Sexy Steampunk Babes

“Where did he get a core?”

There was no preamble as the Blackstone matriarch appeared within the crystalline confines of the communication orb Tala was stood in front of.

Truth be told, that didn’t surprise the Blackstone heir.

Given just how many Instructors, students and other assorted ‘sources’ sent reports to the duchess, the notion that one of them had managed to get to a communication orb and relay the day’s events before Tala herself could wasn’t too surprising.

With that said, apparently even she didn’t know where Tala’s fiancé had apparently sourced this ‘mystery core’ from either.

“I don’t know, mother.” Tala struggled to keep hold of her emotions as she spoke. “His family perhaps?”

Her mother shook her head, the thick scar that cut across her chin flexing in conjunction with the deep scowl that slid across her otherwise fair features. “The Ashfields have exactly one airship, the Indomitable. And as far as my sources can tell, it’s still flight capable, so unless the Ashfields have found some way to make a ship fly without a mithril core, we can safely assume that your wayward fiancée didn’t source his core from there.”

Tala frowned. “That does not preclude the possibility of him sourcing said core from some ‘hidden vault’ on the Ashfield estate.”

Certainly, there were laws against countships owning more than a single mithril core, but she knew for a fact that most ‘low houses’ paid little more than lip service to them. To the extent that it was a fairly common joke that the chances of a house ‘stumbling upon a lost core’ directly correlated to just how depleted their coffers became.

Or the status of their airship.

A state of affairs that the Crown was willing to let lie fallow just so long as the houses in question ensured they kept said reserves circumspect. For as common as the joke was, the fact was that few low houses genuinely retained more than one core. More to the point, said rule existed more to limit the amount of airships a low house could field – and thus use to threaten their liege lords.

An airship was many things, but subtle was not one of them. Any countship attempting to construct a fresh hull so as to make use of a hypothetical second mithril core would quickly find any attempts at secrecy futile.

Likewise, any attempts at sourcing a ‘second hand hull’ off the open market would be stymied by the Crown’s iron grip on that particular market.

“Possible, but unlikely,” Eleanor Blackstone shook her head. “Assuming they had such an asset, they would have revealed it by now to better capitalize on future opportunities.”

Tala creased her brow for a second, before she cottoned onto what her mother was both saying – and not saying where unfriendly ears might hear.

If the Ashfields had any cores beyond the one used to power the Indomitable, they’d have unveiled them at the onset of their joint conspiracy with House Blackstone to seize the Summerfield ducal seat.

House Blackstone could have in turn constructed a hull in the intervening years on behalf of the Ashfield countship. Sure, it would have needed to fly the Blackstone colours so as to avoid drawing the ire of the Summerfields or the Crown, but once the Ashfields moved to press their ducal claim, said ship could have revealed its true allegiances.

Admittedly, such an endeavor would require Janet Ashfield extend her nominal allies some degree of trust that they wouldn’t just… steal said core, but given both families were embroiled in a conspiracy to commit high treason, that was hardly worth mentioning.

No, Tala’s mother was correct; if the Ashfields did have a core ‘spare’ they would have unveiled it long ago.

“Of course, mother.” Tala said, bowing to her wisdom. “A rival then?”

The Crown were the most obvious candidates for such a move, though even as she had the thought, she found it rang false in her mind.

“To what end?” Eleanor pointed out. “Driving a wedge between a ducal house and an otherwise inconsequential countship? Over some ore and wheat?”

Because outwardly that was all her engagement was. The seal on a trade deal.

…Not the lynchpin on a continent spanning conspiracy.

Eleanor continued. “Even then, assuming some third party saw… more to this arrangement than there truly is, the risk is enormous.”

Tala nodded. At the levels her family operated at, the loss of a single core was hardly the end of the world – but it was hardly insignificant either.

The loss of the Overseer last summer had hurt – and not just because it meant that the damn ‘free orcs’ now had access to three cores and their respective airships.

Even if they’re more likely to melt both down to build more damnable shards, Tala thought.

Which was just typical of the mangey beasts. Unwilling to engage in a straight fight like real women, they’d sooner continue to engage in their damnable ambush swarm tactics.

