“Was it really necessary to use the Leviathan Breath, [Captain]? They were practically defeated.” Gazana admonishes. “We’ll run out of blue cores if we fire it all the time.” She argues, but Valentine shows no sign of acknowledging her words.

  “It’s fine!” Min interrupts with her hands behind her neck. “We’re rich. We’ll just buy more.”

  “Wealth means nothing if it cannot be utilized.” [Quartermaster] Sigismund says after arriving on deck. The man lifts his glasses with an air of calculating authority while assessing the two girls and the distracted Valentine. “All of the islands that are used to mass produce blue cores are owned by the major nations and funneled directly into their military. Blue cores that appear on the market are generally unrelated to the farms or obtained from a ship- a far more limited and unreliable supply.”

  Min pouts. “And we can’t exactly attack these farms.”

  Sigismund shrugs. “We can, but we’d lose unless we mobilized all the Corsairs.” The [Quartermaster] shifts his head to Valentine. The [Pirate Captain] is silently staring in the distance, not even acknowledging the crew beside him. “What's got the [Captain] so mesmerized?”

  “A ship.” Gazana says.

  Sigismund raises an eyebrow. He follows Valentine's gaze to find a distant Frigate.

  The man frowns. “Was the ship spectating the whole fight? Should we blow it out of the sky?”

  “Har har har. I couldn’t even if I wanted to,” Valentine chuckles. He turns around and walks past the three crew-members without a word. As he disappears into his ship, Sigismund frowns at the girls.

  “What does he mean he can’t?” Sigismund asks.

  Min snickers with a cheeky grin. “That Frigate is the

  Sigismund gives Min a blank stare.

  She sighs and huffs. “You need to stop locking yourself in your room.” She says and then disappears after Valentine.

  He looks at Gazana. “Mind explaining?”

  The Phytonid shakes her head. “Min is right.” She then walks off into the bowels of the ship.

  Once she disappears, Sigismund is left alone on the deck. He looks into the distance, at the tiny ship near the Slipstream. “Fine, I’ll figure it out.”

  He retrieves a small book from his pocket. He opens it and notes down the word .

  ___________________________________________________________________

  Only once Valentine leaves does Myers allow the Timbergrove to approach the location of the battle. As they do, they are immediately met with the smell of ozone and heat.

  “How often can he shoot that cannon? There must be a limit.” I ask Myers while occasionally sniffing the charged air.

  The old man strokes his beard while laying his back to the throne. “Not often. Powerful weapons like that require hours to cool down- not that you’d generally need to. Most ships don’t have the Hull-integrity to endure the blast.

  “How much would you need?” I ask curiously.

  “That’s difficult to say on account of multiple factors. Construction of the ship, distance from impact point, defensive runes, and the [Captains] skill can greatly reduce the potency of such a blast.”

  I can’t help but pout at the answer. It makes sense, but I was hoping for a bit more accuracy.

  “How much hull integrity would the need to survive?”

  “Hundreds of thousands.” He says casually. “Generally, anything smaller than a Battleship class isn’t going to survive.” Myer glances at me. “Why the curiosity?”

  “I’m just trying to get a feel for the power dynamic of those who stand at the pinnacle of capability and strength.”

  Myers taps his fingers on the ship's crystal. “Individually, Valentine is indeed powerful- easily at the level of an average kingdom's entire navy. Against the major nations though, numbers reign supreme. Take the destroyed Inquisition fleet we just witnessed. Okami fields hundreds of such fleets throughout the world, with their main navy a quarter in number but consisting exclusively of cored cruisers, battleships, and two Carriers. I doubt even the combined might of the Corsairs could pose enough of a threat to equal a nation.”

  I stretch on the armrest of the throne. “So he’s not that impressive.”

  Myers chuckles. “If having the individual strength to take on a major nation is what you consider impressive, then you are going to be sorely displeased.”

  “Yea, yea. How long until we arrive on Nivis?” I ask.

  “Twelve hours,” he answers.

