CHAPTER 286: CROWN OF THE WIND

Crown of the Wind

Ivory Airship

With a few rocking motions from the asymmetrical block and a hiss of pressure, the great metallic wheel began to spin, and the heart of the craft came alive. The machina pneumatica did not roar as Lansius had imagined but gave a steady hum, its rhythm certain, building speed with each turn. Pipes branching from its body grew hot, and the morning chill that clung to their surfaces wept into droplets that ran down and mixed with oil. There was no separate exhaust, only the pipes that funneled the buoyant, lighter-than-air gas into the sealed chambers above the engine room.

On the far side, the heavy wheel attached to the mechanical heart spun freely, gathering momentum. When it turned comfortably, the crewman released a lock and rotated a handle that drove a small wheel connected to a screw-like gear. The gear tightened a clamp that pressed the metal plate closer against the side of the heavy wheel. With each slow turn, the plate edged nearer and within seconds it made contact. Friction caught, the second plate began to spin, and with it the gears and the forged rod linked to its hub. The floor trembled as the rod carried power outward to the twin propellers mounted on either side of the gondola.

That is a flywheel, and the plate serves as its clutch.

Lansius observed the motion of the mechanism with sharp eyes.

Behind him, Sir Sterling and Claire lingered nearby, equally fascinated, though they kept their vigilance. Francisca remained off the gondola, her watchful gaze fixed on the Hunter, who loitered around the craft under the pretense of a morning inspection.

"This is as much as I dare, My Lord," the crewman warned. "Any faster, and she might strain against her moorings."

"This is plenty," Lansius replied, grateful to be allowed to witness the engineering marvel at work.

While he could not see the inner workings without breaking open its shell, the sound and the steady, non-violent shudder convinced him it was not an internal combustion device. True to its name, it was a pneumatic engine. The burner fed air and fuel to produce compressed, heated gas, which in turn drove pistons, or perhaps even a crude turbine, setting the heavy wheel in motion. It was not as powerful as a steam engine, but its making was flawless.

The genius of it lay in the design that bound lift to motion.

The very gas that built pressure to drive the machine was also the gas that filled the airship’s sealed chambers, giving it lift. Motion and buoyancy came from the same source. Almost nothing was wasted.

It was as if a carriage used its engine to move and its exhaust to fly.

Compared to this, the older airship, which bled gas from its rear to push itself forward while losing altitude to dive, was a far cruder, inefficient design.

Amid the rhythmic noise of the machine, the crewman leaned in close, peering at the bronze gauges and running his hand along the forged rods to check the grease. Only then did Lansius take better notice of him. The man was older than he had guessed, perhaps nearer forty, and the lines of age lent him an air of experience, more like a seasoned machinist than a guardsman.

"Is this machina of Dwarven origin? Is there any magic involved?" Lansius called out, raising his voice above the din.

A fatherly grin tugged at the crewman’s lips. "Some of the gauges are Dwarven, but the machine itself is man-made."

Lansius’ eyes widened, unable to hide his surprise.

The crewman went on, "Though the know-how has long been lost."

“You cannot replicate this anymore? Is the craftsman gone?”

"Indeed. The maker passed away many years ago. As for the rest, you will need to ask Lady Ella."

Lansius nodded slowly, lifting his gaze to meet the man’s with steady regard. "Gratitude for the hospitality. I shall not keep you from your work."

"Please," the crewman replied, wiping his hands on a half-blackened rag knotted to the netting.

With Sir Sterling leading, Lansius descended the narrow steps, Claire closely behind.

Below, Lady Ella rose from a canvas bench to greet him. "Did seeing the heart of the machine satisfy your curiosity, Lord?"

“Yes, I am thrilled to see such a marvel,” Lansius replied warmly.

