by Ink Blood
“Of course not,” said Charlies. He pushed the chair backwards so fast that it tumbled over, crashing onto the metal floor. “They were trying to decide whether the Seadawn was a viable project! That was the entire reason I went there to speak with them!”
“Do you not think they would be able to make that decision based on those blueprints alone? They have always made decisions like that before.”
Charles turned toward Nate, storming over to him. His footsteps seemed to shake the room as he moved, and Nate was sure he could see a vein throbbing on Charles’ forehead.
“That bastard of a Captain has been filling your head with far too much tripe, boy! And you just accept it!”
“But-”
“But nothing,” said Charles, interrupting Nate. “We are citizens of the Three Peaks! We took an oath to use our creations to better the lives of those who live there!
The Peak Lords took an oath as well, lest you forget. They swore to always do the best for their nation, and that means they would never deal with the Empire!”
Nate sighed, shaking his head as he got up from the bed, being careful not to hit his head on the ceiling of the capsule.
“Oaths can be broken, Charles. You and I know that all too well.”
“That has nothing to do with this!”
“Actually,” said Nate, “it has everything to do with this.
Nate felt disgusted bringing up the betrayal of Eran, their previous partner, but Charles had to understand the truth.
Three years earlier the three of them had been working on an anti-airship motorized cannon, but Eran had stolen the blueprints and sold them to an Inquisition agent for a pretty penny. After that, he ran away and all the progress on the cannon’s design had been lost. He had taken the same oath that Charles and Nate had sworn to, but greed had gotten the better of him.
“The sight of coin and power can change people,” said Nate. “You know that.”
“That was different! Eran was a fool!”
“And what's to say that the Peak Lords are not equally foolish?”
“How dare you,” said Charles, his face turning a shade of red similar to the sun before it sleeps for the night. “You would dare speak ill of the Peak Lords in such a manner? What has that Captain done to you, to turn you against your own brethren?”
“He opened my eyes Charles! As I am trying to do for you!”
Charles snorted, and opened his mouth as if to respond before a knock on the door interrupted him. The valve handle on the door squeaked loudly as it turned, the hinges groaning as the door slid open. Captain Irving stepped in, dressed in the finest waistcoat, a golden chain dipping into his breast pocket and a pair of ornate mechanical goggles sitting atop his forehead.
“Good evening, sirs,” he said as he moved to the middle of the room. “I could not help but overhear your little dispute from the corridor, and felt I might be able to shed some light on the truth of the matter.”
In his hand, Irving held a piece of parchment of high quality with fine handwritten words on it, which he proceeded to hold out in front of him.
“This is a letter from the Peak Lords that we were able to, shall we say, intercept?”
He handed the parchment to Nate.
“I am sure you will find the truth in that letter. Now, if you would be so kind, do try to keep the noise down. There are men trying to get some sleep between their shifts.”
Irving gave a slight bow before turning around and walking back toward the door, his head up high as usual. Nate held the parchment up and began to read it aloud.
“Preparations are nearly complete. The project is on schedule, and delivery will take place as requested.”
He looked over to Charles, who was staring at the now closed door, his hand clenched into a fist. Nate held the parchment toward him.
“Look at the seals, Charles.”
Charles glanced down at the parchment, his eyes widening and his fist opening as he stared at the letter.
“Look at the seals,” said Nate. “They are the official seals of the Peak Lords.”
Even Charles knew that you cannot copy the seal of a Peak Lord without having access to the original, which would mean you would need the ring that a Peak Lord wears at all times.
Charles tore the parchment from Nate's hands, his eyes running over it again and again.
“Charles, you have to understand,” said Nate. “They were going to give the Seadawn to the Empire.”
He placed a hand on Charles' shoulder, but Charles shrugged it off, picked up the chair from the floor, and took a seat in front of the desk once again.
“Charles?”
“Please Nate, just leaving me alone.”
Nate stepped forward, once again placing a hand on Charles' shoulder.
“I said leave me alone! Get out of here!”
*~*~*
20
SERAN
The Lord Eerhart’s personal estate was positioned at the top of a large hill, with only a single winding road leading to it. The road itself was covered in rocks and dust that sprayed up behind the engineer’s velocycle.
Seran sat on the passenger seat of the velocycle, being thrown left and right as the vehicle rolled over the stones and sped around the corners. The engineer had given him a pair of goggles made of solid brass, but the glass lenses had become covered in dirt. Even the rumbling of the steam engine was drowned out by the constant racket of the stones being flung around.
However, Seran had noticed that apart from them, nothing else seemed to make a sound. Even the trees seemed to be still, the wind appearing to pass straight through them. He instinctively placed his hand on the hilt of Firethorn as the velocycle swerved around the final turn.
The side of the hill rolled away to reveal a large, ornate building with four outhouses and a stable in the courtyard. The main building appeared to have five wings, each with three floors.
The window frames were carved from oak, with patterns of gargoyles all around them. A stone archway with a single gargoyle on the top stood over the main entrance, itself a pair of oak doors. The brown wood of the doors was finely polished, but there were stains of red across them, and they were wide open.
