Chương 68: Chapter Sixty Eight

For William, the week seemed to take forever and move far too fast. Xela was talking to him as he worked on welding more waterproofing into place.

"So now Houses Blackstone and New Haven are both claiming they were fired upon over Partialshore entirely unprovoked after responding to a call for aid from the Capital. Yelena's naturally claiming she made no such call while claiming her own pickets were attacked unprovoked – and that the fleets are trespassing given the clear instructions they've been given to vacate Royal airspace." William nodded absently as he pulled up his welding mask to inspect the weld he'd just made. It was decent enough, he supposed.

A bit rushed, but he could live with that. Of course, if he used magic, he could have had the two areas quite literally meshed seamlessly together. Alas, he was quite 'tapped' already, given the rather sweeping changes he'd needed to make to the undership to get her halfway operational again. Of course, it helped that a lot of the work had already been done before he'd gotten his hands on the leaky tub.

"Are you even listening to me, my lord?" his wood elf second-in-command prompted.

"The North is full of shit and desperately trying to justify this invasion to anyone that will listen." Which fortunately wasn't too many people, given that communication orbs had range limits. Now, that could have been gotten around with specifically placed relay stations with their own mages and communication orbs, but those belonged explicitly to the Crown – and the mage-knights manning them would undoubtedly have orders to destroy their orbs before allowing them to fall into enemy hands.

Unfortunately, the Razorback mountains were where most of Lindholm's commucation orbs were initially mined, so it was entirely likely that the Northern Houses were regarrisoning relay stations with fresh orbs and mages as they went.

"Essentially," Xela sighed, her antlers bobbing as she nodded.

"They're now claiming that they'd be happy to retreat, but with this attack, it shows that Yelena's clearly lost her mind. That she's become unstable – and that the attack on Blicland was a direct result of her growing paranoia and focus on the North. If nothing else, they're saying the Crown now has to answer for the lives of the noble scions lost when the Academy was attacked."

"Hmmm," he grunted as he moved another sheet of metal into place.

"Seems pretty flimsy to me." Xela shrugged.

"It is, but when you've got two of the most powerful fleets on the continent backing up your argument, it doesn't really matter." Well, he couldn't argue that. Still, if that was the argument they were going with, they were setting themselves up for a pretty rocky reign after they took power. Unilaterally deposing a monarch on no other real basis than might was going to set a bad precedent.

"Hold up that end, would you?" He gestured as he positioned the metal over one of the ship's ventilation grilles. Xela sighed, but did as he asked – deliberately looking away as he set to welding the metal into place.

"I don't think you should do this, my lord," she said, finally broaching the topic she'd really come out to talk about.

"It's too risky."

"A bit late to complain now that I'm half done," he muttered.

"And don't be like that. These things are already designed to be waterproof, so I'm sure it'll work." Admittedly, they'd been designed to keep the water out, not in, but that was why he was making these modifications.

"Not that," she hissed.

"I'm not saying I don't think you can get the ship to work. You've done crazier, and if the Queen and the High Admiral signed off on it, I'm not about to second guess them." She turned to him, opening her eyes as he finished the weld to stare at his mask.

"What I'm saying is that it's too risky for you to be the one to do the job. So I'll do it. You're… too important to risk. At least, if we're going to win this war." He stared up at her. Blinked. Then stared some more.

"Welding?"

"No! Piloting this thing!" she finally shouted.

"I get that you've got your issues with being Harrowed… but you don't need to do this yourself! I'm… I'm volunteering to do this in your place!" She swallowed thickly after saying those words.

"…Even if I really don't want to." Well, he didn't blame her for that. It was going to be a rather… intense job. With that in mind, it was sweet of her to offer to 'take his spot'. And totally unnecessary.

"I wasn't going to be the pilot of the ship," he said slowly.

"Like you said, I'm way too valuable." And his team had all come together to forbid it. He didn't pout at that memory.

"What? You weren't!?" she gasped. He shook his head.

"Then who is?" she asked.

"One of your team?" He scoffed. Like he'd risk them either. At least not on something like this.

"One of Yelena's personal guard," he said slowly. Honestly, if he couldn't do the job himself, then they were pretty ideal for the task – and while there numbers were a bit 'depleted' by the attack, Yelena had still be willing to spare one for his plan. Albeit with some reluctance.

