William supposed it was inevitable.
He chose the Corsair as a design to replicate for two reasons. Firstly, because its folded wings meant he could store more of the machines in a ship that was never really designed to act as a proper carrier. Secondly, because of the Corsair’s historical eleven to one kill ratio against the Japanese in the pacific theater.
While shards most definitely weren’t Mitsubishi Zeros, they shared many of the same performance principles. Those being a lightweight frame and excellent turning capability.
With that said, the Corsair was not without flaws. Not least of which was the nose.
It was long.
Which meant it obscured the pilot’s vision when they were coming in to land. A trait that was more inconvenient than dangerous on an airfield, but on an aircraft carrier – or airship – it could be downright deadly.
“You say she misjudged the angle?” he asked as he looked over at the nervous young woman sitting in the hospital bed in front of him.
Well, to call it a hospital bed was a bit of a misnomer. It was a room in his estate that occasionally functioned as an infirmary. One that was now occupied by him, Xela and one mildly-maimed pilot trainee.
He said mildly, because while the young woman’s foot was definitely not the shape of a foot under all those bloody bandages, it was technically still attached. Though that would likely only remain the case until the healer outside got the go ahead to break out her hacksaw.
“Aye,” Xela grumbled, glaring heatedly at him. “Which I might have corrected, had an unfortunate gust of wind made that impossible in the time before impact. Twas’ all I could do to pull the ejector handle before the Shard hit.”
That was a little concerning, even if it was a relief that Xela herself was ok. He genuinely didn’t know what he would do if he lost access to her abilities at this juncture. Hell, the only thing that might be more crippling would be losing Piper.
“I thought the instructor’s ejector handle was linked to the forward seat as well? Did hers not function correctly?”
“No,” Xela’s single word answer was as dry as sand. “Blacksmiths went over the wreck once they peeled your Corsair off the deck of your ship’s new ‘flat top’, and while they can’t be sure, they think the release valve for the front seat jammed.”
Which meant that the sudden blast of aether that should have been directed from the engines up under the seat and cockpit glass in an attempt to blow both clear of the Shard failed to materialize for the front seat.
With that in mind, it was actually rather impressive that the only lasting injuries the woman in the bed before them had was a single mangled foot. Oh, she had bruises galore and more than a few abrasions, but those were temporary.
No, the reason he’d been called in here immediately after arriving back at his estate was the foot.
That was a crippling injury. One that would see the young woman across from him removed from the flight program and likely just about any other kind of work that might be available to a peasant.
Something she was clearly well aware of given her downcast and terrified expression. It was a fairly significant fall from the heady highs of a few days ago, where she’d been set to become one of the planet’s first peasant pilots – a veritable knight of the skies.
Now the life of either a burden to her family or a beggar in the streets was just about all she could hope for.
“I would have thought we’d have tested the ejector seats to make sure they worked correctly when we made the Corsair-M undergo its first refit?” he asked, turning back to Xela.
“We did,” the wood elf said. “Briefly. Both seats worked then. Unfortunately, it seems that either the valve was damaged in flight or, more likely, during a repair cycle in the time since then. An error that an extensive review cycle would have picked up between flights, but…”
“…But we’ve had to cut those short to maintain each trainee’s flight quota,” William hummed.
“Exactly.”
It was clear from Xela’s tone what she wanted. To either downsize the training cadre or slow down the pace of their training.
Not because the trainees themselves couldn’t keep up, but because the techs were being run ragged keeping the Sshards the trainees were practicing on operational. It didn’t help that said machines were a totally new design. Mage-smiths often spent years familiarizing themselves with every nook and cranny of a design so that they could magically reshape it without fear of accidentally warping some part of it in the process.
That unfamiliarity was likely how the issue with the ejector valve came about, some mage’s mind wandering just slightly during the repairs and warping a component.
“I know what you want,” William said. “And I can’t do it. Put simply, we need the pilots. If that means the training cadre suffers some degree of attrition as a result, I’m afraid that’s simply the cost of doing business.”
