Chapter 11 - Flight to the Citadel

Luna had flown plenty of times in the past. Usually under her own power, via a levitation spell. Occasionally astride a tamed griffon. And, once or twice, on the back of a drake. The latter was the worst. It certainly looked imposing, flying around on a giant fire-breathing reptile But the smell of sulphur and burning gasses the drakes often exuded, coupled with the boiling heat under the saddle, rather detracted from the romanticism of it all.

Yet, despite being a veteran of flight, riding around in an airship proved a very different experience. Not unpleasant, certainly. Indeed, Luna appreciated being able to freely walk about the decks and cabins, watching the landscape as it slowly scrolled past them, without the wind blasting her in the face. They'd climbed high enough to have clouds and coils of mist regularly caress the frosted windows.

It was certainly slower than flying under her own power, an act that would quickly burn through her qi in her current body, but there was something to be said about how relaxing the flight was.

For the first few hours, at least. Then the tedium set in.

She had little to do but meditate or work out in her cabin, investing hours of time into quiet self-improvement. And there was only so much she could do in a fragile ship.

Eventually, when she left the cabin on the second evening, she looked out of the window to see the tamed wilderness and rolling hills gradually giving way to more urban centres. Towns dotted about, illuminated in the dark by a myriad of quartz lanterns. She even spied a few fields filled with citrine quarts crystals, radiating like miniature yellow stars.

And when Luna looked far afield, burning her qi to sharpen her senses, she caught her first look at the Elthremian wall. Or, the Bulwark, as many tales bluntly called it. She'd heard plenty of tales about it, a cornerstone of many fireside stories, and if anything those tales had undersold how massive it truly was.

A great looming structure that cut across the landscape like a winding serpent, comprised of colossal black bricks that had been stacked so high as to be nearly 150 meters high by Luna's estimation. Inwardly her mind reeled trying to contemplate the logistics that would go into the construction of such a beast, which was said to to flow from one end of the kingdom to the other in a perfect border with the Ashlands.

She had overseen the construction of many fortifications in her old empire, but nothing quite so massive. Even with a nation of slaves toiling night and day, it would have taken many years to fashion such a wall. And then there was the matter of its material. It was clearly no ordinary stone. For untold decades it had weathered a storm of attacks from ashborn, beasts who were said to reach colossal sizes.

Magic had to be a major part of the construction, she mused, tilting her head to one side. And rather powerful magic at that. Another thing to look into.

"Must have some kind of library or archive," she muttered under her breath. What self respecting kingdom wouldn't? "Assuming the fools haven't lost the records of that wall's construction."

Her eyes wandered northward, to catch her fist glimpse of the capital city of Vyrham many leagues west from the Bulwark. It was a decently large city, with several ringed walls on several districts and an urban sprawl spilling beyond the edges of the fortifications. On the eastern edge of the city sat the massive structure known as the Citadel of Zehud.

It was near the size of her old palace, a structure defined by stark white walls and an assortment of towers bordering the outer edges of the Citadel. Even from afar, in the dark, she could just barely see the flags flapping from the peak of each spire. The many-spired castle cut an imposing figure. Fitting, for a structure designed to train the most elite warriors of the kingdom.

It was as she was examining the fortress, and pondering how she would remodel it more to her liking, that a series of footsteps drew closer to her. Luna turned, looking up at a guard who proudly clutched his halberd rifle in his gloved hands.

He came to a halt, the tails of his surcoat flickering behind him, and regarded her from behind the shade of his face-concealing helmet. "Commander wants a word with you. He's down on the engine deck. I can guide you, if you'd like."

Luna nodded, figuring it was better than groping around blindly. "Lead on," she replied.

The engine deck was beneath the cabins, a world of brass pipes, hissing steam, and neatly organised wires lining the walls. A form of technology still alien to Luna, but she'd be lying if she said she wasn't impressed. It was cramped, humid, and had a distinct smell of sweat and grease in the air.

