Chapter 156 - An Order of Airships

Mirian started off the cycle with her usual tasks, then broke the spellward barrier around town in several places. After that, she sent out more disruptive letters through the Royal Post to various people she knew, or knew of.

Then, she brought Nicolus down with her to Cairnmouth. Sire Nurea came along, because of course she did. Serious attachment issues, Mirian had decided. He’s a grown adult.

As they took the train down, Mirian reviewed the next step of her plan.

“We’re going to secure orders of fossilized myrvite here and have them shipped to Sabbicita, and another order from Alkazaria and have it shipped north to Normarg.”

“I’ve never heard of those,” Nicolus said, looking at Nurea.

She shrugged. “Neither have I.”

“That’s because they’re tiny villages. The first one is in the scrublands at about the halfway point between Cairnmouth and the second capital. The second one is as far north as you can go on the Jatehfemare. That’s the old road that goes north of Alkazaria.”

“Why there?”

“Again, I doubt you’ll be captured, but just in case, I’d really rather not tell you the details you don’t need to know. I just need high-grade spell engine fuel at those places. And yes, the world is at stake.”

Nicolus squinted. “So… are you going to build a giant spell engine to try and stop a leyline? Or redirect it or something?”

“No. No one has ever even reached a leyline, nevermind created an artifact that could interact with it without getting destroyed. The kind of advances in technology and production simply can’t be done in a month. The only possibility of solving this is an indirect approach. And, I finally stumbled on something that can get closer to the leylines than anything else I’ve seen.” Her divination data made that clear enough. Mirian had begun to wonder if that was the behemoth’s main source of food. It sounded ridiculous, but if myrvites could consume mana directly, maybe there was a way. It was all guesswork. She had too little information to know anything for sure. “I still don’t know exactly how it’s affecting the leyline, or the leyine affects it, but I’m going to find out.”

“Vague,” Nicolus said. He sighed. “Man, it just kinda sucks, you know? Waking up and realizing you're just a card being shuffled into the deck. I guess I get that it doesn’t make sense to explain it all, but it sucks having no context and no idea what’s going on.”

Mirian could only agree. She still recalled the frustration and fear of her earliest cycles.

“I still don’t understand why you need us,” he said.

“Did I not explain that part?” Mirian sighed. “Sorry, I forget sometimes. It’s all a lot to keep track of. One, withdrawing you from Torrviol causes small changes to build up as everyone who would have been in contact with you encounters a different outcome. The more changes, the harder the timeline becomes to predict and manipulate. Second, I’ve never done this before. I don’t know how it works.”

“Really? Basic trade contract stuff?”

Nurea looked at Nicolus. “Most children’s fathers wait until at least adolescence to instruct them on business practices.”

“Oh.” He looked a bit embarrassed.

“When you’ve known something long enough, it becomes hard to remember what it was like to not know it,” Mirian said. 

“If only we could selectively forget,” Nurea said quietly, so quietly Mirian thought she hadn’t intended to say it out loud.

***

They split the orders into five smaller ones to allay suspicions. The process of establishing trade contracts was mercifully straightforward, though there was extra layer of paperwork and gold to rushed deliveries. However, in terms of actual time cost, Mirian thought she could get the entire process down to a few hours.

That’s the fuel settled.

Next was the harder part: getting the actual airships.

“Do you want to go down to Palendurio, or stay up here and hide?” Mirian asked Nicolus as she made preparations to visit Fort Aegrimere.

“I’d rather stay up here with you. Closer to the action,” he said. Then, he got a worried look. “Did we ever… uh… I mean, did I tell you…?”

“That you like me?”

He let out a breath. “Yeah. Haha, sorry, I know it’s a bit awkward.”

“You did,” she said.

“Oh. Cool, I guess,” he said.

Mirian could tell he wasn’t satisfied, that he wanted to know more. But what was she to tell him? Yes, for several years we were intimate, and then I lost interest in you because now you’re years younger and can never change, so now you’re just another board game piece I move around. Or would it be better to lie? There’s no answer I can tell him that isn’t cruel, she thought.

