Amelia Thornheart

Chapter Eighty-Three: The Final Member

The coffee shop was small and cosy, with an old proprietor who shuffled around slowly cleaning the tables. If it weren’t for their subtle red aura that Serena had to strain her senses to detect, someone might be forgiven for thinking this was an ordinary coffee shop and not one of Intelligence’s many bases. As it turned out, it was also Aiden's temporary home and office.

“Are you sure about this one?” Aiden said, frowning as he examined the document Serena had handed him.

“I am.”

“I thought your opinion of her was… prickly.” Aiden leaned back, raising his hands. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. Are you sure you don’t want to go with another student? Given what happened…”

“You’re well informed,” Serena replied, raising an eyebrow.

Aiden raised his thumb and forefinger, leaving them an inch apart. “Your file is this thick. I had to read it all.”

“I see they’re keeping tabs on me,” she said. Serena wasn’t particularly annoyed. She knew how important it was to track the whereabouts and mental health of Speakers. The last thing anyone wanted was a repeat of the Baldasar Incident, where a Speaker returned from the frontlines after he’d developed the shakes from the relentless shelling. The man had broken down hearing a steam engine break, and, thinking he was back in the trenches, had Spoken in a densely populated area, killing more than a hundred civilians.

“What about Amelia’s?” she asked.

“Hmm?”

“Her file. How big is it?”

“Oh…” Aiden looked up for a moment. “About the same, but honestly, I’m only allowed to access a small part of it. I imagine the real thing is massive. I wouldn’t be surprised if she has a dedicated team just for monitoring her. I imagine there’s an army of psychologists who specialise in human psychology writing papers about her right now.” 

Good luck trying to understand Amelia, Serena thought. Her girlfriend wasn’t someone you understood so much as you experienced.

Shaking her head, she brought the conversation back to her final candidate for her elite team. “Despite what happened, that woman is the right fit,” Serena explained. “Considering our needs, I’d rather take her over ten more students. She has the right intuition for this kind of work.”

“And… How will she be with Amelia?”

“They’ll get on just fine.”

“You don’t know that. They’ve never met.”

“Trust me. I know her. She’s perfect to command the squad when I’m not there. I won’t accept anyone else.” 

She held Aiden’s eyes until he relented.

Aiden sighed, leaning backwards while slowly tapping his finger against the table. After he finally finished thinking, he said, “Fine then. I’ll send it up. Where she is now… they’ll send the monthly supply ship tomorrow morning. I think we can make it. We’ll send her the papers and pick her up on a fast ship. Bring her back here as soon as possible. We can always threaten her with a court-martial if she refuses.”

“She won’t. She might complain, but she’ll do her duty. That’s the kind of woman she is.”

It was a shame that Flakken’s fate took him down another path, but the more Serena thought about it, the more she realised it was a golden opportunity for her to bring that woman back. Imagining her and Amelia being friends was surprisingly easy, and Serena had no doubt they would get on perfectly well.

After all, one was an idiot who wanted to befriend everyone and everything, and the other was an idiot who would do anything if you put a cup of coffee in her hands.

With that topic settled, she spent the remainder of the morning finalising other small matters with Aiden. Once their business was done, Serena left and hopped on a passing tram, travelling to House Halen’s estate. Approaching the entrance, she was greeted by the always impeccably dressed butler, Johan.

“How is he?” she asked.

“Working hard as always, Lord Halen,” Johan intoned. “You can find him in his office.”

Thanking the butler, Serena navigated the house and its familiar corridors. She found her father scratching away at some documents behind his ironwood desk.

“Father.”

“Serena! I wasn’t expecting to see you again! You must be leaving any day now. What can I do for you?”

Serena smiled. “You could take a break? Johan’s always telling me how much you’re working. The war’s coming to an end, Father. Surely you can find time to take a holiday in Nai?”

“The war might be coming to an end,” Serena’s father grumbled. “But our work isn’t.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk about,” Serena said, sitting down. “How’s our future looking, given the… changing political climate?”

“We have enough five-year contracts to keep our factories running and our infrastructure expanding. The Eastern army and navy want everything they can get. Additionally, Centralis is financing most of the expansion. It’s already paid for.” He looked up from his documents, a look of concern in his eyes. “I unfortunately don’t have much hope regarding the length of this supposed peace. But, at the very least, our House will be fine for the foreseeable future. Well, as long as you, Nina, and Lani keep coming home in one piece.”

