For Forty Weeks the Sunbird Flew: An Airman's Tale

Chapter 15: The Twentieth Week

For three more weeks they'd sailed westwards towards the capital of Occsa. Three weeks of constant vigilance throughout the day and tense nights spent waiting for another ship to show up on the horizon, for another rebel force that they'd need to fight their way through, but luckily it seemed that the scouting reports Lawrence had received were accurate; the remaining forces of Commodore Greyfax, and indeed the Commodore himself, had gathered together along the only real airstream from the Occsan capital through to Gaul. For certain, the Sunbird could go around, but that would add months onto their journey, not to mention the fact that the Commodore certainly would not simply sit in place and allow them to just waltz past them. They'd destroyed one of the man's ships, and even if he didn't know that the crown prince was aboard he'd still wish them all dead nonetheless.

All of that aside, it still meant that the rest of their journey west was, for the most part, unimpeded. Oh, they hit the occasional rough patch where they were becalmed or tensely stood by the guns as a merchant ship sailed by, but no ills came to any of them on that stretch of the journey.

Well, unless you counted the hangovers Archer had endured in the week spent at Three-Streams, but Cooke was on hand to assist him with them. True to the man's word, whilst he could not simply magic the hangover away he was nonetheless able to greatly diminish the pounding headaches and roiling stomachs of those mornings, the worst of the symptoms bleeding away with nothing more than a few select pills. They were excellent for his energy levels as well; with a single one of the white tablets Archer felt himself completely rejuvenated for the day ahead, the twenty or thirty minutes waiting for it to kick in notwithstanding.

Anyhow, he'd luckily been able to get back to his duties without much delay. Sure, he spent more than one night sleepless and paranoid whenever he stopped to think about exactly what he was involved in, but he did his best to avoid thinking about it too much. He just couldn't afford to spend nights in a constant state of wakefulness because of a hidden heir, a regal conspiracy, and all the daggers that must still be waiting in the dark to find a royal back to bury themselves in. If he allowed himself to be consumed by that paranoia and fear, that sense that just by befriending the prince he was now a target in the games of power that these noble people played, then he knew he'd never be able to escape from the depths of that self-made anxiety. He didn't want to live like that for the rest of his days, not when he knew that he'd be able to live a privileged life and that all of these feelings would pass as soon as the chaos of the last few months finally stopped piling itself upon him and all of this became the new normal of his life. Without wishing to be overly dramatic, he knew that these feelings were little more than the after-effects of his life being radically altered in front of his eyes and would fade into nothingness when he could eventually start taking strides in his new life as a royal confidante, and so he endeavoured not to worry and instead allowed his mind to focus on the day to day chores and maintenance of the ship that he currently called his home.

When they did eventually go to ground Archer was half expecting it to be a repeat of Three-Streams, what with the crew able to leave for a little while for some recreation and time off. Hell, he figured the only real difference would be the language that the locals spoke and the fact that they were now groundside, not docked in a skyport.

But no. Unbeknownst to most of the crew Lawrence had picked up more than a few valuables from Three-Streams and had seen fit to sell them for a mark-up here. The profits of such an endeavour, combined with the ship's treasury and the wages of Lawrence himself, seemed just enough to cover the costs of what the captain had proposed, and so for the next few weeks the entire crew resembled more a hive of bees than a gathering of men and women. As for the wages Lawrence had spent to ensure the safety of his crew? Well, if half of the money that Archer had been given by the baronet wound up in his friend's quarters then no-one needed to know how it had got there. Archer would have bet the remainder of the sterling on Cooke pulling a similar trick, at the very least reimbursing the captain for some of the wages he had lost out on. It wouldn't do for him to be destitute and penniless by the time they reached blighty after all, not when he'd been so very kind to them both, and to all of the Sunbird's officers and crew. Stern, yes, but never unfair.