Cowritten by @Tackytaff, @Terrans, @Bingelly, @Tackytaff, @Shadow Daedalus

Puskurunuwa trailed behind, content to be quietly forgotten by the other, armed, members of their group as they made their way through the abandoned fortress. His lack of sleep and weariness of new travel-mates had left him with a stone of worry in his chest that only sank lower the further they progressed with no signs of resistance. By the time they crossed the gates, Nuwa was twitching with nervous energy; tugging at his sleeves and pacing a path between bastions while the others continued chatting. No job should ever be so easy, no matter how planned, how much luck.. But that wasn’t the sort of thing Nuwa, the Circus Performer and Nothing Else, was supposed to know, and so he remained a quiet shadow.

Even reaching sight of their goal, sparkling and waiting just passed an open door didn’t loosen the grip of dread that continued to coil around his insides. The exact value of gold bars and different currencies was all rather lost to Nuwa, but the aching want that came with seeing shiny, valuable things stirred in him anyways, right alongside an itch starting in the centre of his palms. He tore his eyes away before drool could start puddling from his mouth. Nuwa could be patient; and had little desire to spend the rest of the day doing manual labour besides.

“I’ll look around the place too,” He said, turning from the vault to stand beside Urses and give a too-wide grin to Zoe as he looked between her face and the weapon placed in her hands. “You’ll come rescue us if you hear shouting right?”

Aden hung at the rear as the others descended on the gold. Plans for the future and how to get rid of the gold dominating their minds. He could admit that the amount of gold was rather staggering; mind boggling if Zoe’s claim of more levels was correct. But what his mind was stuck on was the absence of everybody from the fort. No communalists were within easy striking distance and yet no one was within the walls. No patriots or diehards. Aden had only been a part of the military remnants within Inbur and they had held their posts even as the Communalist artillery had emplaced on the outskirts. And the Private was definitely not the most die hard trooper of the Inburrian army.

He sidled over to Zoe waiting till the others were a distance away, “For an ordinary girl you seem to know a lot about this place. Tell me… what would cause every single person to abandon the national reserve? No questions or malingers?”

"Orders," she replied after a moment of thought, "Take what they can and shift it North to Grendell. Blow the rail line to stop the communalists getting from Inbur easily and hope to retake this position when the front is stabilised," she shrugged, "Though I was expecting to have to charm my way in."

“Orders…..” Aden said the line with strained amusement. Huffing a laugh as he went off not to the hole but to find the castle’s ammunition. Gold did not concern him; the fact the zeppelin did not have his sniper’s caliber did.

"Mister Petrides, Private Robertson," Volodar called out, interrupting with a well practiced tone that made it clear he was giving orders under the thin veil of politeness. "Your assistance with the gold would be appreciated. Mister Mallory should be able to find the medical wing well enough on his own"

Urses was about to comment on the idea of exploring the rest of the fortress alone being a tad reckless, but he adjusted his reply as Aden started to go off on his own. Sighing, he turns to the others briefly. "I'll go with Robertson, just in case there's any nasty surprises the garrison might have left behind." Slinging his rifle, he caught up to the marksman with a short jog and fell into step next to him. "Probably not the best idea to go wandering on your own before we've cleared the place, hmm?"

“What? You think the garrison left a horde of orcs behind?” Aden didn’t seem concerned as he mounted a short flight of stairs and took them slowly.

The medic gives a dry snort in return. "Hand grenade on a tripwire, primed beartrap hidden amongst supply crates, Maybe a straggler with a hair trigger... Plenty of ways a retreating force can rig a trap if they're clever about it, and if one of us does get caught by one when they're alone, their chances go way down. "

“Plenty of ways sure. But such devices would be closer to the value of this place. Mainly that giant stack of gold everyone is salivating over.” Aden exited the staircase into a new corridor. Wooden doors interspersed the hall; lights in even intervals cast shadows from their mounts above the doors. Besides the doors hung wooden placards with stenciled black letters, “Let’s see where they keep the ammo in this dump.”

"Even leaving this, arsenal might be the one place they bothered to rig." Chamer warned, testing the cart with first load of gold to see how easy it was to move. "Blow this whole place sky high."

“A trap is left where you know someone is going to be. Like perhaps the main door we waltzed through or perhaps those gold pallets you all rushed without any thought!” Aden shouted down the stairs. Trying a doorknob next to a door labeled ‘Ammo #18’.

