So I've been working on this for some time, and it's nowhere near done. But I'm hoping that posting a chapter up here weekly will spur me on to write more (and faster). Nothing in this is set in stone, and I am happy to take suggestions.
Chapter 1: Rossi
The prow dipped above the cloud line as the great ship rose. "Careful, lad;" the Marquis barked, "The Lily isn't a horse cart."
As the young officer at the wheel reddened, Goodman first class Rossi coughed to keep from laughing. This fool wouldn't know the first thing about horse carts, he thought, I doubt the rich sonofabitch has even ever seen a horse, and I know for a fact the boy has barely seen beyond his own courtyard.
The sentiment, though, was correct, if the metaphor a bit strained; the ship demanded a steady hand and the boy had the gentle touch of a rutting bull. Despite being the oldest man in the room, Rossi was also the lowest in rank; lower even than the ham-fisted snot currently in the process of rolling over in a turn to port.
"Hold it! HOLD IT I SAY!" the Marquis leapt forward, grabbing the wheel from the pale-faced youth, "TH-that, that’s quite enough for today, son." He's had every advantage, but he's still such a weasely little turd.
Rossi sympathized with the kid, to a point, but it was hard for him to see why the accident of birth should set such a useless man over his betters. Rossi's father had been born a serf, had scraped and fought and scrounged just to earn the right to be a freeman. Nonetheless he'd died in the same town he'd been born in. A whole life spent to earn his children the right to move to the next town over.
Still, if he wanted to keep his head, it was best to keep such thoughts to himself. Besides, a clever man could turn the weakness of his superiors into opportunity. Rossi straightened his jacket and bent to help the visibly shaken young man back to his station.
"Hands off me, dog." the lordling's nostrils flared as he pushed Rossi away, all but shrieking, "I can walk. I'm not an invalid." Rossi instinctively threw up his hands, then quickly bowed and backed away. A thousand pardons, you little shit. Gods forbid anyone should lay a hand on your illustrious person.
The years had not been kind to Cesare Rossi. He was old indeed, nearly sixty in fact, and his back was beginning to bow. They'd tried to convince him to be put up and stretched, but a year as a guard in the Duke's tower had given him a distaste both for men of medicine and the rack. He'd once seen a pair of arms pulled out, bones and sinew snapping, their owner kept alive and conscious by those very men. The screams were still with him. Still, when he was a boy a man of fifty had been rare indeed. He supposed he had those same cruel men to thank for still being alive at all.
"Mr. Rossi, take the wheel and hold us steady." the Lord Captain coughed slightly and leaned into Rossi's ear as he approached, "Do try to get along with him, he's my brother's boy. There'll be a place in Marchele's household for his favorites, mark my words. You could do worse than to be placed with a man in line for the Duchy of Albret." Rossi nodded and took the wheel, doing his best not to let his anger show on his face. Walking to the main window, the Marquis waved vaguely in the young man’s direction, "Marchele, you are dismissed." The boy's face darkened and he gave only the barest of acknowledgements as he left the bridge.
What a petulant, foolish child, thought Rossi. The Marquis was a bit of a fool too, but generally a kindly one. Renau du Albret was a second son of course, all Marquis born to nobility were. His father had clearly doted on him. When peace had come to the lands of these Trosmer fops it had left many a spare heirs trained for battle and with little to do. The old Comte du Albret had granted Renau this airship and a small army, including Rossi himself, some ten years ago when the Marquis had been barely a man and the peace was still shaky. None of them but Rossi had ever been to war, they'd simply trained and pulled maneuvers to scare the neighboring Barons. It was all sabre rattling and brinksmanship. Violate enemy airspace for a just long enough for them to notice then back home by lunch. The Marquis still seemed to see this all as just another maneuver, a game to goad a neighbor into doing something stupid. What not even the boys dressed as soldiers in the hold truly understood yet was that a naval infantryman was far more likely to die face down in the mud of a ruined field somewhere than he was to retire to a fat purse in a lord’s service. Rossi had worked his way off the line with his military experience and a reputation for obsequiousness, but even now his life was only a sliver more protected than the rows of men waiting to deploy belowdecks. He was all too aware that even an old man like himself could find himself back down there in a snap if he even looked at an officer the wrong way. I have to be more careful around the boy. He could be the death of me.
Renau paced slightly in front of the main window, clearly impatient for any contact with the enemy. There was a quiet moment as he squinted down onto the sea of clouds below. Abruptly, he leaned forward and gestured wildly, "Mr. Rossi, drop the scope." The captain pulled up the viewer and scanned the ground below. "Aha! The unwashed masses themselves at last!" Renau seemed almost to glow with the anticipation of sending his men to die, “We have a target, Mr. Rossi, several in fact. Alert the men!"
Chapter 2 - https://steemit.com/story/@fromage/chapter-2-yasht-to-the-waters-of-the-sky