"Oh," Xela said.

"I suppose I should have guessed that, my lord." He thought so, too – though he could privately admit that perhaps there was some logic to her words. He was Harrowed, after all. Though it was a little annoying that now that so many people knew, they were all so quick to second-guess his every decision.

"Of course," he continued.

"Whether or not anyone will be piloting anything all depends on me getting these modifications complete before the Blackstone fleet arrives, so close your eyes again." Still looking a little sheepish – which was funny for a woman with elk antlers – she nonetheless did as he asked as he continued welding the next bit of 'waterproofing' into place.

Almost entirely in contention with a dozen of work health safety laws back on Earth – and locally - given her own lack of safety equipment, but as he'd stated a few times now, he was in a hurry. And there was a lot left to do. Despite that, some part of him lamented the time being spent on this. He'd lost nearly a quarter of his corsair complement during the attack.

And while they'd recovered all of the wrecks and could repair them via the power of mage-smithing, getting them operational again would still require his 'magic' touch. Unfortunately, as much as he wanted to be elsewhere, for this plan to work it required it be undertaken in the utmost secrecy. To that end, the only people he could rely on intrinsically were a select few of the Alchemist's guild – given their silence on the matter was guaranteed by geass.

At the very least, this little project seems to have improved Piper's mood some, he thought. The others of his little work group were currently in other parts of the ship – but occasionally he'd hear echoes of some dwarvish work song echoing through the ventilation ducts. Still, even with them helping, he was burning the candle at both ends to get the ship ready in time.

He certainly wouldn't have turned down some extra help – unfortunately, the only other group on the planet he'd have also trusted intrinsically were busy. And he wasn't bitter about it all. Bonnlyn's family were naturally scrambling to get their own assets moved – including the new gramophone production lines – and she'd been called in to help with that. Specifically, using her newfound authority as low nobility to grease some wheels.

Meanwhile Marline had gone South last night with her family to help with finally getting their airship off the ground after years sat immobile. On foot. Which would imply they'd be slow, but when you were a mage, 'on foot' involved a lot of bounding leaps with aether propulsion. It wasn't quite airship fast, but it was definitely faster than horseback. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Also tiring as hell, but as William often noted, the Greygrass family was hardcore. At least when it comes to fighting stuff, he thought. Logistics? Less so. Given getting their airship ready was something they could have done months ago… Though William could admit he was a little responsible for delays on that front. After all, he'd been the one who'd pilfered most of the mages in their family for his pilot training program, slowing down the work considerably.

Beyond that, he'd also been the one to 'inspire' them to use the time they thought they had as an opportunity to renovate the ship into a light carrier of a similar ilk to the Jellyfish, in addition to upgrading to a proper steel hull. Work that was still underway last he'd heard but was now being sidelined in favor of just getting the damn thing airborne, if not battle ready. Something that could be done, only if they had enough mages.

Now, to be fair, the entirety of the Greygrass family he'd had in his employ had offered to stay in the name of repaying their debt to him, but he'd allowed them to leave all the same. In the current climate, even a half-finished ship wasn't something one wanted to leave lying around for ones enemy to claim – especially if it was a carrier. Fortunately, he wasn't entirely alone. He still had his surliest and most loyal minions.

As if summoned by his thoughts, both Olzenya and Verity strode into the core-room, not quite glaring at each other, but it was a close thing.

"William," Verity started before her teammate could – in a rare show of force.

"Olzenya wants to use magic for sealing the last gunport, but she's down to her last charge and I know we can do it without magic." As she spoke, she brandished her utility belt, and the many tools hanging from it.

"Yes, if we want to spend the next three hours on it," Olzenya shot back. Verity shook her head.

"And I'm telling you it won't take nearly that long if you actually help – with your hands! – rather than sitting about complaining!" Ooh, clearly Verity wasn't taking any shit today. William was almost proud. Just as he was almost proud that Olzenya was arguing with the orc as an equal – when just a year ago she'd have practically spitting blood at the mere thought of an orc talking back to her.

"Olzenya," he said.