The engineer slowed the velocycle to a halt, and both he and Seran stepped off the vehicle. Seran kept one hand on the hilt of Firethorn, ready to draw it at any second.
“Something’s not right,” said the engineer.
“That would be an understatement,” replied Seran as he pointed to the right. “By the looks of her condition, something is certainly wrong here.”
A few steps away from the main entrance a woman lay face down on the ground. She wore a fine velvet dress, although it had been torn apart. Cuts and wounds covered her body, bite marks resembling a wild animal were all over her arms. Something had been at her.
The engineer vomited. It was obvious to Seran that he had never seen an attack like this. Seran walked closer to the body.
Using a foot, he rolled the body over so that he could see the wounds clearer. Her face, or what was left of it, had frozen in an expression of pure dread and agony. Her death had not been quick.
Parts of her arms, legs and abdomen were missing, the wounds showing that they had been removed by teeth, rather than a tool of some kind.
“Well, it is pretty obvious what did this,” said Seran. The engineer stepped closer.
“The bite marks are a big clue, but the sheer amount of her that is missing is a bigger clue.”
“What do you mean,” asked the engineer.
“Well, what would say happened to this young lady?”
“It looks like a wolf attack,” said the engineer.
“From a distance, it does. However, an animal attacking a human would not likely leave this much meat behind. No, this was not an animal attack.”
“Then what happened to her,” asked the engineer.
“It would appear she was fleeing from something, but was unable to make it very far. We s
hould keep our voices down. We do not want to attract their attention.”
“Whose attention,” asked the engineer. “Tell me already.”
“The Creatures.”
The engineer’s eyes opened wide and he took a step back, faltering as he stepped on a rock. He fell backward, crashing into the ground.
“Cr-Creatures? You think there were Creatures here?”
“I am sure of it,” said Seran as he stepped toward the mansion. “Lord Eerhart is likely to be somewhere inside, if there is anything left of him. We should look for survivors.”
He turned around to the engineer, just in time to see the cowardly man launch himself onto the velocycle, turn it around and speed away.
“Well, I suppose I should not have expected any better from a country-bred engineer…”
Seran drew Firethorn from its sheath and breathed deeply. He clicked his neck, rolled his shoulders, and walked up the steps to the front doors, entering the manor.
*~*~*
21
NATE
Nate breathed in deep, the sweet smell of oil and grease filling his nostrils. Men and women in overalls smeared with dirt scurried about the hangar, fiddling with bolts and valves and pipework. Steam spewed out of the motors that were powering cranes, holding engineers high up in the air as they worked tirelessly to keep the Valkyria's intricate systems in check. A brass and copper automaton, resembling a metal man, carried sheets of metal across the hangar bay toward Nate, followed by a burly looking man whom Nate had come to know as Serge.
“You're delivery, Master Nate,” said Serge in his usual sarcastic manner.
Serge had been born and raised in the Ringlands, on the Esterland Island. He cared very little for the status and titles that men of stature placed so much value upon. As such, whenever he said the words “sir” or “master”, there was always a very obvious hint of sarcasm in his voice.
“Thank you, Serge,” said Nate as he turned to the automaton. “Put them down over there.”
The humanoid’s body hissed as it bent over, carefully placing the metal sheets on the floor next to the Seadawn.
“Nate,” said Serge, “the Seadawn looks to be fit for flight now. What on earth are these sheets for?”
“I rebuilt the motor using some of the spare parts that were lying around here, so she should be able to carry a bit more weight now. So I thought it would be a good idea to give her a bit more plating to keep her from getting too damaged.”
“Don’t you think these sheets are too thin?”
“Absolutely not,” Nate replied. “The Seadawn is designed to be fast. In truth, she should not need any plating at all; she should be fast enough that the enemy’s battleships cannot hit her.”
“What about their fighters?”
Nate could not help but let out a laugh at the idea that of referring to them as “fighters”.
“All fighter-class airships currently in service around Rhythlan are just refitted air-taxis. Their flight capabilities are laughable at best. That was the whole reason Charles and I built the Seadawn in the first place.”
Serge shook his head, one eyebrow raised. Nate smiled at him and continued.
“Any currently used fighter can pull a 180 degree turn in 4 seconds. The Seadawn can do it in 2 seconds. She’s the fastest combat airship ever built. I can guarantee you that much.”
“So then,” said Serge. “You pilot it and Charles mans the gun, correct?”
“That’s correct.”
“Then you might want to go and speak to him. He hasn’t left your room in two days.”
Nate dropped his head, staring at the steel floor. He knew Charles had been staying in their room, but had not been able to get the courage to confront him about it. Learning the truth about the Peak Lords and their deal with the Alexandrian Empire had broken the old man.
He sighed and turned back to the Seadawn, grabbing a welding iron from the tool bench next to him. If he could not talk to Charles, he could at least get the Seadawn’s modifications finished.