Only now they’ll have even more shards to supplement their damned flying lizards.

The only balm to the situation was that the partially finished Eternal Dawn would even the playing field on that front.

The thought of the world’s first dedicated Shard carrier finally taking to the skies filled her with an almost giddy sensation.

Let’s see how the greenskins enjoy being the ones getting swarmed for a change, she thought.

She was jolted from her thoughts as her mother continued. “Unless you think the man stands a chance against you in the arena?”

It was all Tala could do not to scoff. “No. It’ll be a slaughter.”

In the crystalline features of the orb, her mother cocked an eyebrow, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. It was an expression Tala was well familiar with as she knew the woman wanted her heir to explain her reasoning.

“He’s talented,” Tala admitted. “To the extent that he’s winning more often than not against second year teams these days.”

Indeed, in retrospect his sudden drive to improve made some sense – even if it irritated her.

Once upon a time she’d thought it a drive simply for self-improvement after a lifetime of lackadaisical rebelliousness. One hopefully brought about by the academy providing him a reality check.

Instead, she now realized that this was yet another example of his rebellious nature, albeit, a bit more directed and focused.

“Being able to triumph over teams with four times his experience speaks to a little more than just talent,” Eleanor said. “That requires effort. Focus.”

“Luck,” Tala grunted. “Or at least the illusion of it. His team is good. Damned good. Even the orc.”

Especially the orc, her mind unhelpfully supplied.

“Hmm,” Eleanor nodded. “It seems that our attempts to garner your fiancé some prestige have backfired in that regard.”

Tala nodded regretfully. In retrospect they should have pushed harder for him to be placed onto a Blackstone vassal team from the outset.

“A mistake, but a reasonable one,” Tala opined. “His mother said that pushing too hard would only make him dig in more. Perhaps deliberately seek to embarrass me by… acting out. A few bribes to place him onto a talented team while giving him the illusion of freedom was a decent compromise.”

“At the time.”

Tala nodded. “At the time. And while it’s unfortunate that he’s used said opportunity to form an unexpectedly dangerous weapon against us, it won’t be enough.”

The gulf in personal combat ability between a third year team and a second year team wasn’t quite as wide as that of a first year team and a second, but said gulf did exist.

And her team wasn’t just any third year team.

Certainly, some compromises on personal ability had been made in the name of political considerations, but all of them were talented in their own right.

“Well, if you’re sure of your success I’ll leave it at that.” Eleanor said dismissively. “Instead we’ll focus on who attempted to throw a hammer into our compressor with this clumsy attack.”

Tala nodded. “Do we have any suspects beyond the obvious?”

Her mother’s features went studiously blank and it was all the young woman could do not to flinch.

“I would have thought you’d have more idea than myself.” The Blackstone matriarch said slowly. “After all, he is your fiancée. Surely you have more people watching him than myself.”

Cursing herself for not showing enough initiative, Tala nodded even as she attempted to reframe her earlier laxness. “I do, which is why I asked, as I have little idea myself given how few acquaintances he has beyond his immediate teammates. And his house Instructor.”

Admittedly, even without her betrothed’s tales, she’d have known about the latter relationship given the ongoing rumours that the pair were sleeping together.

Something that might have annoyed her more if it weren’t for the fact that similar rumours existed for just about every man in the academy who spent more than five seconds behind closed doors with a woman.

Hell, a man who spent more than five seconds alone with a dusty bookcase risked giving rise to rumors that he was sleeping with it.

…Of course, that didn’t preclude said rumors about her fiancée and the dark elf being true.

They’d hardly be the first to cross that line after all.

Though even Tala could admit that it would be out of character for Instructor Griffith. The woman had a stick up her ass large enough to be used as a flotation device if needed.

The thought annoyed her, but that was all.

She wasn’t marrying William out of love after all. She was marrying him because, without a marriage contract, the Blackstone alliance with the Ashfields was dead in the water.

At least in a legal sense – and that was what they needed.

The veneer of legitimacy.

Without it, the Blackstones had no legal reason to interfere in the Ashfield bid for the Summerfield dukedom.

To that end, the notion that her fiancé was fucking another woman was hardly worth mentioning. Hell, even in a normal arrangement, such things were expected of men – though they were expected to be kept circumspect.

