Theodore stood at the boarding dock, watching the massive sandship and trying not to look too impressed. The thing was huge. Like, seriously massive. Made the ships back on Earth look like toys. Though to be fair, ships back home didn't have to traverse patches of magical desert that could melt your face off.

Workers scrambled around them, hauling crates up ramps, shouting at each other about manifests and cargo holds.

"This is incredible!" Freya bounced on her toes, craning her neck to see the upper decks. "Look at those defense arrays! And the hull plating! Oh, are those mana cannons?"

"Please contain your enthusiasm, my lady," their guide said. Some nervous guy in fancy uniform who kept wringing his hands. "We'll be boarding shortly."

Theodore glanced at the lower boarding areas. Packed. Commoners squeezed together like sardines, clutching bags and children and whatever else they were dragging between cities. Made sense, he supposed. Not like everyone could afford to teleport or take private carriages across the Scorching Expanse. The sandships were pretty much the only reliable way to travel if you weren't rich or stupid enough to go overland.

The Expanse itself was weird. Not a natural desert, from what Theodore understood. Something about an ancient magical catastrophe that left patches of super-heated wasteland scattered across the continent. Cities and normal land in between, connected by these ship routes. Like islands of civilization in a sea of "nope, you'll die if you go there."

"Economy class looks rough," Juliana observed quietly.

"Better than walking," Theodore said.

"True."

Their guide led them past the economy boarding, past what looked like a business class section—less packed but still pretty cramped—and up toward the noble quarters. Because of course there were noble quarters. Couldn't have the aristocracy mixing with commoners. That would be scandalous or whatever.

"Oh!" Freya grabbed their guide's sleeve. "Can we go below deck during the journey? You know, to the outer platforms? I want to fight some sand wyrms!"

The guide went pale. "M-my lady, that's—the outer platforms are for—we don't—"

"What about those desert wolves? Do they attack the ship? They do, right? I could help defend!"

"I—that is—my lady, the ship's defenses are quite—"

Theodore bonked Freya on the head. Not hard. Just enough to get her attention. "Ignore her. She's talking nonsense."

Freya clutched her head dramatically. "Ow! Theodore! That hurt!"

Theodore stared at her. She was Rank 4. He was Rank 2. He could hit her with a sledgehammer and she'd probably just ask if that was all he had. But here she was, acting like his little tap had actually done something.

She caught his look and stuck her tongue out at him. Theodore sighed. This was going to be a long journey.

The guide, looking deeply relieved that he didn't have to explain why letting passengers fight monsters was a terrible idea, hurried them along. "Right this way, your highnesses. Your quarters are prepared."

The noble section was exactly what Theodore expected. Overdone. Lots of gold trim and velvet cushions and other stuff that screamed "look how much money we wasted on this." The kind of decor that made him miss his simple workshop back in Holden.

Walking into the main lounge area was like entering a shark tank. Two distinct groups of nobles clustered on opposite sides of the room, both radiating that special brand of aristocratic disdain. They looked up when Theodore's group entered, and he could practically see them categorizing, assessing, judging.

But it wasn't the preening nobles that caught Theodore's attention.

Two people sat apart from the groups. A woman by the window, reading a book like she couldn't be bothered with the social dynamics. A man near the bar, nursing a drink and watching everything with sharp eyes. Both of them had that weight strong people carried. The kind of presence that made the air feel heavier.

And both of them noticed Theodore's group the moment they walked in.

The woman looked up from her book, eyes flickering over them in quick assessment. The man straightened slightly, glass pausing halfway to his lips. Recognition? No, more like... interest. He was strong, no doubt. They both were. Rank 4, at a minimum, the both of them.

"Well," Freya said cheerfully, completely ignoring the sudden tension. "This looks cozy."

Theodore noticed how Juliana had shifted her stance. Subtle, but she'd positioned herself to watch both the strong presences while seeming to examine the room's decor. His sister might be a bookworm, but she hadn't survived this long in politics by being unaware.

The guide, oblivious to the undercurrents, gestured toward a section of seats. "Your area has been prepared, your highnesses. The journey to the capital will take approximately two days, barring any unexpected delays. Meals will be served—"

"Thank you," Theodore cut him off. "We can manage from here."

"Of course, your highness. If you need anything, simply ring for service." He bowed and practically fled.

Smart man.

Theodore led the way to their designated area, very aware of the eyes following them. The noble groups had gone back to their conversations, but he could tell they were listening. Watching. Probably trying to figure out who these newcomers were and how they fit into whatever political games were happening.

"Friendly bunch," Freya commented, flopping into a chair with zero regard for propriety.

"They're nobles," Juliana said, as if that explained everything.

Which it kind of did.

Theodore settled into his own seat, angling himself to keep both the woman and the man in his peripheral vision. Neither had made any moves, but that didn't mean much. Strong people rarely needed to make the first move. Though he doubted they'd be dumb enough to try something here of all places.

