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Chapter Forty-Five: The Public's Personage
🕑 Added 2025-05-17 00:55:52 +0000 UTCGoogle Docs: For Suggestions
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Serena hadn’t been wrong.
The moment Amelia crossed the gangway and set foot on the Asamaywa Imperial Airdocks, several dozen workers ceased their activities and stared at her, stopping only to elbow their coworkers and nod in her direction. Unlike her arrival in Kenhoro, Amelia wasn’t wearing a hat and so her blond hair was as noticeable as a lighthouse aetherlight. Serena suggested Amelia travel covertly throughout the city, but she’d rejected the idea; she was now a Lord-Prospect, and if she wanted to integrate fully into demon society, then the sight of her was something they would need to get used to!
Team leaders barked at the distracted workers who scrambled to resume their duties. Still, other demons kept their attention on her; small groups of people dressed in naval officer uniforms mumbled amongst themselves, throwing the occasional glance. Doing her best to ignore them, Amelia chose to look up and down the airdocks, marvelling at how different it was from Kenhoro.
The airdocks stretched the entire length of the eastern side of Asamaywa and its connecting sister cities of Asamoto and Asamino. Hundreds of bays were frantic with activity; the noise of engineers with their steam grinders and welders produced a symphony of industry. Dozens of cranes loaded and unloaded cargo, moving large wooden crates and nets filled with sacks. The standardised shipping container that was so recognisable in Amelia’s old world didn’t seem to have been invented yet, so she made a mental note to bring it up with Serena at some point.
The hum of dozens of ship engines filled the air, and it was here Amelia saw a battleship for the first time. The Vengeance was classified as a light cruiser at approximately eighty metres long, but the ship before her was more than double that, with an enormous superstructure extending above its deck and below its underhull. Massive triple-barrelled turrets lined the main deck, making the Vengeance’s armament resemble a toy. Amelia counted a dozen secondary turrets, which looked roughly the same size as the Vengeance’s four-inch main batteries. All in all, the ship looked like an angry steel porcupine. This wasn’t a ship that danced with the enemy, nimbly positioning itself and dodging fire. This ship chose a spot in the air, parked itself there, and then obliterated anything rude enough to think it was allowed in the same part of the sky.
“It’s an Oshiro-class, the latest design in the East’s ship-of-the-wall doctrine,” Serena said, looking at the same ship Amelia was. “Named after the Greatlord of Asamaywa and my direct superior.” Serena paused for a moment, fiddling with her gloves. “At least, he was my direct superior. I guess the Vengeance’s lease has ended, and we’re back in the capable hands of Centralis Intelligence.”
“The same Oshiro we’re about to be dining with…” Amelia mused, trying not to smile at the recent memory of Serena clutching her horns. “He must be impressive to have a line of battleships named after him.”
“That’s Greatlord Oshiro to you, and to me, and to anyone who doesn’t want to embarrass themselves. You’re nobility now, so take extra care to remember the titles of your fellow nobles. Now…” Serena sniffed, looking back at the Vengeance’s deck. “Tomes! Where’s my First Officer?”
“Coming now, Cap’n!” Tomes called back. Dagon appeared, hurrying down the gangway and giving Serena a quick salute.
“Captain,” Dagon intoned.
“Dagon, what are your current duties?” Serena asked, a subtle smile forming on her face.
“Well....” Dagon rubbed the back of his head. “Given that you and Miss Thornheart are off to dinner, I’ll sort out the paperwork with the Dockmaster. Then–”
“Wrong answer. Get Tomes to do it. You’re coming to dinner with us.” Serena clicked her tongue, turning and gazing at the battleship a few bays down. “I’m outgunned at this dinner. Dealing with my mother and the Greatlord and his wife? You’ve been a fine First Officer, haven’t you? It would be an honour for you to dine alongside a Greatlord in a Highlord’s estate, would it not?”
Dagon breathed out slowly, and Amelia heard a stifled laugh from the quartermaster on deck. Dagon looked like he’d much rather be facing the barrel of a gun than Serena’s honourable gift. “It… would be a great honour, Captain,” a deflated Dagon mumbled.
“Excellent.” Serena beamed a charismatic smile. “Go find out whether we have a carriage waiting for us. If not, procure one. Dismissed.” Dagon responded with a salute slightly slower than normal and trundled off. Serena folded her arms and looked around with her usual impeccable posture.
“Is that allowed?” Amelia asked. “To just invite him like that?”