Like her own… liaisons on the side.

She was the heir to House Blackstone after all. Where other women needed to beg and wheedle amidst a press of a hundred other suitors to draw a man’s eye, she simply needed to lie back and wait for them to throw themselves at her.

Social climbers one and all, hoping to snag the position of Lord Blackstone, but they were useful in their own way.

In some ways she was actually a little thankful for her fiancés disinterest. It made those seeking to replace him try all the harder to earn her favour.

They’d never get it of course, but she enjoyed their… spirited attempts all the same.

“Fortunately for you my daughter, my sources are in agreement with your own,” Eleanor grunted reluctantly.

Personally, Tala didn’t find that too surprising given that she was reasonably sure most of her sources were her mother’s as well.

“With that said,” the older Blackstone continued. “Said sources agree that the woman seemed as surprised as everyone else when your boy unveiled his core. Which would be a little peculiar if she were the source.”

“She could be acting.”

“Perhaps.” Eleanor nodded. “But my source with her benefactors suggest our most likely candidates were as surprised by this move as we are.”

Tala was a little surprised by the rather oblique reference to her mother’s spy in the palace – the identity of which not even Tala knew. What she did know was that they tended to be uncannily accurate – which suggested they were highly positioned.

“So it’s unlikely to be them?” Tala frowned.

“At this point it would be wise to consider other avenues for how your boy acquired this core,” Eleanor said.

What other avenues were there though? What other power could afford this kind… of almost random swipe at them?

“I… don’t…. who?” Tala said finally.

Eleanor’s frown deepened, her scar flexing. “Think girl. What recent event might have given rise to an opportunity for an otherwise powerless young man to attain a mithril core without anyone – even his family, us, and the crown – finding out about it until now?

Recent events… the only thing she could think of was…

She paled. “No, you can’t be serious…”

Her mother looked little happier, though she bore it better. “Discount the impossible my daughter, and if the incredibly unlikely remains the only possible answer…”

Tala couldn’t believe it.

Wouldn’t believe it.

“You can’t mean to tell me you think Willaim Ashfield somehow…”

-------------------

“…Killed Al’Hundra?”

“Yes.”

It was actually amusing how little Griffith reacted to his admittance.

Perhaps she’d simply become numb to being surprised after dragging him to her office – Mithril Core with him.

His team however had been sent back to their dorm. Under protest. And with an escort.

Though how much of that was out of protectiveness and how much was out of a desire to see him answer a hundred and one questions remained to be seen.

After all, he’d promised answers after his climactic confrontation with his fiancée.

And his team naturally had a lot of questions themselves. Though it spoke well of them that they’d been willing to accompany him to the dining hall before they got them.

He could only imagine the intervening hour – in which he’d been locked in Griffith’s office alone – had only heightened his teammates’ desires for answers.

As had Griffith’s, given that she’d asked her question within moments of striding into the room, having finished with whatever it was she’d spent the intervening time doing.

Personally, he’d have bet it was a tie between placing a protective detail on this room and his team, while also giving reports to her superiors.

To that end, the fact that she’d left the door open when she burst in was a little surprising.

“How?” Griffith asked.

“I’d rather not say,” he said, leaning back into the chair he’d been rather forcefully shoved into.

Griffith was not amused. “This is no time for jokes, cadet! If what you say is true and you genuinely do have the means to kill a kraken in deep water…”

It could change the balance of power across the continent. Ignoring Al’Hundra’s nest, there were other minor nests scattered about the place, each containing cores of their own.

To that end, he didn’t smirk this time. “Which is why I’m not joking. I’d genuinely rather not say.”

Griffith slumped tiredly onto her desk, before leaning over to belatedly close the door. “That won’t matter. People – powerful people – have already put together your most likely source for that core. They aren’t going to just accept you saying ‘no’.”

“At which point the hot pokers and pliers come out?” he asked, determinedly nonplussed.

Something that couldn’t be said Griffith as she winced. “As much as I hate to say it, that’s not an unlikely outcome.”

William smirked. “Well, they might want to hold off. Given the last two hours, I imagine my name is a rather hot topic right now, and people might notice if I disappeared off into some torture chamber for the next few… forevers.”