The gondola was larger than the older airship, but since it was enclosed with Elven fabric, it felt narrow. However, the fabric was thin, and the sun could shine through, making windows unnecessary for light. There was even a dark colored linen on a rope that might serve as a curtain. Still, plenty of glass panes were mounted in wooden frames, placed strategically for observation. ℞АΝȱᛒΕṦ

“Then shall we head to the passenger compartment?” she asked.

Lansius glanced about but saw only canvas benches fixed along each side. Six might be seated comfortably, but for a longer journey, the lack of room to stretch or lie down would be a problem.

“Please, follow me,” Lady Ella urged as she moved to the front section. She tugged on a decorated rope, and the ceiling gave a run of clicks in response. Then a hatch swung down in one smooth motion, lowering a neat set of wooden steps reinforced with brass hinges.

Lansius, Sterling, and Claire exchanged a quick glance at the clever contraption, equally surprised.

"Shall we?" she asked, gesturing upward.

"Mind if I climb first?" Sir Sterling asked. At her nod, he mounted the steps, followed by Lady Ella.

Lansius went next, with Claire close behind. The ladder proved sturdier than expected.

At the top, he stepped into a broad, airy chamber. Canvas seats and a small table were set out as if for dining. To the rear stood a simple space for meal preparation, while three cabins stood at the front, left, and right of the dining area. Lady Ella opened one, showing a room large enough for several to lie down in comfort. There were bedrolls and blankets folded neatly at one corner.

“It looks unfurnished because there's only Petra and me, and we only use one room. We left the others empty to save weight,” she explained.

“But there are many thick bedrolls, and the doors are sturdy,” Sir Sterling pointed out.

“We keep bedrolls and blankets for emergencies. The doors aren’t solid wood, but filled with lighter materials like wool.”

Lansius measured the space with his eye and reckoned it could hold more than twenty with ease, with room to spare.

“If you meant to save weight, why build cabins with wood? Even lightwood should add up,” Claire spoke for the first time, unable to hide her curiosity any longer.

“I’ve heard these cabin walls serve as support structures and also as insulation against noise," the host explained.

Lansius nodded. It seemed the craft was well designed for long journeys, even factoring in privacy and noise control for comfort.

“There’s still another floor above us,” Lady Ella added, “but it’s sat empty. We had no time to furnish it, and we have no use for it yet.”

“Another floor?” Lansius glanced around and spotted a similar hatch at the rear.

“Yes, a roomier one, but it’s left unfinished, with only canvas and Elven sail walls sealing it off from the nearest gas bag compartments,” the red-haired lady explained.

Lansius could only stare at the ceiling, imagining the hidden space above.

As Lansius had no other question, Claire asked the host, “My Lady, I saw the preparation table, but where do you keep the food and drinks? I doubt those drawers are enough.”

“Ah, we have a separate compartment to the side.” Lady Ella walked over and slid open an entire canvas wall, like a Japanese shoji door.

Lansius stepped closer and saw a single row of wooden barrels, each secured by a web of tight netting.

“Most are spare fuel in case of emergency. Others are water, flour, and even wine,” she explained with innocent excitement.

Lansius was piqued. “Where do you store your fuel if these are for emergencies?”

“This ship has a dedicated place for fuel. It is separated from the gondola, and I heard it was designed so that if it caught fire, it could burn and fall away without risking the entire vessel.”

Lansius nodded in understanding. Unlike the old airship, this one used purer gas, which allowed them to free up much space inside the vessel for a myriad of functions.

“But, My Lady, how do you load them?" Sir Sterling asked. "The stairs are too cramped."

“Ah, the airship skin around there can be opened.” She pointed to a section with hinges and an extra wooden frame to secure it tightly. “But it is only good if there is a gantry.”

“Do not worry, we have one," Lansius said, deciding to grant this ship a berth at his mooring. "The height may be different, but the carpenters should be able to make modifications.”

“Please accept my gratitude for your hospitality,” Lady Ella curtsied.

“It is only fitting,” Lansius answered warmly.

