridge. Twenty uniformed soldiers were sitting within, working away at the various documents strewn atop their desks. Light streamed into the room from a crystalline window, a one-way pane of rock that prevented those outside the fortress from looking in.
She had already confirmed that there was no way to significantly damage the barrier without arousing suspicion, so she shifted her focus to the communications module instead. Though it bore a fancy name, it was effectively a rock, paired with another located in the military’s headquarters in Valencia. Any changes to one would be immediately mirrored by the other; they could easily relay their messages to and fro by scribbling them in chalk or ink. Acknowledgement of orders was just as easy. Wiping the slate clean would inform the party on the other end that their words had been received. The module was essential for maintaining the chain of command, and the Cadrians were rather stiff about moving without express orders. Removing it was sure to lead to a non-insignificant delay. The craftsmen onboard would be unable to make a replacement without the physical presence of its other half.
The only tricky part would be taking it from under their noses, but she had a plan. Or at least she did, before a particularly lanky centaur stormed into the room with his chest heaving.
“We have a problem, Commander! There’s an intruder onboard!”
“Oh crap… I knew this was going to happen,” said Natalya.
“Wait what!?” Sylvia’s eyes opened wide. “My bubbles are perfect! How the heck did they find us!?”
“Doesn’t matter. We have to go,” said Claire. “Now.”
Grabbing the catgirl with her tail and the fox with her hands, Claire snuck past the messenger and made for the great outdoors. She was tempted to use her vectors to magically seize the magical word rock, but there were already too many eyes on it. It was impossible for no one to notice.
“I need more details, soldier.”
“It’s just one man, sir. Male, small but muscular frame, insectoid, likely an adventurer. He’s currently overpowering the guards out front.”
Her countrymen did her the favour of confirming that she wasn’t the intruder mentioned, but she continued dashing at full speed regardless. She didn’t want to run the risk of being onboard the ship when the carrier shifted to combat mode. The barrier would be sealed off, and they would be stuck inside for good.
While she was confident that she could find a way to circumvent the defensive layer, doing so was sure to put the count’s men on guard, and it was possible that the metrics they collected would allow for countermeasures that limited her options in the future. The best choice was to get as far away as possible, so that they would not be confused with the other trespasser.
She happened to spot him out of the corner of her eye as she opened up a window and leapt outside. He was a tiny man in a suit of armour, fighting with a pair of emerald green blades that took the place of his hands. His helmet was down, but she could see through the slits that he had a pair of compound eyes, a sideways jaw, and a carapace as thick as his armour. He was obviously a rhiar.
Tal’ihirian mantises were famous enough for bards to sing songs of their deeds far and wide, for they were the ruthless defenders of Primrose’s gardens, the reapers that would claim those that wrongly partook in the harvest goddess’ bounty, and the killers whose prey would know no escape.
But even so, he was doomed. The alarm bells were already ringing. It would only be a matter of time before the master of the house returned and ground him to paste.