“Lords are permitted to bring a guest to most events. It’s an important tradition that allows nobles to create connections between their benefactors and others. It’s a ‘you untwist my horn and I untwist yours’ kind of thing.”
“So, would I be permitted to bring a guest?”
Serena looked at her suspiciously. “Yes. However… you have a mischievous twinkle in your eye. Who are you thinking of?”
Grinning, Amelia turned and called up to the Vengeance’s deck. “Oi, Tomes!”
“What!” came the reply.
“Want to have dinner!?”
“Piss off!” A moment of silence passed and then Tomes appeared with an apologetic look on his face. “Uh, no offence, Captain. I just meant… you know…” he said with a sheepish smile.
“What was that, Tomes!?” Serena yelled. “Did I just hear you volunteer to clean the toilets?” Serena gave Tomes a hard stare until the quartermaster acknowledged the order with a meek “Yes, Captain” and disappeared out of sight.
“Don’t be too casual with them in public,” Serena mumbled. “At least, not at first. There will be a lot of opposition against your appointment as Lord-Prospect. If you veer too much from established norms, it will be seen as a mockery of high society from a human.”
Amelia nodded. It was a point Serena had been driving home recently. While the Overlords and their subordinate Greatlords no doubt knew about her Speaking the Second-Word, her capabilities were less well-known to most of high society. Even the idea that someone as young as she was could be a Speaker of the First-Word was difficult to believe.
Dagon appeared with a worried look on his face. “Captain,” he said as he arrived with a salute. “There’s a carriage waiting for you, I mean us, outside the docks. The problem is…” He glanced back over his shoulder. “The hacks are there, swarming.”
“Tsk!” Serena clicked her tongue and swore.
“Hacks?” Amelia asked.
“Reporters,” Dagon explained. “Poking their horns in Captain’s business. They’ve got cameras and everything. I imagine they’re here for you, Miss Thornheart.”
“Lord-Prospect Thornheart, in public, Dagon,” Serena hissed. “Seven hells!” She turned to Amelia. “Don’t answer any questions, and stick by me. How far to the carriage, Dagon?”
“Ten metres. The driver got it as close as he could. They recognised your sigil. More are arriving every minute, so the quicker we go, the easier it’ll be.”
“No time to waste then.” Serena turned and caught the attention of a handful of sailors. “You lot, help us get through this pack of hacks. Don’t let them get too close.”
“Aye, Captain!” came the chorus of replies. The sailors rolled up their sleeves and rolled their shoulders. They looked more like they were preparing for a pub fight than anything else. A tinge of nervousness formed in Amelia’s stomach. Reporters from her world were generally highly professional, and the profession was respected. How bad would they be here? How far would a journalist go to get a scoop?
“Let’s go,” Serena commanded, and the group moved to leave the docks. Serena went first, then Amelia, and finally Dagon, protecting the rear. The sailors took the flanks. The moment they turned the corner towards the exit the rabble became apparent. Dozens of demons were pushing against a line of dock guards, each holding either a notebook or an old-fashioned-looking camera.
Or at least, old-fashioned according to Amelia. Where the novelty cameras from her old world had an electric bulb for their flash photography, the ones in this world used a moon crystal to generate a burst of light. Unfortunately, she didn’t have much time to examine the fascinating piece of magical technology. Still, as the cameras were raised and the flashes began, she noticed that with each flash, the camera would give off a little hiss of steam. She felt like she was walking into a den of snakes. The thought made her giggle, which helped a bit with the nervousness.
The guards parted and their group began pushing through the journalists. Serena barked at them to make way, flaring her aura so it was as visible as possible. While her presence was enough to slowly part the nosy journalists, the sailors protecting Amelia’s sides did not have their personal space respected as much. Cameras were raised high and pushed between gaps in their defences, flashing and hissing steam. Thank god Amelia wasn’t epileptic!
It wasn’t just the cameras. A hundred questions were thrown at her in a chaotic symphony of noise.
“Thornheart! Is it true you’re a Speaker!?”
“Human! Lord Nakata has suggested you’re a spy! Do you have any comment on these accusations!?”
“Is it true you’re responsible for the downing of the Sakamoto!?”
“Lord-Prospect! Sadow from the Eastern Herald! Comments on your alleged connection with the human Church and the Vatican!?”
