I'm lying on the bed. Staring at the ceiling. It's about to begin. Hm, sounds like a haiku, doesn't it? But seriously, I just can't sleep. So the bed is made, and I'm just lying on top of it, bored.
My travel bag is stuffed with blueprints, the tube is ready too, helmet on the table, gauntlet as well. There's still about half an hour until the appointed time, but I'm anxious enough that I haven't slept for the last two hours. At least my Mana and concentration are with me.
My heart is heavy, knowing what comes next and what consequences my actions promise for my loved ones. I might be a teenager, but I'm smart enough to understand that. When the suspect flees, questions will be directed at those around her, and they're already worried as it is.
I don't think they'll have any truly serious problems—the Magister will cover for them—but I still don't want to ruin their mood. Not with my escape, and certainly not with these "Holy-touched" types. But alas, there's no time to part ways civilly by simply sending these "guests" packing. I'll have to conduct aggressive negotiations.
This is what the Entity spoke of initially. Unfortunately, it was probably inevitable. And yet, I hope everything ends well for them. That's why I'm leaving at night, to minimize the chances for conflict. Still, the foulest thoughts keep creeping into my head.
What's left for me? To lie here, staring at the ceiling of a room I clearly won't return to anytime soon, and sing. Without a smartphone or a player, I have to hum to myself, from memory. Singing quietly so as not to wake anyone. This is the maximum display of emotion I can allow myself right now.
"Dawn is coming soon, there is no way out
Turn the key and let us fly
We need to write, in someone's notebook
In blood, like in the subway:
There is no way out."
This exact song perfectly reflects my mood. I've grown attached to all these elves and their measured way of life. I like feeling needed. I like feeling cared for and discovering a new world—medieval, yes, but so wondrous. Even the patronizing attitude doesn't annoy me, since to them I really am just a child, and being treated that way is normal. I like this new life! It's great! And anyone who wants to destroy it can go to hell! Hmph.
And today, it ends. Any moment now, there's very little time left. Great, right? No, not right, I'm upset. I might as well sing "Everything is going according to plan"; that one fits too. With all the memory enhancements, reproducing the lyrics is very easy. It's just that ninety-nine percent of the locals wouldn't appreciate this music. So I'm left to mope in proud solitude, trying not to make noise. Not to mention the Guard loitering outside; they might decide I'm not singing, but chanting a dark ritual. To hell with them, these Paladins.
To be honest, I don't feel any negativity toward them. They're all just doing their jobs. To Uther, I'm literally nobody. He has no reason to listen to me. For these guys, it's even worse—Priests and ancient gods are mortal enemies. And a potential cultist is a potential traitor until fully vetted, likely a raving lunatic from whom you don't know what to expect. Both the Guard and the arrest make sense. Even the fact that these fine specimens are clearly geared up to face a Mage. Of course, that doesn't make us allies, not at all. I just don't feel specific hatred for them, and there are reasons for that.
"What else is there to do?"
Life is pain. I looked around, checked the barrier on the window—nothing new. The room had been emptied by frost spells; except for the bed, the table with a chair, and a small cabinet (already empty), nothing remained. I stood up, deciding to double-check my things. The gauntlet and the long-range mask were with me. Okay, the bag. And what's this? In the bag, on top of the blueprint tube, I found packages. Inside were pastries, ham, and fatback. A bottle of herbal infusion and a note:
"We know it will happen today and decided you probably forgot to take something to eat. It's okay, we've packed everything. Remember—we love you and are waiting for you. Come back soon.
Your parents.
And yes, don't forget that spell I taught you. Mom."
Thank you. It took a great deal of effort and concentration to hold back a reaction. Now is not the time—specifically now, I can't! You bronze-clad bastards, if this is your doing, I'll turn you into boots and chair covers. And I will come back for my family. Definitely. And I'll pull them from the clutches of the Undead. Now, I need to calm down; it's almost time. A few minutes later, I sighed, pulling out my steampunk goggles with lenses and sliding them onto my head. Time to work.