***

Back on the ship, Christina scowled as she walked into the cargo hold and found Nikos hard at work, rearranging stores so that they could be moved out of the hold to make room for the gold, "Oy!" She called out, her mouth a grim line.

"What?" Nikos called back, "Oh, it's you. What do you want?"

She met his scowl with one of her own. "When gold is loaded, count it. No more than 1,153 bars. center of compartment."

"Yes, I worked it out," Nikos retorted, glaring back at her.

"Good, I hate explaining repeatedly," the mechanic retorted, then walked back into the interior.

---

Nikos

Zeppelin #27, Gondola

---

Nikos scowled. That communist mechanic, having worked out the exact number of bars, it was going to be hard to make a few go 'missing' during the loading. Nor could he load extra, if they wanted to be able to escape this place when the invaders were so close.

His eyes glanced up at the catwalk, then headed over to the dumbwaiter, sliding up the hatch and began loading the stores inside. This would at least allow him to move the stores up to the galley, then they could be stacked in the dining room. It would be a bit cramp, but he wouldn't have to come down much afterward. Of course, with everyone else at their post, he'd have to go up and empty it himself. With a grumble, he pressed the button that sent the first shipment up, then headed towards the ladderwell.

It was a long hose, designed to be dangled into the sea to draw on water for ballast and it had been just long enough to reach the nearby stream. But it was designed to be winched on and off, rather than dragged across the ground and moving it had been heavy work. Arkadios paused for a few moments, sitting down on the root of a tree. It was an idylic setting, an unruly mass of willow and plane trees fringing the banks, the trill of cicadas split the air. It was going to be a hot day to be moving gold from inside the castle.

Slowly the Captain began working his way back, checking for kinks in the hose that might stop the water from flowing back up to the ship. Unlike some of the others, Arkadios was less worried about a sudden ambush by Communalists. This part of the country was still, nominally, under Imperial control, though from what chaotic orders he had received in the retreat, he assumed most forces were being pulled back to form a perimeter around the old fortress at Grendell. The Communalists were, for the most part, racing down the coast, hoping, he assumed, to capture Grendell before Imperial forces were able to reorganise. Perhaps the Empire would dig in, or perhaps they would launch a counter-attack. Either way the gold would come in handy in keeping the legitimate Government able to function.

He glanced up at the airship, pulling his cap away to wipe his brow. It was a magnificent feat of engineering, hull gleaming silver in the morning sun. In theory they could sail back up to Grendell, maybe be there in a day, deliver the gold and rejoin the fight on the ground... but when was life ever that simple?

Itzi leaned over the control panel, her eyes scanning the gauges for helium levels, fuel reserves, and ballast readings. She made small adjustments here and there, ensuring everything remained in top shape. The steady hum of the airship’s engines filled the bridge, a sound she found both calming and nerve-wracking. This vessel was their lifeline, and every moment that passed made her anxious, not knowing what was happening down at the castle was perhaps the worst part of it.

Her mind wandered briefly to the rolling hills and warm waters of the Main, her home. She longed to return there, but not empty-handed. Promises and dreams wouldn’t pay for her father’s fishing boat repairs or her sister’s school fees. She needed something tangible, something that would make all this worth it. A sack of gold, perhaps, or even just enough to start fresh.

Her thoughts shifted to that circus man, Puskurunuwa Petrides or simply Nuwa, as he’d introduced himself. The memory of him falling through her ceiling made her smile faintly, despite herself. “Nuwa,” she murmured, the name lingering on her lips. Maybe his sudden, chaotic arrival had been some kind of sign, though what it could mean, she couldn’t quite tell. She quickly shook the thought away, focusing back on the controls.

It was then she noticed the Sakhian man sitting quietly in the corner of the bridge, sipping his coffee with an air of unbothered detachment. Itzi straightened, slightly startled. How long had he been there?

She cleared her throat, feeling a bit awkward. “Uh, hey there,” she began, turning toward him. “I’m Itzi Ku—uh, the Vice-Pilot, I guess.” She gave a lopsided smile and gestured vaguely to the controls. “I don’t think we’ve had much chance to talk… You, uh, been here long?”

