"Are those… sucker marks?" The harbor pilot shouted incredulously within moments of her boat pulling beside the Fair Gentleman.
"Aye," Aunt Karla grunted as she threw out a line to the woman on the much smaller vessel. "It was an eventful trip."
"I can see that, milady." The pilot said, still staring at the larger ship's battle damage, even as the two vessels were pulled tight against one another by brawny crew members.
As soon as the two were secured, the sailors aboard the Fair Gentleman pushed down the gangway. In moments, the harbor pilot was striding up it and onto the ship's deck. As she did, William noted the way her gaze passed over him, but it was a brief thing, before her gaze turned to Captain Nemoa.
"Permission to come aboard?"
"Granted," Nemoa said in an off-hand way, before turning to him and his aunt. "Lady Ashfield. Master Ashfield. It has been a pleasure."
"The pleasure has been all ours – despite the unpleasantries," his Aunt responded shortly. "Perhaps in future it might be wise to avail yourself of a decent communication orb should such an eventuality deign to repeat itself?"
The elf just grunted something that might charitably have been considered an assent, before she gestured for the maritime-pilot to follow her over to the quarter deck, where the pilot would help her guide her ship through the congested waters of the Capital's docks.
Somehow I don't think she'll be taking that bit of advice, William thought as he watched the elf retreat.
He resisted the urge to roll his eyes before grabbing his luggage and following after his aunt as she descended the gangway down to the small tug that the other woman had just disembarked.
Though he made sure to send a small wink Nedra's way as he passed by where the orcish sailor was standing ready to untie the docking ropes. In all likelihood this would be the last time the two of them would ever meet, so he was pleased to note that his last memory of the older woman would be her flushing a dark green as he walked away.
They'd had fun together, but there'd never been any implication of anything more. Indeed, in all likelihood she'd be sharing the story of how she added a noble boy to the notches on her bed-post the moment the danger his aunt presented was an ocean away.
She'd also likely omit the fact that she'd been reduced to little more than a mewling mess on more than one occasion by that self-same noble boy on those few occasions he'd convinced his aunt to sleep elsewhere after the kraken attack.
William didn't mind.
That was just the way of things here. It was little different from how a sailor might brag about nailing some sheltered noble's daughter back on earth during the seventeen hundreds.
More to the point, he highly doubted anyone would believe her. It'd just be another tall tale amongst thousands of others the crew likely told each other.
Especially given the… reputation he'd developed amongst them after saving the ship.
"A kraken, you say?"
As if echoing his thoughts, as he hit the deck of the pilot-boat, he looked over to where his aunt was in quiet conversation with the captain of this new vessel. The woman wasn't quite as well dressed as Captain Nemoa had been, but she wore her outfit with quiet pride, even as her eyes darted from him to the damaged Fair Gentleman.
"Aye." His aunt said with a mixture of both pride and irritation. "Ornery as all hell and big enough to drag the whole ship down given enough time. And it definitely would have done just that if my law-son didn't scare the damn thing off with a lightning bolt strong enough to take one of the thing's arms off."
The captain whistled. "A trauma burst, I assume?"
It said a lot about how many nobles the low-born woman must have dealt with in her day to day that she even knew the term.
His aunt nodded, unknowingly perpetuating the lie he'd told her. Fortunately, a sudden boost in magical power as a result of super-charged emotions resulting in a super-charged contract wasn't unheard.
Rare, and anything but reliable, but it served as a decent enough explanation as to how he'd managed to see off a kraken with magical reserves that could at best be called 'below-average'.
"Well, trauma-burst or not," the woman smiled in his direction. "This old boat captain is honored to have the 'Kraken Slayer' aboard her humble vessel."
"A pleasure," William responded, accepting her handshake, even as he aimed a gimlet eye in his aunt's direction. "And really? You felt the need to spread that ridiculous nickname? I took off a single one of the beast's many tentacles. I can assure you, that wouldn't have killed it."
He also didn't point out that his aunt hadn't actually been conscious to witness any of the claims she was making. Partially because he still felt a little guilty about being the one to knock her out, but mostly because he knew that being knocked unconscious by 'a bit of stray debris' while trying to evacuate him had become a sore spot for the woman's pride.