I ran my fingers along the side panel, sliding the necessary lens over my left eye while simultaneously reaching for the strings of the scout-bird sitting on the neighboring roof. The local Paladins are decisively unprepared to counter a mechanic. By the way, a funny fact: Mom reported that no one snitched that I'm specifically a mechanic. The bird was attributed to the blacksmith as his creation and toy, so they don't watch it particularly closely. Thanks for that; I gained the opportunity to plan my actions by spying on those around me. In the darkness of the room, I sat right on the floor and exhaled, finally calming down.
Now let's see what "Birdie Sharp-Eye" sees. Outside, dawn is only just beginning to break, but for now, the village is asleep and quite dark, which is convenient. A few lamps are burning, but they mostly just get in the way and create dark zones. I'll be moving through the air; it won't be a big problem.
And here are the guards for my "house arrest," four elves in total. They're patrolling around the house. One Paladin-recruit and three guards who aren't from around here. The Paladin is in the same Armor as Dartaola, but this time it's a guy. Same shield, likely absorbing magic. The guards have short swords and spears, armor a couple of classes worse. You can tell immediately who ate up the whole budget. Considering the size of the local Warriors and Paladins, "ate up" isn't a joke; I don't know what they feed them. Anyway, that's beside the point.
I'd venture to guess that these guys' primary task isn't to catch me, but to delay me long enough for reinforcements to arrive. That's not good, but it's not terrible either; it's logical. Okay, I have a plan, I have the enemy's positions. We can begin. Is Venidan in position? Ah, there, I see her.
On a distant roof at the edge of the village, the Rogue appeared. Interestingly, not near my house or opposite the window, but in the bird's focus so I could see Veni through it. She looked out, waved, and made a hand gesture: ready to start. Excellent. I exhaled, shaking off the sad thoughts. Time to leave this hospitable home to bring Justice in the name of Chaldea, even if it isn't here. I nodded to myself and smirked wickedly.
"Well then. No time for cowardice. Let's begin."
A snap of the gauntlet's fingers lit up the green crystal embedded in the palm. A green holographic keyboard appeared under the gauntlet's fingers. And no, this isn't some "transmigrator" showing off; it's simple logic: none of the locals know the language or how to work with this. You need to know the gauntlet even performs such a function, know how to summon the keyboard (a specific gesture tailored to my rather small hand), and the code required to activate the templates. More accurately, codes—there are about a dozen of them. I must admit, I didn't think I'd have to use this gauntlet function so soon. Well, it's a good occasion. The gauntlet's fingers moved, typing in the command:
IDDQD. Execute.
Right now, the crystals flared, and a Magic Shield ignited around the Pepelats. Good enough to ensure the functioning ship isn't damaged while I make my way to it. I don't think they'd break it anyway, but once things start, they'll surely try. Let's continue.
Next code—IDCLIP. Execute.
Almost immediately, the night silence, interrupted only by the occasional chirp of crickets and bird calls, was pierced by a hum that instantly silenced all the nocturnal wildlife. A quiet but rapidly growing hum. The jet engines around the Pepelats's hull came to life, venting a stream vertically downward, gaining power. Second step: magical mass reduction, and the ship lifts off the ground. I hoped it would happen differently, but this works too. Now the machine will slowly fly in my direction.
The hum intensified, and the guards clearly heard it; they began looking around, huddling together. The fact that the ship was several hundred meters away in the forest won't help them; about seventy decibels are reaching us, and that's loud. True, my window doesn't face the right way, and the barrier clearly muffles sounds, but I have my bird for that. Obeying the command, the scout turned its head, noting the short torches rising above the forest. The hum suddenly became louder, going from annoying to very loud. Windows in the houses began to light up; it seems I've woken the whole village. Sorry, that's exactly what I was going for. Another one of my sins against these elves.
But what I wasn't going for was the sudden manifestation around the strings—familiar ones at that. The wind blew, it grew dark, and snow began to fall. An icy storm covered the village; snowflakes and ice pellets drummed against the eaves, masking sounds and creating a distraction. The guards immediately covered their heads and clearly shifted to raised voices. I can't hear what they're discussing, but they seem to think the source of the weather is the Pepelats. Their prerogative. I whispered:
"Thank you, Teacher. It's time."