“Five-year contracts…” Serena mused. “How long do you think we have till the next war?”

“Two years, if we’re lucky. Who knows? Christdom might do something stupid quicker. They say Tamerlane is going mad on his golden throne. Whatever happens, we’ll be ready. Here, take a look at this.” Her father reached over, passing her a design mockup. At first, Serena thought it was some kind of strange ship, but then she saw the tracks. She looked at the name printed neatly in High Imperial in the corner.

“Landship?” she questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s their official name, but everyone’s calling them steelclads. It’s not unusual you haven’t heard of them. They only made it to the battlefield in the recent months, and the broadsheets are banned from printing anything about them. Although that restriction will be lifted once the peace treaty is signed. They’re what broke the Meppen defensive lines. We’ll be making shells for their cannons, and, once the expansion in Shimashina is done, we’ll be producing their rolled homogeneous armour.”

Serena tried to imagine these vehicles on the battlefield but struggled to conjure up the imagery. Hadn’t Amelia mentioned that her world had something similar? “What can they do that a ship or Speaker can’t?” Serena asked.

“Constructed quicker,” her father grumbled. “And cheaper. Needs fewer crew and significantly less crystal to function. They can protect the common troops in assault, and their cannon provides firepower that can suppress even orange auras. Their original role was to clear the mines and barbed wire, but then someone decided to add a weapon on top, and it gained a whole new offensive role. They’re calling it a breakthrough doctrine.”

“Seems like the army is getting all the new toys,” Serena said, passing the document back.

“The navy will get its fair share. You’ve got those proximity fuses, and last I heard…” Her father leaned in closer, dropping his voice. “Nina finished her torpedo work. Her team couldn’t replicate the Writing the humans did, but they did something else. They created a torpedo that can automatically home in on a lift engine's signature.”

“Seven hells…” Serena mused. “That’ll change everything.”

The middle sister of House Halen was a real genius, wasn’t she?

“Perhaps,” her father answered. “I’ve heard the prototypes are prohibitively big. They can only be fired from battleships. It’ll be a while before they find a way to fit them on cruisers, let alone light-craft.”

“Is that what she’s been doing in the South?” Serena asked. “Torpedo work?”

“No, that was finished a while ago. Different teams have taken over. She mentioned it had something to do with excavating ruins. I’m not sure what it is, but it must be important for them to pull a talent like her away from weapons development and into archaeology. Whatever it is…” Serena’s father looked at her, his eyes crinkling. “Give her my best if you see her.”

It took Serena a moment to understand his words. “You know our destination?”

“I have contacts. I’m a father, Serena. I have a vested interest in where my daughters are.”

“I think I can handle myself,” she answered, folding her arms and giving her father a look.

“Bah,” he said, waving his hands dismissively. “You’re not a parent, you don’t understand. Don’t roll your eyes at me, you’re acting like Lani.”

“Dad!”

“See?” Her father chuckled. “You might be a grown woman now, but I’ll always remember how soft your horns were when you were born. You’ll always be that little girl to me, with a snotty nose and-”

“Can we go back to discussing the war?” Serena asked dryly. “It’s far more enjoyable than reminiscing over my childhood.” Before her father could protest, she asked, “Did you raise the matter of the growing threat of light-craft with Greatlord Oshiro?”

“No, I went to Highlord Corvus first.”

“The Dragon?”

“You know he doesn’t like the nickname, Serena.” Her father scratched his chin. “He seemed somewhat receptive, but I think he and his peers in the Admiralty believe these new torpedoes will fill that role.”

“We’re not talking about fending off one or two fighters,” Serena pointed out. “We’re talking about a swarm of dozens, all fitted with the humans’ spell-infused weapons!”

“I agree, I just don’t think they see it as a sufficient threat yet. I think he might have thought I was exaggerating my concern, looking to be awarded more contracts for the proximity shells.”

“Tsk!” Serena could help but click her tongue. “That’s because he’s the Dragon! He sees everything through a perspective of self-gain. I doubt he can even imagine someone doing anything without a selfish motivation!” Even though her father looked at her with a frown, it felt good to rant about the Dragon. She hadn’t yet gotten the audacity of him disbanding her ground forces.

