B8 - Chapter 20: Alexandria Reborn

“How much longer?”

Elder Dragon’s massive frame shifted back and forth, the cobblestones groaning beneath his weight—a reminder of how differently the inhabitants of Undercity lived. Built for violence, bred for war, he looked distinctly out of place here in Tradespire, a city that prized comfort above all else.

…Or perhaps he simply wasn’t used to seeing the sun.

The same could be said for Elder Tiger, who couldn’t stop pacing, her gaze darting about as if expecting an ambush at any moment.

At least not all of the Chimeroi were behaving that way.

Zelkara, for her part, hadn’t moved an inch since taking her position three steps behind and to his right—the traditional place of a bodyguard, though she’d claimed the role without being asked.

The others stood in a loose formation around him, uncertain of what to expect.

Zeke lifted his gaze to what appeared, at first glance, to be an empty patch of air. The skies were perfectly clear, yet his Spatial Awareness told him otherwise.

“She’s here,” he said.

The others followed his gaze, confusion etched across their faces. All except David, whose eyes narrowed. Perhaps he had his own way of detecting the anomaly.

Linus frowned. “Young lord, the skies are clear. There’s nothing—”

The words died as reality peeled away.

The ship descended from nothingness like a mountain deciding to fly.

Where the

Wraith

had been a dagger, this was a fortress given wings. Three hundred feet from bow to stern, her hull curved in ways that defied traditional shipbuilding. The wood—if it could still be called that—had been treated through so many alchemical and magical processes it resembled black stone more than timber. Intricate spirals of runic patterns covered her surface, each one a carefully calculated enchantment woven into the vessel’s very bones.

She made no sound.

A ship that size should have announced itself with the roar of wind through rigging, the thunder of propulsion runes, the groan of strained materials fighting gravity’s pull. Yet it descended in utter silence, as if the world itself held its breath in reverence—or fear.

Vulcanos stumbled back, nearly losing his balance. The reaction pleased Zeke more than it should have. Elder Tiger’s pupils narrowed to slits, instincts screaming warning despite the vessel’s lack of hostility.

Good instincts.

The ship’s underside bristled with sealed ports—future weapon mounts, for now lying dormant. Zeke already saw them filled, the blueprints half-formed in his mind. By the time they’d reach Rukia, she would carry enough firepower to level cities.

But that was for later.

For now, she was merely transport—

The most over-engineered transport ever conceived.

“H-how?” Raileh’s question came out strangled.

“It’s the same principle as the

Wraith

, just scaled up,” Zeke explained. “Admittedly, the calculations become… complex at this size. The light-bending array alone requires thousands of individual equations to maintain stability.”

That was putting it mildly. The mathematics had pushed even Akasha to her limits. They’d burned through three fortunes’ worth of materials in failed prototypes before finally succeeding. But his audience didn’t need those details. Let them think it had come easily. Fear and respect grew from the same soil.

The flying fortress touched down with the delicacy of a feather landing on glass. A gangway extended from her side, wide enough for ten men to walk abreast. Warm, amber light spilled from the opening, gilding the stone courtyard below.

Out of the corner of his eye, Zeke noticed Gravitas watching the ship’s every movement. So, she

had

noticed. The new propulsion system had been modeled on the mechanics of her own power—an elegant adaptation of gravitational manipulation. Even now, traces of her influence could be seen in the final design.

“The exterior matches her purpose: a pure destroyer, built for battle,” Zeke said as he strode toward the gangway. “But step inside, and—” he cut himself off, thinking better of spoiling the surprise at the last moment.

“…Well, why don’t you just take a look yourselves,” he added with an expectant smile.

The contrast hit like a physical blow.

Where most warships valued function over comfort, this vessel’s interior resembled a noble’s estate more than a machine of war. Thick carpets muffled footsteps. Paintings lined the bulkheads. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their facets scattering light that danced with every subtle motion of the ship.

David froze after only a few steps inside, his eyes fixed on one particular painting—an elderly woman seated by a window, frail hands cradling a bouquet of red and white roses.

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Zeke paused beside him without a word.

“The Last Bloom,”

David murmured, his voice quieter than the ship’s hum.

Zeke’s brow lifted. “You recognize it?”

David nodded. “Maximilian received it as a gift—said it had been passed down as a family treasure. He told me it reminded him that beauty can survive even the cruelest of times.”

A faint smile touched his lips, then faded. “It was one of his favorites.”

For a moment, both men regarded the painting in silence.

“This is a warship?” Linus asked at last, disbelief thick in his tone.

Zeke turned to him, noting the awe and confusion mirrored on every face. “That she is,” he said. Then, after a pause, he added with quiet pride, “But also so much more.”

He extended a hand toward the grand interior.

“Welcome aboard the

Alexandria Mk. II

.”

Zeke led them deeper into the ship as he spoke. “When building the original

Alexandria

, Maximilian envisioned a vessel unlike any sailing ship—and far from the plain functionality of a traditional warship.”

He turned, walking backward so he could watch their reactions. “Unfortunately, he lacked the technology to make air travel truly

comfortable

. But we don’t…”

The doors ahead parted at his approach, revealing the heart of the ship.

The common area stretched before them—an enormous space that would have looked out of place not only on an airship, but on any moving vessel. Sofas and armchairs were arranged in elegant clusters. A fireplace dominated one wall, its flames dancing despite the absence of wood or visible fuel. Along the opposite wall, glass-fronted shelves displayed rows of books that gleamed softly in the light.