"So," Freya said, already bored. "Three days on this ship. Think they'll let me on the outer platforms if I ask really nicely?"

"No," Theodore and Juliana said in unison.

"You two are no fun."

A server appeared with drinks. Theodore took one without really looking at it, more interested in the dynamics playing out. The two noble groups were studiously ignoring each other, which meant they definitely had beef. Rival houses? Political opponents? Just general aristocratic pettiness?

The woman with the book had gone back to reading. The man at the bar had ordered another drink.

"The blonde one keeps staring," Freya said conversationally.

Theodore followed her gaze to one of the noble groups. Sure enough, some guy with too much hair gel—or whatever existed in this world, because that hair definitely couldn't be that slick otherwise—was trying to discretely check them out. Emphasis on trying.

"Ignore him," Juliana advised.

"But he looks so punchable."

"Freya."

"What? I'm just saying. That face is asking for a fist. I don't like the way he's looking at me."

Theodore snorted despite himself. She wasn't wrong. The guy had one of those faces.

"No punching nobles," he said. "At least not in the first hour."

"Fine. Hour and one minute?"

"Freya."

"You're no fun either."

The sandship lurched slightly as it began moving. Theodore felt the shift as the massive vessel lifted off its docking supports, the mana engines humming to life. Through the windows, he could see the dock falling away, the sandport of Valemont below them.

It was actually pretty cool. When it was away from the city, it descended and started sailing on sand. It didn't literally sail on the sand. It floated above it, in a way, riding currents of magical energy that flowed through the Expanse, as well as utilizing the movers at the bottom that did move on the sand. So, in a way, it was sailing quite literally on the sand. He didn't quite know where his thoughts were going, so he just shook his head.

"Ever been on one of these before?" he asked Freya.

"Nope. I did get to ride a normal ship, you know, the ocean one. Smaller ship though. Cargo hauler. I was working security." She grinned. "I snuck in. Got to fight off a pack of huge fish. Good times."

"Of course you did."

"What? They attacked us! I was just doing my job. Enthusiastically."

The woman by the window finally moved, closing her book and standing in one smooth motion. Theodore tensed slightly, but she just walked to the bar. Ordered something. Didn't look at anyone.

Except she positioned herself where she could see the entire room in the mirror behind the bar. The man who'd been at the bar took that as his cue to move too, casually. Like he'd just decided he wanted a better seat. But now he was closer to the noble groups, able to hear their conversations more clearly.

Theodore was starting to get a bad feeling about this journey.

"Anyone else notice the dance?" Juliana asked quietly.

So she'd seen it too. Good.

"Yep," Theodore said.

"Dance?" Freya looked between them. "What dance? Did I miss something fun?"

"Positioning," Juliana explained. "Those two are moving around each other. Keeping distance but staying aware."

"Oh." Freya brightened. "So there might be a fight?"

"Hopefully not."

"You people have weird definitions of hope."

The blonde noble who'd been staring from one of the groups finally worked up the courage to approach. Theodore suppressed a groan. Here it came. The introductions, the veiled questions, the attempts to figure out their political alignment. He hated this part of being nobility.

"Pardon the intrusion," Blonde Boy said with a bow that managed to be both formal and somehow condescending. "I couldn't help but notice new faces among our gathering. Lord Vennor, at your service."

Theodore didn't respond immediately. Just looked at the guy. Let the silence stretch until it got uncomfortable.

Juliana, blessed sister that she was, took pity on the fool. "Princess Juliana Lockheart. My brother, Prince Theodore. Our companion, Lady Freya."

The way Vennor's eyes widened was almost comical. Almost.

"Your highnesses! I apologize for my informal approach. I hadn't realized—that is, we weren't informed—"

"It's fine," Theodore said, mostly to stop the stammering. "We're traveling quietly."

"Of course, of course. Still, had I known royalty would be joining us..." He glanced back at his group, probably already calculating how this changed whatever political game they were playing.

"Don't let us interrupt... whatever this is," Theodore gestured vaguely at the two groups.

Vennor's smile tightened. "Simply a gathering of like-minded individuals, your highness. Those of us who understand the importance of tradition." He shot a look at the other group. "Unlike some."

Ah. So it was that kind of beef. Conservatives versus progressives, or whatever this world's equivalent was. Though these had some dynamics far different than his world. Theodore had zero interest in getting involved, just like back on Earth.

"Fascinating," he said in a tone that suggested it was anything but.

Vennor, showing more awareness than Theodore had credited him with, took the hint. "I won't impose further on your time, your highnesses. Should you need anything during the journey, please don't hesitate to ask."

He bowed again and retreated to his group. Theodore could see him immediately start whispering to the others. Great. Everyone on the ship would know they had royalty aboard.

"That was painful," Freya said.

"Welcome to noble society," Juliana muttered.

He wasn't even in the capital yet.

Theodore was going to hate the capital, wasn't he?