Chapter 11: Rossi
It was only spoken of in whispers, but Rossi had heard it all his life. It was an assumption older than any one yet living. There was an ancient city, the Mother of Empire, and it had lain fallow for as long as anyone knew. Most thought it was cursed. Some thought it had been built by giants or elves. Rossi himself had dreamt of exploring its ruins and finding something mysterious and magical. In Maratea those dreams had been tempered. Scholars had records of course, lines of ancient emperors and dates. It was not a city of faerie creatures but of men. Still, the general agreement was that a true emperor's throne would be there.
The Imperials understood its power. The Empire was of the Suevians, men of the far north. They'd conquered the city once, long ago, and crowned their first emperor there. Then they'd fled back to the north and declared the land sacrosanct by Imperial decree, feeding the myth.
It grew too as Maratea's glory began to fade. The most brilliant alchemists naturally became known outside Maratea. As word of their deeds traveled, Rossi watched them each go. Most went to the north to serve the merchant princes of the Empire and the mercenary kings of the City-States. Many went to the west and the old blood of the Trosmer. Some even went as far as the Zhongguo to the east or the Skraelanders over the great western sea.
The city was no longer the hub of inspiration it had once been, but their wells still pumped liquid fire. Fire that was the blood of machines. It was not long until the Mercenary kings were at their doorstep. Rossi had stood outside his last employer's workshop as the Grey Company rolled their war chariots down the center streets.
This is the price of naivete. We thought we could buy freedom. In his time in Maratea Rossi had been a blacksmith, an innkeep, and an engineer. As he watched men of war march down the wide boulevards he realized that his peaceful life was over.
Rossi made it back to the bridge to find the entire bridge crew dead. Devart was slumped over the wheel, his hand poised on the ascent lever. Poor bastard. Rossi slid the boy down off the wheel. He's cold. Gut wound. Blood pooled around the base of the wheel. Kid bled out trying to get us back into the sky. Enemy gunnes must have caught them.
Putting the crew's fate out of his mind, Rossi turned to the controls. The ascent was only set to half up-bubble, and the wheel was pulled full to port. They'd been climbing in a lazy spiral for who knew how long. The altitude meter was useless, glass shattered in the intense heat of the liquid fire or destroyed by the shrapnel of enemy gunnes. We're still beneath the cloud level. Vulnerable to enemy planes._ Rossi brought them to full up bubble and pulled the wheel to center. Immediately the speaking tube to engineering roared to life. Rossi recognized the Republican accents of the engineering staff but the words were all lost to the wind whipping through the destroyed windshield.
“Give me everything. Drop ballast. We need to climb!” There was no way to tell if he was heard, but there was little else he could do from here with the condition of the bridge. There was no response from the observation deck, and Rossi didn't dare disturb the medical staff while the captain's life remained in danger.
Rossi scanned the skies as they flew, looking for any sign of the planes. He laughed to himself grimly. I probably helped design those damn things. Thank the gods I'm such a lazy asshole.
It hadn't been difficult to join the company. They expected Maratea to simply roll over for them and they weren't disappointed. Rossi's skills as an engineer made him invaluable. Soon he was dressed in his fresh white uniform. When he asked why he was issued a white uniform for the Grey company the quartermaster simply sneered at him. After a few days of dust on the road he no longer wondered. While a small garrison remained in Maratea, the company left as soon as possible. Officially they were heading back to the City-States but word got around quickly that the true destination was the Mother of Empire.
Rossi spent his days making himself as useful as possible to the company as an engineer and his nights finding out more about the company itself. It was a mostly Imperial company, captained by a Suevian named Albrecht. He'd made them vastly wealthy. The veterans seemed to speak of Albrecht in hushed tones, almost as one might speak of a god more than a man. It all unsettled Rossi to no end. By the time they arrived at the outskirts of the ancient city it was clear what he would need to do.
The next day as they approached the city, the captain's war chariot exploded. It hadn't been easy to arrange, either. Unfortunately, to Rossi's eyes, the captain had not been in it at the time, having hopped out to piss. Thrown to the ground, he'd at least ruined his hose in the process.
Rossi's attention snapped back to the present as he heard several men in the corridor outside. The lordling Marchele burst into the room and stopped short. his hand going to his mouth as he took in the scene. Rossi standing over the body of Ensign Devart, his hands bloody, surrounded by the remains of the entire bridge crew. “What is the meaning of this?” Four airmen came into the room behind him, obviously not quite sure what to make of the situation.
Rossi immediately snapped to attention next to the wheel, giving Marchele his best salute and stepping close so he could be heard. “Aye, sir. I just got back from the medical bay, sir. The Captain, they have to take his leg.” Seeing his bloody hands, Rossi pulled a kerchief from his pocket and began to clean them as he gestured around the room.
“I told them to climb. That we'd come in too close. Obviously they did not listen...” Rossi trailed off as he saw the look on Marchele's face.
“Those men died as heroes.” Marchele growled through gritted teeth. “They are your superiors. I won't stand for an up-jumped coward like you, Master Rossi, besmirching their good names.” Marchele waved his hand at the rapidly approaching clouds above them. “Especially as you render their sacrifice meaningless by abandoning our men on the ground to their deaths.”
Shit. Rossi paled. The airmen looked back and forth from Marchele to Rossi, obviously expecting an order to advance. “Coward, sir? I was in the room when it was hit. I pulled the captain to the med bay myself.” But the only men who could attest to that directly are dead in this room. You fool. Rossi's throat was suddenly dry, his eyes unconsciously drawn to the doorway. It was all for nothing. “The medics can attest to all of this of course.”
Marchele nodded at this, his eyes hard. “We shall see Master Rossi.” Without turning back Marchele gestured to the men. “Take him to my quarters and confine him there.”
As the airmen advanced, Rossi held out his hands. “I'll go peaceably, of course. But, sir, please.” Rossi went to his knees, painfully. Two of the airmen winced sympathetically. “Don't take us back down. Those men will find their way back. They're trained for it. Don't risk all our lives for nothing.” For a moment the crew looked to Marchele for a response, but there was none. He remained silent as he adjusted their ascension to full down bubble.
As Rossi was dragged to his feet he suppressed a moan of despair. Nothing he'd done mattered if he died before he had his chance. His life's work was slipping through his fingers.
Chapters 1-6 - https://steemit.com/story/@fromage/yasht-to-the-waters-of-the-sky-chapters-1-6
Chapter 7 - https://steemit.com/story/@fromage/yasht-to-the-waters-of-the-sky-chapter-7
Chapter 8 - https://steemit.com/story/@fromage/yasht-to-the-waters-of-the-sky-chapter-8
Chapter 9 - https://steemit.com/story/@fromage/yasht-to-the-waters-of-the-sky-chapter-9
Chapter 10 - https://steemit.com/story/@fromage/yasht-to-the-waters-of-the-sky-chapter-10