“Are you finished?” her father asked, the edge of his mouth curling. When she nodded, he continued, “He might have access to information we don’t. No doubt Intelligence has been working hard to figure out the extent of the humans’ production of these torpedoes. We know they involve Writing, and we know the human Writers are as few and far in between as ours.

“But, enough about the Dra- I mean, Highlord Corvus.” Serena’s father coughed politely. “I heard some rumours circulating about the peace settlement, or more importantly, what the Empress will do after it’s signed.” He leaned forward, his eyes twinkling. Serena found herself leaning in as well. Despite her father's dignified position, she knew Lani learned her love of gossip from him. “Whispers tell me that she’s going to annex the Republic into the Northern Terra Firma.”

Serena felt her eyes widen. “That’s risky,” she said. “It’s majority human. Considering the demon-human relations we have right now, it’ll cause chaos.” Serena shook her head. “It’ll give the Far East the excuse they wanted to rebel. The South might join in!”

Her father shrugged. “It’s what I’m hearing. Rumour has it that the Centralis Foreign Office is working on the legal framework for it. Much of the initial trouble Centralis had in the war was because they couldn’t legally deploy the territorial troops outside of Cascadia’s core lands. At least, not until those fanatics crossed the Channel and raided the North.”

“Right,” Serena nodded. “So she’ll bring it under Cascadian lordship?”

In the original treaty of Meppen, signed almost a century ago, Cascadia was granted the rights to govern the Republic as an overairs territory for two hundred and fifty years. During that time, they were forbidden from annexing it or having Cascadian lords oversee it directly. If things had gone differently, the Republic might have peacefully regained its independence when the time was right. Instead, Christdom had stuck its horns in and radicalised the population, leading to the events that had gripped Serena’s life so viciously for so many years.

“That seems to be the plan,” her father said with a shrug. “Honestly, I can’t disagree with the decision. The North deserves it after everything they’ve been through. As for rewarding the contributions of the other Terra Firmas, I’ve heard they’ll be transferring ownership of certain industries and ports. After all, the East and the South have done their fair share!” He raised a hand, scratching the back of his neck. “The only concern is, once the North starts deploying their standing army and navy, the human nations will see it as a pretext for an invasion.”

As he said this, Serena remembered the rumours Aiden had whispered to her: that, high up in the Intelligence community, there were plans for a pre-emptive attack. Was this annexation just an excuse to stage Cascadia’s military for the next war?

“The world seems so much more chaotic these days,” Serena began tentatively. “The conflict in the North. The brewing civil war in the Far East, and now the South has its growing pirate problem.”

“The guy they call the Blackhorn?”

“Yes.”

“Bah.” Serena’s father waved a hand. “With the war ending, we’ll have resources to put down piracy. Have faith in the Empress, Serena.”

“Of course,” Serena intoned. “She hasn’t let us down yet.”

“No,” her father replied. “She hasn’t.”

A lull in the conversation developed, broken only by the arrival of Johan with tea and biscuits. Once he’d left, Serena manoeuvred the conversation into more pleasant matters, talking about family and happier times.

“Amelia’s getting ready for her healing event,” Serena said. “They’ve timed it so we’ll be leaving within the hour of it being finished. Make sure to use your influence to get the family in the building, especially Grandmother.” Serena looked at her father, making sure she sounded as serious as possible. “Even if she complains, make her come. Amelia’s healing is miraculous. I think it’s made me younger. I honestly wonder if I’ll live as long as an Overlord if she keeps it up… what’s wrong?”

For some reason, her father was wiping a tear from his eye. “Ah, you wouldn’t understand. You’re not a parent. The thought of you not only outliving me, but living as long as someone like Vikram… fills me with joy.”

“...Your horns have become soft, Father.” It wasn’t a serious admonishment and Serena smiled warmly at her father’s affection. “You used to shout all the time when we were younger and now you’re shedding tears.”

“Shut up, and give me a hug.”

Serena stood up, walked around the desk and embraced her father.

“Look after yourself,” she whispered. “I’ll be back before you know it. No matter what happens, I’ll protect this House and the Empire surrounding it.”