  “Only twelve?” I glance around, but only find small islands in the distance. Shouldn’t we be able to see the island by now?” I ask.

  Myers grins like a wizened elder. He raises his hand and points up with a slight slant.

  I follow his finger and nearly choke at a massive island hovering far above us.

  “That’s a big island. High too. Why is it so high? Shouldn’t its weight push it down or something?”

  “Nivis is a generally wide and thin island covered in mountains of ice. The width applies upward pressure while the ice adds enough weight to keep the island low enough to avoid the storm-field.”

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  I stare at the old man, giving him the blankest look I can. Myers only raises a confused eyebrow, unable to translate cat expression into human.

  “What’s a storm-field?” I ask.

  The man realizes my confusion, then nods. “I sometimes forget you’re not native here. Well, what would happen if you kept rising up and up, away from the planet's core?”

  “Well, gravity would get weaker and weaker until you just drift off into space.”

  He tilts his head. “I’m not sure what this space you speak of is, but what actually happens is you’d reach a layer around the planet called a storm-field. It’s called that because it is a constant and violent storm of mana that rampages and destroys anything within, including islands. Once the islands are shattered into smaller pieces, they return to the planet, either as a smaller island or back to the planet's core.”

  “So the island is covered in ice. Do people live on it or is life not possible?”

  “It’s one of the few islands classified as a tundra that supports life. How though, is something I don’t know. What I do know is that a small city known as Traipus makes the island its home.”

  “Which is where we’re headed, right?”

  “Correct. The center of the island is known to house a tower.”

  “The center. As in through ice and snow.”

  “Probably.”

  I pout. “How cold are we talking about?”

  “The island is generally smothered in constant Snowstorms.”

  I stand up and stretch. “Then I better go talk to Cillian. We’re going to need to buy a bunch of winter equipment for everyone.”

  I hop off the throne. “I’ll see you later, then.”

  Myers waves me off as I rush into my ship.

  Entering inside, I make my way down to the hold. When I enter, I find Cillian sitting with Yuto on a barrel. Both of them are watching a barehanded spar between Boriss and the rest of the [Gunners].

  I hop up on the barrel and watch as Gino rushes Boriss from the back, Agris and Baldric from the side, and Micheal from the front. Boriss reacts expertly by dodging left, grasping Agris fist, and then throwing him at Baldric. Then he ducks and kicks at Gino while simultaneously avoiding Micheals fist. Gino avoids the kick and aims to strike Boriss in the man's family jewels. But Boriss isn’t ignorant to such Russian tactics. His other leg hops off the ground into a spin. A hand touches the floor to shift his weight. His legs spin with a handstand, one leg striking Michael in the stomach while the other makes contact with Gino's face.

  Boriss hops up and takes a stance to meet Agris and Baldric. The two former [Gladiators] rush Boriss with impressive skill, but the Russian reacts easily and accurately to counter.

  “Odd. I’d think he’d struggle more,” I comment, surprising both Cillian and Yuto. Neither had noticed me arrive next to them.

  Yuto is the first to recover. “The [Security Chief] struggled initially, but quickly adapted over the course of the spar. His skill and situational awareness far exceeds even my own.”

  “Well of course, he’s a combat savant,” Cillian says. “He’d always adapted to his opponents mid-fight like Quasi does.”

  “Not in the same way,” I counter. “I adapt consciously based on experience. Boriss adapts instinctually,” I correct. “Anyway, Cillian, you are going to have to buy a bunch of warm clothes for the crew when we land.”

  The Scot pouts. “From Nivis, right? Is it really that cold there? Couldn’t we just double up on clothes and then armor?”

  “The island is a floating glacier,” I tell him. “I’m pretty sure we need proper winter clothing if we’re to survive.”

  He sighs. “Fine. I’ll talk to Nepenthes and have her accompany me.”

  I frown at his words. “Can she even handle the cold? I mean, she’s a plant after all.”

  Cillian pauses, unsure now.

  “I will accompany our [Quartermaster] instead,” Yuto interrupts. He lifts an arm. “My fur should be adequate insolation from the frigid temperature.”

