Aurelia had spent many evenings hidden behind the tall backing of an armchair in a lounge of one of her grandfather’s estates, sprawled on heated hearthstones before a book larger and heavier than herself. The fire in the hearth, as if warding off the roving governesses who sought to send her to bed. Many evenings she would drift off and away to sleep hidden in such places, her book becoming her pillow.

  She drew in a shaky breath alongside that wistful memory, as she lay on the floor of her locked chamber, aboard a ship in the sky.

  The stench of smoke wafted to her then, high and far away as she was from its source. Filling the air, terrible and inescapable, it was nothing at all like that from cozy hearthfire.

  It was the third day since everything she thought she knew about the world had been turned on its head. The sixteenth day since she’d last seen her parents.

  A knock came at her chamber door.

  A man in a white uniform appeared in the doorway. Tall and slim, she recognized him, and his strange red hair.

  He was the man who had escorted her to that strange meeting on the hilltop, where he'd been made to display the blood orange wings of vis to the assembly, for some reason, as if putting on some kind of performance.

  And he seemed sad, she saw then, and unnerved, both emotions poorly concealed.

  Aurelia remembered her guards, and their terror before their deaths. It was not the first time in those last days that she’d thought of them.

  He’d better feel sad, she thought.

  “Come,” he said. In even just a single word of Setetic, he conveyed an intense accent, disfiguring the word.

  She wondered how best she might offer some form of resistance to the command.

  She tried to summon the cold rage she’d watched take hold of her mother. But tears welled in her eyes instead, and she thought better of it. The man with the red-fire vis waited patiently as she collected herself, and begrudged to rise.

  Long steel-walled corridors crosshatched the ship’s interior, and the man said nothing more as he led her through them. It was quiet, and almost deserted of crew. Eventually the bulkheads widened and the corridors narrowed, and at once Aurelia deduced the presence of thicker armor in that final section, and thus its greater importance.

  Atop a final staircase, four women stood beside an ornate door, wearing elegant silks that seemed out of place among the functional uniforms of the crew. The white-uniformed man urged her on toward them. The first in line reached out to take her hand, and soft fingers telling of the lady’s noble birth wrapped cold and clammy around her own.

  The sprawling chamber beyond the door was furnished with yet more-lavish splendor than the quarters in which she’d been kept those last days, which itself had been quite luxurious, at least for airship accommodations. Bottles of golden liquids and preserved delicacies sat on tables beside velvet cushioned seats, followed by bookshelves, tapestries, and manicured live greenery. A trickle of water, even, burbled from a stone spout fixed to one wall, which filled a veritable pond beside a sunken plot of sand as if a miniature beach and ocean.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Yet the far wall of the chamber was twice as striking as all else it contained. Formed not of bulkhead steel or any typical aesthetic facade, it was instead one massive, seamless window, creating the illusion that the whole chamber was open to the vast sky ahead and the earth below.

  Two men were silhouetted against the backdrop of that great window. One stood, rigid as if on edge. Unfamiliar to her, he wore one of the peaked hats she assumed marked him as a high-ranking officer.

  The other man, though, she recognized.

  He lounged reclined atop velvet cushions, facing the great window. His garment was almost like those her mother wore after bathing in the hot springs of their northern estates, silky and flowing. Tied down only at his waist with a loose sash, it folded over just one shoulder, exposing the other to the air.

  He turned from the window, seeing her arrival.

  “Ah. Greetings, princess, your majesty,” he said in her native tongue, with a smile.

  His speech was unlike that of the others, almost natural, even if a very slight accent remained. With a quick word in his own language, the officer with the peaked hat by his side took his leave, and the robed man turned back to her.

  “I deeply regret, your highness, that it has taken me this long to organize a proper introduction. I am Rymrthur, commander-in-chief of the expeditionary force by mandate of High King Ethelrik, and governor of all lands under Albion military administration. This grand vessel upon which we now travel is my flagship. I am greatly honored to have you as my guest, here, your highness, and I do hope your stay has not been too greatly uncomfortable thus far.”

  The way he addressed her seemed odd. It was the way adults spoke to one another, not the way adults spoke with children, the manner in which she’d come to expect.

  “Hmm,” he murmured, after she declined to respond. “Well, either way, I’d wondered if you might be in need of some company. I assume your family provided you with plenty of ladies-in-waiting and other attendants, if the customs of royalty practiced by my people bear any similarities to your own. I dearly hope the fine ladies with you, there, will serve you acceptably in that role henceforth.”

  Still, Aurelia said nothing.

  “Furthermore, to facilitate your comfort, if there is anything that you would wish retrieved for you, within reason, of course, either from Hilomnos or elsewhere—”

  “You burned it,” she said.

  “Pardon me?”

  “You burned it. The library. Why?”

  He seemed to study her for a moment, thumbing his wrist thoughtfully.

  “Very perceptive, princess Aurelia,” he said at last. “Very perceptive. Tragically indeed, it burned. Given that — ask for anything you wish retrieved for you, beyond that which has been lost from the great library of Hilomnos, and it shall be yours. Kapitanleutnant Englihavt, there, will see to that, personally.”

  Aurelia glared at him.

  “What do you want from me?” she said. “What are you doing in this land?”

  “But of course, your highness, I seek nothing from you, beyond your safety and comfort while you are my guest, here.”

  The cold anger came to her at last.

  “You speak with me as if I’m grown. But you are still treating me like a child.”

  The robed man frowned, then shook his head as if chastising himself.

  “Very well, your highness. I apologize. Most children do not share your gifts, but still, I should have known better,” he said. “The truth is… I wish to work with you. I believe that doing so will be in both our best interests, as well as that of both our nations.”

  “You think that I’m stupid, then.”

  “On the contrary. As I said, I’m well aware of your capabilities. In fact I believe it's possible that only someone such as yourself would be able to perceive the reality of our situation, and make the best choice available."

  The man shrugged at her scowling silence.

  “You needn’t understand immediately,” he said. “But I’m sure you’re aware that there is a great deal at issue, here. So I only ask that you keep an open mind. If not for your own sake...”

  He turned back to look out the chamber’s great window, at the vastness of the world below.

  “...then at least, to shorten the suffering of your people.”

  "Puyi (7 February 1906 – 17 October 1967) was the last emperor of China, reigning as the eleventh monarch of the Qing dynasty from 1908 to 1912 when he was forced to abdicate as a result of the Xinhai Revolution. Later, he sided with Imperial Japan and was made ruler of Manchukuo—Japanese-occupied Manchuria—in hopes of regaining power as China's emperor. After over 10 years of imprisonment for war crimes following the end of World War II, Puyi worked for a number of years as a street sweeper and gardener in Beijing."

  Wikipedia