Noticing the others’ curiosity about the barrels, Lady Ella explained, “We mark each barrel carefully, mindful of the order in which we must take them, or else it will upset the ship’s balance.”

Lansius saw several barrels set near the rear and front, separated from the rest, and resting on what looked like a hidden carriage or low platform that seemed to be moveable with rollers beneath them. “Are those intended for ship control?”

“Yes, Lord, you are right,” she replied with clear satisfaction, her eyes bright. “From his seat, the pilot can turn cranks to shift the platform beneath those barrels. Their weight could be used to aid the airship’s control.”

When Lansius paused in thought, Lady Ella continued, “The pilot and crew take turns sleeping downstairs, one resting while the other keeps watch. Ideally, on a long journey, the airship should be manned by two pilots, one of them a mage, as well as an experienced crewman with his apprentice, and two helpers as lookouts.”

Lansius nodded, and with no pressing matter at hand, he took a seat facing the simple table, which was fastened firmly to the floor. All the furniture understandably had to be secured, or else it would become a hazard in rough weather or sudden maneuvers.

“Do you like it?” Lady Ella asked, standing across the table. “If you accept the Dawn formally, then we can let the Shogunate use this airship for a fee.”

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

Lansius snorted at the remark and chuckled openly. “You speak so well for your age, Lady Ella. I am deeply impressed.”

“Gratitude. My grandfather taught me well.”

“Indeed. Lord Avery is truly resourceful.” Then, from his side, Claire added gently, “My Lord, perhaps it would be wise not to decide in haste, at least not without consultation.”

Lansius snorted again, grinning as he shook his head in disbelief. “Who tasked you with that? Sir Omin?”

“No, My Lord. It was Lady Audrey,” the loyal blonde quickly admitted.

“The Lady said that? No, that was not her. And certainly not about airships. It must have been the chamberlain,” Lansius said amusedly. Then, turning to the host, he changed the subject. “We are always interested in purchasing an airship for travel, and I have to say that I am impressed with this one and wish to place an order. However, I heard that the heart of this vessel cannot be replicated.”

“Unfortunately, this will remain one of its kind until our craftsmen can reproduce the inner workings.”

“Whoever made that engine is a great talent. Sadly, he has already passed away. Still, I would love to meet his family and grasp their hand,” Lansius remarked, sighing, and imagining the rich discussion he could have with such a person.

Lady Ella brightened and said sheepishly, “Well, you have met his family. I would be honored to grasp your hand.”

Lansius was perplexed, but before he could realize it on his own, she added, “The machine was made by my great-great-grandfather.”

“What…?” Lansius exclaimed and chuckled warmly. True to his word, he rose and offered his hand.

The red-haired girl took his hand politely and clasped it firmly.

“I am deeply honored to grasp the hand of a great craftsman’s descendant,” Lansius declared.

The red-haired girl smiled in earnest and added, “This airship is very sentimental to me. The founder of our House built the heart and drew the plans for the vessel, but he never lived to see it made.”

Lansius found the story fascinating and eased back into his chair. “So who built the vessel?”

“Grandpa Avery and Father completed this vessel, but it was the work of generations,” she explained.

Lansius nodded. “So Lord of Dawn and your father brought it to completion…” he murmured, recognizing the implication that most of what he saw could indeed be crafted or purchased.

“Yes. Grandpa Avery and Father labored for many years to build this airship based on the founder’s plan. Many told me that when they began this ship, Grandpa’s hair was still dark, and my father was only in his teens.” She stifled a giggle, then her tone turned somber. “But despite promising beginnings, after years of work, the heart remained lifeless, so Grandpa halted the construction, knowing it would never fly without it. He turned instead to his own designs.”

Lady Ella felt compelled to sit down before continuing. “Like the heart, this ship languished in a half-finished state even before I was born. It became my playground. I am so happy that they finally brought it to flight.”