Griffith cocked her head, clearly slightly put off by his nonchalance. “You’re holding onto techniques that might be vital to the survival of the kingdom at large.”

He shrugged. “Yep, and while that might unofficially be a fairly decent reason to torture me into confessing them, it’s not strictly… legal is it.”

Again, Griffith winced.

“To that end, would the Blackstones accept that? The fiancée of their heir getting dragged off in the night? Somehow, I doubt they’d take that lying down. Hell, I don’t think they could afford to. It’d make them look… weak.” He paused. “And that’s ignoring that they’ll also be interested in what’s in my noggin.”

Griffith opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off.

“Hell, beyond that, if things did get violent, the fact that the crown abducted a young man from the academy – where just about everyone’s children go - might make people who might otherwise be leaning south twitch a little more north.” He smiled. “So no, I don’t think anyone will be taking me anywhere to ask me anything without a lot of people getting very upset.”

Admittedly, there was the chance of someone deciding to risk it all by doing something foolish – but he had one final ace up his sleeve if that happened.

“I…” Griffith started to say, clearly lost for words as her eyes darted to the other end of the room… for some reason?

Though it didn’t take long for that reason to reveal itself.

Quite literally.

“Enough,” a woman said as she literally appeared from thin air.

Or rather, the shadows seemed to… untangle themselves to reveal the Queen of Lindholm.

He knew it was her. He’d seen her portraits.

With that said, he’d be the first to admit they didn’t quite do the woman justice. For one thing, they utterly failed to convey the sheer… MILF appeal the woman exuded in the flesh.

Pitch black high elven eyes creased with amusement, lips upturned into a slight smile. The crown on her head gleamed amidst a halo of platinum gold hair that came down to perfectly frame her angelic features.

Of course, that wasn’t why he wanted to call her a MILF. Gorgeous ethereal features were pretty much the par for the course where elves were concerned.

No, the reason for the MILF comparison came in how her fur-lined black dress hugged her figure. A figure that showed that if nothing else, the Lindholm royal family had some human in their bloodline.

Elves tended to be svelte rather than curvy.

Queen Yelena Lindholm was curvy.

Very curvy, William thought even as both he and Griffith shot up to bow.

“Your majesty, what an unexpected pleasure,” he said just a moment before his Instructor could, ignoring the not so subtle glare she sent his way from her own bowed position.

And he wasn’t lying. On either account. It was nice to know his little stunt had gotten the attention he wanted.

Plus, elf MILF.

“At ease,” the woman said, voice tinkling, as she sat behind the desk.

Unable to resist, William couldn’t help but speak even as he pulled up his chair. “Fancy spell.”

And he wasn’t lying about that either. He wasn’t aware Fae magic allowed for invisibility. He’d certainly attempted it on at least one occasion. Along with a lot of other things. Alas, Fae magic seemed irrevocably tied to simple elemental or alchemical manipulation rather than more esoteric phenomena.

Certainly, he’d had little to no luck bending light – which was the only way he could think of to attain invisibility like he’d just seen.

Apparently, someone within the royal family had seen more success.

…Though the fact that that wasn’t common knowledge – and that she’d just revealed it to him – was a little alarming.

“As precocious as I’ve heard,” Queen Yelena said, a motherly smile on her features as she observed him from across the desk.

Meanwhile, Griffith’s glare redoubled.

“I’m flattered you’ve heard of me,” Willaim said, a little surprised even if he fought to hide it.

Mostly he was trying to get a gauge on the woman’s personality.

“It’s hard not to, what with the way Griffith goes on about you.” Her smile faded as she leaned forward. “Of course, that was in a private capacity. I was more than a little surprised when your name started showing up on my desk in an official capacity.”

Despite himself, William’s eyes flitted toward a flushed looking Griffith. He hadn’t been aware she knew the queen personally? How had that come about?

“Your desk?” He returned his attention to the monarch – and now that he thought about it, wasn’t it a little strange she’d come here alone? Even with that ‘invisibility’ spell?

Though in retrospect, he now knew why Griffith chose to leave the door open when she’d walked in. Indeed, that knowledge was why he wasn’t currently trying to guess between invisibility and teleportation.