The group froze. For once, there was no difference between the rough gang leaders of Undercity and the refined Archmage from the elven matriarchy. All wore the same slack-jawed expression of disbelief.

“I thought,” Zeke said after giving them a moment to take it all in, “that if we’re going to live here for months—perhaps years—there’s no reason to suffer discomfort for the sake of military tradition.”

Another moment of silence, and then…

“Is that… a library?” Elder Dragon asked, pointing to the far wall.

Zeke nodded happily. “We have some of my favorites on magical theories and a notable selection of lighter topics to pass the time.”

Elder Dragon lowered his hand, though the blank expression on his face made it difficult to determine if the answer had satisfied him.

No matter.

"The crew quarters are on the second deck," Zeke continued, gesturing to a spiral staircase that seemed to be carved from a single piece of dark wood. "Individual rooms for officers, with communal areas between. The third deck contains training facilities, workshops, and medical facilities. The top deck is mine."

Raileh drifted toward the shelves, drawn by professional interest. Her fingers traced the preservation runes on storage cabinets, her expression shifting from skepticism to genuine appreciation. At least someone understood the level of craftsmanship involved.

“Young lord,” David ventured, thoughtful, “this vessel… it must have cost—”

“Millions,” Zeke interrupted. “Every copper we earned from selling the Wraiths. Every connection I could leverage, every favor I could call in, every piece of knowledge I could steal, buy, or discover. The Alexandria represents the entire Hohenheim fortune.” He paused, letting the weight of that sink in.

“…For that price, we could have—could have—” David’s words trailed off, his mind clearly imagining the sort of things such a vast amoung of money could have bought.

Zeke finished for him. “We could have hired every sellsword, mercenary, and adventurer in Tradespire for the rest of their lives. Twice over. We could have doubled or tripled our numbers—easily. Is that what you were thinking?”

David’s mouth twisted. “I am now, young lord.”

Zeke shook his head, with no hint of regret. “And yet I did not. Why do you think that is?”

David didn’t respond, and neither did any of the others who were now all listening intently to their discussion.

“For decades we’ve thrown men and women at the Empire by the boatloads. Tens of thousands have died trying to take their land back, and yet the border hasn’t moved a single step.” He met the eyes of his officers. They needed to understand.

“Was it because the Alliance didn’t send enough? Because they lacked the will?” He shook his head. The notion was absurd. “If the Empire could be beaten by numbers alone, it would have happened long ago.”

“Are you saying it’s hopeless then, no matter how many we send?”

“Not quite,” Zeke said. “We have simply allowed too many concessions.”

He counted on his fingers. “The Empire has the best Mind Mages—so they'd win in strategy, wouldn't they? The best Earth Mages—so they win at building fortifications too. The best Water Mages—so they win at sea. What else? Oh, yes. They also have the best Fire Mages—so they will naturally win in terms of firepower.”

With each statement, the air grew heavier, as if the Empire’s supremacy had a physical presence. Even the Chimeroi, who had never witnessed the Empire’s war machine in action, frowned at the description. It sounded as if defeat were inevitable.

“…And finally,” Zeke raised a hand and pointed skyward, “the Empire has the best Wind Mages—so they own the skies.”

Silence stretched. Glances passed among the gathered, and Zeke would have wagered that more than one person was having second thoughts about going to war.

“Sounds hopeless, doesn’t it?” His voice cut through the gloom, calm and steady.

“…But that is only if you accept those statements as facts.” Zeke smiled faintly. “They have the best strategies? I’ll gladly put my mind up against theirs. They win on water, land, and open field? I'll put that to the test too. They control the skies?”

His smile broadened until it nearly split his face. “No longer.”

“You asked why I spent our entire fortune on a single ship? That is why. I am taking the stolen sky back from the Empire. I will teach them to fear the heavens once more, to flinch at the movement of clouds. Let them hide in their holes and fortifications or flee to the open seas. But the air will no longer be a safe haven for them.”

Zeke extended his arms, as if encompassing the entire world. “Wherever the Alexandria goes will no longer belong to anyone… but me.”

Nobody spoke, stunned by such a brazen announcement.

And yet Zeke could clearly feel the shift in the air. The oppressive weight from before had been replaced by something else—not quite belief, but the faint, flickering hope that his words might just be true.

That would have to be good enough for now. True faith would come in time.

Captain Morris, wearing his pilot uniform, appeared at the bridge entrance, offering a crisp salute. The man had adapted to the ship’s peculiar nature with remarkable speed, though sweat still beaded his forehead from the effort. Though he had plenty of practice with the Wraith’s this was a different beast altogether.

The

Alexandria

didn’t truly fly—she simply convinced reality that she had always been wherever she arrived. Guiding such a defiance of physics took its toll on the mind.

“We’re ready to depart on your word, Lord von Hohenheim.”

Zeke nodded but didn’t give the order yet.

“Questions?”

No one spoke. They understood, at least in part. The

Alexandria

wasn’t merely a vessel—or even a weapon. She was a statement of intent, a declaration that the old rules no longer applied.

“Good.” Zeke’s voice grew stern. “You have twenty minutes to gather your forces. After that, we leave.”

“Captain. Set course for Rukia.”