“So who was able to get the heart working?” Lansius asked.

“After Kapua and the airships were shown to the world, we received a great deal of help from the neighboring province. Tasks that once took us months were completed within weeks. As it turned out, they had many advancements hidden from us, just as we kept secrets from them.”

Lansius snorted softly. “A classic tale of guilds and merchants guarding their secrets.”

“Indeed, Lord,” she agreed.

“So with their help, you were able to complete this airship in mere months?”

“The airship was already nearly completed, so there was not much building left. Whenever Grandpa had spare hands, he sent men to finish parts of the vessel or maintain it. Most of the remaining work was on the complicated burner. The master smiths of Ekionia were the ones who finally managed to make it work, after studying the original writings and tinkering with it for weeks.”

Sir Sterling muttered from the side, “An airship that would not deflate, and fitted with small windmills to move it forward.” Even he seemed impressed.

“Indeed. They said it would take weeks, without the heart running, before the ship would deflate.”

Lansius nodded, satisfied. “My gratitude for the hospitality and the stories. But are you certain what you have told us is not a House secret?”

“I believe, as a member of the Shogunate, I may trust you with this,” Lady Ella replied easily.

“But I have not given my seal of approval,” Lansius reminded her.

“Oh, but I do hope you are willing to, Lord.”

Lansius chuckled. “I shall contemplate it. In the meantime, your House secret is safe with us.”

He rose, intent on leaving, and Sir Sterling readily led the way downstairs.

As they walked down, Lansius said, “I have never heard about your father. Surely he was a great man.”

“I was too young when he went missing, so I have little recollection of him.”

“My apologies. I was not aware he was missing,” Lansius said, pausing and turning to offer his hand to help her descend the steps.

“There is no apology needed, Lord. I believe he fulfilled his lifelong wish to become an explorer and gathered as many dwarven artifacts as he desired.”

Their eyes met, and Lansius nodded. “Someday, with this kind of advancement, you may find him again, whether on distant shores or among the clouds.”

Lady Ella seemed pleased to hear it.

With Sir Sterling leading the way, Lansius headed out, pausing only to give a nod to the waiting crewman, who bowed with his hat pressed against his breast.

He finally descended from the fabric-bound chamber and felt the morning sun and breeze on his face as his boots met the firm ground below. Ahead, Francisca stood waiting. The sun lit her tall frame, making her presence seem even more commanding.

“Have you waited long, Francisca?” he asked.

“Nothing to worry about, My Lord,” she replied easily, her eyes fixed on the Hunter who was conversing with Petra, the runaway Saint Candidate.

“Perhaps you will do well to speak with him."

“That is a good idea. He waved several times already. I shall do so after you leave.”

“Be gentle with him,” he quipped, and Francisca chuckled.

...

Lansius, Lady Ella, and the others walked away from the airship. Halfway to the carriage, Lansius turned to look back. The ivory airship loomed behind him, and with the stories still fresh in his mind, he found himself appreciating the majestic leviathan all the more. Its frame and design were truly groundbreaking. It was the kind of rigid airship that, if ever perfected, might one day be as famous as the Zeppelin or the Hindenburg, able to carry vast compartments with restaurants, lounges, even casinos on board, with fuel and stores enough to cross the oceans.

But the problem was the heart, the machina pneumatica. Even if he were allowed to open it, he would likely need years just to develop the tools required to imitate it. At the very least, he would have to improve a lathe to make it precise enough. Lansius could not help but sigh, thinking how he still struggled to fashion something as simple as a leather hose, while the ship was built from materials like Elven Sail, which he did not even recognize.

As Lansius conversed lightly with Lady Ella, Sir Sterling signaled the carriage to draw closer.

“I truly wish for the Lord of Dawn to win the siege of Kapua,” Lansius said as the carriage pulled up and the guards swung its door open.