Zano was mid-sip and was zoned out when Itzi spoke to him and he snapped out of it. Looking up at the Hunyunaki with a surprised expression. Putting his coffee down, he spoke. "We have not and I have not been in long." Taking another sip of his coffee. "Just here to relax and wait for the others since I am not much help right now." He sighed, "that and being able to see out a window is nice and before I forget my manners. My name is Zano Mirazdar and please to meet you Itzi."

Itzi extended her hand and shook Zano's with a cool, firm grip. “Nice to meet you, Zano,” she said with a faint smile. Turning her gaze out the wide windows of the bridge, she nodded toward the horizon. “The view is something, isn’t it? Not quite like home, but... it’s got its charm.”

She leaned out of the window slightly, letting her eyes wander over the endless expanse of sky and land below. The shimmering reflection of a distant river caught her attention, its surface glinting like liquid silver under the sunlight.

Itzi glanced back at Zano, one hand resting on her hip, “You know, I never thought I’d find myself in one of these things, let alone piloting it,” she said, her tone tinged with disbelief. “Back home, flying always seemed like something other people did. Rich folk, soldiers... not someone like me. And now here I am, practically the 'Vice-Pilot,' keeping this beast in the air.”

She chuckled softly, shaking her head as she gazed out the window. “It’s not quite like home, though. The Main is all wide-open spaces, hard soil, and the kind of sun that burns you through your shirt. Flying like this... it’s a different kind of freedom. Beautiful, sure, but it doesn’t feel as solid, you know? Like any moment, the whole thing could just... drift away.” She paused, then smirked. “Still, I can’t deny it’s spectacular.”

Her expression softened as she leaned against the console, her eyes distant. “I just hope the crew down at the castle isn’t getting themselves into too much trouble. Gold or not, I’d rather we all make it out of this intact. Getting back in one piece? That’s already worth more than any treasure.”

Zano had a somewhat firm grip when shaking hands with Itzi's. He stood up and walked over to what Itzl was and looked out the window with soft smile. "It does have a charm and a view that not many get to see and appreciate."

He took a sip of his coffee and his voice perk up, "I have a interest in these flying machines. Even learned how these airship work and operate if I ever have a chance to work on or with one." Zano sighed, "It is strange how things work out how both of us are here on this airship and get to experience flying and being in one."

Zano chuckled with her as home was brought up. "Well for me, I come from Mina-Sakh and that city was all I knew growing up. The busy streets, narrow alleyways and people everywhere. I admit I sometimes miss it but at times it is nice to feel freedom and this airship does have certain kind of one." Zano took another sip from his coffee and sighed. 'Like you said and I just wished we would have gotten here under better circumstances."

He chuckled again only with more vigor. "I feel the same though having gold is more like a bonus right now and I just wonder how long we will be here. Gold is heavy, so we might be here awhile as they get the gold. I just wished I could be useful right now but, at it stands. It is better for me if I stay here and wait. But, at least I can wait with company." Zano gave Itzl a smile as he took another sip from his coffee.

Itzi raised an eyebrow at Zano her arms crossed. She couldn’t help but smile at his comment about waiting with company, “Well, if you’re feeling useless sitting here sipping coffee, I might have a solution,” she said, a playful glint in her eye.

She gestured broadly to the controls surrounding her, “Only having two capable pilots on this ship, with one of them currently risking their neck for some shiny rocks, isn’t exactly ideal. So, how about this—I teach you how to pilot it?” Her tone was light but carried a note of seriousness. “I’ve mostly flown smaller airships back home, sure, but the basics are the same. It’s just… well, imagine the same principles, but multiplied by about ten.” She smirked. “Or twenty, depending on how temperamental this beast decides to be.”

Zano was about to sip what was left of his coffee but, stopped as he heard Itzi's offer with a eyebrow raised. "Hmm, learning how to pilot a airship... that is certainly a offer and.... Zano thought for a bit. "I think I will take you up on that, I have learned how a airship work but, learning how pilot a airship would certainly be a step up. That and it would be nice to have a backup pilot is anything were to happened you or the other pilot."

He looked around and found a place put down his coffee and with a smile, he looked back at Itzi. "I realize how hard it may be to learn but, you have yourself a eager student." He kept smiling while eyeing up the controls and took a deep breath.

"Well, I am ready when you are," sounding a bit nervous.

Itzi’s face lit up with a mixture of enthusiasm and determination as she clapped her hands together. “Alright, Zano, let’s get started! No better time than now to make yourself useful, huh?” She gestured for him to step closer to the console.

