Chapter Forty-Five: The Public’s Personage

Chapter Forty-Five: The Public’s Personage

Serena hadn’t been wrong.

The moment Amelia crossed the gangway and set foot on the Asamaywa Imperial Airdocks, several dozen workers ceased their activities and stared at her, stopping only to elbow their coworkers and nod in her direction. Unlike her arrival in Kenhoro, Amelia wasn’t wearing a hat and so her blond hair was as noticeable as a lighthouse aetherlight. Serena suggested Amelia travel covertly throughout the city, but she’d rejected the idea; she was now a Lord-Prospect, and if she wanted to integrate fully into demon society, then the sight of her was something they would need to get used to!

Team leaders barked at the distracted workers who scrambled to resume their duties. Still, other demons kept their attention on her; small groups of people dressed in naval officer uniforms mumbled amongst themselves, throwing the occasional glance. Doing her best to ignore them, Amelia chose to look up and down the airdocks, marvelling at how different it was from Kenhoro.

The airdocks stretched the entire length of the eastern side of Asamaywa and its connecting sister cities of Asamoto and Asamino. Hundreds of bays were frantic with activity; the noise of engineers with their steam grinders and welders produced a symphony of industry. Dozens of cranes loaded and unloaded cargo, moving large wooden crates and nets filled with sacks. The standardised shipping container that was so recognisable in Amelia’s old world didn’t seem to have been invented yet, so she made a mental note to bring it up with Serena at some point.

The hum of dozens of ship engines filled the air, and it was here Amelia saw a battleship for the first time. The Vengeance was classified as a light cruiser at approximately eighty meters long, but the ship before her was more than double that, with an enormous superstructure extending above its deck and below its underhull. Massive triple-barrelled turrets lined the main deck, making the Vengeance’s armament resemble a toy. Amelia counted a dozen secondary turrets, which looked roughly the same size as the Vengeance’s four-inch main batteries. All in all, the ship looked like an angry steel porcupine. This wasn’t a ship that danced with the enemy, nimbly positioning itself and dodging fire. This ship chose a spot in the air, parked itself there, and then obliterated anything rude enough to think it was allowed in the same part of the sky.

“It’s an Oshiro-class, the latest design in the East’s ship-of-the-wall doctrine,” Serena said, looking at the same ship Amelia was. “Named after the Greatlord of Asamaywa and my direct superior.” Serena paused for a moment, fiddling with her gloves. “At least, he was my direct superior. I guess the Vengeance’s lease has ended, and we’re back in the capable hands of Centralis Intelligence.”

“The same Oshiro we’re about to be dining with...” Amelia mused, trying not to smile at the recent memory of Serena clutching her horns. “He must be impressive to have a line of battleships named after him.”

“That’s Greatlord Oshiro to you, and to me, and to anyone who doesn’t want to embarrass themselves. You’re nobility now, so take extra care to remember the titles of your fellow nobles. Now...” Serena sniffed, looking back at the Vengeance’s deck. “Tomes! Where’s my First Officer?”

“Coming now, Cap’n!” Tomes called back. Dagon appeared, hurrying down the gangway and giving Serena a quick salute.

“Captain,” Dagon intoned.

“Dagon, what are your current duties?” Serena asked, a subtle smile forming on her face.

“Well....” Dagon rubbed the back of his head. “Given that you and Miss Thornheart are off to dinner, I’ll sort out the paperwork with the Dockmaster. Then-”

“Wrong answer. Get Tomes to do it. You’re coming to dinner with us.” Serena clicked her tongue, turning and gazing at the battleship a few bays down. “I’m outgunned at this dinner. Dealing with my mother and the Greatlord and his wife? You’ve been a fine First Officer, haven’t you? It would be an honour for you to dine alongside a Greatlord in a Highlord’s estate, would it not?”

Dagon breathed out slowly, and Amelia heard a stifled laugh from the quartermaster on deck. Dagon looked like he’d much rather be facing the barrel of a gun than Serena’s honourable gift. “It... would be a great honour, Captain,” a deflated Dagon mumbled.

“Excellent,” Serena beamed a charismatic smile. “Go find out if we have a carriage waiting for us. If not, procure one. Dismissed.” Dagon responded with a salute slightly slower than normal and trundled off. Serena folded her arms and looked around with her usual impeccable posture.

“Is that allowed?” Amelia asked. “To just invite him like that?”

“Lords are permitted to bring a guest to most events. It’s an important tradition that allows nobles to create connections between their benefactors and others. It’s a ‘you scratch my horn and I scratch yours’ kind of thing.”

“So, would I be permitted to bring a guest?”

Serena looked at her suspiciously. “Yes. However... you have a mischievous twinkle in your eye. Who are you thinking of?”

Grinning, Amelia turned and called up to the Vengeance’s deck. “Oi, Tomes!”