I raised the staff, forming a magical sphere at its tip. I don't need beauty or range; I need to smash the barrier with brute force. I could use the ship's guns, but I don't want to break the house even more. The sphere tore from the tip of the staff, striking the barrier on the window; the strings wailed and snapped with a crack. The strike of raw magic blew away the barrier along with the window frame and a piece of the wall. I'm... fine, let's continue. I can feel sorry later.
Apparently, the barrier had muffled the sounds somewhat, because the world was now filled not only with the very palpable roar of jet engines but also the howl of the wind with snowflakes hitting my face, and the shouts of guards and locals trying to scream over the storm.
The Pepelats cleared the forest, approaching the edge of the village. Through the snow, it resembles a necropolis flying for our souls. There's something ironic in that. And the final touch, let's add some authenticity:
IDKFA—activate turrets, drop mines. I don't want to kill anyone, but a dozen mines will definitely delay them. Beams struck from above. Chaotically, not aiming to hit anyone, but in a way that caused loud thuds and bright explosions. It was enough for the guards; they scattered for cover. The Paladin-recruits poked their heads out, but when a purple explosion occurred near a magic pulse impact, they decided not to play the hero. Good, that's exactly what's required of you. And now I'll quietly slip away into the sunset, taking advantage of the darkness and the fact that you're pinned to your cover.
Hardly had I done so when a crash and stomping echoed on the first floor. Someone kicked in the front door and is running through the ground floor. No need to rush to that meeting; I'm not expecting you. A frost wave tore from the staff, blocking the door to the room. After that, I flew out into the storm through the broken window.
At the very least, the Paladin-recruits had something that allowed them to use magical vision. They noticed almost immediately as I flew over them in the shadows.
"She's here!"
Okay, Plan B: freeze them.
"Delay her! Where is this coming from?"
Their shouts were suddenly cut off by ice walls blocking the street. Not my walls—I'm more about cones of cold and frost waves. I'm fine, I'm levitating, but the guards and recruits are forced to climb or bypass the obstacles that suddenly formed in their path. Reminder: the icy storm hasn't gone anywhere. A blade pierced one of the ice walls and got stuck in it. But the owner's curses were drowned out by the howl of the wind, the crash of the magical fireworks, and the hum of the engines. The Pepelats is unhurriedly flying toward the village, continuing its bombardment, while mines scurry across the surface. Judging by the magical flares ahead—the anti-aircraft system is working as it should.
I shamelessly copy-pasted Frostbolts so they would freeze targets more than wound them, and embedded this spell into the gun's crystal (like the freeze tower for the Undead). I don't want to have corpses during the escape; I still have to work with them later. And I just don't have the desire to kill, honestly. Even if I am irritated by what's happening. Also, I'm cold, I want to sleep, and everything is annoying!
A flash of light from a spell blinded me, but not much. I did set up polarization on the goggles, after all. Well, the more functions, the better. For now, it's binoculars, the ability to see through the "eyes" of the mechanical bird, magical vision, and flash protection. The lenses can be swapped, including whichever ones are needed at the moment.
"Stop! Surrender! There's nowhere to run, you're surrounded!" someone shouted from the side.
I sent a frost wave toward the sound. That'll delay them. It's already quite exhausting pushing through the storm.
"Over here!" Venidan shouted, appearing on the nearest roof and, with a bow shot, forcing a recruit to hide behind his shield, tumbling off an ice wall. Judging by the cursing, that tin can fell hard.
I don't know where Venidan got it, but her hooded cloak now had a balaclava, and her clothes were in dark colors, making her look more like a ninja in a cloak with a bow. I tossed her the bag, and Venidan moved aside so as not to interfere. We'll meet on the Pepelats, as previously decided. And again, trouble arrived in the form of a roar:
"IN THE NAME OF HOLY!"