“This,” she began, her hand hovering over the throttle lever, “is your throttle. Controls our speed, forward and back. Smooth and steady wins the race here—yank it too fast, and you’ll have everyone onboard sliding into the walls.” She tapped the lever lightly and then pointed to the wheel. “And here’s your yoke. Steering’s just like turning a ship or even a car. Except instead of ground, we’ve got wind currents, and instead of brakes, we’ve got… well, nothing immediate.” She chuckled. “Takes a little finesse.”

She moved her hand over a row of toggles and gauges, her expression turning thoughtful for a moment. “These are for ballast adjustments. Keeps us balanced in the air. And the altimeter here tells you how high we are. Pretty straightforward, though the rest of these…” She hesitated briefly, her fingers brushing over unfamiliar dials. “Some of them are for finer adjustments I don’t usually mess with. They’re… more advanced.” She quickly moved on, her tone confident again. “But you won’t need to worry about those. Not yet, anyway.”

Zano walked over to the console and paid attention to what she said. Making a mental note of everything being said. Learning how a airship works should help with learning how to pilot one right? He sole thought as he listened to Itzi.

"Okay, I see Itzi and I think I understand what these things do." Sounding confidant, despite some lingering nervousness. "I might get the hang of this but, I have some questions."

Itzi smiled, "Shoot away."

---

Cowritten by @Dyelli Beybi, @InfamousGuy101, @Bingelly, @PrinceAlexus, @Tesserach, @Expendable

---

James wiped a bead of sweat from his brow as he heaved another heavy crate of gold onto the cart. The weight of the bars was impressive to say the least; he could feel the strain in his arms and shoulders even as he moved with practiced efficiency. His shotgun hung casually over his shoulder, it felt heavier now.

As he straightened up and stretched his back, his gaze landed on Volodar, who was himself busy stacking another cart with crates, all with a precision that only an elf could manage. Carter smirked, a flicker of amusement lighting up his tired expression.

“This should be a good haul,” he said, his tone half-approving, half-wry, his eyes looking out into the horizon in an empty gaze, “Though I’ve gotta say, a crane wouldn’t go amiss right about now.” Slinging the shotgun over his other shoulder, he glanced back at Volodar, his smirk widening. “Unless, of course, you’ve got some secret elvish magic you’ve been hiding. Levitate these crates into the airship, and you’d be my new favorite person.”

"I assure you, Mister Carter," Volodar replied as pushed the laden cart. "If I had such capabilities, I wouldn't be so foolish as to treat them like a showman waiting for the most entertaining moment. Such gifts may have saved me quite a bit of trouble in the past."

Chamer commented, wheeling past the pair. His cowboy vest and jacket had been shed on a nearby tree, his clean shirt soaked through at this point with stains of sweat. "Lighten up fellows." He chided. "We're moving divisions' worth of supplies. Just us and our bare hands! Right out from under communalist noses. And then we're going to fly off with it into the sunset." There's a boyish grin Chamer wore then that made it sound even more outlandish, and yet, the man had simply given a literal description of what they were doing. "You ever pull off a coup quite like this in all your years Volodar?"

"In terms of treasure?" The elf cocked an eyebrow. "Never, at least as quickly as this, though I can recall far more audacious escapades and equally historic events." He paused speaking for a moment, and look of warm reminiscence swept away Volodar's usually cold expression. "I fought for Equaterra during it's war for independence. I was a revolutionary for a brief moment, more out of boredom than anything else, but it was a cause and it paid well after they won. My commercial ventures elsewhere certainly benefitted as well. I did, however, eventually have to flee the country after some impropriety concerning the newly-established President's wife."

Chamer smiled, looking to Carter and pointing at Volodor with a wide grin. "See there, that's a man that knows how to live a life!" He looked back to Volodor. "One day you and I need to go drinking together sir."

Carter let out a low chuckle, shaking his head at Volodar’s tale. “Well, I’ll hand it to you, Volodar—scandal with a president’s wife? That’s a top-tier way to leave a country. Makes this whole gold venture seem boring by comparison...” He glanced at Chamer, smirking, "That’s a life well lived if I’ve ever heard one.” Makes you wonder how we measure up.”

