Firelight illumined the Midnight Songbird, leaving a shimmering sheen of flickering orange of the hull. The deck glimmered, and to look at it in the otherwise dark night-
"Knock that off!" Tabitha exclaimed, in her usual irritable-
"I'm burning serious, you hack. It's bad enough that you killed me, but to think that my afterlife still has you narrating. Spit and burning ash, I wish I could light you on fire," Tabitha said.
"Better. Now explain to the good people why we're here," Tabitha ordered, as she gestured to the rest of the crew.
"Master, are you really yelling at the narrator?" Gerald asked.
"Worse, he's the author. All the hackneyed description and pretentious wordiness stuffed into The Dragon Chase is his fault. So is my death, which I'm still upset about," Tabitha rambled-
"Rambled? Throw yourself in the Spire! Ideally from here. I promise I'll make sure you burn alive before you hit the ground," Tabitha scathed, her voice disturbingly similar to the howl of the spire.
Arrayed in a circle on the deck, the crew of the Midnight Songbird sat upright, waiting for Tabitha to get over her hissy fit and-
Ow ow ow ow! I'm sorry!
"Better. So, the reason we're here is to make it clear to anyone who managed to slog through this b-rate author's messy prose that we're extremely grateful. To that end, the fourth wall is missing for a little while, and we're going to do our best to answer some of the questions you asked in earlier chapters," Tabitha explained.
...
Uh, why did you pause?
"I was waiting to chew you out over your elaborate dialogue tags. But you seem to be learning," Tabitha said.
Part of why I came to Wattpad.
"Hey, he's not that bad," Gerald remarked. "Chew him out too much, and you'll start insulting the taste of the readership, some of whom think the story was pretty good."
"Fair point," Tabitha conceded with a shrug as she sat down. "Besides, we're here for them. We may as well get on with it."
"So, I guess I'll start," Harold Reeves said, standing up and reaching into a small satchel slung over his shoulder.
"Alright, we have a missive, priority white, from @Khalsi. As follows: Would it be possible that other people still live beyond the Everburning City's walls, in other settlements?" Harold read.
There was a moment's silence, as most of the people aboard deferred to Tabitha and Gerald, waiting.
"I hope so," Amelian said, filling in the silence. "It's hard to imagine what lengths they would have to go, to endure the Gloam for hundreds of years, but we would all be better off if there was more to the world besides The City."
Gerald nodded, agreeing. "We can't rule it out. We survived after all, so it's possible. But however it happened, they would have to have secured enough land to feed themselves indefinitely, handle a growing population, and produce some kind of fuel to maintain a barrier of fire."
"So it's impossible, unless they also made a bore?" Valen asked.
"No," Tabitha insisted. "The Maesters who abandoned the City before the First Invasion might have found a place. Or other refugees before the Gloam reached them. Us doing it just means it can be done. Not that it has to be done our way."
"We can hope," Mathias reflected.
"No. We can do more than that," Lucille insisted.
"I suppose this is why you're going to keep refusing your own ship?" Amelian asked.
Valen's gaze lingered on Amelian's sword for a moment, and his eyes narrowed. "That's not a lieutenant's insignia on your pommel."
"Cinders!" Amelain muttered, wrapping her hand over the pommel. "The author will have a fit if we spoil anything for him. Reeves, grab another message."
Amelian began unscrewing the pommel piece of her sword as Harold ruffled through his bag.
"Okay. Here's another one, priority white. From @NotLikeYouThink. As follows: Are there going to be more airships or are there only going to be the two?"
At this, Valen started to laugh. Amelian smiled, Mathias shook his head ruefully, and Gerald groaned.
"So, who's fielding this one?" Mia asked. "Can I?"
"Light it up, Mia," Amelian said.
"Thanks, ma'am. Short answer is yes, there will me more airships. Long answer is 'smoldering cinders of the end of the world, of burning course we're going to build more hellfire-seared airships'," Mia said.
"The Airships proved to be a decisive strategic advantage. A mobile gun platform alone is a critical advantage in engaging a Golem, and we wouldn't have survived the Dragon without them," Valen explained.
"You're all welcome, by the way," Tabitha added.
"It's on your statue," Mathias said.
"It is?" Tabitha said breathlessly, her voice quivering with-
"Knock that off!" Tabitha exclaimed, somehow pointing directly at the author despite the metaphysical impossibility of it.
"Last burning warning, you hack!"
Sorry.
"And you really owe Gimli an apology. Galadriel's gift was a beautiful thing to request, and reached across a chasm of racism and mistrust so large you could fit the entire City inside," Tabitha added.
