The moment the airship steadied, the wonder shifted.

Jay leaned over the railing, craning his neck to watch the clouds slip past beneath them, eyes bright with unrestrained fascination. Fritz stood near the bow, hands resting lightly on the guardrail, gaze fixed forward.

Taylor had already disappeared.

Of course, she had.

And Ryn…he was off to the side, with the usual scowl plastered all over his face as he planned however many steps ahead.

Amelia exhaled, only then realizing she'd been holding her breath.

Even with such spectacle, Ryn already had his mind on something else. Amelia understood why—but that didn't mean she liked how much he insisted on carrying by himself.

After a while, the initial awe of ascent gave way to quiet realization as members scattered to their own comforts.

She smiled faintly to herself and turned away from the view, letting the ship draw her inward.

The corridors were warm, lined with brass piping and reinforced panels etched with dwarven script. She tried to read it, but forgot a lot about the dwarven language that she was forced to learn as a kid. It was hard to balance learning dozens of new things after all.

She followed the sound of clinking metal, eventually making her way to the kitchen.

It was bigger than expected.

Wide counters were bolted securely into the floor, their surfaces treated with layers of reinforced steel. A ventilation pipe hung overhead, neatly designed so that it wouldn't get in the way.

Storage compartments lined the walls, stocked with preserved goods, spices, and neatly labeled crates—probably Taylor's work.

Jay stood at the center of it all, sleeves already rolled up.

He didn't notice her at first. He was too busy opening drawers, testing the weight of a pan, scanning shelves with growing approval.

"Oh—hey," he said when he finally looked up, momentarily startled. "I was just… uh. Checking what they stocked."

"You look at home," Amelia said.

Jay rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed.

"Guess I am. Used to cook a lot. Back when there were more mouths than patience."

He smiled faintly. "It was easier than letting the kids burn things."

She could picture it easily.

Jay moving between too-small stoves, shooing curious hands away from open flames, measuring success by whether everyone ate and nothing caught fire.

It suited him in a way few things did. Even if he was inexperienced in a lot of things, this was something he could be confident in.

He turned back to the counter, opening another compartment and nodding approvingly at what he found.

"Food kept things calm," he said, almost to himself. "Didn't fix much, but… it helped."

Amelia leaned against the doorway. "You were good at it."

Jay snorted. "Low bar…mostly because of the Isles."

There it was.

Jay shook his head, amusement overtaking whatever tension had crept in.

"I thought I was done cooking. Turns out survival situations have a way of dragging that skill right back out of you."

"Especially if your other life-or-death companion was Ryn," he continued.

She raised an eyebrow. "That bad?"

Jay grimaced. "Let's just say Ryn has many talents. Cooking is not one of them."

Amelia huffed softly. "I could've told you that."

Jay blinked. "You already knew?"

"He tried to bake me a cake once," she said calmly. "For my birthday."

Jay froze.

"…How bad?" he asked carefully.

"Have you ever read Franken's Monster?" Amelia asked after a moment's consideration.

Jay stared at her.

"...Yeah? Are you saying what I think you're trying to say?"

"He meant well," she added. "The intention was there. But it did come out like an abomination."

After a moment of held silence, they both burst out laughing.

Jay leaned back against the counter, one hand dragging down his face. Amelia almost slipped as the ship moved, but caught herself.

"…Yeah," he said. "That tracks."

She smiled, the tension in her shoulders easing as well.

Jay shook his head once more, still amused, then reached for the knife again, rolling it once in his palm before setting to work. The humor lingered, but it didn't need to be chased.

"Alright," he said, more to himself than to her. "Let's do better this time."

"I'll leave it to you if we ever get into a survival situation," Amelia said.

Jay glanced up, surprised, then nodded.

"Yeah, I've got it."

Amelia pushed off the doorway, leaving him to it.

The kitchen door slid shut behind her with a soft hiss, the hum of the ship settling in again as she moved down the corridor.

Jay didn't look up as she left.

And even if her task was simply making sure they were alright—that still counted.

Amelia found Taylor where she expected her to be.

One of the smaller chambers off the main corridor had been claimed and converted into a temporary office. The table inside was already buried beneath neatly stacked documents.

A single lantern hung overhead, its light steady and practical.

Taylor stood at the center of it all, sleeves rolled just enough to stay out of the ink.

She didn't look up when Amelia entered.

"You disappear fast," Amelia said.

"Someone has to," Taylor replied, finishing a line before setting her pen down. Only then did she glance up.

"You're not supposed to be here yet."

Amelia hummed and crossed the room anyway, dropping into the nearest chair with a sigh that made it clear she had no intention of moving again.

"Good thing I'm not supposed to do a lot of things," she said. "What are you working on?"

Taylor turned the ledger slightly so the ink wouldn't smudge.

"Logistics, Private contracts, where we'll be sleeping in. That kind of thing."

"Private," Amelia repeated.

"Yes." Taylor's tone stayed neutral. "The useful kind."

Amelia leaned back, folding her arms loosely as she watched Taylor move from one document to the next, the quiet scratch of pen against paper filling the room. After a moment, she exhaled.

"So my guess was right," she said. "Gremory really isn't supposed to be here."

Taylor didn't stop writing.

"That's one way to put it."

Amelia tilted her head. "And the other?"

Taylor finished the line, set the pen down, and only then looked up. "Gremory chose not to make this an official matter."

"Ah."

"It was the safer decision," Taylor continued evenly. "Politically."

"And you ignored it."

"I worked around it."

The distinction mattered.

Amelia studied the papers again. Carefully worded along with the absence of royal seals, the way everything pointed back to a single name.

"You're doing this on your own authority," she said.

"For now," Taylor replied.

Taylor smiled faintly at that, already turning back to the ledger. "Someone has to."

The ship thrummed steadily beneath them, unbothered by titles or borders. Outside the chamber, preparations continued, unaware of the quiet lines being walked inside.

Amelia stood, stretching once before heading for the door.

"I won't get in your way," she said. "Just wanted to make sure you weren't drowning."

Taylor glanced up briefly. "If I am, I'm hiding it well."

"That's usually a bad sign."

"Usually," Taylor agreed.

Amelia paused at the door, satisfied enough, and then slipped back into the corridor. It was thanks to Taylor that everything happened as it did.

But it was thanks to everyone's efforts that things were in motion now.

Amelia exhaled and continued walking.

There were still two people she hadn't checked on yet.

And somehow, she already knew they wouldn't think themselves important.

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