“I need to focus on my operation,” she said. “You and Nurea need to lie low. Assume any Deeps agent is hostile. The enemy even has eyes in the Syndicates, even if they’re not as cooperative as he thinks.”

“Yeah, got it,” Nicolus said, looking sad. “Just, at first, I thought there might be more… adventure, you know?”

“Sadly, no. Mostly, it’s repetition, planning, and study. And repetition. And did I mention repetition?” She got back to her planning.

By the next day, she was ready to begin. She cast her bindings so she’d look like Adria and put on the dead woman’s clothes and orichalcum torq and hairpin. 

She walked toward the front entrance of the fort and presented her signet and credential papers. The soldiers  stepped aside, and the gate opened. They didn’t even question it. Well, that part was easy. Then she was off to the Commander’s office, keeping her head high and gaze forward. She found that knowledge helped her feign confidence.

“I need to see Commander Hirte,” she told his secretary. “It’s a matter of national importance.”

His secretary blinked, obviously recognizing her status as Praetorian. “I… I can see,” he said. “Ah, who should I say is calling?”

“Adria Gavell,” she said.

“Oh. Oh!” he said. He would likely recognize the name from Adria’s correspondence. “Yes, I’ll see if he’s available.”

It hardly took any time at all. Hirte burst out of his office doors. “Adria! It really is you.” He hesitated, then held out his hand. Mirian shook it. He held on longer than normal. “It’s been too long,” he said.

His secretary cleared his throat.

“Come in.”

Mirian tried to keep her demeanor friendly but slightly aloof, as she’d seen Specter doing for so many meetings. She took a seat in one of the nicer chairs across from the commander’s desk.

Hirte closed the door. “Don’t we have a moment before business starts?”

Mirian suddenly was connecting the dots. He looked just like Nicolus had the other day. But Adria Gavell has a relationship with another ma… ah. “I’m sorry. It has to be business. I can’t stay long.”

“They’re still running you ragged up there? You know, it never seemed like security for something already so secure ought to take so much time. And the least they could do is cycle up a replacement.”

How much does he know about the Divine Monument? Then she had an idea. “Well, they’ll be sending someone else up now. The project bore fruit, just not the kind we hoped for. We still don’t fully understand it, but there’s a divination component we did figure out.”

Hirte leaned forward, excited. “Does this mean the secrecy level is being reduced?”

Hmm. I don’t think he does know. “Not up to me. But I can tell you one thing it discovered. There’s a myrvite titan going to awaken soon. Just north of Alkazaria.”

The commander reeled, eyes widening. “What!?”

“I’m organizing the defense. I need all your airships flown to Normarg.”

Hirte gaped at her. “I can authorize two. That’s the maximum. Under the law, it requires war to authorize more for a single operation. Unless Parliament is going to declare against a creature…?”

Two isn’t going to be enough. And I sure can’t stick my hand into the mess around Parliament. She decided to push for her maximum goal. “I need all of them, as well as a full complement of mundane and earthshaker shells, plus an artificer team to modify the shells and onboard cannons.”

“They don’t have the range.”

“They’ll refuel at Sabbicita, then Alkazaria. I’ve arranged the deliveries already, you’ll just need to send the maintenance crews ahead by train. I need the force assembled at Normarg by the 23rd.”

Hirte leaned back in his chair. “Dammit, Adria,” he said, then put his hand to his chin, brow furrowed.

If it’s this hard to get him to move even with his relationship with Adria and before he learns of Ibrahim’s attack, it’ll be impossible to get him to budge after the siege starts. That gives me even less time at Frostland’s Gate.

“Can you get… you implied you have some sway with the Deeps now. Can you…?” He waved his hand about vaguely.

“They’re part of the problem right now. They’re playing politics and being as obstructionist as they can. I’ve been doing bureaucratic battle with them for a year now, and I couldn’t even tell you because they’ve intercepted my mail several times. They have to be cut out of the operation entirely.”

Hirte practically choked. “They what!?”

“I don’t understand what in the five hells they’re doing. I think some of them think they can weaponize it or something stupid. Maybe they forgot to read the holy texts for a few decades, or maybe they’re just that out of touch.”

“All operations require liaising with Public Security for checking against intelligence. That’s two laws you want me to break now. Adria, I lo—I… I respect you deeply, but I can’t… you’re asking the impossible.”