That golden flash certainly drew attention. And a second later, the ice wall it occurred behind was simply blown apart. Through a meter-thick layer of ice, a figure in gilded armor with wings and a two-handed sword hacked its way out, glowing in the dark like an omen of righteous wrath. Yes, this figure is wreathed in light that seems to burn, with wings of light behind its back, and it couldn't care less about the icy storm, the ice wall, or anything else. It seems the main figure of this event has arrived. For my sake—I'm almost flattered. Catch aicicle! And you too! And you! These are the recruits; seeing their boss, they jumped up and rushed into the attack as best they could.
"Everyone stay down where you were sitting before I make you stay down!" the turret, obeying a magical command, opened fire near the recruits. I focused on the main star of the show.
The reinforcement arrived with a flourish, making great leaps toward me with the two-hander at the ready and helping himself with his wings. And me? In my left hand—the staff, on my right—the gauntlet. My PR manager is Nasuverse! Frost wave!
Zero effect. The Paladin, as if he knew in advance, jumped onto the frost wave in one leap and ran across the ice as if it were asphalt. And he's running fast; I'm trying to fly away, but I'm being rapidly overtaken. Ice spears? He swatted them away with a sword strike, barely slowing down. And not just a strike, but like an explosion. The ice was sliced and immediately crumbled. And this parody of an angel jumps quite far and hard. Before I can escape, I need to put him somewhere. Seeing that I wasn't running, he stopped too and demanded:
"Stop, child! I do not wish to harm you, but if required—I shall force you! Stop and let us speak!"
I managed to examine him with magical vision, which made me want to curse. A very high level of weaving on the armor, and the body itself is clearly covered in something magical. Unfamiliar—I know little about Sun Magic. I couldn't help but comment, mostly to distract him while trying to figure out what to do.
"As soon as I can! Catch this!"
Ice spears? Zero effect; he smashed them with his blade. The shards frosted the armor a bit, but otherwise, the projectile shattered. Fireball? He took it on the blade, punching through the explosion. Ice wall? A vertical strike smashed it, scattering the barrier with a burst of light. Clearly a strong opponent. One saving grace: he's the only one here this invincible. The others are hindered by both the storm and the ice walls appearing here and there, forming a labyrinth among the houses. Thank you, whoever you are; if the Paladin had help, it would have been much harder. Though it's not easy as it is.
Ordinary methods aren't working. A different approach is needed. What if...
A click of the lens, and through the bird's eyes, I saw the Pepelats. It was hovering between the village and the forest, drenching two more recruits and a couple of guards with magic. They're trying to snap back in response, but the mechanism is generally indifferent to Holy spells; they haven't even breached the shield yet. An attempt to move in ended with an introduction to the mines; they aren't pushing further.
"Stand and accept penance! I am telling you for the last time!" the Paladin demanded in a normal voice; it seems the amplification is dissipating.
Good, then I just need to win a few seconds. I turned so that the staff glowing with magic was visible, while feeding energy into the gauntlet. Yes, it can be a catalyst, but a cruder one than the staff. The gauntlet's magic needs to be shaped separately. Just what I need.
What's even better is that the Paladin isn't rushing to attack, seeing that I'm not running. He holds his blade at the ready; I can see scars through the helmet slits. Clearly a veteran of the Second War.
"Stop, child! You cannot escape. Stop, I beg you. I do not want to cause you harm. Но I shall do so if there is no choice," the elf demanded again, no longer with a magically amplified voice but still in a raised tone. He still has to shout over the storm.
I huffed, clicking the gauntlet's claws, which lit up with magic. A few more seconds to charge. And then—run. I won't hit his body; magic resistance will interfere. But you need something to stand on and something to push off from. I can play on that.
"You've already broken my life. It's not in your power to bring back yesterday, whoever you are. So it doesn't matter who you are or what you say," I threw up my gauntleted hand, pointing it at the Paladin's feet, "Catch!"
To the elf's credit, he did try to dodge. To his misfortune, I had anticipated something like that. If "courage," fortitude, righteous wrath, or whatever he smeared himself with doesn't allow him to be grabbed, I just need to give an impulse to the ground he's standing on. At the very least, it'll knock him off his feet. From there, I can hit him with something stronger.