"Perhaps I should find another question?" Harold Reeves said, as he reached into his satchel.
Thanks, Lieutenant Reeves.
"You might have made my promotion a little more dramatic, though. Seriously? My sword in a food crate?" Harold said.
"To be fair, that's how I got my sword during the Fifth," Emily Varnell said.
"Ah. So it's not just me?"
"It's fairly normal for ratified field promotions," Varnell reassured Harold.
"Okay. I'll stop being sullen about it, thank you ma'am. With my limited screen time, I was worried anything I did was an afterthought," Harold admitted.
"Emily! Glad you were brought into this," Valen said, waving over to where the old soldier leaned against the railings, near the bow of the ship.
"You made it into two books!" Natalina Casper exclaimed. "I'm not even The Dragon Chase! Which means I might still die before Burning Night is finished. And considering the other two POV characters died by the end of the other book, I don't like my odds."
"I die?" Adrian asked.
It's ambiguous. Deliberately.
"That doesn't bode well..." Adrian worried.
"Okay, so this one is from @Inkwellheart, priority blue. As follows: Gerald, will you marry me?" Harold asked.
"Lucille, knives down!" Gerald exclaimed, staggering backwards and pulling Adrian in front of him.
Tabitha and Mathias both started laughing.
"Is this part of the hashtag thing? Moderately fond of Gerald?" Amelian asked.
"Believe so," Lucille admitted, as she tucked a throwing knife back into her mechanic's coat. "The author hasn't been very good about quashing this ridiculous bit of fandom."
By which she means I haven't raised a finger to try.
"Gerald's not a bad guy to be moderately fond of," Amelian admitted. "Except for you, I imagine. Your job doesn't encourage you to like your charges."
"It also expects you to at least respect your charges," Mathias said. "It's difficult to accurately assess a Crafter's deteriorating mental state if you hate them. We actually do check for that. It's part of why we didn't take recruits from the Undercity into Oversight until about four years ago."
"I remember," Lucille said, nodding her head thoughtfully.
"So, the next missive is in a similar topic, and the query is directed to Gerald. From @TheRussianPrincess, Priority pink. As follows: Gerald, could you describe Lucille in three words?"
The silence that follows Herald's announcement is tense, with every eye turning to-
"Knock that off," Tabitha reprimanded the narrator.
"All I wish," Gerald said, after a moment.
Wind whispered across the deck, and hearts sang.
"That was better," Tabitha complimented the author.
"Yeah, even I'll give you props," Natalina added.
"I can't kiss you again, captain," Lucille said, solemnly. "I regret that."
"So do I," Gerald agreed.
Harold coughed uncomfortably, and made a great show of putting his hand into the satchel.
"Really? You're going to get all uncomfortable about romance, Harry?" Madeleine Soren asked.
"It's, uh," Harold began to say.
"He means to say that being affectionate right now might be insulting to them. Lucille cannot express what she feels, and still do her duty to the City," Mathias explained. "Both of them know this. And Lucille won't allow another shadow to stand behind Gerald."
"Was I supposed to interpret that from 'um'?" Madeleine asked.
"We only manage to share a sliver of our hearts in words," Natalina said.
"Ooh, that's good. Who said that?" Amelian asked.
"My husband, Argente."
"So, the next missive is from @NimahBran, specifically to Mathias. As follows: What was your most embarrassing moment?" Harold asked.
"Nimah, thank you!" Tabitha said, as she rubbed her hands together.
Mathias tilted his hat forward until it covered part of his face. "Let's see..."
"It's a tie," Mathias said.
"Boo! Cop-out!" Agrias said.
"It just means Nimah gets two stories instead of one. The first was about a month into my third Final Evaluator assignment. Roenall Carrahe. Had a wicked sense of humour. One morning, in the Guildhall, surrounded by people listening to him for some sort of research event, he stops the crowd as I'm approaching and says 'You walk like a Golem'."
The silence after Mathias's speech was so painful even the narrator cringed.
"I'm with you," Tabitha said.
"Hey, I'm supposed to be an elite in an agency made up of sneaky people. That's a serious blow to my credibility," Mathias said.
"Was that the year we were issued those heavy-soled boots? The ones with the steel lining beneath the foot?" Agrias asked.
"Yes, it was that year," Mathias said.
"I hated those ash-bitten boots. Cinder-coloured clogs that sounded like they had bells attached to them. I had Starson Vontusk claim he had been followed around by children with little bells to mock him during his work at the Riverwash Hospice," Agrias said.