“I know you will,” her father replied, patting her arm. “Give Amelia my best, will you?”

“I will.”

With that, Serena bid her father farewell and exited her old home. She looked back at the entrance, making a final vow that she would return unharmed.

And then, she left.

Faren leaned back into his chair, blowing on his cup of coffee and then bringing it under his nose to inhale its delicious scent. The coffee’s fragrance filled the room, causing the occupants to cast envious eyes in his direction. He couldn’t blame them. The monthly mail delivery to the solitary island had contained a parcel from Faren’s family. They had sent him Shiloh coffee, which, compared to the normal military beans the crew’d been living with, was a tremendous improvement in his quality of life. It was like drinking loqua after only tasting dirt for months.

No, that wasn’t quite right. Dirt probably tasted better than military coffee.

“You planning on drinking that anytime soon?” Faren’s boss, a bald demon named Mangs, intoned sarcastically across the room. “Or are you going to consume it by inhalation?”

“Just savouring the experience,” Faren replied. His eyes flicked to the aethermap below his station, where hundreds of thousands of tiny needles pulsed up and down, creating a topological map of the area around Kenhoro and Tanhae. A large portion of the aethermap was a long canyon, representing the Sabanis Channel just north of the island. Through this space, little pockets of metal needles rhythmically rose and fell with rapidity.

The telltale sign of a lift engine.

“Traffic’s increasing,” Faren said, nodding towards the table. He took one more sniff of his coffee before putting it down, leaning forward in his chair and manipulating the controls. By now, Faren was as skilled at controlling the aethermap as any of his colleagues. With practised hands, he directed the aetherscope to focus on the signatures. He noted their broadcasted identification codes and matched their engines' magnitude, frequency, and pitch to known models used in transport ships.

After taking notes of the new ships and verifying nothing was unusual, he leaned back, picked up his coffee and resumed his ritual. The quiet hum of the aetherscope, an enormous sixteen-metre, silvery, bulbous structure below the aethermap, lulled him into a sense of comfort. With the smell of Shiloh coffee reaching his nose, he could almost imagine he was back home, relaxing with-

“You seen Finella?” Mangs asked, scratching his bald head.

“Not after the mail arrived,” Faren answered. “Maybe she’s gone outside.”

“You softhorns are lucky I’m so relaxed. If this were a front-line aetherscope, she’d be whipped for leaving her station without permission.”

“Not like we have anywhere to go,” Faren replied softly, finally taking a sip of the luxurious Shiloh coffee.

Mangs scoffed, but Faren knew he was right. Where would they go? The island they were on was a small artificial one that was aetherlocked six thousand metres above the continent. The aetherscope contained within was only one in a network of the Empire’s strategic early-warning systems. It would be impossible to sneak an enemy fleet through the Sabanis Channel or approach the plateau cities of Kenhoro or Tanhae undetected.

Even if an enemy force managed to sneak onto the continent, the moment a Word was Spoken, they would be here to detect it. Thankfully, nothing else happened besides the incident that occurred on the day he arrived, when a mysterious individual Spoke a human Second-Word in the wilderness near Shimashina.

Faren grimaced as he reminisced on that day. The atmosphere had been dreadfully tense. They’d watched in anxious anticipation as the Eastern Overlord approached the location, his movement represented by a mountain of ferro-crystal needles moving on the aethermap. To their surprise, a devastating fight didn’t break out. Somehow, the situation was resolved peacefully and the overlord returned while the other Second-Word Speaker travelled out of their range towards Shimashina. 

Despite the anti-climactic ending, they didn’t get much sleep for a few nights. The thought that, at any moment, the alarms could blare at the appearance of a Federation-backed invasion force or some other terrible event had kept them awake.

While things had been quiet for Mangs and his team, their distant colleagues at the aetherscope above the Three Sisters weren’t so lucky. Mangs’ contacts working there had their own night of chaos during the Asamaywa fire, where they detected the Suijin Speaker. The last thing Mangs had mentioned was that they were up to their horns in paperwork.

Poor souls, Faren thought, taking another sip of his coffee. As the rich flavour filled his senses, he was reminded of what his instructors told him: the military runs on not just men and munitions, but coffee as well. He had to admit, he was becoming a convert to that view. He could feel his energy rising by the minute as the black liquid took effect.

