Kingdom Within the Skies II

Moonlight bathed the village downhill from the castle entrance in a gentle, blue-silver glow. Orbs of warm magelight floated above torches where fire should’ve been. When the guards left him, Haruki wandered into the center span of the village, a fountain and a statue of an huntress-looking elf wielding a bow resting at the heart of it.

Life bustled even at night in the town, and even after an attack by the Sky Legion. Perhaps it was natural for humans to celebrate after having gotten close to losing their life, but Haruki never thought they’d be like…this.

Men and women elves alike making merry from within taverns, some laying drunk below the ramparts. Men laughed and enjoyed great amounts of mead, while the women relished the sight of elven men stripping down to their skivvies after losing a bet in their version of poker.

Haruki thought of elves as a more solemn, dignified race if the fantasy books he’s read would tell him otherwise.

But they were people, first and foremost. Just very, very long lived people.

Haruki wandered into one of the taverns, letting himself be welcomed by the golden glow of its doorless archway. He fidgeted with the prosthetic elven ears Marina gave him, and it twitched at the slightest touch.

“Only the inner guard know what you look like. So, wear these—unless you really want the attention.”

He didn’t know why Marina had a pair of prosthetic elven ears, but he was in no place to complain, nor did he want to. If he could have a meal in peace, then that would be best.

When he ventured into the tavern, the irritating smell of beer and mead mixing with roasted game assaulted his senses. The sound of boisterous laughter and unhinged betting filled the lobby and dining area. Oddly enough, the place felt like home—the sights and sounds of an izakaya after a hard day’s work. For the first time, he could come in without expecting his manager to be waiting inside.

“By the Divine! Drink, you fool. You could’ve died today,” said a lanky-looking elf at the third table from the reception.

“Missus ain’t gonna be happy if I get drunk off cheap swill,” said his bulkier friend sitting across as he swirled a half-emptied bottle of… whatever that gin-looking drink was.

“You call that swill,” said a clearly inebriated woman a table across. “That is the best Hollanroe money can buy ‘round here. You want Blandy now, in this war? This economy?”

Hollanroe. Blandy. These must be what they call their drinks.

Curiosity striking Haruki, he sat at an open spot on the table right in front of the barkeep. When the barkeep turned to him, he produced a silver-crafted oval crest from under his aviator coat’s sleeve and plopped it on the table. The barkeep knew what it meant—no words needed.

“What’ll you be having… Sir?”

Haruki glanced at the bulky elf to his left, eyeing the bottle in their hand.

“Hollanroe. Can I have a shot? Just to taste.”

With a nod and affirmation, the barkeep poured him a shot glass of Hollanroe fresh off the shelves. The Hollanroe itself—it didn’t look too different from the piss-yellow of beer back home. It didn’t smell too different either. However, the foam produced from its outpouring glistened like quality opal.

When Haruki downed the glass, its bitter spiciness stung his throat like acupuncture needles. He groaned in pain and pleasure. What a hit!

“Not bad?”

Haruki nodded, eyes glazed over. “Not bad.” But he would not want another.

To satiate his gnawing hunger, he ordered the house’s special—an appetizing plate of roasted venison, served with sides of what looked to be cabbage, and golden corn nuggets. At the very least, this world’s foot wasn’t too far off from home. In fact, this is probably the first time in years he’s had anything fancy to eat. Instant ramen and konbini food had become his closest acquaintances during that time.

Rubbing his belly after a satisfying meal, Haruki began to stand from his seat—but sat back down when he heard hushed gossip from the other table.

“...You think the princess plans to copulate with the otherworlder?” said a thin elven woman.

Haruki would spit his drink if he had one. Thinking rather far ahead, aren’t we?

“The king had already diminished the sovereign’s lifespan enough,” the stout woman across her replied. “If she mates with another Sapia, what would they be? A quarter-elf? They would be no better than a normal Sapia.”

Sapia? Though he didn’t understand that word, he figured context from the conversation:

Anemone—she must not be fully elven.

