Solanna was one of six of Yelena’s kids. Which was a rather impressive number for any woman, let alone an elf. To the extent that it was something of an ongoing joke that Lindholm’s national animal shouldn’t have been the unicorn, but the rabbit given the line of Lindholm’s obvious fertility.

  That, and that the dearly departed king’s heart hadn’t given out thirty years ago entirely due to his love of food and drink, but rather the amorous advances of his wife.

  Yelena? Where are you? One of your spawn is accosting me! He thought.

  And while spawn might seem an unfair label for the woman across from him, William was of the opinion it was well earned. Because while he didn’t recognize her by sight, he definitely knew her by reputation.

  While the heir and spare had made names for themselves as a diplomat and an admiral respectively – the other four members of Yelena’s line were less impressive. An artist, a philosopher, a poet and… to be frank, he had no idea what Solana was?

  A wastrel, he thought.

  Her name only ever really came up when attached to some kind of scandal. And last he’d heard, she was still out East with the other four.

  “Ah, my apologies. Despite my work with your mother, I’ve unfortunately not had the chance to familiarize myself with the radiant visages of the entire Royal Family,” William responded.

  “That seems like a rather large oversight in your royal education,” Solana murmured. “Clearly the standards of the academy are slipping.”

  William resisted his first response to that, which was that the academy only focused on things that might actually be important. Which Solanna was not. He reigned in the urge though.

  Unfortunately, the princess seemed to take that as some kind of win, as she continued, a calculating gleam in her slightly glassy eyes. “Though I imagine such worldly concerns seem rather unimportant when compared to the wealth of knowledge you might have already acquired from otherworldly sources?”

  Willaim felt his eyebrow twitch. Because that was certainly a shot across the bow. Oh, sure, plenty of the nobles present suspected that all of his advancements were a result of him being harrowed, but none had been willing to say it aloud.

  Of course, there was good reason for that.

  “That’s quite an unsubtle allusion, Your Grace. For all that my team can attest that I’m a little eccentric, I’d hardly count myself a raving madman.” He smiled.

  And that was the most important detail here. Oh, people suspected him to be sure, just off the basis of what he’d achieved, but the fact that he wasn’t some kind of gibbering wreck did much to temper any certainty that he might have made any kind of deal with the fae for knowledge.

  “True, that is a point in your favor. But how else could one explain such incredible inventions pulled from whole cloth?” the princess responded. “How does one man, a young one at that, create device after device that challenges our very understanding of what’s possible?”

  Her voice raised, addressing the crowd around him more than speaking to him. “No, it brings me no pleasure to level such accusations at one who has performed such a great service to our home in his hour of celebration, yet I would not be a Princess of Lindholm if I did not seek to address this issue before it comes back to bite us.”

  William could only stare. Because what the fuck was going on here? What were these amateur hour theatrics? For a moment he’d been wondering if the princess was here on behalf of Yelena - that Lindholm’s Queen was hoping to use his harrowed status as a reason to seize all he’d created for her own ends.

  He’d confirmed for her that he was harrowed after all – though he’d only done so once he was sure that he was in a position where Yelena couldn’t reasonably do exactly that. Because he was the hero of the hour right now, and any attempt by the Crown to seize his property would reek of opportunism.

  Unless they had ironclad proof that he was harrowed, they couldn’t move on him.

  That – and I’ve already promised the woman access to everything I’ve already built, he thought.

  …So no, he didn’t think the princess was here on the Queen’s behalf. If she were to move against him, it wouldn’t be now.

  Nor would it be this… stupid, he thought as the princess soaking in the attention of the growing crowd around them. No, this moron is acting alone.

  “So tell me!” the moron in question turned, leveling a finger at him in the most ostentatious manner possible. “As your Princess! Is the knowledge you’ve acquired a result of your own genius – or rather a deal with the fae!”

  Was… was her finger swaying? Actually, were her eyes a little red too?

  Was she… drunk?

  More to the point, did she actually expect him to answer that question with an affirmative? Because it seemed like she genuinely did.

  Then again, if I were the usual harrowed, I’d put decent odds on me blurting out that I had, he thought.

  The harrowed mind was rather anathema to the notion of impulse control after all.