It worked better than I thought. The Paladin was swept away, and spinning around his axis, he flew behind an ice wall, a couple of dozen meters away. Naturally, I didn't stay to comment, make indecent gestures, deliver villainous monologues, or otherwise waste time. On the contrary, under the flashes of the Mana shield, I flew toward the ship. I'd already delayed too long; the residents might get hurt, which I sincerely don't want. With short commands, I sent the bird ahead of me; it shouldn't be left here. It had been my eyes, completing the task as it should.
The Pepelats landed, its hatch on the first level invitingly wide open. But out of the hatch rolled a pair of my latest creations—combat spheres, with crossbows at the ready, and mines standing at the base. As if hinting at what would happen to anyone who poked their nose in there. A combat sphere is a wooden golem with a light crossbow, designed as a folding cylinder, which makes it quite fast. In combat mode, it unfolds, extracting a humanoid doll with a weapon. It looks dangerous, but like any golem—it's a bit dim.
Venidan was waiting at the hatch, firing back with her bow, helping the turrets and "wheels" keep the attackers in cover. When I landed next to her, she exhaled with visible relief.
"You took forever!"
I waved her off, running inside and ordering the golems and mines to do the same.
"A Paladin showed up! An adult! Hold on, we're taking off."
Another snap of the fingers, another console appeared.
IDCLEV03.
The ship shuddered, and weight crashed down on us. Yes, no one compensated for the G-forces, so for a couple of minutes, it became very hard and not very pleasant for both of us. This command regulates the Pepelats's flight altitude. From zero to five. Three is a level of about half a kilometer. Far enough from anyone wanting to shoot us down from the surface.
Inside the hull, the noise is almost inaudible, just the smell of wood, and a ball of magic light on the ceiling. Overall, it's quite similar to the interior of a ship, except it's not steel, but wood. I like it. Venidan apparently doesn't; she slumped to the floor and is holding onto it. She only relaxed when the pressure vanished. She stood up anyway, carefully holding onto the wall as if in disbelief, and looked out through the window in the hatch door. Only then did she burst out laughing.
"We did it! We did it! That was cool! And the icy storm, and when that ship of yours flew by itself and started firing. Wow! DaVi, I didn't know you could do that!" she apparently noticed I wasn't happy at all, "Hey, what's with you? Don't mope. Everything went fine."
I waved her off. Now that we'd escaped, the shitty mood had returned. Leaving the bag downstairs, I climbed into the cockpit. Time to take control; the autopilot of this ship (and golems in general) isn't known for its intelligence. It won't crash, but where it might fly off to is hard to say. And we still have to find Stratholme.
When the two flights of stairs and the cockpit door were behind me, I almost collapsed into the chair. The adrenaline had evaporated, and I was almost calm. Disappointed that everything turned out this way, a bit saddened, but otherwise fine. Fucking life and fucking lizards. Okay. Engage manual control. Open the shutters. With a clatter, the gloom was replaced by brightness as the rays of the rising sun hit the room. A short command, and the room darkened slightly. Venidan, who had followed me in, whistled.
"This is... amazing!" she exhaled in awe, looking into the distance.
Agreed.
"Yeah. Never seen anything like it."
We saw the dawn. The sun, a bright disc, slowly rises above the horizon, illuminating the interior of the cockpit. And below us are forests, fields, meadows, villages. Very beautiful. And Dartaola, standing on the roof of one of the rooms outside, breathing heavily, with her shield on her back, looking right at us. I just couldn't help but comment.
"I don't know how you got there, but you've ruined the whole view, you know that? Maybe I should tilt the hull thirty degrees and let her go on her way?"
The Paladin said something, but nothing could be heard over the steady hum. I sighed. I still don't want to kill anyone. Even her. Fortunately, an idea came to mind.
"Veni, will you let her in? We have to do something about this anyway, and I need to set the course. And no, we aren't throwing her down; we're civilized elves."
The other girl shrugged but complied with the request. But the Paladin-ess, as soon as she climbed in through the technical hatch, tried to put a blade to my neck. Which flared as it struck the Mana shield. That didn't stop her from demanding, her face contorted with rage:
"Land us, heretic! Immediately!" she barked, "Immediately!"