"So what was the second story?" Lucille asked.
"Combat training. I spent six weeks getting smacked around before I could regularly survive three moves," Mathias reflected. "I needed it, I was overconfident."
"Was this when you entered the Gauntlet?" Lucille asked.
Shadow school, for anyone who didn't figure that out already.
"That's your own stupid fault for not slipping it into the stories already, you hack," Tabitha said, insulting the narrator.
"No. It was before he joined Oversight. Mathias came to the guild with more skills than we teach," Agrias said.
"So who taught you?" Natalina asked.
Amelian elbowed Harold in the ribs. "Hurry up. That's an awkward question the author wants to avoid."
"Aye. Okay, next missive is from @Kapow_12, to Gerald. As follows: Gerald, you should fly high and far, to find the Permafrost Forest. A dark forest imbued with raw Craft and malice. This Craft is different from the Craft of the living, though. This Craft burns with a frozen flame and it strips emotions away from those who would wield it."
Gerald blinked.
"Okay, there's more," Harold added. "As follows: If that is too specific, then may I ask if there is another type of Craft. Gloamcraft, maybe?"
Gerald grinned and flexed his fingers. "Okay, let's get into this. Now, unless you skipped straight to this chapter and didn't read the epilogue, or you haven't caught up on Burning Night yet, you know that the Gloam is a Craft. Which does suggest that Crafting as the City understands it is limited, and what is possible with the Craft is more expansive."
"The Maesters, who ruled the world before the Gloam, dabbled in a much wider view of The Craft," Tabitha added. "In fact, Crafters were originally a specialty of Maester, and not the most prestigious one."
"I did not know that," Gerald remarked.
Neither did the audience.
"Okay, sorry. But there you have it. Next question?" Tabitha asked, changing the subject.
"Next missive is actually an indirect communication from @Kapow_12. As follows: If a weak Craft can be used to shelter a stronger Craft, could Battle Crafter's "throw" arrows of strong Craft surrounded in a weaker Craft to effectively penetrate the heat-haze of another Crafter?"
"Okay," Gerald said solemly. "Go over Chapter 18 of The Dragon Chase again. It's not explicitly laid-out, but it's in there. Look at how the Rider attacked my defences."
"That thing cut through your heat haze? The Dragon didn't manage that," Tabitha said.
"Two missives left. One from @ArteaHarlen, for Mathias. As follows: How hard Mathias after your years of friendship, (cause it totally was) was it to kill Tabitha? And will you watch Gerald from a distance or go your separate ways now? (Please don't)"
"It hurt. If it didn't, I wouldn't be a shadow," Mathias said. His voice was hoarse, but didn't quiver. "The only way we know when a Crafter needs to be killed is to know that Crafter. And knowing what that Crafter has already lost of themselves."
"It's a rough job," Agrias added. "You end up admiring your assignments, it's expected of an evaluator. It's mandatory for anyone we assign to a a Crafter."
"You were reasonably magnificent, Aranhall," Tabitha added. "I doubt I could have put up with a different evaluator for years."
"Our last missive is from @EmilyHail, to Secretary Redgrave. As follows: Valen, how old were you when you first battled the Gloam Spawn, and how did it feel?"
"Gloamtaken, not spawn," Gerald corrected. "The Gloam uses corpses, it doesn't make its own."
"I was seventeen," Valen said. "Too young to be doing that, but I'm glad I wasn't any younger. Not like Benden."
"Tammerlane had just turned eight when the Fifth started. He made himself useful for Valen's squad by carrying messages and water," Vanell said.
"I remember. Damn kid resented being too young to swing a sword. I would have hated it too," Valen said, leaning back. "There was a part of me that loved the invasion. It sounds mad, but there was something beautifully simplifying about trying to keep a mob of those creatures off of you while holding a position. The eye-searing flash of Salamander fire, the way a sword cut through their flesh. There's moments where I hated the City so much I wished I was witnessing the Sixth. It's not a part of me I'm proud of, but it is a part of me. And I've made peace with that."
"Any other messages?" Tabitha asked Harold.
"None, madam Crafter," Harold said.
"Okay, so the most important thing we can do," Lucille said, as stood up and stared away, towards the distant horizon, with the Spire at her back. "Is say thank you."
"Free time is a precious thing, and we're grateful to have you spend it here," Natalina continued.
"There's definitely more to come," Gerald promised.
"We'll make sure the author keeps writing," Mathias said, hands resting on his knives.
"Burn brightly," Tabitha finished, with a short salute.
Fierce and bright.