Amelia could only smile and try to focus on the looming carriage ahead. The questions bombarded her, and once or twice, a journalist tried to grab her. Thankfully, the sailors had none of it, and a well-placed punch put the offender on the floor. The violence was a little disconcerting, but Amelia was made of stronger stuff! What were these journalists compared to her withstanding a direct burst of heavy flak or the relentless onslaught of Grandpa Gu?
They reached the carriage. Serena threw open the door and ushered Amelia in. Serena and Dagon followed, and the door was pulled shut. Serena banged on the roof and the driver wasted no time moving out. The crowd of journalists were forced to give way lest they be crushed under the horses’ hooves. Not completely deterred, the journalists continued to chase and shout questions.
One particular question caught Amelia’s attention.
“Human! What do you think of demons!?”
The questions prompted a happy memory to surface. It was one of the first things she’d said to Serena when her girlfriend burst through the doors of the captain’s quarters, pointing a sword at her. Smiling at the memory, Amelia leaned out the carriage windows and locked eyes with the journalist who asked the question. With her warmest smile, she felt herself almost glow with friendliness. Pushing a little bit of aether into her voice, she answered the question with a wave.
“I love demons! I look forward to meeting everyone and doing my part!”
Her words cut through the rabble, silencing them immediately. Only the hiss and flashes of a few cameras and murmurs could be heard.
“Did you hear that?”
“She said she loves demons…”
“So pretty!”
“She was glowing!”
The crowd soon recovered, and as the flashes picked back up and the questions began again, Amelia ducked back into the carriage. When she was back in her seat, Serena reached over and closed the curtains.
“Could have gone worse,” Serena mumbled. “I’ll petition Greatlord Oshiro to put a word in with the press tonight. It won’t stop all of them, but it’ll prevent you from being crowded when you step out onto the street.”
“Aye, better get used to the attention, Miss Thornheart,” Dagon intoned. “You’ll be the public’s personage for the next few months.” He turned towards Serena. “I’ll have Tomes go over tactics regarding situations like these.”
Serena nodded in response.
“Tactics?” Amelia asked.
“When a nobility becomes the public’s personage, or what you would call a notable,” Serena explained. Amelia thought about pointing out that the term in her world was celebrity, but decided to hold her tongue. “You need to find a balance between dignity, grace, and also force. Can’t show weakness to these kinds of people.”
“You make it sound like they’re some kind of enemy,” Amelia pointed out.
“They are, in a sense.” Serena sniffed. “Won’t be long now. The family estate is quite central.”
The carriage continued along the busy streets and Amelia took some time to peek out the window. True to Serena’s word, she couldn’t see a single human amongst the pedestrians travelling throughout the city. Unlike Kenhoro, there seemed to be fewer varieties of horns amongst the demon inhabitants. Most horns she saw were a single pair, curved upwards similar to – but nowhere near as pretty as – Serena’s. She also saw that the men wore their hair in a high ponytail and that the city guards carried spears, not swords.
“Tenets and traditions of Sangoism,” Serena explained when Amelia mentioned her observations. “It’s the dominant religion in the Three Sisters and the one I grew up in until I found a better home as a Christian.” Her hand went momentarily to her chest, where Amelia knew her girlfriend sometimes wore a necklace with an upside-down cross, symbolising the demon church. Serena wasn’t extremely religious, but on occasion, Amelia had overheard her praying, something Serena didn’t like to be seen doing. Amelia suspected Serena saw praying as a weakness.
“What did you believe when you were a… Sangoist?” Amelia asked, guessing at the correct terminology of a follower of Sangoism.
“Sangoist, yes,” Serena replied with a nod. “And I still believe. I simply found I was better able to serve the Empress as a Christian.” She took a breath. “Sangoism revolves around the teachings of Sango, the founder of Sangoa, the old city.”
“Sangoa? Where is it?” Amelia asked, not remembering the name from the maps of the East she had seen.
“Lost to the wilderness. The ruins should be out there somewhere, probably buried by now.” Amelia quickly filed the ruins of Sangoa away as yet another mystery to be solved. “At thirteen, Sango fought a great battle and was victorious. He fought with a spear, which is why you see so much of the weapon around, and thirteen became the age at which boys become men in this part of the Empire.