  I wave a paw. “Sounds good to me. We make land in twelve hours.”

  ____________________________________________________

  With my conversation over, I stride back up to check on a certain individual of my crew.

  “Emma–”

  “-I can’t do it!” She says with a glare. She lifts up a crude leather gauntlet covered in black wyvern scales. “I trained to work with metal, not scales- and I need a forge.” She wiggles the piece of equipment at me.

  “A forge? For leather and scales?”

  “Yes!” She growls, “How do you expect me to properly line tiny runes on the scales without molten crystal?”

  “You need to melt the crystal?” I ask

  “Of course!” She exclaims like I’m dumb for even asking. “Find me a forge and I can get your little experiment done.”

  “Wait! So it be done?”

  She frowns. “Of course it can. It’s tedious, not impossible. How do you think runed scalemail is made? It’s just interlocking runes. Only difference here is that I have to use wyvern scales instead of metal.”

  “I’ll find you a forge as soon as I can.” I told her.

  Leaving her to her devices, I make my way to my next stop.

  Entering Aurantas room, I find her sitting next to Irmgard. The two women are on the bed, legs folded and eyes closed. Curious, I approach the two while ignoring the urge to just jump on the bed. When I am near, both women simultaneously open their eyes and turn to me.

  “That’s uncanny.” I tell the two women. “How’d you know I was here?”

  “I am training Irmgard to weave a mana bubble. You passed through our strands.” Auranta explains.

  I hop up on the bed. “What’s a mana bubble?”

  Auranta raises her hand. From it, a strand of mana exits her palm. Once it is a foot long, it splits into two, four, eight, and in moments, hundreds of tiny strands that weave into each other like one would a piece of cloth. Except, her cloth folds in on itself, creating an orb.

  “With time and skill, a [Mage] can create a force of mana capable of withstanding a great amount of force.”

  “So, a mana barrier-shield thing. How much force are we talking about? Does it have a weakness? Could I do that?”

  “It depends on the thickness of the weave, the form of attack, and the type of weave. As for weakness, a powerful weave takes time to create, costs mana to sustain, and weakens with each absorbed impact.” Auranta looks at me with her accusing insect eyes. “It requires Materialization. Please do not try to weave inside your body unless I am present so that I may document any changes.”

  “Document? As in, you’re curious if it’s possible? Has nobody tried it before?”

  She shakes her head slowly. “I’ve read nothing of anyone trying to weave within their body. I hypothesize that it’s either impossible, useless, or lethal.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that!” I say, then frown. “Later, though. We’re approaching our next island. I wanted to ask if you’d be ok in a tundra environment.”

  Auranta frowns. “I can wear clothing to keep warm, but my ability to fly will be compromised, as will my ability to cast powerful wind magic.”

  “I see. Did you want to stay on the ship, then?”

  “No. I will adapt.”

  “If you’re sure about that.”

  “I am.” The insectoid nods. “Is there anything else you need from me?”

  I shake my head. “Nope.” I then glance at Irmgard, who’d been silently staring at me the entire time.

  “Are you alright?” I ask.

  She slowly nods her head.

  “Are you sure?” I ask.

  She nods again.

  “She hasn’t stopped weaving,” Auranta explains. “I ask that you do not bother her. If you have further questions, direct them to me. Otherwise, please leave.”

  I pout.

  “Fine. I’ll go bother someone else.”

  I leave the room and enter the kitchen were-in Clay is helping Julia cook. The moment I step inside, Julias head turns. “The food is not ready yet. Come back later.”

  “But-.”

  “It’s not ready!” She says again.

  I sigh and leave.

  My next stop is Nepenthes room, but it's locked. I could knock, but I decided against it.

  Instead, I stride back out of the ship.

  “You’ve returned quickly.”

  I hop back on the thrones perch. “Yeah. I’m just gonna hang here for a moment. Everyone else is a bit busy.”

  “Go ahead,” Myers says with a knowing smile.

  _______________________________________________________