Chapter Five Hundred and Ninety-Six – The Stormpiercer

It was pretty early the next morning when things got very interesting around the Black Castle.

Bastion was the first to notice, his senses sharp enough that he called out and pointed into the stormwall surrounding us.

It took me a long few moments of staring before I noticed a black blur behind the whirling grey clouds. A short time later, that black blur resolved into the form of a small ship which punched through the storm at a pretty decent clip.

Almost as soon as it was out, the ship unfurled all of its sails and slowed down. It was drenched, water pouring off of it in sheets and it looked a little like it had been roughed up by the trip through the storm. Still, the ship righted itself and then flew a lazy loop around the castle.

"Amaryllis! What kind of ship is that?" I called out.

My first-mate-slash-best-friend-forever stomped over, eyes squinted at the ship. "Hmpf. Looks like another Pyrowalkian vessel. A military one, at that."

I looked at the ship once more, trying to see what she meant. It was a smidge longer than the Beaver, though far slimmer, even at its broad stern. The whole ship was wedge-shaped, tapering forward into a vertical prow, like an axe head that swept up to connect to the leading tip of the balloon.

A sponson stuck out of each side, each one armed with a big ballista swathed in tarpaulin.

The hull was a nice reddish colour, and looked like it was natural, stained wood as opposed to painted over like the Beaver. On its side, near the rear, was the ship's name in big swirling letters. Stormpiercer.

I read it off under my breath. "That's the kind of name I'd expect for a ship made for this place," I mused.

Amaryllis blinked, then nodded. "Yes, actually. Good observation, Broccoli. I'll bet a pinon feather that the Black Avatars commissioned it."

"What makes you think that? I mean, other than the name."

"The name is a big clue, but the front is strangely shaped. I've seen a few Pyrowalkian ships, in person and some designs. That prow is unique. I'd wager it was specifically designed to make punching through the storm here easier. Most ships, even the more modern ones, only have a fleeting interest in aerodynamics, but when faced with something more solid to push though, it becomes a bigger concern. Awen! Come here for a moment, what do you think of the engine on that ship?"

I half turned, then brighted up as Awen shuffled over, hands bundled together nervously. "Ah?" she asked as she approached. "Um, on that ship? Um, I guess it might be a bit large for the ship's class? Look at the exhausts, and the propeller looks oversized."

Amaryllis nodded. "So, either a clipper or a destroyer. Ship classes being what they are, the difference is bureaucratic more than anything."

"What class is the Beaver Cleaver?" I asked.

"Troublesome," she said.

I couldn't hold back the giggles.

We watched as the Stormpiercer circled around the docking section atop the Black Castle, then the ship came to a slow descent to a free spot on the far end from where we were berthed.

That was still close enough to see everyone onboard. "Small crew," Amaryllis said.

That was true. There were three figures on deck that had to be Black Avatars. They were definitely all dressed in black, with armoured plating over dark gambesons. The rest of the crew I wasn't so sure about. They were humans and near-humans, mostly in simple tunics or shirtless, and they were moving about, pulling on ropes and stowing away gear. Deckhands? There were only half a dozen of them, but that seemed enough to care for that small of a ship.

"Are they high levelled?" I asked.

Amaryllis hummed, then shook her head. "No, not as far as I can tell. A few are level ten, so they've likely never pushed through a dungeon before."

"Strange," I said. "The Black Avatars are all strong, but I guess they don't want to be the ones doing that kind of work? How do they keep the secret of this place if normal people work here?"

Amaryllis' lips were rather thin, but it was Awen that responded. "Ah, some nobles have skills that help with that. They can force weaker servants to, um, sort of keep secret things secret?"

I gasped. "That's awful!"

"It wasn't very common, but I knew about it in Mattergrove," Awen said. "I think most big noble families had someone that could enforce a secret, like a Head Maid, or a Butler? But everyone who knows also knows that you can break through that kind of magic with some effort."

"We never stooped so low," Amaryllis said. "Mostly because the obstinacy of the average harpy wouldn't allow it."

I nodded along to that. Yeah, if Amaryllis discovered that she wasn't allowed to do something, that would be the best encouragement for her to try to do it. "What breaks it?" I asked.

"Pushing past a level cap. Having a stronger will than the caster. Distance. Time," Amaryllis said. "Magic requires mana to function, and even a spell meant to slowly siphon ambient mana to work will eventually fail. All spells are inherently unstable. It's like... water on stone."

"Water on stone?" I repeated.

"Yes. Have you ever seen stone worn away by water?" At my nod she continued. "Magic does that as well. Over long periods of time, the ebb and flow of magical energy wears away at the formation of a spell. Since more complex spells require a great degree of precision... well, you can imagine the natural consequences. It makes mental magics exceptionally unreliable. Especially on people that aren't staying in one, secure environment. They'll walk into areas with more and less ambient magic, or they might level up, throwing off their personal magical signature, even if it's only a little."

Amaryllis paused her lecture as the ship lowered a gangplank and began unloading people. By then, a couple of Black Avatars from the castle--Guinivere and Percival--were waiting at the bottom of the ramp to greet their friends.

The first down was a man with a big satchel at his side, then a younger-looking human woman that moved across the shifting gangplank with the ease of someone walking down a well-trod garden path.

Then came a few of the workers from the ship, carrying big crates between them. They shuffled by on their way to deliver the crates onto a loading area. I noticed some fruit piled into one of the open boxes. So, the castle's food delivery was here? That was neat!

The Black Avatars met with less enthusiasm than I might have expected from old friends meeting again, but they still seemed friendly with each other, even if there was a distinct lack of hugging. The man with the satchel pointed to the Beaver and asked a question, then nodded while Guinevere answered.

My bun ears were perked up so far they almost hurt, but I still couldn't make out what they were saying from so far away. Not that I should have been eavesdropping, it was a smidge rude!

"Should we go say hi?" I asked.

"And get in the way of their work?" Amaryllis replied. "Let them finish whatever they're up to, then we can go poke our beaks into their affairs. I would like to give the ship a tour, out of professional interest if nothing else."

"Ah, I think I'd like that too," Awen said. "I've never seen a Pyrowalkian engine before? They might do things differently."

"I suppose there's some value in seeing the mistakes of others," Amaryllis said. "Obviously, the Beaver is a superior, harpy-designed and manufactured vessel."

"Of course," I said with a smile. "We could also go visit just to be nice? Maybe bring something tasty from the pantry?"

"Oh."

I turned to Awen, then felt my smile freeze up a little. She was staring across to the other ship, her gaze locked onto something and her mouth forming a small 'o' of surprise.

Following her gaze, I turned and tried to see what had surprised her.

Standing way off on the rear deck of the Stormpiercer, between two Black Avatars that stood next to him like guardians--or maybe like wardens--was a familiar face.

He was disturbingly handsome, still, with a nice chin and smart eyes and hair that was a bit wind-tousled. He was even smartly dressed, in a dark coat that stopped mid-calf.

"Rainnewt," I said, and surprised myself with the amount of venom in my voice.

The closest thing I had to an enemy was here.

***