Chapter 47: Reinforcement 7

Elania’s wings beat furiously as she soared through the sky, her eyes locked on the Heart and the unfamiliar airship floating alongside it. A loose bridge swayed between the two vessels, but there were no signs of explosions or fighting, which only heightened her agitation.

She reached for her communicator, but it buzzed uselessly in her pocket.

Elania scowled, realizing why Arlois had dismissed them as unreliable. Whether it used radio waves, magic waves, or whatever, the device was incredibly touchy. In fact, it had failed every time she’d tried to use it, except at close range.

Elania angled her wings, steering herself toward the Heart’s rear castle, where the steering and observation deck were located.

A sailor panicked and nearly tumbled overboard as she landed. Her reflexes kicked in and she caught him just in time.

The Ironfist mercenary thanked her. Elania nodded curtly before letting herself into the navigation tower.

Artifice lighting filled the space, complementing the daylight streaming through the large windows.

“Where’s the captain?” Elania demanded.

Harlock stepped out of a cubbyhole. “Elania. We have trouble.”

Elania’s eyes narrowed. She hadn’t seen any coming in. “What kind of trouble?”

Harlock’s gaze drifted to the window, settling on the other ship. He sighed heavily. “That ship was drifting and flew a distress flag. We were obligated to assist.” His voice dropped to a mutter. “Wish we’d just ignored them.”

Before she could press further, a commotion erupted on the deck. An officer burst through one of the doors, shouting for the flight master.

Harlock grunted. “You’re about to see for yourself.”

They descended the ramps, pushing through the thickening crowd; raised voices and the sounds of a scuffle reached Elania’s ears.

As they broke through the throng, she spotted two men locked in a brawl, fists flying. One wore the distinctive garb of the Ironfist, while the other’s outfit marked him as a crew member from the other ship.

Harlock muscled his way into the fray, slamming his bulk between the combatants. With a powerful shove, he sent both men sprawling onto the deck, their asses hitting the planks hard.

Sailors from each crew grabbed their respective crewmates, restraining them as they struggled to resume the fight.

“We should kill the bastards!” an Ironfist sailor shouted.

Elania glanced at Harlock, raising an eyebrow. How could discipline have deteriorated so badly? Perhaps she and Yolani needed to reevaluate the crew.

A figure crossed the bridge from the other ship. Her eyes locked onto his attire: a pristine white robe adorned with a symbol that sent a jolt of recognition through her.

Fury ignited, consuming all thought as she stared at the man.

Okay. Scratch that. The crewman wasn’t wrong.

Her wings twitched as the white-robed man raised his hand. “Peace! Let tempers cool here.”

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The crew from the other ship responded immediately, their agitation dissipating like smoke in the wind.

Elania’s hand went to Eziel. Peace? She’d show him peace—the peace of non-existence.

Harlock stepped in front of her, his face ashen and voice low and urgent. “This might not be the best time or place, ma’am.”

Elania barely spared him a glance, her eyes locked on the Lightbringers. “I think everyone here knows exactly who they are, Harlock.”

The white-robed man smiled serenely at her. “Indeed, we are Lightbringers. I am Bishop Lefarne, leader of this diplomatic envoy bound for the City of Spires. We are most grateful for the assistance your crew has provided. Our artifice was malfunctioning, and our propulsion had failed.”

Elania remained silent.

Lefarne’s smile widened, seemingly amused by her lack of response. “You must be the demi-divine we’ve heard about, the one who has taken up residence in Contia, aspiring to become a new Tower of the city.”

“Maybe,” Elania said.

Lefarne’s eyes flickered to Eziel’s hilt. “That is a most interesting magical sword you possess. You should take care not to lose it. It reminds me of a precious item our order once had... and lost.”

Elania’s stare intensified. Was he implying, rightly, that Eziel was the very artifact the Lightbringers had invaded Neftasu to recover? Or was Eziel playing his mind tricks on the man? She couldn’t be certain.

Finally, Elania spoke. “Do you have any Monevoians on board?”

The bishop frowned. “No, none of the Sun Emperor’s subjects travel with us.”

Elania’s thoughts turned dark, the temptation to strike down the bishop and sink his airship nearly overwhelming.

But she hesitated. The lack of voices was deafening as the ships creaked and wind buffeted the fabric overhead.

Elania’s eyes bored into the bishop, his words fading into a distant buzz as her mind focused on a single, decisive course of action. The world narrowed to this moment, this choice. She calculated the steps required to eliminate the enemy before her.

First, she would sever the bridge connecting the two ships, isolating the Lightbringers.

Then, she would annihilate the enemy crew on the Heart, ensuring no survivors. She’d fly over to the other ship and collect any Ironfist that had went to ‘assist’ them. Finally, she’d obliterate the vessel.

The decision to slaughter solidified in her mind, a cold, unyielding resolve.

Elania took a step forward, hand inching toward Eziel’s hilt. The sword’s power thrummed in anticipation of the impending bloodshed.

It was simple to visualize taking Lefarne’s head. No one really knew what she intended. It would be over before they did.

Elania froze as a gust of wind slammed into the ships, whipping hair and clothing in a frenzied dance.

Green wings flashed in the sunlight as Elysia appeared above the bridge. “Hold!”

The Tower landed with a resounding thump beside the bishop, her presence commanding immediate attention. Elania froze.

Elysia’s voice rang out, clear and authoritative. “I recognize Bishop Lefarne as an expected emissary. Any violence done to him while within the borders of Contia will be considered an act of aggression against the city itself, as per the laws and traditions of diplomacy.”

Elania’s hand lowered to her side as she locked eyes with Elysia. The Tower had a knowing look etched on her face. Well, it wasn’t a hard thing to put together. No one from Neftasu would view Lightbringers as anything other than murderous bastards.

One question she couldn’t answer, though, was how Elysia knew to come and save them.

Bishop Lefarne turned to Elysia, a smile playing on his lips. “Thank you for your protection and welcome, Tower Elysia. I would be most grateful for the opportunity to discuss the common issues between our nations.” His gaze slid to Elania, a sly glint in his eyes.

Elania’s anger simmered as her scowl deepened.

Elysia’s voice cut through the tension. “Do not mistake my enforcement of the law for approval, bishop. The council will hear you, and that is all.”

Lefarne nodded, his smile never wavering. “Of course, of course.”

Elania stood motionless and Elysia turned to her. “The Heart will need to continue rendering assistance. That must be their top priority.”

Those words only drove her anger deeper, a knife twisting in her gut. Elysia frowned. “You will receive recompense for any delayed cargo contracts and payment for the service.”

Elania nodded stiffly. “I understand.” But the anger of being forced to help the very ones who had butchered Neftasu stabbed deep.

She glanced at the Ironfist crew, their faces mirroring her own emotions.

Men who had fought alongside her, who had seen the horrors inflicted upon their city, shared her resentment.

Harlock stepped forward. “Ma’am, what are your orders?”

“Render the minimum assistance required,” Elania said. “Get them to Contia as quickly as possible, but don’t go out of your way to make them comfortable.”

Harlock nodded. “Understood, ma’am.”

Elania’s eyes narrowed as she turned back to Elysia. “I trust the council will see to prompt payment for services rendered.”

Elysia inclined her head. “Of course.”