I sighed. This day just can't get any easier, can it? Where did this psycho come from?
"Venidan, tell this idiot with the shiv that if she stabs me, you'll both be sitting here until you die of hunger," and while I'm saying this, a spell is forming in the gauntlet.
There's a fact I discovered experimentally during training with Mom: when an opponent sees a Mage with a staff, they expect the Mage to use exactly that as a catalyst. I decided to game the system and adapted the staff for longer and more complex spells, and the gauntlet for rapid energy accumulation in the fingers and the inner palm. For example?
"Polymorph! Say baaaa!"
Dartaola clearly didn't expect that and didn't even try to dodge or defend herself. A white flash hid her body but quickly dissipated. And in place of this annoying girl, a sheep appeared. Quite a nice one, actually, excellent wool. Venidan immediately patted it on the head.
"I like you much better this way."
"Baaaaa?" the sheep bleated questioningly.
Venidan snorted; I laughed. I don't know what there was more of in that laugh—malice or irritation—but it came out quite sincere.
"Regards to you from Mom. So, what are we going to do with you?"
Veni shrugged.
"Is throwing her out still not an option? It would be quick and simple."
An option, of course, but I don't want to. I think it's better to keep her there until Stratholme, and then we'll drop her off and let her go wherever she wants. It's just that Polymorph won't last that long. I need to try and extend the effect. Place an effect on the room that will prolong the Polymorph. Yes, that's what I'll do.
"We have exactly one empty room, Veni. I'll adapt it to hold our new passenger in this form. And when we arrive, I'll let her out, and she can go to her people on foot. I'm kind. Keep an eye on her while I handle the preparations, okay?"
Venidan scratched the sheep between the ears, which it took perfectly calmly. It's a funny effect overall; a sheep's brain is so much simpler and more primitive than a sentient one's that the transformation completely disorients almost anyone. Not forever, but long enough and reliably enough. While she's a sheep, she won't be able to do anything.
Two flights down, and I was at the only room without a sign. Actually, it was an interesting question whether to put signs on the doors for what leads where. The rooms are quite similar; on the other hand, there aren't that many rooms in the Pepelats to get lost in. In the end, I asked those around me, and they advised me to install signs.
"What if someone else enters the ship? We don't need them poking around, checking doors one by one. Here's the floor, here's the sign. If you go where you shouldn't, you're an enemy."
Logical. So, going down, I found the only door with no sign at all. An empty wooden box three by three by two and a half meters. Actually, I'll need to make a landing bay for golems here, with drop pods. Or if we need to leave the ship urgently, for us. But for now, I'll make a cell; that's also a fine idea.
So, what are we doing? The spell has already been cast on the Paladin-ess; I just need it to receive energy and not dissipate over time. The problem is especially relevant when the target actually understands their own sensations and tries to break the control. Fortunately, I have plenty of Mana, and I only need to hold the Polymorph until we reach Stratholme.
"Good. And now let's make this place a permanent Polymorph zone. Command!"
The staff in my hand glowed faintly as strings struck out from it in all directions. I can't let the target find a corner where there isn't enough energy. No, I'll cover all the walls. The spell isn't the most complex; the main problem is stretching it over the area and tying it to the existing Polymorph. It didn't work on the first try, but I succeeded. And when I stepped out of the room, slightly sweaty, Venidan and the sheep were already waiting downstairs. Venidan was sweaty and angry, while the sheep was indifferent to everything, as it should be.
"Did you carry her in your arms?" I asked more to annoy her than out of curiosity.
Veni snorted.
"Forget it. Is the room ready?"
I stepped aside.
"Yeah, bring her in."
We closed the room with a latch, then went up a floor. I pointed to the room with bunks. A fairly small room, four bunks one above the other, lockers, and a passage between them. A window in the far wall. A bit cramped, I know. I need to think of something with the internal space; maybe "terrain creation" will help somehow. But there's no time to experiment, so maybe later.
"This is where we'll live."
Venidan sat on a bunk.
"You know, there's more room in the cells. If four people actually move in here, we won't be able to pass each other," she reached out and tapped the wall, "and this, it's reliable, right?"
