The next day, I was pouring over a handwritten report Costas had dropped off for me on the state of Sweetwind. It wasn’t looking good, but I had confidence that my haul of wyvern scales could cover some of the work. I’d have to really scour the bazaar for buyers of the bones and other parts though. I would also not be able to take any jobs from the guild until my penalty was assessed but it was possible I could take on an independent contract from someone.

I had spent time the previous night writing a sealed message to City Governor Vukmir about the travelers and he had replied to me this morning suggesting that I’d talk with the other guilds about going back with sponsorships for them. I had expected him to tell me he would send the navy out there but apparently there was no way that was possible with the current state of things.

The idea of getting commissions for all of the travelers, made my mouth water but I’d not be able to take on many passengers, especially if I found a few new crew members here. It was a depressing thought, but I knew I could pass on the commissions to other captains in exchange for favors, especially if those favors would enrich my relatives and make them more inclined to help me with my repair work.

Walking out into the commons, I noted that Neil still hadn’t returned to Endaria yet so I left a note and pinned it to the door telling him I would be talking with the other captains in the officer’s mess. I gave him directions to where the apprentices and stewards dined, and explained when I was expected back.

It was breakfast time, and I knew that no captain in port could resist the guesthouse’s food. It was truly one of the reasons they stayed here, as the cooking was of no small renown.

My mouth watering from the smells of food, I quickly put on my best captain’s uniform and belted on my cutlass before following my nose to a small officer’s mess, my formal captains cap tucking my hair away and pressing my ears down.

The small oak paneled room was covered in paintings of famous airships, and the walls were adorned with relics from the depths of time. The tables were about half-filled with officers, captains and their senior officers all discussing one thing. Conversation was buzzing with energetic intensity about the qualifications, heated arguments and debates about which training wing was going to give the best showing.

I smiled as I ran my hand lovingly over the bowsprit of the Farstrider. My eyes slightly tearing up as I remembered my grandfather’s old ship. The bowsprit was one of the only objects recovered from his wreck, and he had it shipped here before he died brokenhearted and gripping a bottle. After… the night our holdings were burned this could possibly be one of the only remains of my past life that wasn’t aboard the Sweetwind.

Bitter anger swelled in me, a familiar burning that I had to take a deep breath and push back down, to once again contain my fury. I didn’t want any of the other captains to see any loss of composure. I smiled and caressed the bowsprit again.

The bowsprit was a beautiful woman, with outstretched hands, as if she was flying through the air. The woman was wearing a flying harness and a look of unrestrained mischief was in her gaze, with eyes fixed upon a far horizon.

I knew it was my grandmother, as he had her immortalized in the beautiful work of art when he had dedicated his new ship. Now it hung from one wall. This had been his favorite stopover, and I knew why he wanted her smiling face here welcoming all those who entered this room filled with so much history. She had been a native of Bagliona and called this city home before she had met him.

“Becca!” I heard a gruff voice call and I saw Auntie Gracie and Uncle Roark sitting together and waving a set spot at the table for me. Apparently, I was expected.

I set down and pulled out my correspondence from the governor and passed it to Roark, who was surprised for a second before he set aside a goblet of Pango Juice and started to read. His eyes went wide and he stared at me.

“Well?” I asked and he had to take a gulp of juice before he asked the question. “How many of them are there?” I shrugged and bit my lip as I tried to recall my encounters with the travelers.

“I’d Guess around fifty or so. I’ll have to go around and get a number of sponsorships from different guilds, as I doubt they will all want to be messengers. Some will of course want to try for other guilds, most will want into the adventurer’s guild if what I’ve heard about the travelers is correct.”

Roark nodded and handed the letter to a glaring Aunt Gracie. She looked it over and nodded. “Hah! Sounds like the navy does indeed have its hands full. You going to head back after your penalty hearing?” I nodded.

“I’ll be able to take a few of them, but Sweetwind just wasn’t built for a large crew, and especially passengers. Uncle Roark, you got the largest ship here, I’m guessing you will also want to take a few on as prospects too if you like what you see.” He nodded and I told him about Tombason. He laughed uproariously.

“Like the ole sweats back on Swappers Needle!” He cried and I nodded and told him how I had been tricked into getting rid of their “dragon problem” for them. He nearly fell out of his chair with laughter until my furious glare tamed him somewhat.

