The massive doors of the tower groaned open, spilling the morning sun into the lobby. I paused on the threshold, letting the light warm my face as I gazed out over the garden. A few visitors and patrons from the tea shops and markets that ringed the garden were scattered about, enjoying breakfast beneath the trellises. The clink of porcelain cups and the low hum of conversation drifted through the air, mingling with the scent of spiced tea and fresh bread. Children darted between the flowerbeds, their laughter rising above the murmur of adults. From the edge of the walkways, vendors called out their morning specials: sweet pastries, roasted nuts, dried fruit, while the more leisurely guests lingered at shaded tables, sipping slowly as though time itself had agreed to pause for them. It was peaceful, almost calming, but that peace ended the moment four carriages rolled to a stop at the garden gates.
The first bore the royal seal. When the coachman swung the door open, Prince Darian stepped out, stretching as if he had been cooped up on velvet cushions for too long. A second figure followed, broad-shouldered and sharp-eyed, an officer, based on her posture and uniform.
From the other carriages, familiar faces appeared: Mages Sinthurk, Devanthes, and Virelles, already engaged in a quiet conversation with the prince. But what surprised me the most was the last to emerge, two men in simple traveling clothes escorting a woman I knew very well.
“Priestess Anne,” I said with a bow, unable to hide the smile tugging at my lips. “How are you this morning?”
“Excellent, David.” Her eyes crinkled warmly as she regarded me. “I hope I can trouble you for a ride to Eldros?”
“Priestess, you are always welcome.”
Just then, a young priest came puffing up behind her, red-faced and struggling under an armload of luggage. Anne gave a faintly amused sigh and set a hand to his arm before turning back to me.
“Do you remember Priest Bausan? And also, do you have room for two?” she asked, her gaze flicking up to the towering height of the tower.
I looked back toward the carriages, where the mages were deep in conversation with the prince, already planning and adjusting their positions. “Yes,” I said, “we do, and welcome Father Bausan. It has been a while.”
As he approached, I noticed the uneven flush on his face, the strange mottling that had worsened since I last saw him. Half-lit, half-burned. He resembled Richard Dreyfuss in Close Encounters after sticking his head out into the light, with toast on one side and untouched on the other. Poor man. Unlike the film, there was no orchestra swell, no promise of contact, only the silence of pain carried home from the rift.
Bausan dipped his head, avoiding my gaze, and I noticed the tension in his jaw whenever someone’s stare stayed too long. Anne’s hand briefly touched his sleeve, offering silent reassurance. Faith had carried him to stand on that battlement to witness that blinding radiance. Faith had left its mark.
“Allyson,” I called, “have a housemaid escort the priestess and her associate to the airship.”
“Yes, master. It will be done.” Allyson inclined her head. A housemaid appeared from the tower’s side door, bowing low before waiting at the garden path.
“Priestess, if you would,” I said, gesturing. “She’ll see you both to your berthing space. I’ll join you later.”
Anne reached out and patted my shoulder, her touch gentle yet grounding. “Thank you, David.”
As she moved off with the housemaid, the younger priest stumbling after with his luggage, I found myself smiling faintly. Of all the faces I’d expected this morning, hers was not among them, and yet, I was oddly relieved she was here.
The prince finally made his way to me, and I gave a bow, welcoming him to my home.
“Welcome, Prince Darian.”
“Thank you, Earl. Are we all ready to leave?”
“Yes, just waiting for everyone to board, and we can leave shortly after that. Allyson, have another housemaid escort the Prince and…”
“Oh, this is Captain Abigail Draemont.”
She stepped forward with the Prince, tall and confident, her polished breastplate shining in the morning light. Captain Abigail Draemont carried herself with the calm authority of a veteran, with dark hair neatly tied at the nape of her neck, sharp gray eyes constantly watching her surroundings. A crimson sash indicated her rank, but it was the way her gloved hand never strayed far from the hilt of her sword that spoke louder than any uniform. There was discipline in every line of her stance, but also a quiet alertness, the kind that comes from surviving battles rather than just training for them.
“She is my escort for the trip,” the prince continued. I smiled, just like Mr. Rourke from Fantasy Island. Where was Tattoo yelling, “Da plane! Da plane!” when you needed him?
I turned to Allyson, “Captain Abigail Draemont.”
“Yes, master.”
“Why does it call you master?” Captain Draemont asked, her sharp grey eyes narrowing slightly as she studied Allyson.