“Grandpa will surely win this,” Lady Ella replied confidently, yet Lansius noticed she carried a trace of hesitation. It deepened his suspicion that she might possess some form of long-range communication, like his dwarven earring, and already knew the situation in Kapua was not promising.

Lansius was about to climb aboard when Francisca said, “My Lord, we have company.”

The half-breed pointed toward the path leading up to them. His SAR, hearing her, reacted swiftly by forming a wall around Lansius.

Lansius left Lady Ella’s side to see who was approaching, but at first he saw only blurry figures at a distance.

It was Claire who whispered, “It is the Lady, riding your destrier, My Lord. She has seen us.”

The SAR and Francisca did not move aside, but their stance eased.

“Must be good to have that kind of eye,” Lansius remarked to her.

Sir Sterling at his side could not help but comment, “Indeed, My Lord. I am always envious. She will make a fine mage knight.”

“How we non-mages lament our wives’ blessing,” Lansius quipped, and they shared a chuckle.

Before long, Lansius saw a figure riding a black destrier. Her dark gown streamed with the wind, and the sight of Audrey’s approach carried a power that drew every eye. Despite the galloping beast, she sat comfortably in the saddle, fully in control. The morning sun glinted across her hair, kept short for ease of wearing a full-face helmet, and her bearing exuded an aura of command, as if the warhorse beneath her were nothing more than a tame palfrey.

There might be women fairer than Audrey, but none could match the beauty she held in his eyes.

Audrey slowed the destrier, who tossed its head as though delighted to carry her. Perhaps it was simply because she was the one riding. Lansius had long noticed how animals in this world seemed suspiciously clever compared to those of his own. Horses not only recognized faces but also seemed to understand simple commands. And then there were the Canardian Race Ducks, a truly different breed of giant duck. Of them, the men whispered that they sometimes bore the temperament and mischief of a toddler.

“Claire,” Lansius called.

“Yes, My Lord.”

“Can you accompany Lady Ella and Petra for a bit?”

“Yes, I'll let them climb aboard and chat with them,” she replied, and left for their guests.

The SAR spread apart as Audrey approached, her destrier neighing as if it recognized Lansius. Without dismounting, she said, “Come, Omin said he finished with the supplies. The last cart has been loaded.”

“You are not here to see the airship?” Lansius asked, a little surprised.

“It can wait. You gave Omin the order to march when ready, remember?”

“Ah, yes,” he responded. They would march immediately, just as ordered. The idea was to move the columns swiftly, without the burden of formal sendoff or fanfare. He wanted the army to be professional. Not every troop's movement needed to be treated like a grand parade.

“That's why I came to fetch you. Otherwise, we will miss the ducks.” Audrey extended her hand.

Lansius took her hand firmly, set his foot in the stirrup, and with her steady pull swung up into the saddle. He settled behind her and turned to his men. “Sir Sterling, look after Lady Ella and Petra for me. Treat them to sweet yams or pasta, or just follow along with whatever they fancy, whether it’s the castle or a bit of sightseeing if they wish. Take a group of SAR to help with the escort.”

“At once, My Lord," the young knight replied.

With that, Lansius and Audrey rode off. The four personal guards mounted their own horses and closed in around them, forming a steady ring of protection as they left the field.

***

Saint Candidate Clementine

It was a lovely day in Canardia, the market alive with the noise of peddlers and the bright colors of their stalls. Clementine, wearing a cloak and carrying a basket, wandered among them, searching for things to take on her journey. What she loved about great cities like this, with their constant stream of travelers, was that the markets never truly closed. Here, the stalls and shops remained open from sunrise until sundown. In smaller towns or villages, by contrast, the market would open only in the morning before the peddlers disappeared, returning to their farms and workshops. But in Canardia, there were merchants who kept their sales going even after sundown.

