I dipped the quill into the inkpot one last time, the scratch of nib against parchment the only sound in my cramped quarters.

  The room was small - barely larger than my apartment back in Morren - but luxurious in a way that felt excessive. Velvet curtains framed a porthole window. The bed was piled with silk sheets. Even the writing desk I sat at was polished mahogany, inlaid with brass fittings that caught the lamplight.

  I finished the entry and set the quill down, flexing my cramped fingers.

  1st - 28th of Corvith, 1264 AR.

  The month of the crow. Ironic.

  I flipped back through the diary, counting pages. Two hundred fifty-six. Enough space to last me another twenty years if I kept each month to a single summary. No more single-sentence entries. If I ever lost my memory again - and given my track record, that felt inevitable - I wanted context. Dates. Events. Enough to rebuild myself from scratch.

  I closed the book and slid it into the desk's drawer, locking it with a soft click.

  "Its gotten late, hasn't it?" I muttered, rubbing my eyes.

  But sleep wouldn't come.

  Mary had introduced me to some substance earlier - ground leaves you mixed into tea. She'd called it something I couldn't pronounce, but the moment I drank it, my mind sharpened. My exhaustion vanished. Every thought felt clearer, faster.

  I was starting to suspect it had the same effect as caffeine.

  I pulled out my pocket watch.

  Eleven o'clock.

  I sighed, rubbing my forehead. "I need fresh air, and maybe even a bite to eat."

  Standing, I stretched my arms overhead, feeling joints pop and muscles loosen. My neck cracked twice as I rolled it. I was dressed casually - loose pants and a white shirt, no coat, no pretense.

  I wonder if Adrian's still working at the buffet.

  The thought pulled a faint smile from me as I stepped into the hallway.

  ---

  The corridor was silent except for faint humming - mechanical, rhythmic, the lifeblood of the airship itself. Aetheris stones flickered softly in brass sconces along the walls, their dim glow casting everything in warm amber. Red carpet muffled my footsteps as I walked.

  I found a staircase adorned with potted flora - ferns and flowering vines spilling over gilded railings. I climbed slowly, boots silent on polished wood.

  Pretty sure the buffet's on the seventh floor.

  A sign confirmed it at the landing.

  7th Floor - Grand Galley.

  I followed the arrows through similar hallways - more carpet, more lamplight, more excess - until I reached a set of double doors, already ajar.

  Beyond them stretched the galley.

  It looked less like a ship's dining hall and more like a high-end restaurant. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Tables were draped in white linen. Chefs lined a buffet counter in pristine uniforms, arranging dishes with surgical precision. Servants moved between tables, carrying trays for nobles seated in quiet clusters.

  This really is the height of luxury. I wonder if they'd even feed me if I asked.

  I crossed the threshold and sat at a lone table near the windows - empty, isolated, perfect.

  Ten seconds passed before footsteps approached.

  I looked up.

  Adrian walked toward me, his expression perfectly neutral except for the faint strain around his mouth. He wore a servant's uniform - black vest, white shirt, polished buttons - and moved with exaggerated formality.

  I couldn't help it. I smiled smugly.

  Adrian stopped beside the table, hands folded behind his back, and spoke with flawless politeness. "Good evening, sir. What would you like this evening?"

  I leaned back in my chair, putting on the poshest voice I could muster. "Whatever the chefs recommend, my good man. Oh, and be quick with it. My time is worth a lot more than you could possibly comprehend."

  Adrian's eyebrows twitched. Just barely.

  "Yes, sir."

  This will never get old.

  As he turned to leave, his lips moved - just enough for me to read the word he mouthed.

  Gigolo.

  I rolled my eyes, waving my hand dismissively. "Hurry along now."

  Adrian's mouth twitched. He left without another word.

  I turned my attention to the window.

  The night had swallowed everything beyond the glass except for clouds drifting past, their edges glowing faintly with reflected moonlight. The horizon was invisible, lost somewhere below.

  Still, it looks quite nice.

  My gaze drifted across the galley. A few nobles occupied other tables - couples leaning close, whispering over wine - lone figures reading newspapers or scribbling notes. Most ignored me entirely.

  Curious, I leaned slightly, trying to catch fragments of conversation.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  "...new trade route to the Valcarian Islands should open by winter..."