As they pushed their carts along the uneven ground, Carter’s tone shifted, still conversational but more thoughtful. “You know, I’ve always wondered about elves—how you lot live so long, see so much. Must be something, having centuries to work with. Makes you think about all the stuff you could do if you had the time. Guess us humans, we don’t get that luxury, but maybe that’s the point.”

"An elgan baker in Ustantaka and a human baker in Carnelfenney live very similar lives, Mister Carter." Volodar replied. "The elgan baker is still only a baker. His human counterpart still wakes up in the morning, warms the oven, and kneads the dough, and bakes the bread quite similarly to the elgan until he dies."

Carter stopped pushing the cart for a moment, looking over at Volodar with a thoughtful expression. “You’ve got a point, Volodar, but here’s the thing; your elgan baker’s got centuries. Maybe he gets complacent, figuring there’s always time to perfect his loaf.” He shrugged, brushing sweet against his forearm, “The human baker? He knows he’s got a few decades if he’s lucky. That kind of pressure makes him push harder, try new things, and maybe even outdo the guy with all the time in the world.”

He started pushing the cart again, smirking slightly, “Sometimes not having forever is what keeps you sharp."

"That's a rather romantic notion regarding the capabilities of one's race." Volodar paused for a moment as wiped the sweat from his eyes. Notably, he did not return Carter's glance as he returned his attention to the cart. "But I can assure you that laziness and complacency is as much a human sin as it is an elgan one."

"If I had to spend four centuries of life doing nothing but baking bread, I'd put a bullet in my own head." Chamer commented. "That or become a Communalist."

"I would contemplate it as well, I am sure," Volodar agreed, "Falling upon my sword, that is to say, not joining the rabble."

Suddenly there was the crack of gunfire from the ramparts above, followed by a faint yelp. A few moments later, before there was a chance to truly react, Zoe appeared, waving sheepishly, "Don't mind me! Little mistake... I was figuring out how your funny foreign gun works!"

Chamer was suddenly frozen in place, his own pistol suddenly out of it's holster and in his hand, though he now seemed uncertain what he was doing with it as his eyes glanced up in Zoe's direction.

Beside him the wheelbarrow he'd been hauling gold in was tipped on its side, several gold bars scattered on the ground.

"Sorry!" she called, without sounding particularly sorry, "Now I know what not to do!"

Carter had already shouldered his shotgun at the sound of the crack, his eyes snapping upward in the direction of the ramparts. He exhaled sharply through his nose when Zoe’s sheepish waving came into view. Lowering the shotgun slightly, he muttered, “Just a negligent discharge… though not sure that’s much better.” He cast a quick glance at the others, “Anyone within a mile or two now knows we’re here. Great.”

He waved a hand urgently toward the carts, “Let’s get these loaded before we’ve got company.”

The group moved quickly now, the airship looming larger as they approached.

---

Nikos swore, tearing down the ladder to the hold and racing over to the Inburian rifle he'd left leaning by the dumbwaiter. Plucking it up, he worked the bolt, loading one round, then darted over to the open hatch and peering around the edge worriedly.

Were the communists here? Was someone shooting at them? Did the missing detachment of guards finally showed up? Or was someone signaling for help?

He gritted his teeth.

Didn't they have the guns manned? Why wasn't anyone saying something?

"Oy!" he called out nervously, "Who's out there? Identify yourself!"

Carter shook his head, his voice carrying a reassuring drawl as he called up to Nikos, “Relax there, partner. We’re not about to get rustled. It’s just us, and Miss Zoe decided to play sharpshooter with the sky. Turns out, she’s not much of a marksman!”

He gestured toward the carts stacked with crates as he stepped closer to the ship. “Now, seeing as we’re all in one piece and no reds are swarming us yet, mind giving us a hand getting these crates into the hold!?" He paused, smirking slightly. “Unless you’re too busy with that rifle of yours!”

"There is a war on, you know!" Nikos blustered, lowering the rifle and engaged the safety. "How do we know there's not some hidden crack force of communists that took out the guards before we got here?"

Setting the rifle aside, he walked over to the first cart and with a grunt, shoved one end of the crate over so he could grab ahold of it.

"Well, someone grab the other end!" he scowled. "How many bars are in this, anyway? I was told to keep a count."

