Sexy Steampunk Babes

As far as taverns went, the Salty Kraken could best be described as firmly average. Neither particularly rough, nor particularly classy, the small business nonetheless had a quiet reputation for reliability and security.

A reputation aided by the fact that the owners were all former royal navy.

“Here’s your fish pie, love.”

“My thanks,” William said, smiling as he slid a coin across the table to the rather large rosy cheeked woman who’d just arrived with his food. “It smells delicious.”

“Ah, the hubby will be happy to hear that,” the ex-sailor smiled. “Not often we get a young lordling complimenting our food.”

“I don’t see why,” the young man fibbed as he cut into the crust of the slightly burnt pie. “I dare say that even my mother wouldn’t complain if this were served at our table back home.”

The waitress laughed, even as she started to move towards a different table. “Ha, you charmer. Were you not a man I’d be worried you’d be trying to steal our Daniel away.”

William maintained his polite smile, before allowing himself to cringe slightly as he stared down at the rather… workmanlike example of cooking in front of him.

“I warned you,” Marline said disinterestedly from across from him. “Former military chef. Current military cooking.”

Resigning himself, William sighed as he stuck his fork into his mouth. “I’d somewhat hoped that our host’s time as a civilian and access to fresher stock might have led to some degree of culinary improvement.”

He really didn’t meant to sound like a snob, but… well, after doing so much to hone his own cooking skills in this new world he couldn’t help but think of all the ways the item in front of him fell short of where it could have been with just a little more love and care.

And a little less time in the oven, he thought as he peeled off a chunk of black carbon.

Finally placing a piece into his mouth, he had to admit that calling the thing dry was something of an understatement.

Seeing him cringe, Marline favored him with a rare expression of sympathy. “Naval thinking is that it’s better to overcook than undercook. Less chance of food poisoning that way.”

William could see the logic in that. Especially in a ship-borne environment where fresh provisions were more of an exception to the rule than the opposite. Though admittedly that was less the case for airships.

Sighing, he nonetheless resolved to finish the meal in the name of not offending the five or so wives of the cook who were now acting as waitresses. Nor the many servicewomen present as customers.

Again, there was a reason why the local hoodlums and street gangs avoided the rather dumpy little inn.

“So,” he said conversationally in between bites. “You want to acquire the rights to the Flashbang spell for your family.”

The dark elf straightened up at his words, the barest hints of nervousness entering her posture despite her best attempts to hide them.

“Why?” he asked.

Whatever the girl had been expecting him to say next, that clearly hadn’t been it.

“What do you mean, why?” The girl scrunched up her nose. “You’ve spent the last week ignoring messages from your House asking about. And that’s ignoring the other teams in the academy. Gods, Instructor Griffith said the Crown’s shown an interest in it. It’s incredibly valuable.”

William nodded absently, even if the last item was less exciting than it sounded. Yes, the ‘Crown’ might have shown an interest in his little party trick, but the Crown represented more than just the woman wearing it.

It also represented the royal family as a whole, a veritable menagerie of aunts, princesses and cousins of all sorts.

So to say the Crown was taking an interest in his little innovation could mean anything from the Queen herself – something he highly doubted – right down to a barely related cousin in the military procurement department.

Personally, he believed it was somewhere in between. Some lower ranking royal at court hoping to attain a little prestige by adding another arrow to the royal navy’s proverbial quiver.

“Ok,” he said. “Ignoring the fact that I think you’re missing a lot of the context there, why do you want to claim my spell for your family?”

Once more, Marline shifted uncomfortably. “I want to reclaim my family’s estate. It’s currently in possession of the Redwoods.”

William paused as he processed that. “Would it be safe to assume then that you’re currently unlanded nobility.”

The girl nodded reluctantly.

Ah, well now he knew why the girl was so hardcore. Land ownership was the true mark of nobility.

That, and possession of an airship.

Which he was guessing…

“Your family’s Mithril Core?”

“Taken,” Marline said tonelessly. “During the Second Reclamation Crusade. A Lunite saboteur managed to get into the engine room after killing two of my aunts.”

Willaim resisted the urge to flinch. There was a reason that reaching the engine room of a ship was a win condition in their practice sessions.

Without a Mithril Core providing the aether to keep an airship ‘afloat’, they’d plummet from the sky just as soon as the short lived aether in the ship’s ballasts faded from reality. The only upside to the situation – if it could even be called that – was that the drop wasn’t immediate. The ship would simply begin to lose altitude as the ballasts emptied. Which would allow for most of the crew to make it to the life-gliders.

However, that also gave a mithril thief ample time to make it to an opening in the ship’s hull and escape into the open air – with their prize in hand.

A prize valuable enough that to call it a king’s ransom was significantly underselling it.

“And given the conflict over there, I doubt whoever took it was interested in ransoming it?” he asked.

The dark elf scoffed. “No, between accepting gold from a bunch of ‘race-traitors’ or adding another airship to their Emperor’s arsenal, House Eastshore declined our offers.”