Down in the bed, one such ‘casualty’ flinched, and Xela looked like she wanted to slap him.
“With that said,” he continued hurriedly. “While we can’t afford to lose time by slowing down the program, we likewise can’t afford to lose partially-trained pilots to otherwise trivial injuries.”
The trainee pilot’s head shot up so fast he was a little worried she’d need treatment for whiplash in addition to her other injuries. Across from her, Xela frowned.
“This… isn’t trivial shit, William. Otherwise Suthers would have fixed it by now.”
Suthers was his personal physician, though in truth the Lord of Redwater rarely saw the woman. In addition to her quarters at his estate, she also had a small clinic down in the town itself. One that operated for minimal profit that the young woman established while Xela had been in charge. As he understood it, she spent most of her time there, seeing to the ailments of those she could.
Which unfortunately, wasn’t everyone, as the case in front of them proved. As he understood it, ‘healing magic’ operated on similar principles to mage-smithing – in that a healer needed to properly visualize what they intended to fix and how.
Which required decades of study, given the potential for harm should anything be… amiss.
Which is why it’s not a coincidence that most healers are elves, he thought.
Suthers wasn’t. She was as human as him. And only a journeywoman besides. Which was fine for setting broken bones or fixing stomach aches, but for something like a more or less pulped foot?
“Then we’ll hire a master. On commission or permanently.” He shrugged. “We have the coin.”
Or they would in time, once the gramophone business really started up. As it was, his once flush treasury was beginning to look more empty than not as a result of his many ongoing expenses. Between the workshops and his plebeian training program, they were operating so far in the red it wasn’t even funny. And while the payout he’d received from Yelena for his creation of the Kraken Slayer was kingly – it was still finite.
In the bed, if the trainee’s eyes shone with hope before, they gleamed with awe now. By contrast, Xela’s expression only grew more complicated.
“May I speak to you outside, milord?” she said finally.
He nodded, having some idea as to what this would be about. Though as he turned to leave, a hand shot out, aborting from grabbing his sleeve only at the last moment.
“I- ah, I’ll repay you for this, Lord Redwater. We, all of us, appreciate this opportunity you’ve given us. To be mage-knights. It’s a childhood dream come true. One I thought over until just now,” the young woman’s words burned with fervor. “I promise, you’ll have a loyal servant in me until the end of time. Thank you.”
If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
He hesitated, before plastering on a smile. “See that you do. Practice hard. Redwater will have need of you and your fellows before long.”
He left, making for the hallway outside before the woman could respond. He didn’t want thanks. He expected at least one fatality from a crash before things were through.
Likely two, he thought. Because assuming no more valve failures, if a trainee fails to eject before impact, that likely means the instructor failed to bail too.
All because he wasn’t giving his craft enough maintenance time.
Oh, he could resolve that issue right now. Or within the week. The first Corsair frames would start rolling out of his workshops next week. More or less complete, but for the cores and weapons. All he’d need to do was cycle out the machines acting as training craft.
Swapping cores between machines was hardly any work at all, and it would allow each one more time for maintenance and safety tests.
But he wouldn’t. Because those machines needed to be sent on for renovation by Piper’s slowly growing group of sworn-in alchemists and mage-smiths. For the installation of new weapons and engines.
Combustion engines.
That wasn’t a quick or easy process. At best, he figured he’d be getting two craft a week. An absurdly high number for a pre-industrial society, but one that was within the realm of capability for one backed up by magic.
For a moment, as he turned to regard Xela as she filed out after him, he momentarily considered banning Xela from continuing training the plebeian pilots from the cockpit, before he decided against it.
He couldn’t afford to lose her at this juncture. Hell, that was half the reason he’d spoken to both the twins and Griffith the other day. Part of the reason he valued her so highly was that she’d never agree. She was dutiful like that.
“Training’s going to be slowed down for a few days while the crashed frame is repaired,” the wood elf said.
William resisted the urge to scoff. Any plane from Earth that had been involved in a crash like that would be a total write-off. Not here though, not with the ability to literally fold metal back into place. In fact, it was even easier than making a machine from scratch, as if the metal remembered the shape it used to be.
