Chapter 3

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AN: Thanks so much Ame_Tasogare for, once again, commenting the previous chapter! Really appreciate it! Enjoy!

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Chapter 3:

Working on and building airships had always been something Ciaran thrived on. Ever since his dad pulled him in on the reworking on a strange abandoned wreck found in the Windy Plains, he had enjoyed every second of his new career. Having the freedom to make improvements and customizing parts that can be interchanged with his dad was the highlight of his life.

Even with his father's untimely death (ironically, in an airship crash in the Windy Plains), he found refuge within the wharf and designing airships. He wanted to build bigger and better airships to aide Tharsis and the exploration of surrounding lands.

But lately, every repair and repatch was tainted with a sense of confusion and frustration.

He didn't have to time to think of new strategies or new designs. He was constantly, without exaggeration, rebuilding damaged airships. And with the increase in population of Tharsis, there were a lot of airships under his watch. He was doing to repatching himself as no one knew airships better than he did.

And, unfortunately, he held a slight suspicion that...the damages weren't accidents. He didn't want to use the word sabotage, but...

"You're making a patchwork?" a voice suddenly questioned, obviously trying to be a smartass.

Ciaran pressed his lips together in a thin line as he glanced over the side of the airship he was working on. Of course Xander was there to witness every single airship as they limped back to port. What the hell was with that guy, anyway? If Xander hated his airships so much, why was he constantly hanging around at the wharf?

Something wasn't right about him. He made him feel edgy.

"Oh shut up and hand me that hammer," Ciaran ordered as he reached for another piece of wood.

Surprisingly, Xander did just that. He picked up the hammer and tossed it toward him, but not at him, so there wasn't a threat of misjudging and getting clobbered himself. Ciaran felt surprised, but decided not to comment on it. He was too tired and annoyed to get into a verbal confrontation anyway.

"Chief." Wiglaf's voice caused him to pause in his work and glance over the side of the airship again. He couldn't help but frown when he realised that the brown-haired dancer was accompanying a rather portly and official looking man. The guy didn't look happy, and neither did Wiglaf.

"You have a visitor," Wiglaf continued as she jabbed her thumb over her shoulder, toward the older man. "From Grand Mark's Court."

Speaking of verbal confrontations.

Truthfully, Ciaran had been expecting to see one of those guys sooner. Officials from the court. Count wouldn't have sent him. Some of the so-called Men of Mark's Court tended to do things their own way.

Making no attempt to hide his distain, Ciaran dropped his tools and made his way off the airship. He didn't want to talk to the guy, but he also didn't want him on his wharf and in his face. And the only way to get rid of that was to deal with them head on.

"We've received several complaints about the airships," the man said the moment Ciaran was close enough.

"Is that so?"

Great. Instead of just simply complaining to him, some of the guilds are complaining to the court as well. Ugh. As if he needed more pressure.

"I think it would be best if you look into it," the official looking man continued, looking rather uppity and huffy. "If a solution is not found...well, we might have to look for a new wharf-master."

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