Sexy Steampunk Babes: Chapter Forty

“That’s right, careful now. Nice and easy,” Xela instructed her ‘student’ as they slowly came in to land.

Seated behind the younger girl, the wood elf felt more than saw the rear wheels of the craft hit the runway. Then the front wheel.

Satisfied, the wood elf released her own deathgrip on the craft’s secondary control system as the shard slowly started to trundle down the runway. It wasn’t a particularly smooth ride though. Sure, the runway her count had commanded constructed was serviceable enough in a pinch, but like most spell-wrought creations, it had… imperfections.

Indeed, even as the canopy opened and she moved to follow her student in clambering out onto the Unicorn’s wing, Xela made to visually make note of the locations of a number of bumps and divots that she’d felt coming in – and taking off.

Well, that’s the girls’ punishment duty for the immediate future sorted, she thought as her feet hit the dirt. Smoothing out the runway.

At least so long as the boy continued to insist on running take offs and landings.

Speaking of which…

“Do you have any idea why Count Redwater keeps insisting on running take offs?” she asked.

Across from her, Bonnlyn shrugged as she slung her booster seat under her arm. “Not a clue. Though knowing William, there’ll be some absurdly clever reason for it. Probably.”

“Probably?”

“That’s William. You could ask him, and there’s a decent chance he’ll tell you his reasons, or he’ll do that stupid little smile he does.” She shrugged again. “I couldn’t say which.”

There was both a feeling of resignation and fondness in the dwarf’s words, but they just made Xela want to sigh.

“Great,” she stated, before her eyes alighted on something. “I suppose I’ll find out which of the two it is soon enough.”

Because, unless her eyes deceived her, her liege was riding over to them. Accompanied by a small coterie of Redwater Household guard, the boy approached.

Strange to see him outside of the workshops, the wood elf thought.

“Ho,” the boy called out as he pulled to a stop just short of them. “I hope today’s lesson went smoothly?”

“My count,” Xela sketched a quick bow, before straightening up. “Well enough. This one at least has a natural enough aptitude for flight. Stone and root, it’s probably the most of the lot.”

Moreso than any of the others at least – and definitely more than the orc. The less said about the girl’s skills behind a craft the better. Now, admittedly these were early days, but that thought did little to soothe the marshal’s ire at nearly being slammed into a tree twice in one session.

“Oh?” William cocked his head, eyes flitting from her to his teammate. “High praise for you, Xela.”

“It’s the truth,” she said, before turning toward her beaming student. “Though I wouldn’t go getting a big head about it. Best of the lot doesn’t necessarily mean ‘good’.”

The girl had talent, but nothing good would come from the girl getting a big head over the fact. Which was why she felt some small level of satisfaction at the way the girl flinched.

“No, but the implication is certainly there,” her count said quietly, rather neatly undercutting the point Xela had been trying to make as the dwarf perked up again. “Though that’s ultimately neither here nor there. Truthfully I didn’t come out here just to ask about my teammates’ progress.”

“Oh?” Xela raised an eyebrow. “Is today the day I finally get to see Count Redwater behind the controls of a shard?”

It certainly hadn’t gone unnoticed by anyone that while the boy had set the rest of his team to practicing their flying skills as much as possible within whatever spare time Xela had to act as their instructor in between her other duties, her liege hadn’t even so much as glanced in the Unicorn’s direction, content to let his fellows make use of the training craft.

Which wasn’t totally unexpected, given how busy he was with the many projects that were now underway in the county’s workshops. Still, there was less than two weeks left before the whole team would be returning to the academy. A few hours on the stick would be valuable.

At least when it comes to outperforming the other brats in his house, Xela thought.

It wouldn’t do much to even things up where the other houses were concerned. Most noble brats had been practicing in their family’s shards for about as long as they’d been able to reach the controls. Indeed, it was pretty commonly acknowledged that while the Royal House often performed well in the first year when the focus was on more athletic pursuits, that relative level of skill dropped off sharply in the second when Shards became the focus.

Because for all that even a common-born brat could practice how to fight, most of them wouldn’t have even seen a shard before attending the academy.

Xela certainly hadn’t.

Then again, Redwater used to be Ashfield, she thought. Man or not, he might have some experience with his family’s craft.

It’d be unusual, but not completely unheard of. And William Redwater was nothing if not unusual.

“Ah, not today I’m afraid.” He laughed easily. “No, I’ve a new project of sorts that I was hoping to get your opinion on before I break ground on it.”