"We know there isn't any crack communalists here because the fortress wasn't ransacked by fighting, and the amount of gold already missing means whoever was here left in lorries or with horse carts!" Volodar shouted back as he moved forward hurriedly to take the other end of the box. "Likely a dozen or so delivery bars in here," the Elgan continued, "but open the box and count once this batch is loaded if you must."

"What the Frak is going on, did someone discharge faster than a sailor in their first Pirate patrol." Their was no follow up fire and no signs of enemy as Hamelin panted slightly, he had a heavy wrench in one hand and a Revolver in other having armed himself incase they had a stowaway of the hostile kind.

"Hoists everyone... we did not load main guns with muscles. We used chains and rams... mechanical advantage. Someone's gonna break bones doing it like damn chain gangs.

One at ramp but i can get on here quickly set up."

Hamelin pointed to a block and tackle system he had arranged. He was a little annoyed but also he saw it as his responsibility to mean they did not get people hurt, when he could find ways to prevent it. He was a Officer, he had a duty even if was confused who it was to in present case.

Unless they wanted to make it harder anyways... and be idiots.

Carter smirked at Hamelin, giving the man a nod of approval as he slung his shotgun over his shoulder, “Now there’s some common sense! Glad someone’s thinking ahead—beats snapping a back trying to muscle these crates around.”

Not long after, a platform began to lower, creaking slightly as it reached the ground. Carter wasted no time, moving quickly to load the crates of gold onto it with practiced efficiency. “Let’s get these beauties stacked and up top,” he called, motioning for the others to lend a hand. “No sense in dragging this out longer than it has to be.”

Once the platform was loaded, Carter stepped back and signaled to Hamelin. “All set—send her up!” He watched as the mechanism lifted the platform, carrying its golden haul skyward. Wiping his brow with his sleeve, he turned to the group with a satisfied nod. “Good progress, folks. At this rate, we might just have everything packed up by tomorrow—if luck’s still on our side.” He allowed himself a brief grin.

Mitunbaal was undeniably pleased to have solid ground at her feet and a reprieve from the cold of airship transit while assisting Arkadios with the ballast hose. It was undoubtedly hard work, especially for her, but it had been something to do. It had something to keep her mind off the uncertainty of the war, and the work had put the shariq into good enough spirits to hum a lilting tune while the crew labored.

Once finished, she took a moment to pause by the stream for herself. Mitunbaal stared into the clear water that filled the little banks, and the disheveled reflection that greeted her as she kneeled. She splashed the cool water against her face, and let a sigh slip free as the sweat washed away. It was refreshing after the frantic escape, and a fleeting reminder of normalcy as she muttered a prayer in thanks.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed Arkadios moving back and joined the older soldier.

“Do you have faith this plan will work, Captain?" Mitunbaal asked as she caught up from him from behind. She recalled him being more neutral during the meetings after take off, and the old captain was older than anyone short of the Elgan aboard. He was more neutral than she had been at the very least. "This could see us shot, even if the opportunists among us, god willing, resist their baser urges to steal some of the gold.”

“G(ren)D(e)L C(o)M(man)D, T(his) I(s) A(ir)S(hip)27 FR(o)M INB(ur), E(n) R(oute to) C(us)T(o)S(pada) 4 TR(ea)S(u)RY G(o)LD, R(ou)TE 2 G(ren)D(e)L 4 D(eli)V(e)RY. FOR(eig)N P(ersonel)L AB(oa)RD, R(e)Q(uire) R(e)L(ei)F”

The radiotelegraph room had become Yuri’s second room over the past day and a half, the glasses remaining out but the handle still hidden away. Despite this, it was hardly the place he stayed during the shift, seeing as there wasn’t much for signals to listen in on. He had been remaining on general frequency to pick up reports, that ticker tape moving along with the energization of vacuum tubes.

For the meantime, he was taking up duties in the engine room while making sure to keep track of the course charted and making corrections for windage. The large amounts of taken gold he helped haul in had limited their ceiling, and so their path needed to be more considerate of the hilliness near the Morktree. It left them relatively exposed to the ground, but less

When he returned to his duty station, the tape was splayed out from the roll, marked with activity that was not read or decoded. The lieutenant was very quick to get to it, drawing out the roll and writing on a clipboard. He decoded quickly, the numbers and letters shifting in his mind as he went digit by digit onto the page.