“Well,” I said with a small smile, “she’s Allyson. She’s the voice of the Tower, and I happen to be the Tower’s Master.”
The captain’s brow furrowed at that. Her soldier’s instincts didn’t sit well with the explanation, though she couldn’t quite identify why. Allyson looked calm, unbothered, but there was something about her stillness that was too perfect, too precise, making Abigail’s hand twitch near the hilt of her sword. After a moment, she exhaled and shrugged, but the unease lingered in her eyes, hidden behind the mask of a professional officer. Beside us, the housemaid stood patiently, waiting next to Misty.
“Prince Darian, if you’ll follow the housemaid, she’ll take you to your stateroom,” I said, gesturing toward the waiting maid.
I recognized some others getting out of the line of carriages. One was Arch Mage Veralt, telling the footman where to drop off his luggage onto the growing stack before heading toward me. The old mage’s eyes sparkled like polished glass as he stopped in front of me and clasped my hands in a warm, eager gesture.
“Thank you, thank you for giving me the chance to return to Eldros with you. I can’t wait to see what sort of airship you have. I expect it will be a vessel beyond measure.”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Behind him, I heard the low, even voice of Prime Minister Halbrecht. “Aren’t all airships more or less the same?”
The mage shot him a look of pure disdain, as if the Prime Minister had just compared poetry to accounting ledgers.
“I don’t know, actually,” I admitted with a smile, turning toward Halbrecht. “I haven’t seen enough airships to give you a proper answer.”
The honesty appeared to surprise both of them, but Veralt quickly erupted into a loud laugh. Halbrecht merely tipped his head, always reserved, always doubtful.
“We must make time to sit and chat, Earl,” Veralt urged, shaking my hands again with a vigor that belied his years. “I would love it. So many things to discuss in the world, its currents, its hidden truths.”
“Yes, sir,” I replied warmly. “I would love to hear your stories and share a few of my own.”
I gestured toward the housemaid, who stood waiting with perfect composure. “If you’ll follow her, she’ll guide you to your berthing compartment. I’ll make sure we have time after we get underway.”
Veralt nodded enthusiastically, while Halbrecht gave me a sharp, assessing look before both men followed the housemaid toward the tower’s interior.
“You know, Prime Minister,” Veralt said as they walked, “this is the first time I’ve seen a golem like this so up close.”
Halbrecht’s reply was dry, almost bored. “They all look the same to me.”
That was the last I heard as the pair finally disappeared into the Tower.
The last six people waited until the Arch Mage and Prime Minister had vanished into the Tower before stepping forward.
Mages Sinthurk, Devanthes, and Virelles offered me slight bows, the kind that acknowledged both my title and my place in this new balance of power. I returned the gesture, careful to make it warm rather than stiff.
They wore robes in the colors of their affinities: Sinthurk in deep red that shimmered faintly with warding runes, Devanthes in brown edged with black trim, Virelles also in earthy brown marked by geometric sigils. The attire served as a symbol of their authority and also a source of pride.
“I welcome the Royal Mages to the Engineer’s Tower,” I said evenly, letting the words settle. “How are things today?”
The three of them slightly inclined their heads at my phrasing. This wasn’t just my home; it was the Tower, and I wanted them to remember that.
“Thank you, Earl, for hosting us,” Aria Devanthes said, her crimson court outfit catching the light. She gestured behind her. “These three mages, we would like them to accompany us.”
I looked past the senior mages. Three young men and women stood nervously, dressed in robes reflecting the colors of their patrons. Their hands fidgeted by their sides, but their eyes stayed fixed on me.
“Aides?” I asked.
“Yes,” Aria confirmed smoothly.
“I see no problem with that request.” I shifted slightly. “Allyson, could a maid show our guests to their rooms?”
“Yes, master.”
The younger mages fell in line, still staring at me as though they couldn’t quite reconcile what they’d heard of me with the man standing before them.
“That’s him…” one of them whispered under their breath, the words just reaching me before they finally entered the Tower.
Watching the last of the mages step through the Tower doors, I noticed Vaktar standing beside Misty, arms folded loosely as though he had been waiting for me. I crossed over to him.
“So, Vaktar, ready to go to Eldros?” I asked.
He gave me a crooked grin. “Well, I have to go home sometime. My brother might be worried after all. But, I doubt it.”
I chuckled. “It’ll be a fun trip. So who’s going to be the first one to cause trouble?”
His eyes narrowed slightly as he thought. “I’d wager either the priest or one of the three young mages.”