A phrase she’d read in one of Hirte’s letters popped into her head. “‘Life is impossible, and yet, here we are,’” she said. She could see he still wasn’t convinced. “You know the arcane eruptions? This is the cause.” Maybe true, maybe not, she still didn’t know, but she was going to use every trick she knew to convince him.

Even love?

A part of her churned and rebelled as she did it, but it was for something greater. She leaned forward, putting her hand on his desk and softening her gaze. She looked at him the way she’d looked at Nicolus, all those years ago, the way she’d looked Selesia, back before she understood anything about the difference between love and the wild emotions of a young heart. “Hirte…” she said softly.

Hirte looked away from her, then gradually brought his head up to meet her gaze. There were tears welling. He swallowed, then brought his hand to touch hers, tenderly.

“Damn you. Promise me… when this is all over… promise…”

“When it’s all over,” she promised.

“Alright, Adria.” He took a deep breath in. “It’s good to see you again. Ah. Still waiting for a better world, the two of us.”

Mirian nodded, then gently withdrew her hand.

They quickly took care of the paperwork, and Mirian stamped the papers with Adria’s signet ring, channeling slightly to activate it. 

As she left, she felt a churn of emotions. Part of it was disgust for herself. Part of it was a renewed hatred of Specter, who’d played with this man’s heart for years. Part of it was shock. It worked? The first time? She’d expected to have to spend at least a few cycles working on convincing him.

Another part of her wondered what to do next. I guess I can see if I can get the Praetorians to join the assembly, and start messing with Ibrahim. After all, the airships will be stranded if the sabatuers go through.

Then she thought of another thing, a thought that joined the jumbled turmoil of disgust she still felt for manipulating someone with love. People do all sorts of things for love. Isn’t that why I felt so strongly about this all? I loved my friends. I loved Torrviol. Why should I neglect something so powerful?

After ten years, it was quite clear that the timeloop would keep her youthful for as long as it lasted. And from how people reacted differently to her when she was disguised, she’d learned that she was beautiful. Or maybe she’d finally realized it after Nicolus had whispered it enough times to her as they lay in bed together. Either way, it was something that had taken her far too long to fully understand. Just another tool, right? And a far kinder one than violence and intimidation.

Still, it felt like playing with people’s hearts was some gross violation beyond even killing. But then again, she’d once felt horror at murdering Akanan spies, too. She looked back, and saw Hirte standing by his window, looking at her. She gave him the best smile she could manage, then continued on.

When she returned, having shed her disguise, she told Nicolus the news. “We’re going to Alkazaria.”

***

As the train approached the second capital, Mirian got her spellbook out.

“How do I keep him safe?” Sire Nurea asked, voice low.

“You shouldn’t need to do anything,” Mirian said, looking out the window. “The train wasn’t attacked last cycle. Ibrahim probably knows exactly what it’s usually carrying. I’m getting ready just in case.”

That didn’t make Nurea any more comfortable, though she was putting on her usual stoic facade. Mirian was beginning to realize that behind her confidence was a deeper fear. Something bad had happened to her. Like me, she thought. Then, she remembered the memory curse. Maybe it was hiding something like that. If I break it, will I regret it? She didn’t think so. She had always wanted to understand things. I’d rather know.

She watched the scrublands pass by, looking at the mountain in the distance. The last time she’d been on this train with them, a leyline had erupted. And she’d had that realization that it had happened to them countless times. Ominian, how did it come to this? she wondered again.

Mirian stood, adjusting her disguise. “Remember, you don’t know me,” she said. “I’ll meet you at your apartment when I have time.” It had turned out the Sacristars owned property in Alkazaria, too. It figured.

The train started to slow, the primary spell engine silently reversing its kinetic push spells. Mirian headed to the front of the train. By the time she got there, the train was stopped and a delegation of soldiers were boarding the train to search it.

“Praetorian!” one said in surprise. Another did the standard check for illusion magic, and, finding nothing, gave a nod to the others.

Mirian said, “I need an escort to the Citadel. That is where my colleagues are, yes?”