"Head up to the bridge and see if Piper's nearly finished there. If she isn't then use your last charge there. If not, save it for any last minute changes we might need and help Verity plug that last port hole." The high elf turned to him and blinked.

"Help? With… a hammer? And nails?" He shrugged.

"Given all the other welding kits are in use? Yes." Wood and nails would work just fine for the botch job they were doing and it was what Verity was most familiar with. Fortunately, rather than argue, the elf just sighed.

"Ok, fine." William smiled.

"Thanks." He watched the pair leave – and was glad that Verity didn't let any of her smugness show at 'winning' the argument.

"Are you sure about her?" Xela asked as soon as the pair were out of earshot.

"If this thing is supposed to be secret? You know who her family are." William shrugged.

"Olzenya? She knows my other secret." And sure, technically speaking Olzenya's family was from New Haven, but she'd been placed into the Royal House in the academy as part of a pretty clear snub by her old sister. There was no love lost there and the high elf had had no issue proclaiming her loyalty to the Crown over her family. … Though William had a feeling that if they won this war, she was expecting to be made the new head of said family as part of her reward.

The elf had never been shy about being ambitious from the first moment he'd met her, and he knew it was that ambition as much as loyalty to him, the team and the crown that guided her now. Which was fine by him. He trusted her.

"How long do we have before the Northern forces arrive?" he asked, explicitly changing the subject. He didn't begrudge Xela doubting Olzenya's loyalty – it was her job as his second to be the skeptic, but he didn't have the patience right now to dwell on it. Something the mage-knight clearly picked up on as she continued.

"We were hoping that they might pause once the first shots were exchanged to strengthen their narrative. They haven't. We were also hoping they might pause to sieze the keeps or airfields in their path. They've not done that either. They've knocked out any shards sent their way, but beyond that they seem determined to hold the same heading. Which means at this rate they'll be here by tomorrow night." William didn't curse, but it was a close run thing as he properly sealed another pipe.

Most of the internal systems of an airship were pneumatic after all and would respond poorly to suddenly becoming 'hydraulic'.

"Will they be willing to fight at night?" he asked. What few still intact spotlights in the city would give the royal fleet an advantage as the defender if that were to occur. Assuming they were going to stay and fight, which they weren't – the royal fleet would likely already be leaving for the south if it weren't for his plan - but the North didn't know that.

"Admiral Tyana considers it possible, but unlikely," Xela said.

"If they see the Royal Fleet is still on station when they arrived, it's likely they'll remain just outside weapons range overnight and then attack at dawn." William grimaced. Unfortunately, possible meant he'd need to be ready for if the unlikely happened. Hurry up and wait remains a constant in all universes, he thought with a grim smile. What was even more annoying was that once he got this thing 'ready to deploy', well, he wouldn't exactly be able to make any last minute alterations. At least to the interior.

"Well, I suppose I better keep at it," he grunted. He still needed to make some pretty sweeping alterations to his diving suit yet. Being able to breath wouldn't do whoever was wearing it much good if their skin started peeling off.

Solana leaned against the polished brass railing of New Haven's flagship, her fingers drumming idly on the cool metal as she gazed out the bridge's windows at the massive fleet arrayed before her. The Royal Navy – the symbol of the Crown's power on Lindholm. And it was outnumbered two to one by the two fleets she'd brought with her. Honestly, given that fact, it was a little annoying that they'd been forced to wait overnight when her victory was so very close at hand.

Alas, it seemed that for all her fire and ambition, Elanore Blackstone seemed hesitant to finally let aether fly in earnest – and with her refusing to move the New Haven contingent couldn't move either. She'd not even sent her shards forward, instead keeping them hovering protectively near around the main fleet. Spotlights, Solana thought derisively. What a joke.

Personally, Solana was of the opinion that the human woman was simply hoping that the Queen would surrender before any proper fighting need occur – thus saving the resources she kept insisting they'd need to avoid a mainland invasion. Solana knew it was a fool's hope. Her mother was many things, but malleable was not one of them. She'd break before she bent. A feat that Solana could now accomplish. Though she didn't relish in that specifically. Her inevitable rise in station? Certainly.