There must have been some issue with her blood, heritage, or true allegiance. Something about her must be causing people in her kingdom to grumble. Lifespan? If she wasn’t fully elf, that must’ve meant most inhabitants of Ka-Ilyah would outlive her. Not good for a future sovereign.

Downing the last of a glass of water, Haruki walked out of the tavern and made his way back to the castle. He circled the courtyard and followed a dilapidated stone pathway leading to a forge below the castle’s rafters.

Inside was the Kenichi Modern, stuffed under its barely ample ceiling which was clearly designed to only hide something as big as a ballistae. A few elven artisans dressed in brown, leather aprons and work gloves were studying its exterior, but thankfully didn’t open or take apart anything. When Haruki waved at them, they bowed then scurried out of the forge like bugs to an opened light.

“As long as they don’t take it apart, I don’t mind them watching me do some maintenance…” he said to himself as he watched them leave.

Haruki peered under the fuselage, spotting the torn gash and bent, damaged metal bars under the plane’s center mass. He should have replacements in the storage space, he thought. If not, he could probably request a sword or two be smelted as a substitute for the metal. Iron was a tad heavier than aluminum, but it would have to do.

He unlatched a small door at the side of the cockpit’s exterior, the compartment creaking open. When he saw what was inside, his jaw dropped.

Not only were there some replacement parts inside—rolled canvas, aluminum bars—but also about three boxes of ammo shared between his plane’s frontal guns and the mounted Lewis gun at the co-pilot seat.

He thoughts homed in to Mr. Junk again, and the words he said before Haruki’s test flight.

“May the winds grant you fortune.”

Did he actually know I was headed to war?

Did he know I’d end up here?

All signs seemed to point to ‘yes’, but the absurdity of the accusation stopped him from finalizing the thought. How could he have known the KM would fall into the sky and end up in another world?

Unless Mr. Junk has been here before?

If he entertained the thought—then that meant there really was a way back.

Haruki glanced in the direction of the Inverted City, though he couldn’t see it from inside the forge.

He let the thoughts percolate while he replaced the damaged aluminum frame within the plane’s canvas. Stitching new linen over the tear, he patted the soot off his hands and exhaled at a job well done.

From behind, a woman’s voice, smooth and lush, sounded from the blue.

“So this is the plane Her Royal Highness mentioned?”

Haruki jumped back, his ears tingly from the softness of the woman’s voice. When he turned, Marina was already there, leaned over with a curious smile on her face.

“M-Minister Marina!” Haruki stuttered, hands shielding his face as if a bright light had just blinded him.

Marina scoffed. “Please. Marina will do.”

Haruki breathed in deep, then exhaled whatever nerves he could. “O-Okay. Marina. Geez, you startled me.” He coughed. “What b-brings you here, this late at night?”

She rubbed her jaw and scanned the KM. “I thought I might catch you here, doing maintenance on your… machine. It’s a fine creation—much more formidable than any siege engine or flying cavalry I’ve laid my eyes upon. This is the technology of an otherworlder?”

“I guess you could say that,” Haruki nodded.

“Amazing,” she said, running her hand on its wooden wings. “Will wonders never cease.”

“It wasn’t—” Haruki stopped. He wanted to talk about Mr. Junk, but knowing that he now held a tenuous connection to this other-world, he couldn’t just mention him carelessly. “It would take forever to explain how this machine works, if you’ve never worked a cog or bolt in your life.”

Marina twisted into a grin. “Try me.”

Dammit. She’s challenging me. Haruki dared to resist her charms, but he could barely hold on.

Marina shook her head, shedding the smile. “Alright. That’s enough out of me,” she said, tone turning neutral. “I didn’t come here for that. I came here for you.”

“For me? How, exactly?”

Her eyes darted side-to-side, as if scanning for anyone—or anything that could be listening. She closed in on Haruki, then began to whisper.

“There is much to talk about. Let’s continue this in your quarters.”