“And without an airship you couldn’t fulfill your feudal obligations,” William finished.

Marline nodded bitterly. “Yep. So the crown reclaimed our territories and regifted them to the Redwoods, leaving us as unlanded nobility.”

A title that still held some weight, but wasn’t inheritable like a landbound one would be. Unless something changed, his teammate’s noble line would end with her.

And given the timelines involved… well, he now understood why Marline was so hardcore. Looking down at her long callused fingers, he could only assume that she’d been training to be a warrior since she could walk.

Because there were only two ways for a family to reclaim their lands. Capture the core of an enemy airship, or provide a service meritorious enough to be granted the core for an airship.

Still, this conversation had just gone from a little sad to genuinely interesting.

“Did the hull survive?”

A little surprised by the change in conversation, Marline nodded. “It did. They were flying low enough at the time that my mother managed to land her in the Horken Forest. For a given value of ‘land’.”

“Horken Forest?”

“Just at the edge of the territory of House Amberly.”

William nodded again, thoughts percolating through his mind. “And it’s still there?”

Even without a mithril core, an airship’s hull was still a valuable collection of raw resources.

Marline shrugged. “For the most part. The Amberly family charges mine a small fee each month to ‘house’ it, and we have a few trusted retainers protecting it from scavengers.”

Though she said the words airily, William didn’t doubt that both items were a not-insignificant drain on her House’s remaining funds.

After all, without their territories taxes to pull on, the family would be reliant on what remained of their treasury to fund both items.

Well, that and their own personal skill as mages, he thought.

Even if trade-mages weren’t considered true nobility, their skills meant their services could usually fetch a high price. And while most nobles honed combat related magics over mercantile ones, that did not mean they were incapable in the latter department.

Quite the opposite, as their bloodlines gave them a considerable advantage in magical capacity over their newfound baseborn competition.

Though to be found working in such an industry carried a certain amount of stigma to be sure. To that end, he was hardly surprised that Marline had chosen to keep her family’s circumstances to herself until now.

“Well, I suppose now I know why you were so insistent on becoming the team’s saboteur,” William smiled.

Something of a double edged sword in the mind of the nobility, the role of saboteur carried both the most risk and the most opportunity for glory. Certainly, for the moment their team had both two attackers and defenders, but that state of affairs wouldn’t last.

Once they became second years the roles would come to follow the ‘standard’ loadout for a Lindholmian airship, which was one saboteur, one defender, two shard pilots and one captain.

Which meant that under normal circumstances a saboteur could be expected to face off against not just two enemy mages, but a hostile non-magic crew as well. After traversing skies that would be filled with cannon fire, bolt-bow shots and swooping shards.

Of course, the flipside of that extra risk was the near uncontested claim to a mithril core if they did successfully manage to land and steal it out from under the defenders.

The dark elf shrugged. “Even if it weren’t for my family’s circumstances, I’d have gone for that role anyway. It’s where my talents lie.”

William conceded the point before shaking his head. He was getting distracted.

“Alright, say that hypothetically, I sold the rights to my spell to your family. To use as you will. Exclusively. You do realize that alone wouldn’t be enough to get the crown to grant you a new mithril core, right?”

Given the look of confusion on the dark elf’s face, it seemed that had been her thoughts exactly.

Well, it’s good to know I’ve finally found at least one thing she’s not good at, he thought. She’s got the political smarts of a room temperature glass of water.

Perhaps that was a little unfair of him to think given what recent revelations implied about her rather spartan sounding childhood, but he thought it nonetheless.

Marline frowned. “Other families in the past have received boons for contributions of a similar ilk.”

“Yes,” he allowed. “Similar concepts with a much larger execution. The Arkhell Steel Process. Icehall’s Aluminium Lightning Refinement Process. Blackstone’s Elemental Ammunition Process. The Imperial gas-cannon. The Lindholm bolt-bow. Are you seeing a pattern here?”

“…No?”

“All the items I listed were significant discoveries that changed the face of warfare as the world knew it.” He clicked his fingers. “By contrast, my flashbang spell is literally just another spell.”

Though even as he had that thought, it wasn’t lost on him that he was more than capable of ‘inventing’ an item on the previous group’s level. He simply chose not to.

The tech advantage locked inside his head was his only edge in this world. One that he planned to retain for as long as humanly possible.

Besides, even if he supplied the Crown with something like gunpowder and they granted him his own House and Core – he’d still be locked into his arranged marriage with the Blackstone.

Oh, he’d have more autonomy as the head of his own house, but he’d still be ‘joined’ to the Blackstone family by law. Not even the Crown had the legal authority to intervene there – and if they did, it might well kick off the brewing civil war between the Traditionalists and the Royalists.

A war the Royalists might well not win.

The Sunlands might have been a meatgrinder, but it was also an environment that produced some of the country’s most experienced and deadly captains and pilots.

“Then why do we practically have people banging down the door of our dorm asking about it?” Marline pouted, bringing him back to the conversation at hand.

