𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 2 | 𝑨𝑬𝑹𝑶𝑷𝑰𝑳É 𝑹𝑨𝑪𝑬

The royal yacht Britannia hovers over the port of Dover, a great behemoth of cloth and wood and cold iron, the Union Jack flying proudly at her stern. You narrow your eyes, watching her. The Britannia is only a few years old, but already her profile looks heavy compared to newer airships. The cutting edge of technology is moving rapidly, as it has for the last fifteen years since Robert Fulton created the first true aeropilé in the service of the emperor. Mr. Fulton, an American inventor, first brought his idea of a water vessel powered by steam to Napoleon's attention in 1805. Unfortunately, that prototype didn't work. However, ten years later, the emperor was only too happy to finance a prototype that did—the first steamship—and to give Mr. Fulton carte blanche in terms of workshops and money. A mere three years later, he had presented the aeropilé as a pile of drawings. Two years later, the Liberté was a reality.

But, of course, plans of that nature don't stay secret. Every power in Europe had begun building steamships and airships as quickly as possible, including Great Britain. The Britannia was innovative when she was built, but she's already being eclipsed by newer models.

Alexandre nudges your arm. "See there? That's the new Austrian racer, the Gryphon."

You look where he indicates. The Gryphon is long and lean, a slim wooden hull suspended beneath her body and sails, looking barely big enough for her engines and crew. She's a racer, certainly. There is precious little space for passengers and none for a cargo. Still, to your mind, she looks heavy for the weight of canvas she carries. "Her range must be minuscule," you say to Alexandre. "She can't possibly carry enough fuel to go far."

He grins, never taking his eyes off the airship. "They say she had to be brought in on a ship. She doesn't have the range to reach Britain from Austria."

"Unimpressive," you say. "Our Bonaventure can make London to Paris without stopping."

"With a tailwind," Alexandre says with a smile. "Otherwise, it's a stop at Pontoise to refuel."

"Details," you say.

Somewhere around the curve of the harbor, a military band begins to play. There are no fewer than twelve great airships assembled, though only six will start in the race to come. The others are for show. The Bonaventure is not. It's a fine racer, one of two French entries in the competition that will begin this afternoon. And it's a perfect day for a race, the spring sun bright and unusually warm, though a stiff breeze off the Channel will make the course both fast and challenging. Flags snap in the wind, ladies' bonnet ribbons streaming while the gentlemen hold onto their hats.

The wind tugs at the ends of your cravat and buffets your hat. The neatness of your figure might owe something to a gentleman's corset, an affectation of fashionable young men, although your clothes can't match Alexandre's. You can't afford his tailor. Still, the blue of the French team's uniform suits you, and you cut a dashing figure. Today's race will be a sprint across the Channel and back, a test of clever piloting as much as it is a test of the airships themselves. You're going to take the helm in today's race, manning the rudder controls that steer the airship while the elevatorman controls your elevation and the captain gives directions to the engine room to increase or decrease speed. It's a position that could win or lose the race for your team, and you've spent the last week preparing for the occasion.

You're satisfied with your aviation skills. You've spent your time practicing fencing and marksmanship.

It doesn't matter how skilled Alexandre's team is if he doesn't survive to take part in the race.

The crowd is enormous, children running here and there trying to get a look at the racers either tethered to their starting posts or grounded beside them, taking on coal and checking their canvas above. There's so much to see. You catch sight of the other French entrant in the race, the Revenant, looming over the crowd. The Revenant is just three months old, commissioned by Marshal Duval and built to the latest design, and this will be her first serious test in the air. Her captain is Eugenie Duval, the marshal's daughter and an acquaintance of yours from Paris.