She stopped at a pasta stall, one of several that had sprung up in the past month. The Lord Shogun and his army had popularized the new dish, and many merchants leapt at the chance to profit from curious travelers. While the Lord had introduced only a simple pasta served with hard cheese sauce, in Canardia, cooks experimented with countless sauces and toppings, turning it into a whole new fare.

When Harold was with her, they often traveled by night and dined at such stalls. Canardia, as the Lord’s capital, was safe enough that even children and women could wander freely after dark. Patrols of guardsmen were always on duty, easy to find at crossroads or the mouths of alleys, ready to help when needed. Their bearing and discipline spoke clearly of their training.

More than mere watchmen, the guards served the people as mediators in disputes. They had no authority of a bailiff, yet they were respected as neutral figures, able to calm quarrels and restore order when tempers rose.

Clementine bought a package of dried pasta, long and broad. She had never tried this one and thought that Harold might enjoy it. As she looked around at the travelers and locals eating merrily, it was clear that pasta had already found wide acceptance. She knew that similar meals existed, since the ingredients were common, but they were rarely dried or preserved to last so long. With the Lord’s army buying it at a steady rate, more and more communities had begun dedicating their craft to making dry pasta.

Its popularity grew because it remained delicious and filling even after days, even weeks, in storage. It was also easy to prepare and could be made in any household if needed. It was a way to turn excess flour into a durable foodstuff, and it had served them well. After the rebellion, when food grew scarce and prices rose, the Canardians were not as affected, for many had pasta stored in their homes, and the stalls still had plenty to sell.

Because it was so convenient, it had quickly become a favorite of travelers. In dried form, it could be kept almost indefinitely on the road without special care, never molding or spoiling, and it cooked easily in boiling water, tasting far better than the hard biscuits most were used to. It could also be brought home for families to enjoy or given as a novel gift.

Not only dried pasta, but the dish was also popular. It was satisfyingly chewy, filling, and came in many shapes and flavors. Each stall offered its own variation: some spiced with bits of peppercorn, some heavy with cheese, some rich with meat and fat. There was something to suit every taste.

And pasta was not only for the rich and well-to-do. Even the poor enjoyed it, though generally plain, with nothing more than a pinch of salt and a trickle of oil.

The price was getting cheaper and cheaper as many learned the art of making it and discovered which flour was best. With the harvest in full swing, soon there would be a burst of craftwork, as fresh flour would undoubtedly make pasta taste better, much like it did with bread. At present, everyone was making pasta from last year’s harvest, so there was growing excitement for pasta made from freshly milled grains.

“Morning,” someone said from behind, and Clementine recognized the voice, one that carried a faint hint of magic.

She turned and greeted softly, “Lady Valerie.”

“No need to be formal,” the mage who wore a brown wig replied warmly, taking her hand and guiding her to walk at her side. “Have you finished your shopping?”

“I have,” Clementine said to her senior. Since joining the House of Blue and Bronze, they often discussed magic, and she had come to realize that a Saint Candidate was in reality a mage, albeit with very different conditioning.

“Then, do you need to go anywhere else? Sir Omin is already waiting for us.”

“Yes, I have heard. I am ready. I already left instructions with the housekeeper and set aside some money for upkeep.”

“Do not worry. The housekeeper can always ask the castle staff, scribes, or the chamberlain if you forgot anything. This House’s administration is flawless.” Valerie chuckled.

Clementine smiled, knowing it to be true. House Lansius was well run, even better than the highly bureaucratic Saint Candidate Order, which many nobles praised for its efficiency. She drew a deep breath as the two of them made their way to the Eastern Gate, where the carriage waited.

She had asked for permission to accompany her husband in the siege against the monastery.

It would be dangerous, and likely a painful homecoming for her, but she would rather see it with her own eyes than hear it secondhand.

Her only hope was that her brothers and sisters of faith would come to their senses.

Yet in her heart, she knew the Living Saint was not likely to change her mind. The monastery would be awash with the blood of the misguided innocents, and she would weep bitter tears of pain.

***