With that said, it’d still take a few days. Unless he intervened.
“I have time.” He said. “I can at least sort out the frame before I return to the academy tomorrow.”
Team Seven was still on a losing streak when it came to Shard fights against other houses, so Olzenya wanted them to get in some extra practice time on the weekend – and had traded some favors to get some flight time in with another team using the academy’s communal shards.
…It wasn’t the best use of his time to be sure, but he wasn’t about to risk the high elf’s ire by begging off to spend yet another weekend toiling away at his estate.
Just most of it, he thought wryly. The match is scheduled for the evening, so I should be fine so long as I set off back to the Academy by lunchtime tomorrow.
“That’s not the point!” His second hissed. “I didn’t say anything in there, because I was hoping sense would prevail after seeing that girl, but clearly that didn’t happen.” She crossed her arms. “You need to stop these running landings. They were annoying but harmless on a runway, but attempting them on a flying airship is dangerous. Between the wind, the swaying and the absurdly fucking long nose you’ve shoved into that new design of yours, it’d be risky for veteran pilots. So, unless you give me a decent reason for why all our pilots need to be trained for running starts and stops, I’m putting my foot down.”
Well, he figured this day would come, fortunately, he was reasonably certain there weren’t any of the Queen’s spies about. The arrival of Olivia and his aunt meant that the small three-woman detail he’d picked up seemed to spend more time following them than him.
Oh they still followed him about sometimes, but right now he wasn’t seeing any of the subtle indicators of their presence. Like a third set of boot-prints, given that both he and Xela had come here straight from an inspection of the airfield.
“They’re not needless,” he said, remaining calm in the face of the woman’s ire. “Which, I’m sure you’ve already guessed, otherwise you’d have kicked up a fuss weeks ago, rather than the token whining you’ve given me up until now.”
The antlered woman scoffed, but didn’t deny his words. “I wasn’t entirely sure. I suspected, but it was only after Piper stopped complaining about the retrofits you’re making to the Jellyfish that I became sure.”
Huh, he’d not considered that flaw in his geass-sworn secrecy. The magical compulsion kept someone from talking about the combustion engine – overtly or otherwise – to anyone else not sworn into the secret. To do otherwise risked them losing their ability to cast spells. With that said, he’d never once considered the idea that someone might be tipped off to something being suspicious by one of the secret holders suddenly going silent on the topic.
“She’s sworn a geas,” he said finally. “But I imagine you’d already guessed that as well.” She nodded so he continued. “And as you might imagine, if you want me to share the details of why our pilots need to be trained for rolling starts, you’re also going to have to swear one.”
“I’d point out that at this point, I already have a pretty good idea of what the secret is, even if I’ve no fucking clue how you pulled it off. If I was going to share anything, I’d have already done it. Just the implication of what you’re talking about would be of plenty of interest to a number of people with deep pockets and to whom I ostensibly owe my fealty.”
“Ostensibly?”
“I swore an oath – and I meant it. Liege. Queen. Country. That order. You’re my liege. My loyalty is to you first,” she said seriously, eyes catching his. “Though I’d much prefer not to pick between them.”
He smiled. “I’m no ally of any of our Queen’s enemies. Blackstone or New Haven. That I can swear to you as part of the geas.”
And that was technically true, though only because he deliberately excluded the free-orcs from that statement.
Time stretched between them, as Xela digested his words, thinking long and hard.
“Bleh,” she said finally. “I barely use my magic anyway. And I can still fire a gun and pilot a Shard without it, so fuck it, yeah, if it means I’ll finally know why I’m risking the lives of my colleagues and students on these running landings, I’ll swear, but only to keep the secret.”
He nodded. “Only that.”
It was in everyone’s best interests to keep geas contracts as simple as possible. Anything too broad and you ran the risk of either party breaking it accidentally, given the adjudication was being performed by a fae.