“Another, William?” Bonnlyn chirped, turning her gaze away from where the hangar-minder were wheeling the Unicorn back into it’s hangar. “Don’t you have enough to be getting on with already? I’ll remind you that my family are still waiting on a meeting with you.”

To his credit, the boy flinched. “Ah, I’ll not deny I’m busy – and I promise I’ll get that meeting done before we go back to the academy. Unfortunately, this particular project can’t wait.”

His eyes flitted back to Xela who hummed. As much as she wanted to return to the hundred other tasks that she needed to get done as part of her role as marshal, a request from her liege wasn’t exactly something she could blow off.

If he complained later about the expansion of his household guard being slower than he wanted, she’d just remind him that it was him who’d pulled her away from it.

“Alright,” she breathed. “Though I assume we won’t be hashing it out on the landing strip?”

Grinning, the boy nodded before gesturing to one of the riderless horses his retinue had brought with him.

“After you, milady.”

She moved to clamber onto the horse, before pausing.

Was… was she crazy, or did he check her out just then? It was quick, but she definitely didn’t imagine him giving her a once over as she moved past.

Huh, she thought as she stepped into the stirrups. Perhaps there’s some truth to the rumours of him and that royal messenger from last week.

Well, if the boy wanted to waste her time by excorcising a few of his mommy issues by giving her a good ploughing - she could definitely live with that kind of disruption to her schedule.

-------------------------

Unfortunately, it seemed she’d not been invited into her liege’s office for a good ploughing from the young buck.

At least, not physically.

Mentally and emotionally, she certainly felt like she was being fucked with.

“This isn’t a terrible idea,” she repeated for what felt like the third time since she’d entered his office.

Admittedly, the first two had been a bit more subtle, but given that didn’t seem to be working she’d been forced to use less tactful language. At this point, it didn’t care if she went the way of Stillwater as a result. This was a terrible idea and that needed to be said.

“Eight minutes,” the boy stressed. “Eight minutes. All a mage needs to do is activate the core and you’ve got eight minutes before it stops producing aether. Thereafter all the controls for a shard are mechanical. It doesn’t matter if it’s a plebian behind the controls or a mage. The wings still work. The guns still work. The ammo belts are enchanted in advance. It’s the same.”

“No, it’s not. No mage in the cockpit means no lightning bolts at close range – and if the shard does get shot down, the poor sod inside won’t be able to bail out without being shredded by the propellers or falling to their death.”

Once a marine-knight got the cockpit open, they could blast clear of the shard on a stream of aether, and thus avoid the grisly fate of being diced by their own shard’s propellers.

Xela was well aware that a lot of mages saw plebians as ‘disposable’, but she’d be damned if she was one of them. Not after years living amongst them.

“The former can be solved by the county investing in front-mounted props. A method of construction I’ve just made more viable,” William argued. “The latter can be solved by giving the plebian pilots parachutes. The same kind marines use for airdrops.”

That was… not a terrible idea. A parachute was a major step down from a mage’s flight suit, but it’d work. And the boy’s new interrupter gear had made the notion of a front mount more viable.

“And what if the pilot crashes over water?” she asked.

The boy shrugged. “We’ll teach our candidates how to swim in the nearby lake. Or at least tread water for fifteen minutes.”

“Eight minutes then. Seven if you include the time it would take them to take off and land. That’s not enough flight time.”

He inclined his head. “That would be true if they were taking off from an airfield, but these plebian-pilots are intended to be a part of an airship crew. Any shard launches would already be at altitude so they aren’t wasting time climbing. They’ll be launching practically into the action. Even assuming we detract another three minutes to clash with other shards in a space between two airships, that’s still four minutes of dogfighting time. By the end of which, I’d expect the shard’s ammo supply to be the limiting factor rather than the fuel.”

That was… not unreasonable. In Xela’s experience, dogfights were fast. From the outside. When you were in them they felt like forever, but in reality, most fights between shards were anywhere from half a minute to three.

Frustrated, the wood-elf opened her mouth to bring up another argument… only to find she had none. Which wasn’t to say there weren’t still arguments unaddressed – the boy hadn’t had an answer to her points about in-flight spells. Still…

“Why are you so interested in this?” she asked. “Plebian pilots, I mean, ignoring their effectiveness… they’re just not needed.”

Even if half of the mages in the country died tomorrow, there’d still be enough to crew every ship and pilot every shard. Sure, some new pilots would need to be drawn from the ranks of the mage-smiths, but rare was the menial-mage who didn’t secretly long to be a marine-knight.