“Go find her,” Mangs said, interrupting Faren’s quiet time. The bald demon walked over to him and tapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll take over. Make sure she hasn’t run off.”

“Sure,” Faren replied. He stood up and left the monitoring station, taking his coffee with him. He passed through a dimly-lit corridor before coming to the entrance room to their underground home. There, among the crates of food, water, and other miscellaneous supplies, he found Goren, the steam mechanic, lubricating the iron deadbolts of the entrance door.

“Finella outside?” Faren asked.

“Mmm, stormed past me fifteen minutes ago, swearing up a storm.” Goren pulled the bolts back and forth, nodding in approval. “Look at how easily it loosens up with a bit of lubricant! A bit like women, eh?” Goren flashed him a grin, to which Faren rolled his eyes.

“Wouldn’t risk Finella hearing you talk like that,” Faren said.

“Seriously? She’s the one who taught me that joke!” Goren slapped the large metal wall, producing deep thuds that echoed through the entrance room. “Besides, if she gets her horns twisted, we can just lock her out!”

“Will that even work?” Faren asked, eyeing the two-inch-thick iron door. “She’s got a solid orange aura now.” Faren knew that Finella, despite her attempts to argue otherwise, took a great amount of pride in her aura. She was a talented aether user, and those talents had saved her from a fatal court martial when she’d struck her previous captain.

“Mmm, for a bit.” Goren narrowed his eyes. “Well… I suppose it depends on how twisted her horns are.” The mechanic's eyes narrowed further. “And whether she’s had her morning coffee… I hope she’s in a better mood.”

“Well, I’m about to find out. Mangs sent me to make sure she hasn’t deserted yet.” Faren slipped by Goren and made his way up the long, winding corridor that spiralled up through the island. Squinting his eyes against the sudden daylight, Faren stepped out into a cool breeze.

The island was small. It was large enough for a few dozen trees but not enough to convince you that you were in a forest. Faren warmed his hands on his coffee mug, circling the island while trying not to look down.

Six kilometres was a long way to fall, after all.

He took in the sights as he walked. At this height, he could see the Sabanis Dominance itself. It was hazy at such a distance, but he could still make out its territory on the other side of the Channel. Following the Channel to the north-west, he could see it curve into the Cascadia-Sabanis passage - a massive tunnel that opened up under the isthmus joining the two territories. Even from here, he could see the ships patrolling or travelling the trade routes, carrying spices and silk. He could even make out the orange moon that sat above the Federation, although it was small and close to the horizon at this distance.

Continuing on, he came to the island's lone jetty. At the end of the wooden structure he saw Finella seated, looking out west towards Centralis. Her Northern red hair waved in the breeze and in her right hand she clenched a crumpled letter.

“Thinking of jumping?” Faren asked lightly, walking up the jetty towards her.

“Maybe,” Finella replied, not looking his way. “I wouldn’t die, not with my aura. I was thinking I could fake my death. Run away and join a travelling troupe.”

“Why? Mangs tell you to clean the toilets or something?” Faren sat down. He made sure to sit down near her and not next to her. Unlike Finella, he wasn’t an aura user and wouldn’t survive the fifty-two-second fall. With that in mind, he kept his feet well away from the jetty’s edge, not letting them dangle like Finella was.

Finella didn’t reply immediately and, for a moment, Faren thought she wasn’t going to. Then, without warning, she reached both arms into the air, flexed her legs and screamed in exasperation before collapsing onto her back dramatically, closing her eyes and sighing.

“Something the matter?” he asked. When she still didn’t reply, he asked, “Is it something to do with that letter?” Finella seemed intent on being quiet but Faren persevered, asking if it was good or bad news. After three questions, he’d make no progress. Faren sighed, deciding to switch tactics.

“Spoke to Goren on the way up here,” he said. “He said you were in a bad mood. He said he hoped you’d be in a good one later. Said he was going to ask you on a date.”

“What!?” Finella sat up with a speed that would likely injure any normal demon. Her eyes were wide with shock, her jaw on the floor. “Are you serious!?” she exclaimed.

“No, I was lying,” Faren admitted. “You weren’t talking,” he justified. Seeing Finella’s forehead furrowing, he quickly reached out with the coffee. “Here. Peace offering. It’s Shiloh beans.”