“At this age, they go through a ceremony called Taki Habbat, which translates as ‘The Rising of the Hair’ in High Imperial. As men, they are permitted to wear their hair up high, and should they ever shame themselves or their family, they must cut it in penance. If the crime is serious enough, the head will be shaved.” Amelia absorbed the information, not resisting a glance at Dagon who, like his battle-brother Tomes, was completely bald.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Dagon said, rolling his eyes. “Me and Tomes are from Kurnal and Talik. All proper boys from there are bald from the moment they’re born.”
“And does their skin all have patterns like you two do?” Amelia asked. Dagon and Tomes had marbled skin boasting all kinds of blacks, greys, oranges and reds. Their pattern reminded Amelia of army camouflage, and she wondered if it was some kind of evolutionary adaptation.
“Aye, but the patterns vary,” Dagon responded, gesturing to himself with his thumb. “Tomes and I have the pattern of a warrior! You see, the red moon chose our fates when we were born. Strong patterns create strong men!” he finished with pride.
“What about demons with no pattern?” Amelia asked, glancing momentarily at Serena. Her girlfriend was lightly toned, but along her spine were subtle stripes that Amelia enjoyed tracing with her finger. Secretly, Amelia liked to think of Serena as her little tiger. The iconic species had been extinct for a thousand years in her old world before it was resurrected through advanced technology.
“Ah, well,” Dagon replied nervously, glancing at Serena. “The rules wouldn’t apply unless you were a member of desert society, of course…”
“A lower caste,” Serena answered. “Good only as a common worker, isn’t that right, Dagon?”
“It’s not the way we think, Captain!” Dagon protested. “The old ways are dying out…”
“How did you and Tomes end up in the Eastern Navy?” Amelia asked, turning the conversation away from the awkward topic she had inadvertently stumbled upon.
“Ah, well, Tomes was always the more studious of us, and in the Southern Navy, promotion is centred more around how hard you can punch rather than how fitted you are for a position.” Dagon raised his hands, “Not that Tomes can’t throw a mean right hook. I just mean I realised he could do so much more outside the South.
“I knew he wouldn’t make the decision himself, so I dragged him to Centralis and enlisted us both into the Imperial Navy. We got positions on a frigate and did a decent job, even if we had trouble fitting in. Like I said, Tomes is studious but knows how to throw a proper punch.”
“Punches that threw them straight into a cell,” Serena interrupted with a smirk. “I was a squad commander then, under the previous Captain of the Vengeance. I found those two locked up in Ponan, awaiting a military trial. I saw their potential, and the rest is history. You should have seen how hard it was to get him through the First Officer’s exam. I was this close”–Serena brought up her thumb and forefinger–“to bribing the examination board to let him pass.”
Amelia laughed while Dagon weakly protested. The trio of them continued to share stories and talk amicably as the carriage progressed through the city streets. Amelia had forgotten about her anxiety right up until they suddenly stopped, and they were hailed by someone outside the carriage.
“We’re here?” Amelia asked, peeking outside the curtain but only seeing the edges of a huge iron gate.
“At the front gate,” Serena answered before stepping outside and speaking to whoever had called out to them. A few moments passed and Serena reappeared. A loud clunk sounded and the iron gates opened with a whine. The carriage passed through and Amelia noticed an enormous silver wolf welded onto the gates. The familiar sigil of House Halen.
The carriage trundled along the gravel pathway before veering in a semicircle around a fountain and pulling up to the front of the house.
“Seven hells!” Serena muttered, peering through her window. “She’s here.”
“Who?” Amelia asked. “Your mother?”
“No.” Serena shook her head. “My grandmother. Mother must have sent her to fetch us, which means she’s probably already entertaining Greatlord Oshiro and his wife. Come on, let’s go.” Serena opened the door, stepping out of the carriage. Amelia followed with Dagon right behind.
There was a single demon waiting for them. She was an elderly demon and probably the oldest-looking demon Amelia had seen so far. The old woman was slightly hunched, wearing an elegant shawl and leaning against an ornately carved walking stick. Her face was weathered, but her eyes were bright crimson and when she looked at Amelia she seemed to bore right through her.
“Hurry your horns! Get over here!” Serena’s grandmother called out, her voice rough but clear and strong. “Seven hells! Now, let’s see… hmm…” The elderly demon mumbled as the trio fell in line before her.
“Grandmother! How are you doing? I didn’t expect to see you today,” Serena said.
“Hmph! Look at you! My granddaughter.” Serena’s grandmother peered closer, clicking her tongue in a very Serena-like fashion. “You look younger. A spitting image of your mother at your age. Is this the work of your human’s healing?” The elderly demon waved her walking stick in Amelia’s direction without looking her way.