  "...campaign against heretic holdouts in the Ashen Marches continues..."

  Boring. Politics dressed up as news. Nothing I didn't already know. Though the heritic quip intrigued me a little.

  I was about to give up when Adrian returned, carrying a tray.

  He set it down with practiced precision - a strange-looking cooked fish covered in white sauce, a side salad with delicate greens, and a bottle of deep red liquid with a crystal stopper.

  I raised an eyebrow. "C'mon, Adrian. I can't get drunk this late. I thought you left those habits behind in Morren."

  Adrian leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "I have. But I managed to buy this off a chef who said it was some of the best wine he's ever had. Shipped from the icy plains of the north - produced from red frostberries."

  I looked at the bottle, intrigued.

  "I'll save some for you later, out of the kindness of my own heart," I said gracefully.

  Adrian poured a small amount into a glass, his movements smooth despite the whisper in his voice. "You better. I spent a lot so we could both enjoy this."

  "When are you finished?" I asked.

  "Midnight."

  I nodded. "Meet me at the observatory. Ten past midnight."

  Adrian gave a subtle nod and left, moving to serve another table.

  I lifted the glass, swirling the dark red liquid. It caught the light like liquid rubies.

  I took a sip.

  The wine was extraordinary.

  Sweet - just how I liked it - but without the cloying heaviness some dessert wines had. The burn I expected never came. Instead, a rush swept through me, cold and clean, like plunging into icy water. It spread from my throat to my chest, leaving a tingling clarity in its wake.

  I set the glass down slowly, staring at it.

  Damn.

  I turned my attention to the fish. The white sauce was rich but balanced, the flesh tender and flaky. The salad was crisp, dressed lightly with something citrus.

  For the first time in days, I ate without thinking about anything else.

  Just food. Just wine. Just quiet.

  I glanced out the window again, watching clouds drift past like silent ghosts.

  I better get off this ship quick, before I get addicted to the high life.

  ---

  I stood in front of a noticeboard mounted near the galley's exit, scanning headlines alongside a few other nobles who'd gathered.

  Western Merkopian Union ambassador Fredrick Kennedy praises Imperial troops during annual parade

  Southern Provinces Report Record Grain Harvest

  Imperial Forces Advance Against Heretic Strongholds in Dhaelar Wastes

  Military Campaign in the Ashen Marches Enters Third Month

  Seems the news of the Eastern Empire's collusion hasn't reached outside of Morren yet.

  I turned away, walking toward the botanical garden where the observatory was housed, the wine bottle tucked under my arm. A few nobles glanced at me as I passed, their expressions faintly puzzled. One elderly woman's gaze lingered on the bottle before she looked away with a slight frown.

  I shifted it to my other arm, grimacing internally.

  Should've brought a jacket. Or a bag.

  The moment I stepped through the arched entrance to the garden, the air changed - warmer, humid, carrying the scent of earth and blooming flowers. The garden stretched wide beneath a domed glass ceiling that revealed the night sky beyond. Lanterns hung from trellises, casting soft golden light across stone paths winding between beds of vibrant flora.

  Nobles strolled leisurely, admiring roses and orchids. Others sat at wrought-iron tables, sipping tea and conversing in low, cultured tones.

  I walked slowly, taking it in.

  Flowering vines climbed lattices. Ferns spilled from raised planters. A small fountain burbled somewhere nearby, its sound soothing beneath the murmur of voices.

  It was... peaceful.

  I followed the path toward the far end, where a spiral staircase rose to a platform above. At the top stood the observatory - a large brass telescope mounted on a rotating base, its lens pointed skyward toward the glass dome above us.

  As I climbed the stairs, I noticed children gathered around the telescope, giggling as they took turns peering through the eyepiece. One boy tugged at his sister's sleeve, insisting it was his turn. She ignored him, adjusting the focus with exaggerated concentration.

  I smiled lightly.

  But instead of approaching, I veered toward a small table set against the railing overlooking the garden. I sat down, leaning back in the chair, and set the wine bottle on the table. Then I waited.

  A couple of minutes passed before I heard footsteps.

