A Timely Knight

A Future Queen

Arabella Phoebe Sparks hated Ivoryport.

She found it fake and ridiculous, a peasant pretending to be a nobleman. White marble acted as ivory, turning the city into a giant chessboard where the whites claimed overwhelming victory. The one place in Makina where no factory existed, the capital of the kingdom was a white spot in the middle of a sea of copper and brass.

The city itself proved quite unimpressive. Tall and spiky towers reached towards the sky on every corner, like sentinels watching over the city. Machines and people interacted together, the latter increasingly depending on the former. Numerous shops lined the streets, overcharging unsuspecting visitors who came from all over Makina to see the floor of the capital. Completely covered with cogs of different sizes, the floor truly was an engineering marvel, an achievement that made the entire city look and feel like the inside of a giant clock.

Most people used the word modern to describe Ivoryport. They could not be more wrong. Ivoryport stood as a testament to conservatism, an ode to frigidity that refused to embrace the future beyond the machines they loved. 

In truth, Ivoryport was the most retrograde place in Makina. Pretentious and artificial, it housed the most dangerous people of all. The royal family, a conclave of appetites, of bigots and idiots led by a dumb, weak King, and a bitter, angry Queen. Prideful and too blind to see past their own selfdom, they flew above them all, vultures preying on the dying and the weak.

And soon, she would fly by their side. 

Leverfort, the monstrous Royal residence, surged at the end of the road, marble arms reaching out to her. Its cold tongue licked her bare arms and a fugitive sigh escaped her lips. If she could only return to Master Nilla in Ravenport. She would gladly deal with that annoying Master Eldon. Compared to the people inside Leverfort, he seemed almost decent. 

Her large, puffy skirt made it hard to exit the vehicle. A grunt broke through her proper façade and the footman sent a confused look her way. How she wished she could wear her fighting clothes. Leather pants and vest, thigh-high boots, hair up, gun in hand. But Leverfort required a proper costume. Tight corsets, top hats, high heels, wide skirts. Flowers and perfume to mask the ugliness within. 

And what ugliness stood before her. Fair, stunning, unreachable. But ugliness still. 

"Your Grace," Arabella entered Marquise mode immediately. "What a pleasure to be here again."

"It is, is it not? Like my sons, I was horrified when news of your attack reached Leverfort. I can't describe the relief we felt when we discovered you safe and sound."

Estella Rose Lovegrove, the Withered Flower. Distant and inexpressive, she spoke with a rehearsed, taciturn cadence that showed a profound disinterest in her surroundings. Arabella saw the Queen's truth but she nevertheless smiled radiantly. Holding her future mother-in-law's hand, she pressed it against her chest. The Queen's eyes twitched. 

"Your Grace, you cannot imagine the panic I felt when those men attacked my blimp," Arabella said, helplessness coming naturally to her. "I swear to God, I thought it was the end."

"Oh, you poor thing," the thin and orange-haired woman standing next to the Queen spoke. "Sky Pirates at the Boldale Pass, my Heaven! Is no place safe anymore?"

"Marquise, this is Livilla Ada Goodenough. She recently married my second son, Buford, so that makes her your..."

"Sister!" Livilla finished, hugging Arabella with enthusiasm.

She responded to the hug bout out of duty and honest relief, mind at ease knowing she would not have to marry that brute, Buford.

"Sister, you must still be in shock. I can't imagine how awful the whole ordeal must've been." Livilla grabbed her by the arm as they both walked towards the palace.