  Then again, if I were the usual harrowed, I’d likely also be half out of my clothes by now and drooling a lot, he thought.

  William shook his head, putting on his best bemused expression. “I’m sorry to say that I haven’t, Your Grace. No, the only magic at work in my inventions is one born from long hours and the ingenuity of people. Certainly not fae.”

  “What?” The tart actually had the temerity to look surprised at his answer. “You truly expect us to believe that a youth of nineteen managed to crack not just aether-less Shards, but aether-less repeater cannons as well!?”

  William maintained his smile. “Ah, now I see where the confusion lies. While I certainly would like to claim ownership of both those devices, I’m sorry to say much of the groundwork was provided by our fair Queen.”

  “Mother?” the princess mumbled.

  He nodded at the woman he was now a hundred percent sure was quite drunk – or on some kind of narcotic. “You sound surprised? I know you’ve been away from court for some time, but she’s long been aware of the dangers of our western neighbours. As such, she has naturally been seeking counters.”

  He gestured up to the naval ships floating overhead. “And well, while we may never be able to summon as many mages as the lands to the west, we’ve long used our peasantry to better effect. The use of so many cannons in the ships of Lindholm was once a controversial topic, but it can’t be argued that it’s proven its worth again and again over the years when those ships have clashed with our mainland cousins.”

  “So you say, but they’ve not been much use here as of late,” the princess sniffed, blinking blearily up at the craft.

  William frowned at those words, as did a number of the nobility in the crowd.

  Still, he continued. “No, sad though it is, even the best of weapons are of little use when out of position. Though the fact that our enemy needed subterfuge rather than naked force to achieve their goals speaks to how much they fear our vessels.”

  A small hum of agreement echoed his words.

  Which he expected. While it wasn’t universally true, a decent part of Lindholm’s cultural character was defined by its defiance of Solite and Lunite aggression.

  “The sad truth is that ours are not the only minds capable of ingenuity,” he continued. “Though I’d point out that between their underships and our aether-less shards, it was the ingenuity of the men and women of Lindholm that won the day.”

  Which prompted a small cheer.

  “For a given value of such,” the princess muttered, glancing pointedly at where the sky-docks that once dominated Lindholm’s skyline were conspicuously absent – and William could only wonder what she was thinking?

  Her words might have found fertile ground if they were spoken in a backroom somewhere, but here and now? At a celebration for the successful defence of Blicland? Even if any of the nobles around her agreed with the sentiment – and given the state of the city there was a decent argument for it – none could be seen to be doing so.

  William shook his head sadly. “Such defeatism. One would almost think you happy to see such destruction?”

  “Not at all,” she said hastily. “Merely wondering how it was allowed to happen in the first place. Still, we’ve gone off topic. If your work truly is an advent of my mother’s, how did it come to be in your hands?”

  He shrugged. “Why wouldn’t it? I’m sworn to your mother and my lands are close at hand. I have a reputation from my time in the Academy as a man interested in the scientific arts. I would say my fief was an ideal location for your mother to start putting some of her ideas to the test. Indeed, though I like not to toot my own horn, I made some not so small contributions myself.”

  “You?”

  “Ha,” he chuckled. “From considering me the sole architect of our most recent technological prowess to now not even able to contribute. You should pick an argument, Your Grace.”

  Her eye twitched. “Given such sudden swerves in the realities of our situation, I’m afraid I find it hard to keep track of which notions I’m pursuing.”

  “Perhaps Your Grace might be able to retain a clearer understanding of things if she refrained from her ‘refreshments’ for a time,” Bonnlyn said casually.

  “Watch your tongue, dwarf,” one of the knights growled – because while William could somewhat get away with a small backhanded insinuation as a landed noble, his friend most definitely could not.

  Which was why he made sure to step forward.

  “Ah, my apologies for my companion’s glib tongue. She wasn’t born to the nobility, you see and oft struggles with the complexities of more polite conversation. And while I rather enjoy her sauciness, not all do,” William said.

  He ignored the rather heated glare sent at the back of his neck from the dwarf in question.

  “Quite,” the princess said while looking down her nose at Bonnlyn.

  William continued, “I can however confirm that I did make some small contributions to the creation of the Corsairs. You may or may not know, the spell-bolt was a creation of my time. As was the ‘flashbang’ spell.”