"Straight kill or not, you used magic to wound an animal that's immune to magic," she pointed out. "That's worthy of some kind of title, and 'Squid Maimer' just doesn't quite have the same ring to it." She spread her hands wide. "So, Kraken-Slayer."
There was no missing the mischievous amusement in his aunt's eyes, even as she tried to give legitimacy to the farcical name she was trying to saddle him with.
Which meant there was no winning here.
At least, not with her.
So he changed tack.
Turning to the captain, he made sure to keep his tone dry. "I would very much appreciate it if you didn't spread that ridiculous moniker around, captain. I'd hate for a name given in jest to be taken as fact."
The woman just smiled, even as the ropes connecting her boat to the Fair Gentleman were untied and her crew started reeling them, while the larger ship's crew pulled in the gangway.
"Of course, young master." She chuckled. "Though I cannot make any such promise on behalf of my crew."
Indeed, as William glanced around, he saw more both of the other two members of the boat's small crew of women smiling at him as the boat's sails unfurled once more and it started slowly drifting away from the ship it had just been docked to.
Sighing, he just nodded. "Right, ignoring that, do you have somewhere I can stash my luggage for the rest of our trip upstream?"
Returning once more to some semblance of professionalism, the woman just nodded. "Of course, right this way young master. It's not much, but it should keep the spray off."
--------------------------------
One would expect a city as large as the national capitol to be a cramped, foul-smelling hellhole given this world's current level of technological development. As their boat slowly tacked up river though, deftly avoiding other small craft doing the same, William was forced to admit that wasn't the case.
Say whatever else you want about Elves, they know how to plan a city, he thought as he stepped into a horse-drawn carriage, gaze never ceasing to take in the elegant examples of pseudo-Bavarian architecture lining the river shore.
Indeed, on the way over he'd more than once made out the occasional flash of fish darting through the wash kicked up by their vessel's passage. Something he was sure wouldn't be the case if the city were dumping waste into it.
Admittedly, magic did allow for a number of alternatives on that front, but it was still an expense he was sure many an artisan's guild would rather do without.
Fortunately for the health of the city's rivers – and people – elves were nothing if not excellent long term planners.
As much as it pained him to admit it, as their carriage passed under a massive iron warship passing overhead.
The leviathan construct was one of several he could see, either moving towards or away from any of a dozen sky-ports dotted across the city, aether-green trails following them as their propellers pushed them sedately through the sky.
Unlike maritime craft who could only realistically make use of the sea-facing docks, a sky-port could be positioned just about anywhere. And often were. Indeed, William could see dozens of them scattered across the skyscape of the capital.
A feat of engineering that - in short - shouldn't realistically have been possible for a society that still made use of swords and spears.
Sure, they had airships, machine guns, and fighter craft, too, but those he could at least blame on magic.
Not these though, William thought as he gazed at a nearby mammoth tower. Just, time, skill, science, and engineering.
Of course, it hadn't taken him long to figure out why the tech of this world was so lopsided.
Necessity, he thought, delicately placing the back of a single knuckle against the cool – and clear – glass of the carriage. The mother of all invention in just about every world apparently.
Because if one were to use conventional landing pads as opposed to a sky-port to dock an airship, you would need to clear almost an entire stadium's worth of space.
In a city, that would be a ruinous expense – even for the royal family.
By contrast though, some clever bean had clearly figured out that a tower would only take up as much space as the dimensions of its foundation and whatever system of cargo-elevators lay within it.
After all, the only time an airship actually needed to land was when it was being repaired. Beyond that, its Mithril Core could run indefinitely. And so long as the Core kept producing aether for the ship's ballasts, it would continue to float.
Thus, the locals eventually managed to come up with reinforced concrete and steel frames - before a few hundred other inventions that should realistically have preceded them.
Making the sky-docks just another of the many fun idiosyncrasies of this world.
"We're entering the academy district now, young master," their driver called from her position at the front of the carriage.
"My thanks," he murmured politely in response, even if he thought the observation rather obvious given the walls coming into view.
It was no exaggeration to say that the Blicland Royal Aviation Academy was a small town unto itself. A massive airship loomed overhead, docked to a sky-dock that loomed over a sprawling mass of training fields, dormitories, classrooms, arenas, testing areas, forges, kitchens, and a dozen other different types of buildings. All built to host an aristocratic student body drawn from across the country that measured in the hundreds and a staff that measured in the thousands.