But the metallic corridor eventually opened out to a much larger, circular chamber that was lit by a burning sapphire glow. A massive quartz the size of an auroch, bigger than any she'd ever seen in her life, was lodged in a console at the heart of the room, and had an abundance of wires and components hooked into it. A faint humming sound resonated from it.

Citrine quartz only drew enough glow from the earth to provide illumination. Ruby quartz carried a charge that could power weapons and potentially kill people, She couldn't even imagine how much glow a sapphire quartz would need to power an entire airship and hold it aloft.

Old Scratch was standing beside a strange machine that had a pair of ruby quartzes hooked into the side of the console. It had rows of brass keys protruding outward, a letter printed on each key, above which stood a jet black screen.

Luna stood to attention, but her curious gaze repeatedly darted toward the bizarre mechanism. That got a chuckle from Old Scratch. "Take it you've never seen one of these before? Well, they are a recent development. They call it a typograph."

Luna committed the name to memory. "What does it do, Commander?" she asked.

"You tune it to the frequency of another typograph, type a message on it, and the words appear on this thing," he said, tapping the glossy black screen. "Some kind of weird mysticism powered by quartz. Can't make hide nor hair of it myself. It functions, at least. Though, it's only in this past while that we were close enough to make contact with the Citadel."

The younger woman nodded, folding her hands behind her back. Impressive technology, admittedly, but she had something similar in her home world. And crystal balls seemed much easier to produce.

"I was having a bit of a chat with some of my... superiors down at the Citadel. Let them know all about what happened back in your village. And that they should expect a new student in the newest crop of cadets," Old Scratch explained.

Luna nodded. "I take it there were no issues?"

Old Scratch forced a smile. "Somewhat. They tend to loathe me making unilateral decisions like that. But they came to understand my actions when I explained the situation to them."

As she had expected, word of her potential was going to go far when it came to greasing any bureaucratic wheels.

"Most recent batch of cadets only got started about two months back, fortunately, so you won't have to catch up too much," he explained, making his way from the bank of keys. "Somehow, I doubt you'd have much trouble catchin' up anyway. You ah... do know how to read, yeah?"

Luna's jaw tightened in annoyance. Of all the presumptuous, condescending questions to ask... "I can. Helsen was rather insistent on my literacy when he became aware of my abilities," she said, nodding and fighting to maintain an unoffended facade.

Whatever Tulpa had done in transferring her to this reality, the language of her old world was translated into the local Elthremian tongue. From there, learning the alphabet of Aquilonia hadn't been too hard.

"Good, good. Well, in that case, I'm sure your instructors will hand over everything you need to make up for the lost time. They likely have a group picked out for you in one of the barracks, people you’ll be rooming with.”

Luna suppressed a sigh. She had hoped, perhaps naively, that she could get her own private room for a change.

"You'll have to go through a few preliminary tests, just to prove you're as good as I've made you out to be. And, from there, you're likely to get added to your party."

Luna paused, quirking a brow at him. "Party?" she asked.

"Ah, well, that's a bit of lingo we use for those who are trained for Ashland expeditions. Suppose 'squad' would be the more technical term but that's the one we usually go with. Standard formation is an Arcanist, a Paladin, a Ranger, a Brawler, and a Cleric."

"Makes sense, Commander," Luna said, slowly nodding. It would make for a good balance of abilities and strengths, under normal circumstances. Of course, she'd likely surpass whoever she was put in a party with. That was just a basic fact.

Old Scratch folded his arms, resting his weight against a railing by the core. "And I should perhaps say that, since your enrolment was per my suggestion, anything you do will end up reflecting on me. So make sure not to do anything... harmful that could make me look bad."

A ghost of a smile played out across Luna's lips. "Wouldn't dream of it, sir."

"Good. Well, I should advise you to get some rest. Assuming the wind stays in our favour, we should be docking by the Citadel early tomorrow."