William leaned back in his chair as he regarded her over his desk. “Because in doing so I’d be able to have five members of my team acting as boarders or counter-boarders, while also having two shards in the air. I’d just need one of them to activate the cores.”

“And in doing so, risk losing the mithril-cores attached to those shards because you didn’t have the best woman possible in the pilot seat,” Xela stressed.

Only to immediately feel like cursing as the boy just shrugged.

“Fine then,” she glanced down at the plans before her. “Assuming I agreed to this – which is a big fuckin’ assumption – it says here you want me to train…”

She doubled checked the numbers to make sure she was reading them right.

“Forty pilots,” she said numbly. “For a county that currently has two shards. One of which is mine and thus is mine and mine alone to fly, even if I am acting as part of your liege levy. The other of which is a training craft on loan from the Royal Navy and due to be returned within the week.”

Rather than be ruffled, the boy just smiled. “Which is why I will be making a trip into the capital later this week. To see the Mithril-Shapers. From what Piper has told me, the core in the Jellyfish is large enough that we could chip away enough material to create two shard-cores with only minimal loss of manoeuvrability. Which is why I’ll also be buying a two-seater frame while I’m there – while Piper’s people will be adding another seat to our little test bed craft. Lo and behold, we’ll have two more pseudo-Unicorns before next Molday.

Roots and Stone help her.

“Two training craft,” she said. “To be shared between forty trainees. And one trainer. Who I’d remind you, can only fly in one craft at a time.”

Unless, Dirt Forbid, the second was supposed to be a spare for when the first inevitable harpooned into the ground.

“Which is why we’ll be hire on eight more instructors and having them work six days a week on five hour shifts,” the boy said as he slid another sheet across the table to her. “Which gives us four hours each day for maintenance for both craft each day. In turn, this gives our forty candidates each six hours of flight time each week. All we need to do is pad out the rest of the week with theory and other Household Guard duties, and we’ll have a small army of semi-competent pilots by the end of the year.”

Semi-competent, she thought acidicly as she read through his plans to hire on two quartet’s of marine-knight instructors for two years,

“The county can’t afford it,” she said instantly.

He waved his hand dismissively. “The county can’t. I can. The Jellyfish and this title weren’t the only rewards I received for my work on the Kraken Slayer, the Spell-Bolt, Flashbang and Radio.”

What the mulch was Radio?

She shook her head. Perhaps it was time to change tacts. “Ok, while I’m pleased to know you won’t be taxing the populace into the dirt to afford this madness, won’t you need those Shards at the academy?” She paused, before absently recalling that she was talking to a superior. “My lord.”

Fortunately, the human barely even seemed to notice the slip.

“Why would we? Plenty of people without access to shards attend to the academy. As I understand it, the academy has a communal pool of shards available for that purpose.”

Xela nearly choked on her own spit. “That is- while I’d never speak ill of good Royal Navy craft, there’s no denying that by dint of their mass produced nature, they tend to be inferior to the bespoke units provided to the heirs of other houses by their noble parents.”

Xela knew that because she’d been forced to fly in said mass produced planes, against cadets who were flying machines with enchanted frames made from lighter more expensive materials.

At the time it had seemed terribly unfair, but years later she’d realized it was intentional. It was training for the reality of being a pilot in the Royal Navy.

Certainly, the organization maintained a fairly advanced fleet, but it couldn’t replace dozens of shards every time a new innovation in design was invented. Not regularly. Not like a noble house that only had one or two shards to its name.

And while a noble house might allow its airship to fall deeper and deeper into obsolescence, the same wasn’t usually true for its shards. Not when they could earn a house glory both in the academy and in tourneys.

“Then I suppose you’ll have to drive my team extra hard in the time we have left to compensate for that material disadvantage,” the young man said, as if it didn’t matter. “But if we do end up on a losing streak because of it, well, you learn more from defeat than victory.”

She felt like slamming her head into the table.

She thought she’d been onto a winner by mentioning Team Seven’s academy rankings. Root and Stone, the group of first year’s had built a small legend for themselves, even beyond the academy walls, as the team that managed to defeat another two years their senior. They’d proven themselves unbeatable by any of their peers.

That kind of thing didn’t happen by accident or luck. It took sweat, blood and long hours of practice.

“…I don’t understand you,” she said finally.

“Few do.” When he eyed her, this time she got a full view of what Bonnlyn had described as his ‘stupid little smile’.