“Yes sir,” one of them replied. “We have to search the train, but as soon as we get to the station, we’ll get you there.”

“Good,” Mirian said, and waited impatiently.

There was nothing quite like having an escort of soldiers to get doors opened for you without questions. Mirian had experienced it in Torrviol as she commanded the defense, and here it made sure she made it into the inner conference room in record time.

The main doors burst open, and she saw a gathering of Praetorians, military figures, civilians, and even a bishop. They surrounded a large nonagonal table. Strange, she thought. She’d never seen the Luminates at a strategy meeting. Maybe he was coordinating healing?

“Adria!” one of the Praetorians said. She was darker skinned than Mirian, but had vivid hazel eyes. “What in the five hells are you doing here?” She was speaking Cuelsin, which was almost strange at this point. Mirian had been out west so long she was used to Friian.

Ah, shit. She knows me, but I don’t know her. Or rather, she’s one of the people in the letters, but I don’t know which one. “It’s complicated. And as you know, I can’t discuss all the details openly. Suffice to say, we have another crisis developing north of us I’ve been sent to resolve.” It was the 10th of Solem, so Ibrahim’s siege was just beginning.

“Another army?” one of the military figures asked, alarmed.

“No. Though I can’t say if its better or worse. Still, I can render assistance for the time being.”

“Trinea, you know this Praetorian?” a woman asked. She was dressed in a commander’s uniform. Unlike Hanaran, she kept her hair long and in two neat braids. That must be Commander Ayral, she thought. She’d read enough about her in the newspapers to remember the name. And so that’s Trinea. One of Adria’s good friends. Of course, she’s likely passingly familiar with most of the Praetorians. This will be tricky.

“Of course. We studied at academy together. She’ll be a good addition to the team. Adria, you’ll join my squad. We’re planning a counter-attack now. Then we can talk about… what you’ve been up to.”

“Good,” Commander Ayral said. “The more firepower the better.” She leaned over an illusionary map of the surrounding area and jabbed her finger down. “They’re digging in already, but we can strike them here and here. They don’t seem to have much in the way of artillery or heavy casters—just a lot of rifles. Now’s our chance to thin their numbers.”

Mirian watched the discussion continue. The militias were directed to patrol the city and the eastern wall, while the main garrison would fortify the north and western sections. Meanwhile, the rest of the garrison would create a trench line to protect the northwest tracks, while another section of it would push the Persamans while the Praetorians struck.

Overly cautious because they’re still terrified by what just happened, even if they’re not showing it. They’re spreading themselves too thin by being indecisive and trying to do everything.

For whatever reason, the bishop at the meeting kept looking at her.

She finally interjected. “Are we sure all of the initial force was wiped out?”

One of the commander’s aides said, “I think the guard and citizens would have reported infiltrators by now. Everyone’s on the lookout for those sand-devils.”

Except, as soon as they put on Baracueli clothes, any Persaman is just going to look like a civilian, you idiot.

“Then it’s still a possibility. We can’t afford to underestimate a foe who’s just shown you a capability you didn’t know they had. They might have more.” She looked at the map. “If I were a saboteur, I’d go after the fossilized myrvite. Are there patrols by the warehouses?”

A lieutenant said, “The initial strike was looking to hit the Citadel. If there’s survivors—which I doubt—that’s still their objective.”

Mirian raised an eyebrow. “Are we really going to assume Persamans are so primitive their soldiers can’t yet be taught the idea of a ‘contingency’?” She glanced over at Trinea. The Praetorian was giving her a strange look. Damnit, she’s suspicious. Adria didn’t know strategy, even if she was close friends with the Aegrimere Commander.

“There’s no need—”

“She’s right,” Commander Ayral said. “We can’t afford to be complacent, nor to underestimate our foe, especially now. Can the militias double the patrols by the docks?”

“We can,” one of the militia captains said.

“Good. I trust you can organize that yourself. Coordinate with the city guard. Praetorians, I’ll trust you to plan your own attack.” Ayral then called over her aides to start organizing the details, and the meeting mostly adjourned.

The Praetorians broke off into one of the adjoining rooms. Trinea looked back at Mirian, still concerned. “We have a lot to talk about,” she said softly.