Those kinds of old sly skydogers were the ones that served on my uncle’s ship. Uncle Roark wasn’t a messenger, he was more of a troubleshooter. He had a small mercenary group that flew with him as marines and he would provide escort services for other airships, or he would deliver valuable cargo. Tombason was the kind of hard man that would fit right in with him.

“He’s a right bastard, but he honored his end of the deal with me. I could see it in his eyes uncle, he knew he could have taken me when I was tired and broken from that fight and he didn’t.” I remarked and Allister nodded.

“Well I’ll grab a bunch of sponsors for them from the Adventurer Guild, Gracie you want to go talk to ole Shiverbones for me? He is going to be in the master’s booth at the qualifications and you’re the only one of us wind folk that our esteemed guildmaster will talk to.” The old woman nodded and I sighed with relief. I hadn’t enjoyed the prospect of trying to secure a meeting with the Bagliona Messenger’s Guild head. I was far too junior for anyone like that to want to see me without a booked appointment.

After breakfast, I stopped by the junior mess to pick up Neil. He was indeed there, nervous and keeping his distance from the curious stares from other apprentices. He had left his jacket and flying gear out for the staff of the guesthouse as I had instructed him to do the night before, it was clean but I did see that he would need proper formal wear and fitted clothing. Currently he was wearing one of my sister’s old flying jackets and the rest of his clothes were an ill fit. It had been all I could find for him before we left the Sweetwind and I grimaced as I realized we would need to make a quick stop at the guild provisioner before we went to the qualifications.

A short walk later, I was sitting in the provisioner’s office browsing his catalog, looking over a very inadequate list of used gear I could request for him. I had two options, I could pay the deposit on the gear, buy it, or I could have my new apprentice go into debt with the guild until he could pay them back.

I shut the book and talked with the beady-eyed supply clerk until I saw samples of the apprentice gear he had in stock and then bid him good day, dragging Neil away from a rack of glidepacks he was eyeing with envy.

“Rubbish, glidepacks are for talentless hacks…well at least they had a better jacket in your size.” I remarked as I looked up from my talk with the supply clerk. They had taken his sizes and I had them transfer the insignia and ship patch from Lilly’s old jacket and onto something that fit him perfectly. I had opted to pay for the jacket out of my own coin and I winced at how light my money pouch was becoming. The jacket had been particularly expensive, as it had small spellfolded pockets. I could have settled for something cheaper, but I knew the value of good equipment.

He also had a new parka and harness pants. I shoved the new clothing to him and told him to change at once while I found a cap in his size and paid for it.

When he came out, I tossed him the cap and we left to go to the qualifications. The guildhall was bedlam with the early morning rush, and it took us a while make our way out of the hall and walk back across the aerodrome field to the stands. At the sign in desk I found my writ of entry waiting and had to sign in Neil as my guest. He gawked at the massive crowd forming in the stands and the small band playing for a group of Mageos committee members as they wined and dined around the master’s booth.

I sat down in the observer’s seating and pulled out my spare spyglass which I tossed to Neil, pulling my own spyglass out of the small spellfolded pocket in my uniform jacket.

“I want you to watch closely! I’ll try to explain some of the stuff to you, but ask questions, that is one reason I brought you here, I wanted you to see this and learn.” I chided him and he nodded, his eye glued to the instrument as he panned it around excitedly.

All of the normal morning and afternoon traffic would be shut down while the qualifications went on. The field was filled with beasts and craft of all kinds. A crew bustled around an adolescent sun dragon and it roared in the brisk dawn breeze, drawing a few remarks from the captains next to me as they studied the field with their own instruments.

One older officers had set up a small field scope on a tripod and was adjusting it as he hopped from foot to foot. I had to stare the man for a second until a dawn of startled recognition crossed my face as I remembered who he was. The man caught my gaze and grinned at me.

“Ah, Captain Marshall! I saw you land ship yesterday, knew you’d want to be here!” He said and I groaned inwardly. “It’s good to see you too sir!” I said and he grinned at me. Just great, if he hadn’t set himself up next to me to get a story for his aviation gazette I’d be surprised.