“Grandmother, Amelia–”
“Quiet! Your grandmother isn’t finished! I see your manners need some work.” The grandmother slowly circled Serena. Amelia focused on looking straight ahead with her very best posture lest she incur the wrath of this demon! “At least you’ve kept your uniform clean!” Amelia felt a small bubble of pride, knowing it was her cleaning magic that was responsible.
“I see those idiots finally came to their senses and made you Lord. If young Oshiro was going to delay any longer, I was going to give him a whack!” To punctuate her point, the demon slapped the gravel a few times with her walking stick. “About time the Admiralty recognised you properly! Half of them are useless, and the other half spend most of their time picking up after the other idiots. It’s a wonder we haven’t lost the war with so many fools in charge!”
“Grandmother!” Serena burst out with exasperation. “Please refer to Greatlord Oshiro with-”
“What? I give credit where it's due! Don’t think they scare me! I’m too old to get scared! Bah! I just spent the last hour telling him to his face! Although…” The old woman paused. “Maybe that’s why they sent me out instead…” she mumbled. No one said anything while the elderly demon finished her circle, standing back in front of the group. She narrowed her eyes at Dagon. “Who in the Seven Hells are you!?”
“D-Dagon Dahlberg, Ma’am!” Dagon spluttered. “First Officer of the Vengeance!”
“Hmm…” The grandmother peered closely. A long silence ensued until she asked, “You’re from the South, aren’t you? Where do you hail from?”
“Kurnal, Ma’am.”
“Bah! Serena, is this man your lover?”
Serena spluttered. “Grandmother! Where are your manners!” Her voice betrayed a note of anger. Amelia turned her head to see Dagon going as red as a tomato.
She couldn’t wait to tell Tomes about this in the future!
“Don’t get snappy with me, missy!” A walking stick was waved in Serena’s direction. “You’re not married, and you’ve brought an upstanding-looking man with you! What am I supposed to think, eh?”
“Officer Dagon is a fine First Officer, and he is here because I believe he deserves to be recognised by Greatlord Oshiro for his service. He is my guest, but he is not my lover! Grandmother, stop asking such ridiculous questions!”
“Tsk!” The elderly woman clicked her tongue. “Well, better be so. We don’t want our noble family mixing with Southern blood! No offence, Officer Dahlberg.”
“...None taken, Ma’am,” Dagon mumbled weakly.
“Well then!” The walking stick went tap-tap as Serena’s grandmother came to a stop in front of Amelia. “This must be the human everyone’s blathering on about. Amelia Thornheart, is it?”
“Yes, Ma’am!” Amelia did her best to smile.
“Tsk! You’re pretty for a human, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Ma’am!” Amelia chirped.
“What’s a pretty human like you doing so far away from home?” The demon’s eyes narrowed as she placed both hands on her walking stick and leaned towards Amelia.
Amelia swallowed, her brain racing. “A call to adventure, I suppose.”
“Adventure, is it?” The grandmother scoffed. “Quite a bit of luck, isn’t it? For your adventure to lead you to the table of House Halen – producers of munitions – during wartime.” A dangerous glint appeared in her eyes. “And what if I were to accuse you of being a spy? What would you say then, Lord-Prospect Thornheart?”
“Grand–” Serena began, but her grandmother cut her off with a firm “Silence!”
Amelia looked into the grandmother’s eyes and for a moment they just stared at each other. Forming her reply, Amelia opened her mouth and said, “I would say it would reflect poorly on House Halen, for they would surely have ensured my loyalty and status before inviting me to dinner with a Greatlord during wartime.”
“Hrmph. We could be setting a trap.” The grandmother scoffed.
“With respect, Ma’am,”–Amelia felt herself smile–“you’ll need more than a single Greatlord for that.” Next to her, Amelia could swear she heard Serena groan internally.
“You’re sharp. For a human so young,” the elderly demon said with a sly smile.
“And so are you. For a demon so old,” Amelia cheerfully replied.
“Ha!” The grandmother waved her walking stick. “So bold!” She turned and methodically shuffled back towards the entrance. After a few steps, she turned, eyeing Amelia.
“You’ll do just fine,” mumbled the grandmother. “Just fine indeed. Come on, you lot! Young Oshiro is waiting!”
Casting complicated expressions at each other, the trio followed the old woman into the house.
It was time to dine with the Devil of the East!
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