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  “And the gramophone,” another noble pointed out. “I simply adore my own. Do you know when new songs will be ready for purchase?”

  The princess glared at the woman, who blushed as she realized she got into the middle of a rather heated conversation. The interrupting noble shrank back, her cheeks flushing under the princess's withering stare.

  William addressed her all the same. “Ah, I’m afraid that’s not actually one of mine. It’s a creation of my friend here. You’d need to ask her.”

  Bonnlyn blushed as all eyes turned to her. Which William was happy for because it meant she’d stopped glaring at him.

  “I helped contribute, of course,” he continued. “Using some of the lessons I learned in the invention of my flashbang spell, but it was ultimately a design her family has long worked on.”

  The princess eyed him suspiciously. “You have a talent for being around great inventions, Lord Redwater.”

  William laughed. “I’d say it’s more like I seek them out. Or they come to me - as was the case with my contributions to the creation of the Kraken Slayer. Like begets like after all.”

  The princess’s eyes lit up at those words. “Ah yes, the mysterious Kraken Slayer. I’m still most curious about that. I’ve been away from home and am rather curious about the device that has seen more mithril cores recovered in the last year than the last fifty combined.”

  William shook his head with faux sadness. “Ah, I’m afraid my lips are sealed regarding any specifics. Though now that the Corsairs have been unveiled, I’m sure the truth of the Kraken Slayer’s function will soon be made self-evident.” He looked around conspiratorially. “Because I can say the two items are linked. Indelibly.”

  “Is that so?” the princess said, her earlier irritation now forgotten as she clearly thought she was digging into something juicy.

  Though why she couldn’t just ask her mother about it herself, he didn’t know. He supposed it was entirely possible that Yelena had written the girl off entirely and preferred to keep her in the dark regarding anything truly valuable.

  “Quite,” he said simply. “Though I’m afraid we’ve veered off topic once more. I was simply trying to illustrate that while I was not the sole contributor - far from it - I was still quite instrumental in providing the Corsairs with their current armament.”

  He puffed up his chest, as a young man would when trying to inflate his own importance. Which he hoped would ironically only serve in the minds of the nobles around him to downplay his role in the creation of the craft.

  “Prior to my arrival, the Crown was rather bereft of an anti-Shard weapon for their new aetherless-craft,” he ‘admitted’.

  The princess looked disappointed. “You only worked on the repeater-cannons? Not the other weapons.”

  He took some amusement in ‘deflating’ as if the wind had just been taken out of his sails by the princess’s obvious disappointment.

  “Well, the other weapon systems were rather self-evident in their applications I’d think. Bear-blood has long been our navy’s weapon of choice for Shards looking to inconvenience enemy ships.”

  Solana shook her head violently. “No! not those, the… flaming lances that propelled themselves on streams of fire! I heard they crippled a ship in a single volley!”

  William shrugged, as if it didn’t matter. “Ah. That. Well if you wish to discuss… them, you would need to talk with my betrothed. They created the original versions of those designs that used aether for their Basilisk. The flame based knock-offs are, I imagine, based on that design – though I have no idea how that works either. Certainly not in the same fashion as my spell-bolts.”

  The princess eyed him. “You truly know nothing of those designs? They were weapons that were on your ship.”

  He frowned, clearly ‘losing patience’ with the woman’s needling. “I’m sorry to say, Princess, that even my love of the sciences has limits. A man only has so many hours in a day allotted to him. I don’t actually know all of what goes on in my fief, let alone the Palace’s underground vaults.”

  He continued, feigning anger. “One does not need to know the hows of something’s functions to use it. Why, I imagine you know next to nothing of how our nation functions, yet seem to be able to make use of it all the same.”

  “Have a care, boy! You speak to the princess!” the knight repeated. “I will not stand for any more insults to her person!”

  Feigning regret at his outburst, he took a step back. “Oh, my apologies, Your Grace. It seems some of my friends’ glibness has rubbed off on me. Or the excitement of the day. I am still but a man and my constitution sometimes gets the better of me.”

  It was all he could do not to giggle at the absurdity coming out of his mouth.