“Hmm. The priest, possibly,” I mused. “The captain, too. I could see that happening.”
“Yes,” Vaktar said, his grin fading into something more thoughtful. “She didn’t like Allyson.”
I gave a slight shrug, filing that away. “Allyson, could you have the remaining maids bring their luggage to the ship?”
“Yes, master,” she replied instantly.
I looked at the piles of trunks and cases stacked by the carriages. Gods, so much for a quick trip. My wives had already filled the suite’s closets, and now it seemed like half the entourage wanted to do the same. Still, the maids moved efficiently, carrying everything inside with practiced ease.
When the last piece of luggage vanished into the Tower, I turned toward the entryway. Misty, Alpha, and Beta still waited by the huge doors. Their loyalty and steady presence were strangely reassuring.
“Well, you three,” I said, pausing near them, “we’re going to be gone for a while. Why don’t you stay inside the Tower until I return? I don’t want anything to happen to you while I’m out of town.”
Misty bowed deeply, her expression unreadable. “Yes, master.” She turned, following Alpha and Beta into the shadowed depths of the Tower.
I lingered for just a moment, scanning the garden one last time. Then I stepped over the threshold. The doors rumbled shut behind Allyson, locking into place with a loud metallic thud that echoed through the hall.
A smile tugged at my mouth. Maybe I should hang a little “on vacation” sign on the door.
Allyson, Vaktar, and I rode the elevator up in silence, the hum of gears and pulleys filling the narrow shaft. When the car stopped with a soft jolt and the doors opened, we stepped onto the flight deck…
And there it was. The ship dominated the deck, a stunning marvel of engineering and craftsmanship. I had expected something rougher, more like a hot-air zeppelin with ropes and canvas straining in the wind. Instead, before me sat a vessel of steel, brass, and other exotic metals, with lines sweeping smoothly and purposefully. The polished plating curved like the hull of a sea-going ship, but reinforced with mechanical fins and lattice struts that suggested incredible strength. Pipes gleamed softly under the morning light, exhaling wisps of vapor that curled into the air.
It wasn’t just an airship; it was a vision. But this ship is a beauty, a vessel built with the visions of Jules Verne. There might be others, but it’s the first of its kind to me. I had to give it a name fitting for the first one I encountered. True, the name I chose isn’t the first in its line, but it works for me. The name is painted on its side. I grew up sitting on the floor in front of that old television set, watching and dreaming about where I could go every week.
The name was painted across the side in large letters. Seeing it moved something deep inside me. It wasn’t just a name. It was a promise to myself, to the people I loved, and to this strange new world that I would carry that same spirit forward.
“Enterprise,” I murmured, a smile tugging at my lips. “Mighty, as always.”
Vaktar let out a low whistle. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Neither have I,” I admitted, though my chest swelled with a strange pride.
I entered the ship through the open portside hatch, the deck vibrating softly beneath my boots. Once Allyson stepped aboard, the door sealed behind us with a hiss of pressurized locks, the sound echoing down the metal corridor.
Allyson had already given us the tour the night before, when the ship was still being scrubbed and prepared. Even then, the Enterprise was a marvel, with each bulkhead a blend of art and engineering, brass inlays gleaming against dark wood, and crystal conduits softly humming within the walls. She told me the ship was designed here in this very tower, but was built in a sister facility. It was a collaboration of disciplines, perfected over generations.
We didn’t hesitate this time. I took us directly to the bridge.
The chamber swung open wide around us, revealing a semicircle of crystal windows that showed a panoramic view of the tower gardens and the sprawling city beyond. Three attendants stood at the controls, hands ready above polished levers and wheels. No, not attendants, not anymore. With their crisp uniforms and steady focus, they were the flight crew.
I nodded toward Allyson, who moved to the command dais. Not to take control herself, but to direct.
“Begin ascent,” she ordered smoothly.
“Yes, Lady Allyson,” replied the helmswoman, her hands steady as she gently pushed the brass controls forward.
A low hum echoed through the ship, growing into a deep, resonant thrum that I felt in my chest. Crystals flashed across the consoles with a pale white light, while massive gears shifted deep below, their movement marked by a grinding rumble. Jets of pressurized steam hissed through the conduits, venting into the sky.
The deck tilted just slightly as the tower fell away beneath us. Through the panoramic windows, I saw the capital spread out like a tapestry of stone and color, shrinking with each heartbeat. Wind swept across the hull, a faint whistle against the reinforced glass.
The Enterprise was waking.