“What!” came the reply.

“Want to have dinner!?”

“Piss off!” A moment of silence passed and then Tomes appeared with an apologetic look on his face. “Uh, no offence, Captain. I just meant... you know...” he said with a sheepish smile.

“What was that, Tomes!?” Serena yelled. “Did I just hear you volunteer to clean the toilets?” Serena gave Tomes a hard stare until the quartermaster acknowledged the order with a meek “Yes, Captain” and disappeared off out of sight.

“Don’t be too casual with them in public,” Serena mumbled. “At least, not at first. There will be a lot of opposition against your appointment to Lord-Prospect. If you veer too much from established norms, it will be seen as a mockery of high society from a human.”

Amelia nodded. It was a point Serena had been driving home recently. While the Overlords and their subordinate Greatlords no doubt knew about her Speaking the Second Word, her capabilities were less well-known to most of high society. Even the idea that someone as young as she was a Speaker of the First Word was challenging to believe.

Dagon appeared with a worried look on his face. “Captain,” he said as he arrived with a salute. “There’s a carriage waiting for you, I mean us, outside the docks. The problem is...” he glanced back over his shoulder. “The hacks are there, swarming.”

“Tsk!” Serena clicked her tongue and swore.

“Hacks?” Amelia asked.

“Reporter’s,” Dagon explained. “Poking their horns in Captain’s business. They’ve got cameras and everything. I imagine they’re here for you, Miss Thornheart.”

“Lord-Prospect Thornheart, in public Dagon.” Serena hissed. “Seven hells!” She turned to Amelia. “Don’t answer any questions, and stick by me. How far to the carriage, Dagon?”

“Ten meters. The driver got it as close as he could. They recognised your sigil. More are arriving every minute, so the quicker we go, the easier it’ll be.”

“No time to waste then,” Serena turned and caught the attention of a handful of sailors. “You lot, help us get through this pack of hacks. Don’t let them get too close.”



“Aye, Captain!” came the chorus of replies. The sailors rolled up their sleeves and rolled their shoulders. They looked more like they were preparing for a pub fight than anything else. A tinge of nervousness formed in Amelia’s stomach. Reporters from her world were generally highly professional, and the profession was respected. How bad would they be here? How far would a journalist go to get a scoop?

“Let’s go,” Serena commanded, and the group moved to leave the docks. Serena went first, then Amelia, and finally Dagon, protecting the rear. The sailors took the flanks. The moment they turned the corner towards the exit the rabble became apparent. Dozens of demons were pushing against a line of dock guards, each holding either a notebook or an old-fashioned-looking camera.

Or at least, old-fashioned according to Amelia. Where the novelty cameras from her old world had an electric bulb for their flash photography, the ones in this world used a moon crystal to generate a burst of light. Unfortunately, she didn’t have much time to examine the fascinating piece of magical technology. Still, as the cameras were raised and the flashes began, she noticed with each flash the camera would give off a little hiss of steam. She felt like she was walking into a den of snakes. The thought made her giggle, which helped a bit with the nervousness.

The guards parted and their group began pushing through the journalists. Serena barked at them to make way, flaring her aura so it was as visible as possible. While her presence was enough to slowly part the praying journalists, the sailors protecting Amelia’s sides did not have their personal space respected as much. Cameras were raised high and pushed between gaps in their defences, flashing and hissing steam. Thank god Amelia wasn’t epileptic!

It wasn’t just the cameras. A hundred questions were thrown at her in a chaotic symphony of noise.

“Thornheart! Is it true you’re a Speaker!?”

“Human! Lord Nakata has suggested you’re a spy! Do you have any comment on these accusations!?”

“At the front gate,” Serena answered before stepping outside and speaking to whoever had called out to them. A few moments passed and Serena reappeared. A loud clunk sounded and the iron gates opened with a whine. The carriage passed through and Amelia noticed an enormous silver wolf welded onto the gates. The familiar sigil of House Halen.

The carriage trundled along the gravel pathway before veering in a semicircle around a fountain and pulling up to the front of the house.

“Seven hells!” Serena muttered, peering through her window.

“What is it?” Amelia asked. “Your mother?”

“No,” Serena shook her head. “My grandmother. Mother must have sent her to fetch us, which means she’s probably already entertaining Greatlord Oshiro and his wife. Come on, let’s go.” Serena opened the door, stepping out of the carriage. Amelia followed with Dagon right behind.

There was a single demon waiting for them. An elderly demon and probably the oldest looking demon Amelia had seen so far. The old woman was slightly hunched, wearing an elegant shawl and leaning against an ornately carved walking stick. Her face was weathered, but her eyes were bright crimson and when she looked at Amelia she seemed to bore right through her.