I nodded.
"Reliable, yeah, and I know about the problem. In a pinch, I can sleep right in the cockpit. There's enough room there, at least for now."
Venidan almost cut me off.
"Wait!" Venidan flinched but stayed in place, "No-no-no, stay! You sleep here, got it?"
It took a couple of seconds for me to understand the root of the problem. And I slowly turned my head.
"Veni, are you afraid of enclosed spaces?"
She sighed.
"I'm not afraid of enclosed spaces. It's just a bit cramped in here. And we're flying above the ground, all these rooms detach, and if something happens..."
I see how it is with you.
"Fine, we sleep here," and after thinking a bit, I added, "I'll see what can be done with the internal volume. Space expansion exists in magic; I've just never worked with it. For now, drop your things, let's go up; I need to set the course."
Venidan brightened. While we were going up, I was seriously considering what to do. The problem is that for me, there's actually enough room. But I'm generally quite small. Venidan is a head taller than me, and where it's fine and spacious for me, it's cramped for her. I'm not saying I have Dwarf-sized ceilings here; it would just make sense to make the doors a bit higher. And wider.
We went up, ignoring the door labeled "technical room," and entered the bridge. On one hand, I like it; on the other, it has quite a bit of empty space. When I was making it, I was inspired by airship cockpits. There are large windows across the walls through which you can watch the world around you. To the left and right, the humming engines are visible, currently venting a jet stream at minimum power. Actually, I'll need to think about efficiency. I've already compensated for part of the hydrogen with magic, but fuel consumption during active movement could be significant, yeah. And...
"Sorry."
Venidan waved her hand.
"I'll sit on the table, forget it."
Yeah, I didn't put a second chair here, let alone a recliner or anything similar. You can only sit at the pilot's station, at the levers. At least there's enough room for it, so I just need to buy a chair. Or make one. All in all, the ship requires considerable internal refinement, hmph. And yes, by the entrance stands a table for maps, planning, and well, if I just need an office.
"Hello, Magister," Venidan suddenly addressed someone.
I turned around, trying to understand what was happening. And I smiled at a familiar crow.
"Hello, Teacher."
The crow turned its head, looking at both of us. A large bird, about twice the size of normal ones. And it spoke in Elvish:
"It seems your little performance was successful, lady. I am glad. And yet, I wish to note that you did not have time to collect my gift, so I deemed it necessary to deliver it here, along with my familiar. Through him, we shall be able to communicate should you require information. I doubt I shall join you in person anytime soon. Though the Paladins can do nothing to me, they will certainly try. This will occupy me for some time, lady, and after that, we shall meet. Now, the map."
The crow tapped on the table where Venidan was unfurling a map, previously rolled into a tube, which definitely hadn't been there before. I felt a slight sense of relief, however minimal. I'll come back for them. I definitely will. And the map certainly won't be redundant.
"Thank you, Teacher. We really did forget about it."
The crow nodded in a very human-like manner.
"Of course, I haven't taught you how to read maps, but perhaps your Friend knows how?"
Venidan bowed slightly.
"Of course, it's part of a Ranger's training. Only, there's a scorched hole in your map, right where we are located. That will be a problem."
I walked over. True enough, it looked like the starting point and a chunk of Silvermoon had simply been burned away by a stray hit. Generally, the map includes the entire northern part of the continent. Lordaeron, Gilneas, Quel'Thalas, and Stormwind. A more than useful gift once we get our bearings.
"Unfortunately, when the panic broke out, my familiar was spotted. Sad, but I believe you will manage. For now, I recommend setting a course southwest, since you have a compass."
Yeah, Mom gave it to me. I nodded, sitting in the chair and putting the helmet back on. By the way, I hadn't just hung Oculi for long-range vision on the bird. I'd also placed cameras on different sides of the hull. The Pepelats can essentially fly in any direction. Yes, the cockpit is positioned "forward," but there are four engines; I can turn the nozzles, so we can fly anywhere just the same, if we wish.
"Good. And now—onward! To Stratholme."
The hum intensified slightly, and the ship set a course south. Into the lands of Humans. Time waits for no one.
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