“Do you need a hand with that?”
“Probably,” said Nate, knowing that it were be nearly impossible to hold the sheets in place and weld them at the same time.
Thankfully, the crew of the Valkyria had been more than welcoming to him. He had been told that it was a pleasant surprise to have another engineer onboard.
“By the way,” said Serge. “I saw the way you were looking at Anastasia in the mess hall yesterday.”
Nate felt his body twitch, and a flush of guilt flew through him.
“I was not looking at her!”
“Come on, I know a look of pining when I see it.”
“I do not know what you are talking about,” said Nate, his voice shaking as he spoke.
“Look kid,” Serge replied. “She’s the most cold hearted lady I have ever met. But don’t just sit there and stare. Either you’ll look like some sort of creep, or you’ll just end up regretting it when someone else finally comes along and warms her icy heart.”
“It’s not that simple! She’s the Captain’s sister!”
“And she’s also a human! All humans need some kind of bond, even one like her.”
“And how exactly is one supposed to warm her heart? Answer me that,” said Nate.
“That’s just something you have to figure out on your own, kid. Just don’t let the chance slip by because you’re just sitting there watching.”
“Well, thank you for that sound and useful advice,” said Nate as he looked over at the automaton. “Can you get that thing to hold one of the sheets right here so I can get started on these modifications? I want to get them finished before Charles sees the Seadawn.”
Serge nodded and gave the signal to the automaton. Nate slid a pair of engineer’s goggles over his eyes and lit up the welding iron, but even as he began to working on the Seadawn again, he could not get the image of Anastasia out of his head.
*~*~*
22
SERAN
The manor was silent. All of the oil lanterns were out, the only light coming through the windows. Seran stood in the main hallway; a large square room with a staircase in the middle. The staircase split into two separate staircases halfway up, each one going in opposite directions, connecting to a balcony landing that went all the way around the outside of the room.
The floor was marble, with a straight red velvet carpet leading from the entrance to the stairs, and all the way up to the landing. Ornately carved stone gargoyles were littered around the room, some on their sides and others in pieces on the floor. Scratch marks and blood stains were everywhere.
On the ground floor, there were seven doors leading out from the main hall. One was open; the basement door. Seran let out a quiet chuckle at the irony and proceed through the door and down the stone steps.
In the basement there was even less light. The room itself was the same size as the main hallway above, but there were only five windows, and they were more of slits in the wall than full size windows. The basement was filled to the brim with bits and pieces of steam-cars, statues, paintings and various other items.
Two bodies were strewn across the junk, long dead and long since feasted upon. In the darkness, Seran could not determine who they were, but he knew they were not Lord Eerhart. The mechanic had told him that Eerhart had been pompous and plump. These two bodies were very thin, so it was likely that they were his servants. Seran reached down to the remains of one of the bodies and, in its pocket, for a ring of keys. As quietly as he could, he took the keys and placed them in his own pocket before turning around and walking back up to the main hall.
When he returned to the hall, he noticed something he had not seen before; a trail of blood drops led up the stairs. He followed it, carefully stepping on each of the stairs, trying to keep the creaking to a minimum. Half way up, the blood trail turned right and continued up to the landing.
Seran looked up to see another body dangling over the banister. Not him. He shook
his head and continued to follow the blood trail. He had to unlock one of the wooden doors, slowly turning the key so that the click did not echo through the house. The last thing he wanted to do was alert any Creatures that might still be in the house that he was there.
The corridor behind the door, as with the main hallway, was lavishly decorated with marble flooring, velvet carpeting and wooden paneling on the walls. Paintings of landscapes were dotted around.
The blood drop trail led further into the corridor and turned left into one of the rooms. The handle was stained red. He placed his hand on it; the blood was still wet and warm. Seran opened the door, finding himself in a study. The walls were filled with books, the room illuminated by a large window on the far side. A desk and chair had been placed in front of it, whilst other chairs lay around the floor.
The blood drips led to the right hand corner, where a man who had obviously been well fed lay face down. He was not breathing, but he was Lord Eerhart. In his hand was a pen, and a piece of paper lay beside him. Seran knelt down and picked up the note.
Whoever finds this, please tell my Queen that I did not fail in my task. I have found their secret. They are building something on the Midland Island.
Seran nodded his head and rolled the piece of paper up before placing it in his pocket.
“Lord Eerhart, I am afraid I cannot tell our Queen yet, but I can tell you I shall look into this secret.”
He turned around and walked toward the door, but as he moved his arm caught the chair by the desk. It fell over, smashing into the wooden floor. The noise echoed through the manor.
“Shit,” said Seran as he instantly stood still. The silence of the manor was broken, and now a clicking sound filled the corridors. It was the hunting sound of the Creatures; the noise they made when they had not found their prey yet. As long as the clicking continued, and did not turn into howling or screaming, Seran was safe.
However, he could not tell which direction the clicking originated from. It was as if it was coming out of the walls, and sooner or late it was going to be coming through the door to the study. Seran knew that much.