He continued. “I wasn’t aware my little innovation would draw that much attention.”

The woman raised an eyebrow, her motherly demeanour fading for a moment. “A potentially lethal spell that can punch through armor at three times the range of any other spell? Make no mistake, that’s very much something of interest to the crown, especially with the threat of war looming.”

Griffith’s gaze shot to the woman at those words, though William chuckled. “I must admit, I wasn’t expecting you to just come out and say it. Sure, everyone knows it’s coming, but no one seems willing to say it aloud.”

“Well, I’m sorry that you don’t have a monopoly on audacity, William.” Once more a twinkle of amusement appeared in the woman’s eyes. “Turnabout is fair play after all.”

“Well, I can’t argue that.” He shrugged, wondering for just a moment just how real the personality of the woman across from him was, and how much was an attempt to ingratiate herself with a man who’d swiftly become a national asset. “Though even then, I’m surprised to see you of all people here.”

That was certainly audacious. Especially on such short notice. And alone.

“You shouldn’t be. My family has always preferred to be ‘hands on’. Comes from originally being Military Governors.”

“And yet you’re the first royal I’m meeting? Even after my Spell-Bolt piqued your interest.”

“Oh that?” She waved a hand dismissively. “One might say that was an unfortunate side effect of the family being too hands on. Indeed, there’s been something of a small civil war within the palace over which of my daughters would get to take charge of implementing your idea. They’re all quite interested.”

That was… unexpected. He’d thought that his innovation was considered too ‘small beans’ for even a cousin to be sent out.

Instead, it had been effectively deadlocked at the highest levels.

“Unfortunately,” the Queen continued. “Recent events required me to take unilateral action. Fortunately the Palace isn’t so far away.”

She leaned in to whisper conspiratory at that last part.

“Still,” he asked. “No guards?

This time, when the woman smiled, it seemed to show a lot more teeth.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.”

She clicked her fingers and where once the office had contained but three people, there were now seven.

One on each side of the Queen.

One behind both William and Griffith.

Indeed, William felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise as he realized that if they’d intended to harm him, he’d never have seen them coming.

“My mistake,” he said, trying to appear unphased. “It heartens me to know our Queen is so well protected.”

“And the well wishes of a loyal subject always warm my heart,” the woman responded. “Though that does make me wonder why said subject seems so… reluctant to share his latest and most brilliant innovation with said queen?”

She leaned forward, and there was no mistaking the hunger in her eyes.

“Why, a spell that allowed an Academy student to kill a kraken? I could think of all sorts of uses for that?”

William simply smiled back. “I imagine you could. I also imagine that a lot of other people could too.”

He ignored the tensing of the guardswoman behind him.

“Those other people aren’t your queen,” the elf in front of him said slowly.

“No, I suppose they aren’t,” he acknowledged. “But in the interest of being candid, I think we can both agree that that might change in the coming years.”

It was almost amusing how synchronised the palace guards were as their hands all moved to the hilts of their swords in unison – with only the upraised turn of their queen’s hands stopping the drawing of their blades.

“Dangerous words,” the Queen said.

He shrugged, before repeating her earlier words back to her. “What can I say? I’m precocious.”

He also thought it was more dangerous to have the woman across from him forget that a counterweight to her authority existed.

“I suppose you are.” She paused, as a thought occurred. “Still, given, as you said, that your fiancée might be sitting in my seat one day, you seem quite eager to get in her bad books.”

She eyed him.

“Why?”

Finally, they were getting around to the part of the meeting he cared about.

His motivations.

“Well, that’s easy. I don’t like slavery. To that end, I’m giving you the first and best opportunity to ‘wow’ me into giving my idea to you.”

If Griffith had the ability to shoot lasers from her eyes, William was pretty sure he’d be dead a thousand times over.

Yelena though?

The Queen laughed.

Deep and hearty enough that by the end she was wiping tears from her eyes.

“Precocious indeed,” she finally said. “You know, I think my daughter would like you.”

“Which one?”

“Any and all of them,” she said, deadly serious once more.

The ‘wowing’ had begun.

And it was a strong opening bid.