Luckily, I had a feeling that Neil would be a good distraction for him. “Sir Patrick! This is Neil, his is my new apprentice and a traveler!” Quickly pulling a startled Neil away from his rapt attention to the various flying beasts on the field of the aerodrome, I pushed him in front of me like the sacrificial lamb he was.

The old man’s face lit up in a wide grin as he quickly shook Neil’s hand and as expected, the seal’s power slammed into the man as he tried to bombard him with questions. The man staggered a bit after a few tries and then decided to phrase his questions better, mostly asking about his own impressions of Bagliona. When he realized how untalkative and nervous my new apprentice was ne turned on me.

“What’s this I hear about you burning a Wyvern and it’s rider?” I winced and wondered just how much of the gossip had leaked. I shrugged.

“Not much to tell, I was attacked. It didn’t go so well for the other chap. It’s all in my official statement if you want to request for it after the penalty board.” I huffed and he beamed at me as I narrowed my eyes. I had a suspicion that Sir. Patrick would be one of the people on that penalty board.

“From what you said over the stone, it sounded like self-defense. I’m betting your penalty will just be a week or so and 50% deposit. They won’t reduce your rating over this.”

I nodded weakly and groaned. I hadn’t had a late delivery for nearly a year now, and my rating had been steadily climbing, but that would be put-on hold if they board ruled against me. They could rule that it was an avoidable fight, and certainly I didn’t have any business taking an outside contract on the guild’s time. If the ruling was bad enough they could reduce the rating, and I’d get stuck with the jobs no one else wanted and perhaps short jobs instead of the long-haul deliveries I preferred.

From behind us, a gong rang and Neil scampered to the railing along the edge of our bleacher and he gawked at the sight. An announcer sounded off, describing the various events, the participating training wings, airships and the full formal names of the dragons.

It took a very long while, and I made small talk with the old officer while I responded to the occasional question from Neil. My own spyglass was studying the field. There were several qualifications, most of the ship crew performance qualifications were being carried out by Academy Aeronautica instructors aboard the airships and the dragons, and those two groups were what I wanted to pay attention to. I wasn’t interested in the riders aboard individual flying beasts.

I explained the various simulations the ships would perform to Neil as the first ship entered the qualification maneuvers. It was an old Marantic make, with a bag of ballast in the center. The vessel, about the size of Sweetwind performed maneuvers, and I watched the crew of the vessel carefully. The lead cadets were giving the orders and I watched as they manually operated the sails, and performed emergency maneuvers.

There were a few small mistakes I could see, and the morning wind gusting in from the sea was one thing they had to contend with. I explained each maneuver to Neil, doing the same thing my own mother had done with me, as I gave my own running critique of their performance.

As Sir Patrick realized what I was doing with my apprentice he also joined in. His nearly fifty years of experience with the Mageos Air Corps far outstripping my own as we exchanged our own comments, and I let him explain some of the finer details about why you needed to tack, and when they had to raise or lower sails for certain maneuvers. The old retired captain had once been an instructor and knew how to explain stuff in a through manner.

Neil was getting an education, the same practical way my mother had given mine. I would have my work cut out for him if I could judge by his questions. He had obviously never flown a day in his life, although he did seem to have a very good grasp of some aspects of physics and easily understood the principals behind wind resistance, lift and drag.

One handler in particular caught my eye. I watched as one cadet easily swung from his harness and grabbed a dangling line that had snapped loose, displaying catlike agility. He tied it off, and slid down into a crouch as he grabbed a loose line and secured it before clutching and balancing properly as the ship abruptly swung around, his legs easily riding the angle of the deck. I memorized the face and shifted my spyglass to another prospect.

Other captains were doing the same, as they watched how the crew performed. This process repeated again and again until all the airships had gone through the first round of qualifications. Then the riders launched and formed into wings. The rider qualifications were judged on how well they could fly in formation, and perform maneuvers. While I wasn’t interested in the spectacle, nor were many of the captains, the group of observers from the guild were paying close attention, and I saw them point out the two I had seen in the induction hall. They both were indeed very good, and probably two of the best riders in their class.

