Chapter 182 – Salevela Conflict 3

Hundreds of ships lined up. They leave the water behind as if they got carved by a hoe. Skyships that looked like they were painted by rust. They fly over the ships while making these loud noises. Near the skyships were ships that were hovering through the use of the balloons and runes. The runes acted like burners to keep the floating ships afloat, while the wind runes made them stable.

They wouldn’t float without the two runes. They aren’t like the skyships that were purely powered by thrusters and stabilizers that keep them floating. They are powered by zero-gravity machines that were only made possible because of the engine that was copied through a slightly inferior blueprint of an engine.

The Holy Midland have two types of blueprint for the skyships. The ones that were used by the Vileguards and the other was the skyship designed by the demesne. The design by the demesne was superior to the Midland design. It was not as loud. And fly better than the Midland’s inferior design.

The flying ships gathered around the fleet. The vessels differ from each other. Some have sails. Some were powered by steam, the smoke of the chimney rising up into the air. There was a wheel on some of the ships, acting as a paddle for the ships to move.

Dolce looked over below. The skyship she was on slowly approached the ship that was located in the center of the fleet. It was a sturdy ship made of metal. The deck of the ship had four skyships that were being maintained by short stout people with long hair and long beards. Dolce could tell that they were the dwarves.

The dwarves were a war-like and creative-like race that’s fond of tinkering with machines. The skyships were what they call as work of arts. So it was kinda obvious that they’d be on the skyship, maintaining them. The human crew isn’t as enthusiastic as them. So the only way they could possibly create the skyships was to rely on the dwarves that wanted to do the job. In months, through night and day, they created the skyships and made use of the factories in their hidden cities to mass create the parts needed. Of course, they couldn’t copy the skyships made by the demesne. But they were able to recreate them with the example they were given.

Miraculous is the right word. They are miraculous workers who could do something to things they have a great interest in. They are natural savants. They are blessed with a talent for war or through creation. The God of the Dwarves is kind to them.

Creating things like the machines that are now ready for war were the specialty of the dwarves. War and creation of something that could help war was something they are too good at. They thirst for knowledge but the dwarves are blessed with a talent for war and creation. Combine them and you have an entire race dedicated to those two things.

Dolce took a step out of the skyship cruiser. Don followed and hailed his skyship and directed them to follow the dwarf that was leading them to a pad where they can land. Dolce looked at her brother before surveying the ship. The soldiers were scurrying around the deck. The dwarves were watching the skyship she just stepped out. And a man with a great coat, with frosty eyes, was striding towards her.

Don met the great coat wearing man with a dull fake smile. The great coat man returned the fake smile with a fake smile. The two exchanged pleasantries as they stride towards Dolce in a relaxed yet insane manner. Behind them was an aura of coldness.

Familial love can go to hell. They don’t have that kind of affection towards each other. But yet for the sake of morale, the two acted like they are such a loving family. That it made Dolce want to vomit and spit on both of them. But she waited for them to appear before her.

The man wearing a great coat looked at Dolce. His frosty eyes coupled with a wrinkled aged face made the man looked like a handsome old man. His back was straight and lean. His frame was big yet sturdy. The man was a head tall than Dolce.

“Dolce, my daughter,” said the man.

“Father, my father, it is nice to meet you again.”

...

That was false.

Sigrid of Alva was no fool. Her daughter was a cunning schemer. She was someone that was like her mother. She was a savant. A talented she-devil that could lie with a straight face, and he knew that his son, the eldest, his firstborn hated him truly.

Sigrid of Alva was no fool. He was a man who was able to deduce that one day all the sons and daughter he has produced with his wife would die in the hands of the eldest and the youngest. It was a spot-on prediction of the seer that was an instrument to his wife’s death.

Sigrid of Alva has lived long enough to read people. No matter what mask they hide under. He would be able to know just by looking. Greed, Anger, Lust, and Hunger, Sigrid of Alva have seen it all. He was old enough to sire three sons and three daughters.

If he believed that there was ‘niceness’ in that ‘nice’ greeting of her daughter. He might as well bow his head in front of them and say, “Just kill me” and so that they would be done with it. But Sigrid didn’t do so. He didn’t so out of the promise he made to his wife.

“Don’t hurt any of them.”

She said. Sigrid of Alva wouldn’t break that promise no matter what happens. He could have just murdered the two. But he made a promise. He could have dragged her daughter back to the Alva compound by force. But he promised. He could have killed his eldest son who has already got most of his ‘loyal retainers’ to rebel against him. But he didn’t because he promised to his dear wife.

So he could keep his expression straight.

“Well done,” he said, “you have used your head, my daughter. Good for you. You didn’t sacrifice that purity of yours for nothing.”

That was all he would say to his daughter. He turned around while hearing her daughter clench her teeth and fist. His son was speechless. But Sigrid of Alva marched on without any care.