  The princess looked furious at his words for a moment, before she smirked vindictively. “Yes, much has been said of the tendency of the women around you to ‘rub off on you’, Lord Redwater. One might grow concerned by how easily ‘influenced you are’. Especially with an orc in your party.”

  Suddenly, Willaim felt significantly less amused as the woman’s eyes slid to where Verity had been standing quietly, watching the conversation.

  And he got less amused as the little toad continued. “Is it possible that your championing of my mother’s cause has less to do with your own beliefs, and more so that of your teammates? There’s been many a rumour as to how close you all are. Some might even say scandalously so.”

  He felt, more than saw, Verity stiffen from her position at his shoulder as she moved to step away.

  Fuck that, he thought. Don’t let her win.

  He didn’t let her. Instead his arm snaked out to wrap around her waist, pulling her close.

  He ignored the way she stiffened in his arm – though she didn’t pull away - as well as the scandalized murmurs from the crowd.

  “What can I say?” he smirked at the woman who’d tried to shame his friend. “I’m a man who has an appetite for all that life has to offer. Not just the sciences. And I’ve found my orcish teammate to be a veritable font of interesting experiences.” He pulled her closer. “Why, any man would be lucky to have her ‘input’.”

  As he spoke, a hand came up to casually grope the orc's breast. Tit size was the equivalent of dick size in this world after all - and Verity’s were big.

  “You… you…” the princess hissed, turning red in the face as she glanced between them, before tuning and storming away. “Foul deviant! It’s clear the rot here in the capital is worse than I’d heard!”

  William watched her go. As he did, he vaguely became aware of something hardening under his fingers. Indeed, it took him a few seconds to realize exactly what it was, as he hastily pulled his hand away from the rather engorged nipple he’d idly been playing with over his teammate’s shirt.

  He leapt away as if burnt. “Ah, sorry about that. I didn’t like hearing her talk about you that way. Any man would be blessed for you to spend even a moment of your attention on them.”

  “It’s… fine. I didn’t mind,” she said – and he chose to ignore the hint of disappointment in her face as she said that. She leaned in to whisper. “Aren’t you worried about your reputation though?”

  William scoffed. “Bleh. Let people talk. I’m a war hero now. I can afford a little bad press if it means I don’t have to let people like that talk down to you.”

  It said a lot about how far the orc could come that she didn’t seem surprised by that statement, that he’d move to defend her at cost to himself. She valued herself now too. She’d grown more confident with time.

  “Yes,” she said slowly. “But I was more talking about your reputation with them.”

  She raised a massive arm and pointed off to the side. Confused, William turned to see who she was-

  “Ah,” he whispered as he found himself staring into the frigidly cold gazes of two young elven women.

  Who he was betrothed to.

  “Shit.”

  Bonnlyn, the little turd, giggled.

  -------------------

  “Not out celebrating with your man?” Yelena asked as Griffith strode into her office. “Don’t want to lose to those twins.”

  Truth be told, the Queen was a little glad for the distraction some gossip with an embarrassed Griffith could represent. The attack had been rough, and she’d barely had more than ten hours’ sleep over the course of the last week.

  Of course, she was using magic to supplement her body – but the mind craved some manner of distraction, if only as a brief reprieve from trying to put the capital to rights once more.

  Alas, she was denied even that as the woman barely even seemed to hear her. “Both the Blackstone and Southshore fleets are coming towards us. One of our outlying pickets equipped with a communication orb last reported moving to intercept them to demand answers, but they’ve since gone silent. As has one of our Northern wayfinder posts.”

  “Ah, I had hoped we’d have a little more time,” Yelena murmured. “Say what you will about Elanore, she’s decisive when she sees an opportunity.”

  Griffith just scowled. “How are they going to justify this!? We’ve just been attacked by a Lunite strike force, no matter how they try to hide it by playing at being pirates. This should be a moment for unity!”

  Yelena smiled sadly. “Oh, I imagine they’ll give some vaguely plausible reason for why they’re moving now. It might even sound almost noble from the outside. It doesn’t really matter what they pick though. A good argument and a strong sword arm is only marginally better than a weak one and the same arm. Once they have the capital, they can justify this move however they wish.”

  Griffith seemed to sag. “What are we going to do? I… I’m not sure we can beat them as we are. Even with William and his Jellyfish.”

