The Princess's Feathers

“…Mr. Almandoz? Sir, come take a look at this.”

My turbulent thoughts are interrupted by the Sifaka officer Roland. They had to call my name twice before I heard their voice — a regrettable lapse in attention on my part. These are young officers I’m assigned to, and we are borderline in a crisis situation. I must be more attentive to them.

Perhaps I’m being too hard on myself. The Princess and her party, gone off on a trip to fetch a rare lichen, didn’t return to the airship at the designated time. If that fact alone wasn’t unsettling enough, my partner… my husband, is among them.

…They watched him kiss me when he departed. A sweet, reassuring kiss on the forehead. I’ve looked up at him and received that kiss countless times before. Surely, they have to know. They have to understand my apprehension.

“…Yes, of course,” I finally reply. Dry leaves crackle under my feet as I move through the underbrush of the small forest, walking past a large oak tree and around a felled maple. Despite the uncharacteristic autumn warmth, the ground is damp and water ponded in spots, giving off earthy and aromatic scents. If I were on the hunt for a lichen, this seems like the place I’d be looking for.

A Ruffed officer turns to the Sifaka, her black tail twitching. “The Commander has a rank, you know.”

“At ease, officer Bryant,” I say, holding my hand up as I pass her on the right. Now isn’t the time for snide remarks over rank. “What have you found?”

“It’s this,” says Roland, crouching on the ground near a log that seems recently disturbed. Down in the mud near their gray and black hands are three distinct impressions of a boot heel. They appear fresh.

“They’ve been through here,” I announce to the group of four officers who’ve joined me from the Blue Daemon. “We’re on the right track. Let’s see if we can’t locate more and figure out which direction they went from here.” The officers acknowledge my order and split up to look through the underbrush once more.

I release a sigh and some of my anxiety is lifted. The Eastern Weald is sprawling and massive — I was terrified of the prospect of just how many potential sites we’d have to visit to find evidence of the Princess’s group. But finding fresh boot prints in the first patch of trees means we’re making the right moves.

A lucky guess. If luck is on our side, then we can still get ourselves out of this.

Sunlight filters down through the trees, leaving patchy shadows on my waistcoat. I walk through the shafts of light, seemingly gazing at nothing in particular, keeping myself composed and professional in case the officers are looking to me for leadership. To gauge how worried they should be about this precarious situation.

But inside I’m searching. I’m hoping, I’m pleading to myself that I’ll see Calypso and the Princess off in the distance, coming into view around one of the large oak trees. Calypso will smile at me, and I’ll smile back. The Princess will wave energetically. Things will be alright.

A noise through the wood grabs my attention. I stop and turn to face the source.

Still no sign of them.

It’s been an anxiety-inducing hour. At 4:30 I started to look out the windows of the Blue Daemon for any sign of the Princess’s group. At 4:45, I had to put down my work and dedicate myself to the lamentable task, unable to ignore the roiling in my stomach. My husband has many qualities, but ‘tardiness’ is not one of them. It was unusual for him to not bring the Princess back early. It’s unprecedented that I have to go out searching for him.

When five o’clock came and the Princess still hadn’t arrived, I gathered four of the five remaining officers and set out to search for the group. Leaving a single guard to cover the royal family’s airship is risky, but I feel the situation warrants it.

Besides… Max is there.

I shouldn’t discredit the man. Armed with one of the steam guns stored on the airship, he can handily take the place of one (or two) of the palace guard.

It boggles the mind — my dear friend Max could shoot a thimble off a fence post from a quarter-mile away. But give him something made of steel, and he hesitates, overcome by the anxiety of battling another animal in hand-to-hand combat. Such is the dichotomy of one, Maximilian Scott.

The ship will be safe with him onboard.

It makes me feel bad sometimes, the way things ended between us. But we kept in touch, and this trip was only possible because of him. I smile at the realization Princess Asha, Her Majesty’s heir to the throne, now owes my old friend a favor.

“Commander, sir!” Officer Bryant calls through the trees behind me. I shake away the thoughts of things long past and turn to jog to her position.

“Report,” I say, angling my ears to give her my full attention.

“There’s a trail of boot prints here,” she says, pointing her tail off in the distance to her left. “It leads in that direction.”

“Excellent work,” I reply. “Let’s not waste any time,” I call the guards to our position, and we walk as a group, tracing the trail of boot prints through the forest.

Perhaps I should try to keep my spirits up. We’re making good progress on reuniting with the group; things are going quicker than I anticipated. And once we’re all back together at home in the palace tonight, I’ll have some tremendous news to share with the Queen.

A major breakthrough has been made with the Princess!

It’s well understood that the Princess considers those outside her family to be threats. But during our flight today, I was able to get through her internal defenses and convince her I’m not one of them. So successful was my effort that I think Asha may even consider me somewhat of a friend now, based on our interactions outside the ship.

Calypso noticed the change as soon as we left the Princess’s private quarters. He was cross that I wouldn’t elaborate on what happened between us, but I will defer to the Princess on that matter. I suspect she doesn’t want the details of our meeting to become public knowledge.

It has weighed heavily on the Queen these past few months, her anxieties about the Princess. While drinking, she often belabors how Asha was ‘such an adorable young girl’ before the prior head groundskeeper of the palace ‘got to her’. Despite the seeming importance of this event, she has never elaborated on it further, nor have I asked her to.

For my part, I’ve stood by and watched idly as the rift between them grew, never believing it was my place to interfere.

But that all changes, as of today.

My intuition was correct. What the Princess doesn’t need is more isolation, more separation from the outside world — she needs to experience it! And more importantly, she needs support from someone she trusts. If I can foster a friendly rapport with the Princess, and be that person outside her family that she feels comfortable with, then we can begin to move forward from this chapter of her life. To repair those broken bonds between her and her mother.

It is my sincere hope that I can foster that ra— no, that friendship between me and the Princess. For in all likelihood, it will be me standing with her as her head of staff the day she removes the serpentine diamond from her hand and ascends the throne. And when that time comes, I want her to see me not just as an adviser, but as her friend.

For that future, I will do whatever is necessary.

The trees begin to thin as we move further through the wood. Bryant in the front, watching the ground as she walks. Roland at my side, and the others close behind. As the light grows a scent wafts through my nostrils; the distinct, stagnant smell of a pond. Could they have stopped by the water for a break on their way back? I scan the area ahead, but the view is blocked by brambles and tall grass.

The trees end. A breeze blows from the north and the air is laced with a tinge of cold. It blows over the brambles and through my fur, bringing with it scents of the pond.

Bryant stops at a large thicket and looks back at us. “Commander, the boot prints follow through here. I think there’s a pond up ahead.”

“Indeed, I smelled it too,” I reply. “If you would, please.”

Bryant nods, turning to step through a tussock. She moves forward a few paces, and I follow suit behind her.

“What the…”

Bryant freezes in place, her tail shooting up abruptly. She pivots on her right leg backward, then retreats a few steps towards the tussock.

My heart quickens at her unexpected response. “Officer Bryant?”

“Commander. You better take a look at this,” her voice is stern as steel.

I give Roland a sidelong glance and our gazes meet, engaged in the same act of hesitation. Their eyes are cold with fear.

We take off towards Byrant and can hardly believe what we see on the other side of the thicket.