“Tsk!” Finella swiped the cup, bringing it to her mouth. “You can’t trick me with the shit we-” Her eyes went wide. “Seven hells! Where did you get this!?”

“Family sent me a package,” he shrugged. “I’ll make you another cup when we get back if you tell me what’s got you looking so… so…” He struggled to find the right words. “So unlike you.”

“Ugh…” Finella groaned. “I just… I don’t know…” She took another sip of Faren’s coffee. “Empress’s tits, that’s good!” After a dozen seconds of thoughtful silence, she asked, “Have you ever got some news that makes you happy and angry at the same time? News that’s both good and bad?”

“Maybe?” Faren looked at his coffee, resigning himself to the fact that he wouldn’t get any more until he returned inside. “Is that what that letter is?”

“Here,” Finella passed it to him. “Take a look at my boon and my curse,” she finished dryly.

Faren examined the letter, his eyes widening at the sight of the seal of the Eastern Admiralty. Not only that, but it was signed by the Greatlord of Asamaywa!

“A promotion?” he asked, looking at Finella before continuing to read the letter. “You’re being made a squad commander? Isn’t this… good news?” Finella had always wanted to leave the island, and everyone had expected her to find a different position when her deployment ended after the winter. Although she’d been a great source of laughter and camaraderie over the last few months, he didn’t think she’d feel so conflicted over leaving.

“It is, and it isn’t.” Finella sighed. “I’d given up on an officer's path, so this,” she waved a hand towards the paper, “is amazing news. But… look at what it says! I’m to resume service under my previous captain. Argh!” Finella again kicked her legs in the air, spilling some coffee. “Why!? Why is she gripping her claws into me once again!? She said she would hang me if she saw me again! So, why is she dragging me back!?” Finella put the coffee down and reached up, clutching her horns. “I’m going to jump! I really will! Faren, will you help me fake my death? Tell them you found me drunk and I rolled off while unconscious! Please!?”

“Hmm, no,” Faren replied definitely. “Help me understand. Doesn’t this mean that she’s forgiven you?” As far as Faren understood, even if an officer escaped a hanging for striking their superior, they would never again climb the ranks. Wasn’t this a tremendous opportunity for Finella?

“No…” Finella mumbled weakly. “She doesn’t forgive. Not her. Oh, moons! I can see that glare right now. It’s like she’s in my mind, staring at me!”

“She can’t be that bad, can she?”

“You have no idea,” Finella said, shaking her head. “Maybe… maybe she wants to kill me and this is how she’s going to do it? Yes… I can see it right now. She’s making her prey come to her. I bet she’s licking her lips right now, waiting for me to show my back and then-”

“Can you decline?” Faren asked, interrupting Finella’s fantasy.

“Of course not!” Finella cried. “Look who signed it! Greatlord Oshiro! I always knew her family had political sway, but I didn’t think she’d be able to get a greatlord to swing things! Not only that, but a ship’s coming to get me! Tonight! Ahh…!”

Tonight? Faren read the rest of the letter and saw that Finella was correct. There were instructions for her to make ready for departure by nine o’clock, when a military transport cutter would pick her up.

“Why do I have to leave the moment I get sent some good coffee?” Finella took a sip of Faren’s coffee. He did not mention that it was his coffee, only taking a mental note to hide his remaining beans before Finella could track them down like a starving wolfhound. “I swear on the moons of Cascadia, if she doesn’t have a sack of Jimari beans for me, I’m going to desert at the first opportunity!”

You’ve got a greater chance of bumping into the Empress in a bar, Faren thought. No captain would indulge in something as extravagant as Jimari beans. Meat and alcohol were a far more reliable way to raise the morale of a ship’s crew.

“You never spoke about this previous captain,” Faren began. “Who is she? Why all this fuss?”

“You…” Finella looked at him with a dejected expression. “You really want to know?”

“Sure…?”

“It’s the stuff of nightmares, are you really sure?”

Faren tilted his head. “I’m really sure.”

“Then…” Finella turned to him, picking up Faren’s coffee, and leaned in, keeping her voice low. “Let me tell you some of the stories of my previous captain.” She took a sip and continued, “Let me tell you the tale of Serena Halen, the Hellfire Captain.”