  With the vassal fleet gone? Against two of the realm’s most powerful and battle-hardened duchies?

  No. They wouldn’t stand a chance even with William’s newest carrier. Truth be told, she wasn’t sure they’d win even if both the Southshore and Summerfield duchy fleets were with them as well.

  And they weren’t.

  “We’ll have to abandon the capital and retreat East,” she said simply - as if the words didn’t claw at her very being.

  In the corners of the room, her ever present guards shifted uncomfortably at the admittance.

  “My liege!?” Griffith hissed in surprise.

  She smiled at one of her most loyal subjects. “We can’t win, Griffith. Not here and now. The capital will endure until we can return to reclaim it.”

  “Surely we could summon the Eastern duchies? We still have at least a week before the Northern fleets arrive.”

  Yelena shook her head. She didn’t doubt Elanore was hoping she’d do that. Then she could defeat her opponents piecemeal. She’d be able to arrive and destroy the Royal Fleet long before the Eastern duchies arrived.

  She doubted Southshore or Summerfield would even be able to muster their fleets to move in a week. Let alone get underway. Ignoring the ongoing Summerfield succession crisis and the fact that none of the Countesses would have the authority to lead a muster – the fact was that the East needed longer than the North to organize.

  The Northern houses were always at a near state of readiness as marcher houses as they dealt with both pirates and orc rebels. By contrast, the last time the South-East had even been forced to muster was during the Lunite and Solite incursions nearly twenty years ago. And even then they’d acted as second-line forces while New Haven, Blackstone and the Royal Navy took up the bulk of the fighting.

  She knew from her intelligence reports that most of the Southshore and Summerfield fleets were still composed of wooden vessels. Not the new ironclads.

  …Part of her daughter’s work in the South-East had been cajoling those houses to upgrade their fleets. Something she knew they’d started work on, but it required more time.

  Time they no longer had because of a random attack from out of nowhere decimating Yelena’s own immediate vassal fleet!

  “There’s not enough time.” And wasn’t that always the issue? “We use this week to recover as many downed vassal ships as we can as well as those underships. Forget the propellers or even the steering, just focus on patching the ballast tanks.”

  “R-right,” Griffith murmured, the normally unflappable woman obviously shaken.

  Not that Yelena was focused on that. Her mind was more on the wealth of downed ships strewn across her capital city, just ripe for the taking.

  They’d likely have to tow the downed ships using the Royal Fleet when they left, but that was still better than leaving them to be seized by the enemy.

  Repairing a downed hull was significantly simpler than creating an entirely new one after all. At least, for newer ironclad vessels which could be repaired through metal-crafting.

  For the wooden ships that were now just burnt out hulks? Well, she’d just have to settle for recovering their cores – which should have already been done.

  They can join my growing pile, she thought.

  It was a strange thing to have too many Mithril cores, when all her life that had been the bottleneck towards a larger fleet, but it was the situation she was in now. Hulls were now more valuable than anything else.

  To that end, we’ll likely have to scuttle any partially completed hulls currently in the shipyards that we can’t bring with us, she thought.

  Fortunately, that task had already been half accomplished by the invaders when they’d started bombing her city’s critical infrastructure.

  Not that I’ll thank them for it, she thought bitterly.

  And it still burned her that she couldn’t strike out at those she knew were truly responsible for the attack. She couldn’t even organize an ‘accident’ for that cunt of a Lunite ambassador, given the woman had been ‘recalled’ just prior to the attack.

  As if that didn’t make it even more blatantly obvious as to who was behind the whole thing.

  …Though that was a problem for later. They’d deal with the domestic problems first, then they could think about revenge.

  If she made it that far.

  “Oh, and be sure to inform William of the new plan. He’ll need time to move his new industry. Assure him that berthing and stowage on ocean-bound ships will be set aside for him to move it all.”

  Because there was no chance she was about to let any of it fall into the traitors’ hands.

  And hopefully informing him as early as possible that they were going to evacuate rather than fight would keep him from doing something foolish.

  Because as strange as it was to think, she couldn’t help but be more worried about the notion of the young human being backed into a corner than two incoming enemy fleets.

  Yes, telling him early should keep him too busy trying to save all he can to do anything too insane, she thought.