It read something to the effect of “Confirm, report to Grendel under fair skies, else report to nearest imperial ally in Mitteland. If ready from there, report to the front.” This message had Yuri furrowing his brow as he double checked the transcription for his own sake. He was unsure about taking so much of the foreign treasury to a foreign land, but who was he to challenge orders?

Well, he supposed, he was the ranking officer nominally, though he had quickly and eagerly withdrawn from such a duty. There was a slight pang of shame at that, but this was not something he was prepared to lead. They were a motley crew, and to take charge of such a mess was a fools errand… but it was his duty to do so. He would need to keep a stiff lip and continue to present himself as the capable and reliable junior officer while they were low on men and supplies.

Hamerlin spent his time helping to move gold, pulleys and ropes, mechanical advantage and helping to get the cargo moved safely. He was proud of his basic but efficient systems to load the gold through and up to the cargo decks etc.

It was not flashy but it was efficient and people were not going to get broken arms, rope burn and sore hands were far more preferable to a broken bones or foot from dropping an heavy dense gold bar on your foot.

He had taken a trip to the Fort, he found a small arms storage and some officers…he guessed had stocked non standard ammo as he filled a bag with some of his revolvers and other harder to find calibres in case needed. You never knew. A few packs of decent cigarettes, some things they left behind including a decent bottle of Whisky and a train map… silly it sounded but they could use the rail network as an idea where the enemy might go, where the allies might and also help them to locate themself if lost.

He had the ammo locked in armoury, there were no guns to match…bar an old sword he had snagged, if he was gonna be a pirate looting. He might as well have a sword. Looting was distasteful…but essentially in the present situation, survival and such came first before the moral high ground.

…

Looking out off the bridge he could only use 1 half of the binoculars… but it was better than his ability to see as he scanned the horizon for dangers to comfort his disquiet at…how quiet it was.

---

Christina

Zeppelin #27, Gondola

---

"Ware below!" Christina sung out, sliding down the ladder into the gondola, then eyeing the gold reserve through the window. "Are we done, yet? Because I need a bath, not this pitiful excuse for a shower, it's like being spat on. They must have a bath over there, don't you think?"

"Or has the esercito popolare managed to sneak up on us?" The mechanic asked, raising an eyebrow. "Surely I am not the only one who wants to get clean?"

...

“Do you have faith this plan will work, Captain?" Mitunbaal asked as she caught up from him from behind. She recalled him being more neutral during the meetings after take off, and the old captain was older than anyone short of the Elgan aboard. He was more neutral than she had been at the very least. "This could see us shot, even if the opportunists among us, god willing, resist their baser urges to steal some of the gold.”

"Madame," Arkadios inclined his head politely to Mitunbaal, though he didn't immediately answer the question, apparently taking a few moment to consider the thought, "Well, young Miss Spyrou promised them a cut so one can't really begrudge it to them. I would rather move the whole lot back to friendly territory but if Miss Spyrou hadn't revealed this location -" he gave a nonchalant shrug, "-we would have proceeded to Grendell without ever visiting here and were she not to have promised some money it is likely people who are essential to the running of this ship might not have agreed to make the journey. So I supposed whatever amount makes it back to the Empire is better than none. And I would assume it will be the vast majority."

"It is not an ideal situation," he added after another pause, stopping to stare thoughtfully back at the river, "But it is the one we find outselves in. And we are making the best we can from it."

---

The morning after next...

As dawn approached and people started to head back towards the now, fairly well depleted gold reserve, anyone on the top of the balloon might happen to see shapes silhouetted against a nearby ridgeline. Moving shapes. Training a telescope would reveal the shapes as horsemen. They would definitely have seen the ship. The ridge was a little over a mile away. 20 minutes or so at a brisk walk.

---

Giogoula was at the top of the airship, doing her daily checks with her scope. It was a cold morning and while she volunteered to do patrols from the top of the balloon, she wondered if she should’ve stayed inside or help the men move the gold. At least the labor could help keep her mind off of the cold. She could go for some hot coffee after her patrol’s over. While looking through the scope, she saw a brief movement at the ridge from her scope.

“Huh?” She thought and she trained the telescope back onto the ridge. Maybe the movements were just trees or something. Unfortunately for her, the movements were men on horseback heading towards the grounded airship, not some trees dancing with the wind.

Even with her scope, she couldn’t make out if the horsemen were Imperials, Calarians, or insurrectionists. Giogoula opened the hatch and climbed down to the nearest station with wired telephone. She has to alert the others right away.