“Bargained and done,” she said, sticking out a hand, which he shook moments before she surprised him by beaming with a set of pearly white teeth. “Not going to lie, I’m pretty excited about all this. I’ve been trying to figure out what the secret was for weeks.”
William smiled back, the woman’s sudden enthusiasm after such a tense conversation was infectious. It suddenly reminded him of a thought he’d had but a few days ago. A way to tie the woman even closer to his cause… and perhaps give them both a little fun as well.
“You know Xela,” he said. “It occurs to me that I’ve asked a lot of you since I became the Lord of Redwater.”
The woman’s mirth faded as she eyed him, suddenly wary as if he was about to spring some kind of trap. “Well, I’ll not deny it. You certainly know how to keep a gal busy. And on her toes.”
He nodded commiseratingly, brain changing gears away from thoughts of politics or machinery as his eyes trailed across the woman’s obvious curves. The pilot suit didn’t exactly do much to display them, but there was no doubting that the wood elf was very much a woman under her outfit. Perhaps not beautiful in the conventional sense, but she cut a striking figure all the same. Less svelte than most of the elves he’d seen, he wouldn’t be surprised to learn she had some human ancestry.
The gold-flecked irises of her eyes in particular seemed to catch the light as he gazed at her, before his attention flickered over to the exotic sight of her antlers. Rather than spread out as one might expect, the two horns peeled back, twisting around her head as if in imitation of a crown of some kind.
She really was an attractive woman.
“Something in my teeth?” she asked, eyebrow raised – causing him to realize he’d been staring.
“No, just thinking about how best to reward you for putting up with my odd requests for so long,” he said. “How about dinner?”
Whatever she’d been expecting him to say, it clearly wasn’t that.
“Dinner?” she asked. “With me?”
Perhaps if he’d been talking to Griffith, he’d have been treated to some deliciously adorable flushed stammering from the otherwise hard faced woman. It seemed though that underneath her own hard-coated exterior, his second in command was made of tougher stuff.
If anything, after a moment to process his words, she seemed almost amused.
“Yep.” He nodded. “Me and you. Somewhere nice. In the city.”
She cocked her head, and he suddenly felt a little small under her regard as something like a switch seemed to flick on inside her.
“Like a date?” she asked with an outward nonchalance that failed to hide the intensity under it.
“If that’s what you want to call it,” he said.
“And if I do?” she asked, something akin to a growl entering her voice.
He was a little surprised by the sudden intensity. Had it been a while for her?
“Then I suppose it’s a date,” he said quietly. “Unless the thought of being involved with your liege lord in such a manner is uncomfortable for you. If so, I’m sure I can think of some other way to reward you.”
Though he’d be very disappointed. Not least of all because this new side of his subordinate was… doing things for him.
Unexpected things.
First Griffith and now Xela, he thought. Maybe it’s less ‘competence’ and more ‘dominance’ I’m attracted to?
No.
Surely not.
He’d certainly not had inclinations of that variety in his last life.
“No,” Xela said, suddenly leaning over him, her breath tickling his nose as she leaned in. “No, that’s no problem at all for me. If anything, I think it might be interesting. Maybe even fun.”
She was staring into his eyes.
“Ah,” he said, turning away, a sudden heat creeping up across his face. “Then, how about tonight? We could sort out the geas issue afterward.”
For some reason, the woman looked smug as she straightened up. “Tonight is more than fine. Though you’ll forgive me if I meet you in the city itself rather than travel with you. Been a while since I’ve been somewhere fancy and I’d like to grab a new outfit for the occasion.”
The image of the woman across from him in a dress flitted across his vision, the dichotomy between it and her flight clothes forming a glorious tableau.
“No problem at all,” he coughed.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you then,” she said as she turned away.
Or rather sauntered, rolling her hips in a manner he hadn’t known the mage-knight was capable.
He watched her go, before a sudden pang of irritation flowed through him.
That wasn’t how that was supposed to go! He was supposed to be playing the confident playboy here!
Not her!
Tugging on his collar, he made a vow. He’d turn the tables on the woman tonight. One way or the other!
This was war!