But the betrayal itself brought her no true satisfaction. Though little grief either. It was simply the way of things. Solana climbed because she could. And with the dawning of the sun, she was now ready to climb ever higher, as the human duchesses' excuses finally met there end with the first of the sun's rays. No doubt the armada in front of them was being commanded by her bore of an older sister. That betrayal she took some pleasure in. A wastrel am I? she thought. Well, look at me now sister.

Because this was it, the culmination of her efforts, the reason she'd orchestrated this entire conspiracy. Well, orchestrated might be a stretch. Admittedly, she hadn't been the one to conceive of it. That honor unfortunately went to Duchess Faline of New Haven. Still, Solana was undoubtedly the driving force behind the movement. The charismatic core of their conspiracy. Without her, there would be no rebellion. Which both houses well knew as they made sure to keep their 'demands' for their support light.

An affirmation of their right to maintain orc slaves as well as the repealing of citizenship and legal protections of any 'free orcs' across Lindholm. A pittance really. Even if she didn't really see what all the hubbub was about. In her experience, orcs were little different from dwarves and humans. Loud, brutish and lacking in even the most minor hints of sophistication. Elanore Blackstone and her ilk proved that with every meeting.

Truth be told, she considered New Haven little better than their human contemporaries. The fact that the ship she was currently on was utterly bereft of any noteworthy sophistication beyond bare bulkheads and smelled vaguely of fish due to their barbaric habit of nailing kraken scales to everything was proof of that. The North was a wild barbaric land. And it was wholly ironic that Solana found herself most at home while touring the South – the home of her mother's largest supporters.

"Politics makes for strange bedfellows indeed," she tittered to herself – ignoring the looks from the ship's XO as she approached. She was a grizzled beast of a thing, looking more like the pirates she proclaimed to hunt than a ship's executive officer - her face marred by sucker marks from some manner of nautical beast. Still, she was deferential enough, and that was what mattered.

"You may give your speech now, Your Highness," she said, bowing slightly. Solana straightened, adjusting the jeweled tiara nestled in her golden curls. She felt a thrill course through her, like the first sip of fine wine after a long day of... well, important work. This was her moment. Stepping forward to the airship's railing, she raised her arms as the magical speakers hummed to life across the ship's hull, ready to amplify her voice across the battlefield.

It would carry to every ship in the royal fleet – and the city beyond. All at the low cost of three nearby mages' entire spellcasting capacity for the day.

"Brave sailors of the royal fleet," she began, her tone laced with expertly feigned sorrow.

"Many of you may know my voice. Some of you may not. For those ignorant, know that you hear the words of Princess Solana Lindholm. Daughter to Yelena Lindholm, your current Queen." She paused, allowing the words to sink in.

"And it pains me to say that I stand before you today, not as your princess, but as a daughter forced to act against her own blood. For in recent months I have found myself obligated to turn against my mother - and the siblings who chose complacency over acting upon the wrongness that has pervaded our Royal Palace."

"I speak, of course, of Queen Yelena's growing madness. Her gradual slip into tyranny, impinging on the rights of her nobles and suffocating the very freedoms that built our great nation." She sighed sadly.

"This most recent attack on our beloved capital is proof but a symptom of that madness. Of her misguided focus on non-existent threats from loyal subjects, while real dangers loom beyond our borders."

"Blinded by her own paranoia and the sycophants at her side, she allowed an attack to occur that sundered our home and cost the lives of many a brave noble scion. Scions of houses that she swore to be safe within the bosom of her protection."

"Furthermore, rather than admit her failings, she instead chose to lash out – to strike out against the forces her most loyal subjects sent to reinforce her ailing seat of power." She paused once more, trying to keep the giddiness from her voice – and she liked to think she was mostly successful.

"And with this final act, I find myself unwilling to stand idle any longer. I have rallied two houses to my side in the name of ending this insanity. Of placing Lindholm once more on the correct path. So I ask you, as fellow patriots, not to continue to be party to my mother's insanity. Join us, not in rebellion, but in restoration. Of a true Linholm. Defect to the side of justice. To me – and I swear to you that together we shall reclaim our kingdom's true glory!" She stepped back. Satisfied.

She didn't think she'd garner many. Her older sister held too tightly to her little fleet – but some would undoubtedly come to her side. If nothing else, in the name of avoiding annihilation in a two on one fight, she thought smugly.