Chapter 149 – Mirian Ishillia
By the time Sasha, Merlin, and I finished the skull-shaped cockpit, it was surprisingly nice-looking. We then took it away for future outfitting and kept arguing about how to test it. The formation that got installed within this one was made for normal use, so even I could try it out, but of course, it would work even better with a mage.
"We are at an impasse." I shrugged, facing my wife, standing before the completed machine head while Merlin stood between us, trying to stop us from arguing.
"We are. I won't let you get into it, and you won't let me get into it. So, I guess nobody is going to try it out!" She snorted, pouting with crossed arms.
"I will do it!" Merlin exclaimed, both of us shooting him down before he finished speaking. "Hauh... Why can't you be in so sync when deciding who gets to use it?"
"He is right." I shrugged. "It is pointless to argue about this; I will go and do it. Merlin, prepare the cockpit for testing!"
"Wha-!" Sasha exclaimed, surprised, while Merlin, who was tired of our back and forth, started prepping it at once.
"Do you trust him?" I asked, looking at Sasha, a bit annoyed, " Because if you do, you know this should work fine."
"But what if it isn't?"
"Though luck." I chuckled, receiving a sharp kick to my shin, "Okay, okay, easy there! I will need my legs. Sasha, we all know how Merlin is. If he says he got it, he got it. This should be nothing to argue or worry about."
"I already said I would do it!" he added, rolling his eyes. "I am confident in my work—I always have been!"
"..."
"It's fine," I whispered, kissing Sasha, and before she had another thought about why I shouldn't do it, I entered the cockpit while Merlin shut the door behind me.
The insides of the skull were sealed entirely when the entrance was closed, with no windows or peepholes to see out. For now, only a rudimentary skeleton of a chair stood in the middle, and without any cushions, it was uncomfortable to sit down on it. Despite all of these, it wasn't an utterly dark interior, so I could find it and place my butt down without an issue. It was thanks to the faint, inherent blood-colored glow of the magic formation drawn on the floor and the runes covering the walls and ceiling, part of a secondary, a complementary one, helping me use it without being a mage.
"Well... let's start!" I mumbled, putting on a freshly made leather glove with a third, smaller formation painted onto it with the same beast blood. It was an alternative to using a tattoo, and by testing, it showed that it was completely usable; the only issue is that it would lose its effectiveness sooner or later. It seems like for the blood to continue working, it needed a host and a body to be in. When placed on inanimate objects and then used by ordinary people, it slowly began shedding its magical properties, similar to how natural nuclear decay works. Thinking about it, it may be the same if we tattoo an average human, not a witch. I can't tell and would need extensive research put into it, and- "Haaah...! I am simply a bit nervous, aren't I? I have been putting off the start in my mind! Ride or die, Leon, just do it! As they say, nothing is sure in life, only death, and you have already experienced it. Twice." I laughed, shaking my head and grabbing the controls.
Two joysticks were installed on the chair's armrest, connected via simple mechanical arms to gears and spaces below me. They were what moved the critical parts within the base of the skull, slotting CC into places it needed to be. Right now, they would do nothing much, but when attached to the torso, this would let the pilot move the machine around, connecting the different limbs and formations. On paper... that is.
"Here we go!"
There was no reason to hesitate, so I pushed down the activation button, which made sure the formation below me came to life. I immediately felt something connect with my mind on a subconscious level. It wasn't intrusive or aggressive; it was mellow and natural, effortlessly adapting to my thoughts and becoming part of it, becoming a part of me. I was letting it happen without fighting back, enjoying the slightly tickling sensation, and after a deep breath, I noticed I began hearing voices.
"Is it working? How do we know if he is in trouble or not?"
"Hm, hm! I will include it in the manual and make warnings now-"
"It's Sasha's turn." I smiled, making him want to protest because he was ready for his turn.
"Okay..." He mumbled, lowering his head, shrugging, and watching Sasha enter the cockpit and seal the entrance behind her. "But I am next!"
"Don't be impatient. Keep watch because there could be differences with a witch using it." I said, placating his sulking expression while rubbing his head.
True enough, it was different, but only in the speed of her adaptation to the change of scenery. Comparing Sasha's and Merlin's experiences later on, it was determined that a mage could meld with the machine four to five times as fast as a magicless person. Same when it was time to come out of it; they needed a fraction of the time to disconnect. While it took me around three minutes to detach myself from the formation, it was a few dozen seconds at most for them. What remained now was the wait to finish building the mech and let us install the cockpit and test it for real. We were getting along nicely, and if we could keep the tempo, I was sure that we would have a moving, working mech before the end of the summer. Hell, with how Merlin's projections were, we would have it combat-ready before winter!
...
....
......
"Grand Ancestor." Said a soft-spoken voice, kneeling in the throneroom of the Ishillian Empire.
"You can raise your head, Mirian." Pascal's voice echoed in her ears, making her follow his orders.
The young, beautifully shaped face of a teenager was deceiving as behind those calm, collected black eyes lay someone who managed to rise above all the other contestants and be chosen by Pascal to take the throne of the Empire. Right now, she was wearing her lengthy, black hair in a tasteful braid with golden pins stuck into it. Still, a few hours ago, they were fluttering loosely as she stood over the corpse of her own father, whom she eliminated to secure her position as the next Empress.
"Seventeen and already an adept-level witch." Pascal chuckled, tilting his old wrinkled face in satisfaction, watching his descendant's slim and petite body. He wanted to devour her, but not as others would think... but to gain more years for his already depleting lifespan. "Oh well... the losers will do. For now."
"I thank you for the praise, My Emperor."
"You no longer need to be so reserved. From today onward, you are Empress Mirian I. Be proud and strong! Ishillia is not governed by the weak but by the exceptional! I will let you explore your new chambers and appoint your personal servants, and tomorrow, we will announce it to everyone. You will meet with the High Nobles and choose a family from each tier that you wish to appoint as your direct connection with the rest of the nobles."
"I would be delighted if Grand Ancestor advised me on who to choose."
"You are already better than your Aunt." Pascal chuckled, making the young girl smile so much yet so little. "Very well. Come, walk with me, and I will tell you all about who you may consider turning into your staunch followers. The playing field amongst the nobles is not as bloody as within the royal bloodline, so it won't be hard to adapt. Still, keeping them under watch and under control is a must."
"I know that my position will not be easy, Grand Ancestor. But I do have ideas on how to deal with everything that my predecessor left behind."
"You don't need to ask for permissions, Mirian." He spoke, walking a few steps ahead of the future Empress. "From now on, I will step back into the shadows as always and advise you when necessary, but the Empire is yours to control. Still..." He stopped, looking over his shoulder and deep into Mirian's eyes, making the girl finally break her collected expression, which was quickly replaced by the terror that gripped her heart out of nowhere. "Don't go too far. I am always watching."