Page 46 of Storm to Victory
At the wheel, Dacha gave a rolling elven shrug of his shoulders. “It will be better than some of the unpalatable meals I have consumed before.”
“Well, yes, it’s not hard to be better than army food.” Fieran spooned some of the slightly too watery mashed potatoes onto a plate. When he topped the mashed potatoes with the meat and gravy, it almost looked palatable.
Dacha made a noncommittal noise as he remained behind the wheel.
The door to the pilot house opened again, and Pip shoved her way inside, toting a long pole with metal plates on either end. Her hair was still wet, her clothes now clean. “The automatic coal distribution chutes seem to be functioning as designed. I grabbed this while in the engine room. I can rig it to hold the wheel in place.”
“A good solution.” Dacha stepped to the side, keeping one hand on the wheel to hold it steady.
Pip didn’t even freeze as she crossed the room to the wheel. Planting one end of the metal pole on the floor, she wedged the other end against the metal wheel. She then used her magic to fuse the pole into place so that it wouldn’t move.
Dacha released the wheel, but neither he nor Pip retreated for a few seconds as they eyed the wheel and pole holding it in place. Then Dacha gave a nod. “That will work well.”
“Someone will still need to make adjustments occasionally, but we won’t be as tied to the wheel as we were.” Pip nodded before she turned and crossed the pilot house. She sat on the side of the tablecloth next to Fieran, casting a glance over the food. “This looks good.”
The army had certainly downgraded their definitions of food.
Pip scooped the mashed potatoes onto her plate before she topped it with the meat as Fieran had done.
Dacha took the final spot on the tablecloth, folding his legs as he sat in a cross-legged position common among the elves. He eyed Fieran’s, Pip’s, and Uncle Edmund’s plates, his nose wrinkling slightly. He claimed portions of the meat, potatoes, and vegetables and organized them so that they weren’t touching, a feat considering both the meat and the potatoes were so watery that they wanted to flow together.
For several minutes, they ate in silence, the rumble of the engines vibrating through the metal beneath them and the blue Mongavarian skies passing outside the banks of windows.
It was a strangely peaceful moment, picnicking on the floor high in the air, despite the fact that it was an enemy airship flying in hostile skies.
Uncle Edmund set his empty plate aside and leaned back on his hands. When he spoke, he spoke the language Escarland shared with Mongavaria but with a Mongavarian accent. “All right, Fieran and Pip. Since the two of you are going to be on your own once we liberate Ludin, you need to practice your Mongavarian accent just in case. So let’s hear it.”
Fieran shared a look with Pip before he attempted the accent. “How does this sound?”
“Rough, but you might get there with practice.” Uncle Edmund still sounded identical to those Mongavarian soldiers Fieran had heard after his crash.
Pip’s face twisted as she took longer than he had to make her attempt. When she did, her words were a mangle, still too accented with elvish to get anywhere near Mongavarian. “I do not think I can manage it.”
Uncle Edmund laughed and shook his head, switching back to his normal Escarlish accent as easily as changing his shoes. “No. It would probably be best if you let Fieran do the talking.”
“He is rather good at it. The talking part.” Pip elbowed him.
Fieran grinned back.
Dacha shook his head, giving Pip a slight smile. “I cannot manage another accent either. Even after all these years, I have not perfected my Escarlish accent.”
“My Escarlish still has an elvish accent too.” Pip smiled back at Dacha with only a trace of her former hesitancy. “But my dwarvish is good. Probably because I grew up speaking it with my muka.”
Uncle Edmund nodded sagely. “It is your native language as much as elvish.”
Fieran finished his last bite of meat and potatoes, set aside his plate, and eyed Uncle Edmund. “Now that we’re out here, is there anything you can tell us about the Mongavarian countryside where we’ll be?”
Uncle Edmund’s grin turned lopsided. “I’ve never been this far south in Mongavaria. Officially, I’ve only been to Mongavaria once, and that was to visit the capital city of Landri.”
“You should tell them the story.” Dacha shifted so that his back was to the wall. “Much of our current war is rooted in the events of back then.”
“All right. But fair warning, you might hear a few details you didn’t know before.” Uncle Edmund shared a look with Dacha before he turned to Fieran and Pip. “It all started when your Uncle Julien chose an arranged marriage to your Aunt Vriska over a marriage of alliance with Princess Bella of Mongavaria.”
“Your uncle nearly married the current empress of Mongavaria?” Pip glanced at Fieran, her eyes wide.
“From what I’ve heard, the offered marriage was more a trick than a true gesture of peace.” Fieran gave a shrug. He couldn’t imagine Uncle Julien married to anyone else besides Aunt Vriska. The two of them were deeply in love and a powerful team.
“It was. Princess Bella took a whole trunkful of poison on her visit. She didn’t get the chance to use it, but poisons are something of a hobby for the Mongavarian royalty.” Uncle Edmund stretched his feet out. “My part of the whole thing started when Jalissa and I left for a diplomatic visit to Mongavaria days after our wedding.”