It was an apt descriptor.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked. “Really? Assuming I bought that crock of shit about doubling up on shards and Marine-Knights, why would you need forty candidates?”

That question at least seemed to wipe the smugness from his face, as he regarded her seriously. “It’s an experiment borne of a theory. That theory being that sometime in the future… there’s going to be a rather violent drop in the number of Marine-Knights in Lindholm.”

He was talking about the civil war, she realized. Which I suppose is forward thinking, even if his plan is a little mistaken…

Coughing, she leaned forward. “If, and I mean if, something violent were to occur, I don’t think it would have the kind of effect you expect. The Lunites and Solites have been fighting for generations now and they’re not putting plebians into piloting positions.”

“What plebians?” he asked.

She leaned back. “What do you mean, what plebians?”

He eyed her. “Exactly what I said. What plebians? Neither the Solites or the Lunites have plebians beyond what orcish slaves they import. Other than that and a few groups of dwarves and humans, the Solites and Lunites are all elves.”

Which meant they were all mages, Xela realized belatedly.

“Ok,” she took a breath. “Ignoring the old continent being a bad example, even if the Marine-Knight population were to… dip, more would just be recruited from the menial-mages.”

The boy shrugged. “Under normal circumstances yes, but you’re failing to remember that we’ve just had a massive influx of mithril into the market. Enough that we’ll likely still be trying to build frames for it all when you’re old and grey, let alone me. Can Lindholm really afford to take those mages off the production lines for new airships and shards?”

He tapped the table. “Perhaps. It’d be a difficult decision, but I could see the Queen siding in favor of replenishing her combat losses. After all, what use is more ships and shards if she doesn’t have enough mages left to operate them.”

The tap got harder. “Unless an alternative presented itself.”

“Plebian pilots,” Xela breathed as she came to the realization of just how far ahead the man in front of her was thinking.

“Plebian pilots,” he grinned. “Now, airships will still need captains and defenders to both keep said ships in the air and activate the shard-cores for said plebian-pilots, but ultimately my little experiment might allow our sovereign to avoid our hypothetical future dilemma.”

It was genius. It was madness.

It was…

“I’ll do it,” she said finally, raising her hand to forestall the grin that threatened to slip across her liege’s face. “Part of me still thinks this is a mistake. After all, your hypothetical is still just a theory. I don’t personally think things will ever get that bad.”

She paused. “With that said, you’ve convinced me that there’s some merit to this. Unorthodox as it is.”

Plus, he’d all-but admitted he wouldn’t be raising taxes to afford it all.

That was what she’d mostly been worried about. Everything else had been inertia and good sense in the face of insanity.

“Maybe it won’t come to pass. Maybe it will,” Willaim said as he pushed more plans across the table to her. “You don’t need to worry about what your forty new recruits will be used for. Only that they’re ready when the time comes.”

Well, she could live with that.

Though hopefully this would be lord’s last spurt of madness before he went back to the academy.

-------------------

“I’m sorry my lord, I think I misheard you,” Piper said slowly as she glanced from the boy in front of her to the shard that was slowly being reassembled behind him. “What did you say you wanted me to do?”

“The aether-ballasts,” the madman said as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Remove them. All but the front one. Fill that with water. Make it as front heavy as you can before it completely unbalances.”

Ah, she hadn’t misheard him.

She only wished she had.

Still… as her old mistress used to say ‘the client’s always right. Even when they’re totally fucking wrong’.

At the very least, this request was no more nonsensical than the creation of a good dozen different subcomponents that her people had no idea the purpose of.

The current leading theory was that it was some kind of pump intended to replicate the fire-breathing mechanics of a wyvern or dragon. A theory that was both backed up by their liege’s ongoing stockpiling of Earth-Blood and contradicted by his insistence on a front-mounted propeller refit. Because as impressive as the interrupter-gear was, it wouldn’t keep any propeller from being coated in flaming liquid should one attempt to fire such through it.

Yet now this request for a front ballast to be filled with water seemed to argue once more in favor of a… flame thrower concept. After all, if the prototype worked, it would be easy to replace the water with Earth-Blood.

But why remove the ballasts, she thought distractedly. What purpose does that serve?

… She was still thinking said question through when a small cough reminded her that the man who posed said question - and held the purse strings of her entire guild - was still patiently waiting for a response.

“A-as you wish,” she said hurriedly. “I’ll be sure to convey your new design specifications to the mechanics.”