Prelude to Anarchy - Princess of Steam

Arena

Albert Leon found himself in an odd situation of contrasts. For one thing, the room he was in was well decorated, lavishly covered in old woods and gold inlays that were tasteful and simple enough to be unobtrusive. On the other, he despised the show he was watching just beyond a thick pane of glass.

Primstoll had convinced him to attend this mockery of an event the previous morning, and so he had jumped aboard his flagship, the Amaranthine Sentinel, and had flown over to his sister's arena for the afternoon race. Over the course of that one day spent in the skies, his mood had gone sour. He did not like airships, not even those that afforded the height of luxury like the Sentinel.

Albert leaned in towards the glass and looked about. Below, and curving in on both sides, were hundreds of rows of seats, nearly all of them filled by riff raff and peasants. Above them were boxes like the one he sat within, reserved for the nobility or the merchants who sponsored such events.

His attention was yanked away when a bright streak blasted by. An aircraft designed for speed and nothing else had taken the hard turn around the arena, accompanied by the cheers of a thousand madmen. Another dozen craft followed after it, nearly as fast.

The arena was built like a two tiered doughnut. The upper half had rows of benches and seats and kiosks from which one could buy all manner of junk. The lower half, hidden below the bleachers, hid a complex infrastructure of cranes and docking stations where smaller airships and craft could dock, a few dozen at a time, to unload passengers and equipment.

On a race day like this one, the population of the airship could reach nearly two thousand souls, all there to watch his little sister fly around in circles.

He conceded that it was not all a bad idea. The tickets sold handsomely, and for a good price. Memorabilia was always on short supply and the onboard restaurants often sold out. She made a small fortune with every race, and he hated her for it.

Below, on the ground, a few thousand more had gathered to crane their necks up and see the race. These stragglers had a free show, but the view was mediocre compared to that on the Arena.

"Which one is my sister?" Albert asked as he saw the wave of planes approaching once more. They were merely a glinting line of colours on the horizon.

Primstoll was behind him all of a sudden. "The grey and crimson one, sir, with the roaring lion painted on its side."

At least she had taken to the family colours, Albert thought. "And mine?"

"The black one, your highness, with the gold trim."

The emperor watched the planes approach with mounting excitement. The roar of their engines preceded them by a few seconds, a high pitched whine that he could feel in his bones despite the glass before him. It must have been deafening for the spectators below, he realized.

Then they blasted by, a grouped streak of colours, lead, he noticed, by his sister's plane.

The crowd roared in ecstasy and a wave of confetti and sprinkles took to the air and were carried along by the wake of the aircraft.

The planes circled around once more, but no longer with the fervent rush of racing. His sister's was slowest now, with the canopy opened. He saw her climb half out of the craft and wave at all the people gathered below to worship her. The roaring grew stronger.

Another roar started within his chest, contracting his heart and setting his mind to boil. He turned away from the glass and found his seat again, then took a sip of the drink that Primstoll had brought along.

"What a fool my sister is. Mixing business and pleasure." His lips peeled up to show teeth. "And conspiracy. I thank you again, Primstoll, for what you brought to light for me."

The earl bowed low. "You are certainly welcome, my liege. I am but a humble servant." Primstoll stood taller and looked out the window. "I but wonder what sort of punishment you will bring down onto this rabble of rebels and degenerates."

"I'll have them all arrested is what I will do, and send them to the great prison in the north where they can all freeze to death. We will see if they will still be cheering then!"

"A brilliant idea, your highness, though perhaps not the most efficient. Are there not other ways to rid oneself of termites?"

Albert looked at his most trusted adviser and frowned. Primstoll was playing a dangerous game. suggesting so boldly that the Emperor was wrong, but then, he was angry and he might have had too much to drink. Maybe he was right, again, Albert conceded.

He was still pondering how to get rid of every last peasant on this airship when there was a knock at the door.

It opened, without him giving permission, to reveal his sister.

The woman stood tall in the entrance, despite her being on the shorter side. Her grim determination and the flush of victory in her eyes and cheeks made her seem larger than life.

"Hello, brother," she said before climbing over the back of a chair. All the seats here were bolted to the ground, allowing her to sit on the back of it and dangle her feet over the cushion in a most unladylike fashion. "And howdy to you too, Primstoll."

The earl bowed, but Albert was glad to see that it was not as low as with him. "Hello, Sister," he said.

"So, what made you want to visit me in my humble abode?" she asked, waving about the room to encompass the entire arena. Or, thought Albert, perhaps she thought of the sky as her home. "It's not often that you come and visit. Though I try to attend every last one of your little parties."

"I noticed that," he said, unable to keep the growl from his voice. "I just came to see what sort of foolhardy thing was wasting your time now. Still into little games, sister? One would think that you would outgrow that sort of thing and maybe settle down."

"Oh, please, brother," she waved the suggestion away. "Mother and father gave up on that idea a long time ago. Before, even, their unusual demise caught up to them. What makes you think that you could change my mind."

"There was nothing strange about their deaths. Father was at war, and when mother learned of his demise she died of a broken heart. It's as simple as that." He regretted his words as soon as they had left his mouth. They would have worked with most anybody in the Crown, they were too afraid to question, but his sister was one of the few people above even his authority.

She moved off the chair, a panther stalking off. "Yes, well, I found it all rather curious. Very curious." Princess Leon paused. "Speaking of your underhanded methods. I hear say that you've gone into full production of my Vanquishers. How quaint, that you would steal your own sister's design and turn them into machines of war."

"I am the rightful emperor, I had every right to take from your work, sister. Or did you forget that you, too, are a citizen of this Crown?"

"Yes, well, one can only hope that the head wearing the crown falls off, and that a better one finds its place there."

He stared at her, mouth agape. Then he stood, jumping to his feet with only a slight wobble. Primstoll helped him remain steady. "Guards!" he screamed. "Arrest this tramp! She conspires against me. She conspires to ruin this empire!"

The first guard to march into the room fell out of it a moment later, Princess Leon's boot crammed against his face. She turned to glare at her brother with fire in her eyes. The same look she always wore when she competed for victory. "You know brother," she spat the title out like a curse. "You always suspected that there was a rebellion. Well, you're right, there is one underway, and they will end your little parade and bring justice back into this land. You sicken me."

"I will see you dead, siste--" he started to say, but the princess grabbed a heavy mug and threw it straight and true. It crashed against his face and he felt his nose pop.