“Is Natasha Yard related to Trevon Yard, the owner of the continental champion racing stables?” I asked Sir Patrick and he nodded as he trained his field scope on the maneuvers. “Aye, she is! This is one of the best displays from her I’ve seen all year. I heard her parents were furious and tried to pull her out before graduation when she informed them she wasn’t returning to lead the wing.” He cackled and I smirked. I had met her father, Trevon Yard several years ago. I had a feeling that there was more to that refusal than teenage rebellion. The man was a cad, and I had seen how he had talked to Uncle Roark, almost inciting a duel.

I had been a bit disappointed when the situation was diffused by the man’s wife who was in no hurry to see herself a widow. She had made up some excuse to beg pardon from the meeting they had been in and it had left Uncle Roark in a foul mood for weeks. Trevon was a bigot, and a pig, and his high position in the government only made him more of a pain in the butt. My eyes narrowed as I looked towards the masters seating and as I expected, Trevon Yard and his wife were there watching their daughter.

The man didn’t look happy at all, and his face was red from drink as he teetered and babbled with his wife who was looking as if she wanted to get him home early before he caused a fuss. Already, I could see several disapproving gazes directed at the man’s behavior.

That man was a bit of a disgrace, but was unfortunately typical of what passed for nobility in Mageos. It was one reason I heavily disliked the bureaucracy in that country, as it was full of a need to make me get approval from self-important bloated warts like that for everything. The committee held immense power over the guilds, and the Bagliona Messenger’s Guild was infamously wrapped in layers of bureaucratic muck.

After the training wings landed, it was the turn of the two dragons on the field. Once again, I watched closely, and ignored Neil’s gasps of awe and appreciation as I concentrated on close inspection. While I wasn’t interested in the dragon pilot or how well he performed his maneuvers, I was watching the crew in each dragon’s harness with close scrutiny.

I doubted that any of them that qualified would sign aboard an airship, but it was still something to watch for. The two dragons simulated a boarding action on the ground and we watched the well drilled crew repel each other without the benefit of their own marines. I was impressed. It had been a while since I had seen such a display and I had to explain the mechanics of dragon combat to Neil who was fascinated.

“So their goal is to capture the other dragon’s pilot?” I nodded and explained the link between pilot and dragon and how it was used.

Dragons, are immensely curious and warlike creatures. They are actually, despite popular opinion, very intelligent. They thought of the various wars humans fought with each other as good training for their youngsters, or just developed alliances with various countries where their clans were living. Once in a great while, they would form bindings with a person who was sensitive to the dragonsong as they called it.

The extent of the bonds that dragons formed with their pilots was something spoken about in legends. The dragons themselves had a form of chivalry they shared with their riders and a massive fight with dragons was often more akin to a vicious dance of flying knights dueling for supremacy. A captured dragon would usually be ransomed to the kingdom or dragon clan the dragon belonged to.

Although, a kingdom could capture a dragon and compel it to fight, the dragon would not fight against other dragons in that dragon’s clan. It made them of limited use at times, which is why they were usually ransomed and not forced to fight their kin.

Sometimes a blood price would be demanded if a dragon’s rider was killed, especially if that slaying was intentional. A blood price from a dragon clan was often known bring down kingdoms so understandably, it was another major reason your goal was to capture a pilot alive.

The crew of a dragon also helped keep the dragon’s health in good order, stitching and healing wounds, helping to clean the dragon and protect the dragon from magical assault. The dragons themselves often used their own forms of magic, but in large battles you needed all the help you could get, and that’s where dragons really excelled.

I explained this all to Neil as he gasped at the intense mock combat, then two more dragons as they startled to circle in on the aerodrome. I smiled as I remembered the first time my own parents had shown me these qualifications. I had been to several of them, mostly with my mother but the one that I still remembered was the very first time. It was an unforgettable sight, truly.

Once the dragon qualifications were over, the day’s events began to wind down. I knew most of the qualifications weren’t in the flashy practical stuff. There would be interviews, and officer’s boards as well as practical evaluations conducted on the ground. Officer boards, and the like were sort of like Mageos Air Corps induction interviews, and they were also essential to testing command and leadership knowledge.

While they were graduates and had completed the academy, the guild headhunters were looking for how well they did in practical situations. and the total ratings they received overall would make or break them. If they didn’t qualify they would have just a set of certifications from the academy and no ship, wing or dragon posting.