“Hurry your horns! Get over here!” Serena’s grandmother called out, her voice rough but clear and strong. “Seven hells! Now, let’s see... hmm...” The elderly demon mumbled as the trio fell in line before her.

“Grandmother! How are you doing? I didn’t expect to see you today,” Serena said.

“Hmph! Look at you! My granddaughter,” Serena’s grandmother peered closer, clicking her tongue in a very Serena-like fashion. “You look younger. A spitting image of your mother at your age. Is this the work of your human’s healing?” The elderly demon waved her walking stick in Amelia’s direction without looking her way.

“Grandmother, Amelia-”

“Quiet! Your grandmother isn’t finished! I see your manners need some work.” The grandmother slowly circled Serena. Amelia focused on looking straight ahead with her very best posture lest she incur the wrath of this demon! “At least you’ve kept your uniform clean!” Amelia felt a small bubble of pride, knowing it was her cleaning magic that was responsible.

“I see those idiots finally came to their senses and made you Lord. If young Oshiro was going to delay any longer, I was going to give him a whack!” To punctuate her point, the demon slapped the gravel a few times with her walking stick. “About time the Admiralty recognised you properly! Half of them are useless, and the other half spend most of their time picking up after the other idiots. It’s a wonder we haven’t lost the war with so many fools in charge!”

“Grandmother!” Serena burst out with exasperation. “Please refer to Greatlord Oshiro with-”

“What? I give credit where it's due! Don’t think they scare me! I’m too old to get scared! Bah! I just spent the last hour telling it to his face! Although...” The old woman paused. “Maybe that’s why they sent me out instead...” she mumbled. No one said anything while the elderly demon finished her circle, standing back in front of the group. She narrowed her eyes at Dagon. “Who in the seven hells are you!?”

“D-Dagon Dahlberg, Ma’am!” Dagon spluttered. “First Officer of the Vengeance!”

“Hmm...” The grandmother peered closely. A long silence ensued until she asked, “You’re from the South, aren’t you? Where do you hail from?”

“Kurnal, Ma’am.”

“Bah! Serena, is this man your lover?”

Serena spluttered. “Grandmother! Where are your manners!” Her voice betrayed a note of anger. Amelia turned her head to see Dagon going as red as a tomato. She couldn’t wait to tell Tomes about this in the future!

“Don’t get snappy with me, missy!” A walking stick was waved in Serena’s direction. “You’re not married, and you’ve bought an upstanding-looking man with you! What am I supposed to think, eh?”

“Officer Dagon is a fine First Officer, and he is here because I believe he deserves to be recognised by Greatlord Oshiro for his service. He is my guest, but he is not my lover! Grandmother, stop asking such ridiculous questions!”

“Tsk!” The elderly woman clicked her tongue. “Well, better be so. We don’t want our noble family mixing with Southern blood! No offence, Officer Dahlberg.”

“...None taken, Ma’am,” Dagon mumbled weakly.

“Well then!” The walking stick went tap-tap as Serena’s grandmother came to a stop in front of Amelia. “This must be the human everyone’s blathering on about. Amelia Thornheart, is it?”

“Yes, Ma’am!” Amelia did her best to smile.

“Tsk! You’re pretty for a human, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Ma’am!” Amelia chirped.

“What’s a pretty human like you doing so far away from home?” The demon’s eyes narrowed as she placed both hands on her walking stick and leaned towards Amelia.

Amelia swallowed, her brain racing. “A call to adventure, I suppose.”

“Adventure, is it?” The grandmother scoffed. “Quite a bit of luck, isn’t it? For your adventure to lead you to the table of House Halen - producers of munitions - during wartime.” A dangerous glint appeared in her eyes. “And what if I were to accuse you of being a spy? What would you say then, Lord Prospect Thornheart?”

“Grand-” Serena began, but her grandmother cut her off with a firm “Silence!”

Amelia looked into the grandmother’s eyes and for a moment they just stared at each other. Forming her reply, Amelia opened her mouth and said, “I would say it would reflect poorly on House Halen, for they would surely have ensured my loyalty and status before inviting me to dinner with a Greatlord during wartime.”

“Hrmph. We could be setting a trap.” The grandmother scoffed.

“With respect, Ma’am,” Amelia felt herself smile. “You’ll need more than a few Greatlords for that.” Next to her, Amelia could swear she heard Serena groan internally.

“You’re sharp. For a human so young,” the elderly demon said with a sly smile.

“And so are you. For a demon so old,” Amelia cheerfully replied.

“Ha!” The grandmother waved her walking stick. “So bold!” She turned and methodically shuffled back towards the entrance. After a few steps, she turned, eyeing Amelia.

“You’ll do just fine,” mumbled the grandmother. “Just fine indeed. Come on, you lot! Young Oshiro is waiting!”

Casting complicated expressions at each other, the trio followed the old women into the house.

It was time to dine with the Devil of the East!