Getting to a phone, Giogoula contacted the cockpit.

“There are a bunch of men on horseback from the ridge!” she shouted, not giving Itzi a time to respond. “Alert the others for a possible withdrawal! Can’t tell of they’re friendly or not!”

Giogoula then shut off the phone and climbed back up to the top of the balloon. If things get dicey, then the machine gun nest at the top will be of good use to the crew.

“There are a bunch of men on horseback from the ridge!” she shouted, not giving Itzi a time to respond. “Alert the others for a possible withdrawal! Can’t tell of they’re friendly or not!”

Giogoula then shut off the phone and climbed back up to the top of the balloon. If things get dicey, then the machine gun nest at the top will be of good use to the crew.

Itzi had spent the better part of the previous evening teaching Zano the basics of piloting the airship and finally managing to get some much-needed rest. Now, as dawn painted the horizon in soft hues of gold and pink, she found herself at the bridge, scanning the systems. Everything appeared to be running smoothly, but her stomach growled in protest, reminding her of the mess hall just a short walk away.

As she turned, the urgent call came over the wired system, followed by a horn blast that nearly made her jump.

Snatching a pair of binoculars, Itzi spotted the riders in the distance, their silhouettes unmistakable against the ridgeline. Her heart sank. “Craps,” she muttered, sprinting to the horn and slamming it into action. “Emergency! We’ve got hostiles incoming!”

---

Down on the yard, Carter was loading the last of the crates onto a cart when the horn's blare broke the morning calm. His head snapped up to see Itzi leaning out from the bridge, frantically pointing toward the horizon. Following her gesture, his gaze landed on the incoming riders cresting the ridgeline. The tension in his body snapped into focus as he registered the danger.

“Get the ship ready, Itzi!” he barked, his voice cutting through the early dawn. His shotgun came off his shoulder, and he racked a round of buckshot with a loud, metallic shink-shink. Turning to the others nearby, he shouted, “Hustle! Let's get the last crates aboard, now! We’re not sticking around to make friends!”

He positioned himself near the cart, keeping his eyes on the advancing riders, though they may not know who they were he knew the chances of them being friends was slim at best, “Let’s move, people! They’re not here for tea!”

---

Christina

Zeppelin #27, Gondola

---

"Porca Miseria!" Christina spat, climbing up the ladder and running back to the engine compartment.

Once inside, she sprinted to the main panel and pressed the button for the compressor. With a belch of black smoke, it stirred to life while she turned the dial and began throwing levers. This wasn't going to be like the first time, the gas bags were already beginning to swell.

"You better have counted, cretino!" she yelled. Blowing the whistle for the speaking tube, she removed the cover and yelled into the horn. "Inflating! Get them aboard now!"

Outside, the zeppelin was already pulling on the ropes that secured it to the ground.

Hamerlin did not know much about the radio, he did know about main circuit 1, he plugged the wires with awkward and inexperienced hands, the announcement was baked into his own darkest memories as he remembered the last battle he was in before his wounds.

Pressing the control in as he had been on the bridge checking the maps. “All hands. All hands. Unknown force in sight, Battle Stations. I repeat Battle stations. This is not a drill.

All Officers and Trained soldier's to arms. Please keep the main corridors clear, Damage Control and important updates will be transmitted on the main circuit. If in doubt Follow last orders given by command.

If you are unsure, stay out the way, stay safe. Report any damage in your area to the bridge immediately. Close all doors if you see any open. Please keep away from the windows.

We will get through this, if we follow orders. 27 bridge out.” He said in cool tones of the Favian officers training, cool, confident and unhurried. His voice echoed down the ship's tinny wired speakers.

He sounded a lot claimer than he felt, he had not been on a ship in battle, an airship or warship in real combat In many years. Did he still have the nerve and the heart to manage this?

He had to for others though so forced his calm on his raging fires of emotions, he forced the pain down, the phantom Pains and the itch where his eye should be. He straightened his coat, checked his pistol and stepped back out onto the bridge. The familiar motions and the same actions and repetitive nature helped him to find his centre again. That was one thing he could control.

He walked to the Nav station and looked out the windows, he saw they had no more time left, they had to go and leave whatever was left in the fort. Hopefully they did not have anyone on ground because soon they would not be aboard.

Trouble had come..