“Because it’s contextually useful,” William responded easily. “Specifically, it’s one of the few ‘offensive’ spells that can be easily used in our academy bouts.”

Sure, it could be useful in actual combat, but when compared to the ability to fling fireballs or lightning bolts, a disorientating flash – even three of them – was hardly worth getting worked up about.

He continued. “The reason people are so excited about it right now is because we’re at peace. Which means that the only real place for young nobles to show off their talents is on the academy scoreboards.”

In short, absent an actual conflict – at least in the south – the academy practice bouts had come to be seen as a litmus test for the strength of the duchies as a whole.

Which was total horseshit as it failed to cover the myriad other factors that would come into play in the event of an actual conflict, but failing that the idea persevered.

Even for first years despite the fact that said matches contained no shards - which were rapidly becoming a linchpin of military force.

Marline frowned again. “So, what? The interest is just for show?”

He made a so-so gesture. “No, I think the crown and the other duchesses are genuinely interested in my little spell. And I could get a hefty chunk of gold for selling the rights to it. But they aren’t so interested that they’d give up any kind of actual military power to secure it.”

Which a mithril core and a chunk of land definitely counted as.

It definitely didn’t help that his spell could be easily replicated. As proven by the fact that all of his teammates now knew the spell. The only thing keeping other houses from making their own ‘knock offs’ was the fact that the theft of ‘family magic’ was frowned upon.

Though that aegis would only last so long. If he didn’t proliferate the spell within the next few years it wouldn’t be long before it was seen as perfectly acceptable to make copies – if only for the good of the strength of the realm.

“So it’s useless then?” Marline sighed.

William simply ate another piece of slightly burnt pie in lieu of answering.

Groaning, the dark elf leaned back into her seat. “Well, I figured it was a long shot at best.”

It certainly had been. Because in what world did she have anything to offer that could trump a mithril core?

This one, apparently, he thought as he took a sip of his drink. Though only to me.

“With that said, I have more up my sleeve than just a flashbang,” he said, watching as she shot up. “You say you need a mithril core. I can get you one.”

She laughed. “That’s a funny joke.”

He simply kept eying her. “No joke. You say you need a mithril core. I can get you one.”

He made sure to keep his voice pitched low enough that no one beyond his table could hear them – this kind of talk could be dangerous if it was overheard.

“Wha- you’re serious?” Marline leaned forward, whispering now too. “How!? It’s… it’s a mithril core!”

“I’m aware,” he deadpanned. “And I’m saying that before the semester is out, I could have one in your hands.”

He could see her skepticism and he didn’t blame her for it. His flashbang spell had been something tangible, but right now all she had to go on were words. Words that sounded all too fantastical.

As she said, this was a mithril core. Objects for which entire wars had been fought over the mere prospect of attaining one, with entire armies marching out towards the impact points of falling comets – with no real knowledge of whether falling stars would actually contain the priceless metal.

And here her – admittedly talented – classmate was claiming not just that he could attain one, but that he’d give it to her.

So he said the only words that would prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that he at least believed what he was saying.

“I’d be willing to form a geass contract to that intent. End of the semester. A mithril core sufficient to power at least a frigate. In your hands.”

He had her. He saw it in an instant. She’d taken the bait.

And why wouldn’t she?

A geas contract was inviolable by all but the truly mad.

Because who but the insane would risk the loss of their magical ability? Which was why Geas contracts were incredibly rare despite their usefulness. Little to nothing could compel a mage to invoke one willingly.

William was pretty sure the Queen’s guard were the only group in the country that required a geas as part of their oath.

“It’s illegal for students to enter into a geas contract,” Marline said eventually, her tone studiously neutral.

“It is,” William agreed.

She was considering it. He could see it.

“What would you require of me?” she asked.

“Silence and assistance. A maximum of six hours of labour with fifteen minute breaks allowed at your discretion for every forty five minutes of work. You will break no laws in that time. What risk to life and limb you might face would be less than that applied to me and minimal besides. You will be unable to mention the purpose of this outing or what you witnessed or did in that time to anyone beyond myself.”

That wouldn't be the sum total of the terms, but it provided a good basis for the contract.

She nodded, but he could see she was still hesitating. Which was good. He’d be worried if she didn’t.

Even with a stringent contract, the fact remained that it was an opportunity to force another individual to do just about anything.

William knew he’d certainly hesitate before placing that kind of open-ended leash around his neck.

As it was, his promise to provide a mithril core was a veritable sword of Damocles, but at least it was one that gave him total freedom in how he provided it.

After a few more minutes in which the pair said nothing, a sudden fire seemed to enter Marline’s eyes. “Some part of me still thinks you’re insane, but if you truly think you can do what you say, then I’d be a fool not to accept.”

William smiled – even as he ticked another item off his mental check list.

“Well then,” he said as he stood up. “I suppose we better head up to my room then.”

The sudden change in tone seemed to throw the Dark Elf off – right before she paled.

“What?”