  Adrian appeared at the top of the stairs, now dressed in casual clothes - simple shirt, trousers, no servant's livery. He looked almost human again.

  "You're late," I said flatly.

  Adrian raised an eyebrow. "At least I'm fashionably late."

  I smiled, gesturing to the wine bottle already sitting on the table between us.

  Adrian sat down across from me. His expression went blank.

  "Where are the glasses?"

  I blinked. My face went equally blank.

  "...You didn't give me any."

  Adrian's eye twitched. "I shouldn't have to tell you to get cups."

  "Silence, servant boy."

  Adrian's jaw tightened.

  I waved a hand dismissively. "I guess we'll just have to go outside and sip at it."

  Adrian shrugged, his irritation fading into something closer to amusement. "That's how it should be, in my opinion."

  We stood, walking toward a set of glass doors at the observatory's edge. Beyond them stretched a wide balcony - wrought-iron railings lined with potted plants, tables scattered across polished wood, and a light breeze cutting through the humid air.

  I crossed to the railing, leaning against it as I looked down.

  Clouds drifted below us, parting occasionally to reveal dark land far beneath - fields, roads, distant pinpricks of light from towns we'd long passed.

  "Stop enjoying yourself and pass the bottle," Adrian said from behind me.

  I laughed, uncorked it, and took a long drink. The cold rush hit me again - sharp, sweet, intoxicating. I wiped my mouth and passed it over.

  Adrian grabbed it, tilted his head back, and drank deeply. When he lowered the bottle, red wine stained his lips. He wiped it with his sleeve, leaving a crimson streak across the fabric.

  I raised an eyebrow. "That stain won't come out."

  Adrian glanced at his sleeve. "Shit. You're right." He shrugged. "Eh. Who cares."

  He took another swig.

  I laughed. "Hurry up and pass the bottle."

  He handed it back. I drank again, feeling warmth spread through my chest despite the cold rush.

  It's definitely addicting.

  I reached into my pocket for a cigarette, but Adrian spoke before I could pull one free.

  "You should quit that stuff."

  I paused, glancing at him.

  He shrugged. "In my opinion, putting smoke into your lungs doesn't sound too good."

  I smiled faintly. "That's ironic, considering what we're drinking."

  Adrian grabbed the bottle and took another drink, grinning. "Who said drinking was bad for you? I feel great."

  I laughed lightly, slipping the cigarette tin back into my pocket. "Fine. I won't smoke here. Wouldn't want to infect your lungs with such pungent smoke."

  Adrian's expression shifted - his grin fading slightly, replaced by something more contemplative. He stared at the bottle in his hands.

  "I'm a bit nervous," he said quietly. "About going to the capital."

  I frowned. "Why?"

  Adrian glanced at me, then back at the bottle. "When I said what little family I have left is in the capital... it's my uncle. Not by blood, but he's pretty much family. Him and my father fought in a lot of battles together."

  I nodded slowly, choosing not to ask what happened to his father.

  Adrian continued. "My uncle's... in the family business. If you get what I mean."

  I blinked, surprised. "Gangster?"

  Adrian shook his head. "Not exactly. But he's... very interested in meeting you."

  "What for?"

  "He says it's because you're one of my only friends." Adrian's tone was carefully neutral. "But I doubt that's the only reason." He paused. "Since I'll be seeing him sometime soon anyway, it'd be cool if you could come. That way I'd have an excuse."

  I tilted my head. "An excuse from what?"

  Adrian's smile twitched, his eyebrows knitting together slightly. "There's a... troublesome girl there. Who probably wants to see me. And I want an excuse to leave."

  For a moment, I just stared at him.

  Then I laughed - loud, genuine, doubling over slightly.

  "There's no way," I managed between breaths. "Our iron soldier Adrian has woman problems."

  Adrian grabbed the bottle, face flushing. "Shut up."

  He tilted it back and drained the rest in one long gulp.

  I straightened, still grinning. "Hey. I was going to drink that."

  Adrian lowered the empty bottle, smiling smugly despite the wine staining his teeth. "Too slow."

  I shook my head, still smiling, and turned back to the railing.

  The night stretched endlessly before us - clouds, stars, distant earth far below.

  I smiled, looking towards the scenery.

  Enjoy it while it lasts, Damian.