“Charming,” Livia commented as she stood back up straight. “We finally figure out this ship’s name, and it’s… that.” Instead of continuing to wipe the plaque clean of its accumulated dust and dirt, she just tossed it to the deck where she’d found it, landing with a punctuating clatter.

“As charming as it might be,” Emilie added, “it might actually inform us as to the nature of this vessel. Blood Disease was not a name likely picked for its… charm.”

“What’re you thinking, milady?” Krey wondered.

“Well, we know it has been in the possession of Dunlark Spire for… likely its entire existence. And the construction is markedly less impressive than most of the others here. This ship wasn’t going to see combat at any point, nor is it anywhere near spacious enough for putting cargo anywhere…”

“It’s barely big enough for us!” Pippy grunted, trying to gesture with her arm, but only hitting her elbow on something.

“So,” Emilie continued, “with the name, its owners, and its build all in mind… I think this ship was the reclusive domain of a green magic assassin.” Her cheeks had developed a rosy hue, made quite pinchable by her proud smile.

Krey had to pick his jaw off the floor. “My Lady… since when were you so versed in… well, quite frankly, things that lie far beyond the scope of what I’d expect for a cleric’s studies.”

Emilie’s voice was on the brink of bursting into giggles. “A young sisterhood initiate I may have been,” she retorted, “but children of all walks must stumble across the world in their own way as well. Perhaps, one day, I will tell you about six-year-old Emilie’s… very educational… encounter with the Green Witch of Eoe-Kō.”

“Wow, Emilie,” Pippy oohed and aahed, “you’re full of surprises, huh?”

“Everyone is, my child,” Emilie lilted sagely, gently patting Pippy on the head, discretely casting a small green spell, a minor pulse of ease and comfort.

Pippy trembled at the sudden, odd, but welcome warmth imparted upon her.

“Green magic,” Emilie elaborated, “is a two-headed creature, not as specifically direct as white or black magic’s restorative and destructive powers, but more flexible in application— protective or diminishing.”

“Like poison,” Pippy suggested. “The assassin could’ve made terrible poisons! Much more creative than mundane poisonous stuffs… say, a magic-made blood disease.”

“Precisely,” Emilie nodded.

“That would explain the alchemist’s and herbalist’s materials I found in the tiny central chamber,” Livia said. “At least, I think that’s what they were.”

Between the four of them, it didn’t take long to verify that the contents of the central chamber were, indeed, the tools and components of alchemy and herbalism. Given the deductions they’d made so far, and the probable nature of said contents, they gathered it all up, took it outside, and torched the lot.

When they went back aboard, they got to work finishing their preparations for launching this awfully charming airship… not that there was much for them to do. With next to no experience between them, they did their best to muddle through; Pippy took a look at the engines, Krey evaluated the hull, Livia familiarised herself with the controls and helm, and Emilie walked all throughout the ship like a one-woman procession, casting green spells to shore up the integrity of the ship’s inner workings and general structure as much as possible; she also hummed a hymn of incense as she went, just for good measure. And to get rid of that lingering, almost clinical smell, she supposed. Spellsinging was not a muscle she got to flex often. Perhaps that is another, more core reason, she wondered. Just for the sake of it. She didn’t think there was any harm in that, though, especially since the others were too preoccupied to hear her. Singing alone is one thing, but in front of others… perhaps someday.

Before the sun had reached its zenith, they were ready, and the Blood Disease - a name that struck… charm… into their hearts every time it was said aloud - was ready to fly.

“At least,” Livia hummed and hawed, “as ready as it’ll ever be.”

“That’ll have to do,” Krey said as surely as he could, which wasn’t completely.

“Take us up, Livia,” Emilie ordered jubilantly.

“Aye, milady!” Livia acknowledged, bringing the ship to life. The engines stirred and whirred to full power, and while there might’ve been some rattling noises coming from miscellaneous and unidentifiable places, their ascent was smooth enough.

“WOOHOO!” Pippy exploded with delight. “I can’t believe it! WE’RE FLYING!”

It was a beautiful day for flying. The sky was the sweetest shade of blue it had been since their journey began, and the clouds only accentuated its vast depth and captivating beauty. Below, the ground seemed so very far away… everything so small and delicate.

Livia managed to set a course and leave things in cruise for a bit, unable to resist the pull she felt that brought her out of the helm chair. She nearly started clambering across the controls to get as close to the glass as possible. “It’s everything I ever dreamt it could be… everything the stories ever conjured in my mind as a child. This must be how the gods feel all the time.”

“Somewhat well-travelled I may be,” Emilie mused, “but I have never flown by ship before… and you’re right. This is a divine experience.”

“It’s something I’ll never get used to either,” Krey smirked. “You never quite fully wrap your head around the… the scale of it. The world seems so small yet so huge all at once.”

Pippy, meanwhile, was breathless, mouth agape and eyes so wide her eyeballs might’ve rolled right out of her face. Her whole body was shaking, and her breathing was audible.

“Pippy?” Livia went to her once she saw her out of the corner of her eye. “Are you alright?”

Pippy shook herself from her stupour after a moment of unresponsiveness, and replied with a distant, quavering voice. “I have never been so alright in my entire life. This is the second most wonderful moment I’ve ever experienced.”

“Oh?” Livia crossed her arms. “What was the first?”

Pippy smiled and looked her in the eye. “Why, being with you, of course.”

Livia felt a throb in her chest that nearly made her buckle. Be still my beating heart.