A Timely Knight

A Late-Night Confession

It was cold inside the blimp. Yet, Timothy had never felt more at home.

His manor in Vanderport was algid and desolate too, but it was different. That was a coldness which he did not like. He resented that grandeur, the prospects and expectations that came along with such a property. For a long time, he had been resigning to the idea of his future there, with a wife and children who would carry on the Lever legacy. Now, the future might be different. He had Emmu. For the first time, the idea of living in that manor wasn't an imposition. Now, It could be a life.

Outside, the celebration had died down. Their triumph in the scorpion's nest had them in high spirits. When the Marquise sent word that both Princes and almost all Royders were dead, the celebration almost turned into a riot. The Rayguns who had survived the raid joined their celebration and proved to be rather wild.

The mood in the manor was light, lively. Even Master Nilla, who had been considerably broody since the raid, lightened up as soon as she got word that the Marquise was alive. She was one of the keenest on celebrating, going so far as to buying ten entire barrels of wine, all of which were finished during the course of a single night.

Now, on the third night of revels, they were all pretty beaten. Some of the Rayguns were passed out on the grass; The Captain had climbed to the roof for a nightcap. Timothy had made his way into the blimp to to say goodbye. He had spent a considerable amount of time working on it. In the end, it wasn't needed, thank God. Seeing as Emmu and he would be leaving soon, he wanted to say a proper farewell to the machine.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Alder's voice echoed inside the blimp, taking Timothy by surprise.

"It really is," he answered, a smile touching the corner of his lips. "I've always loved them. Blimps, I mean. When I was a child, and my relationship with my father wasn't so damaged, we used to spend hours talking about them. We once went to Grenage, to see the Flying Fair. I must've been about four or five but I remember everything so vividly: The Aerostats, the Aeronefs. There was even a prototype for an Astronef! I swear to God, I was in awe of everything. It's the fondest memory I have of my father. He was happy to be there with me. He was proud."

Timothy went silent. The subject of his father was one he tried his best to avoid. Until now, he had only spoken to Emmu about him. There were a lot of things he still wasn't comfortable sharing, though. He found this sudden and rather abrupt confession to Alder a bit out of character.

"Sounds like a fun memory," the old man said as he sat next to Timothy in the front cabin. "The Flying Fair is an annual event, is it not? Have you gone back?"

Timothy shook his head. "As a matter of fact, I have been actively avoiding it for the past twenty-one gears. Lately, I have been entertaining the idea of going back, with Emmu this time. I'd like to see it again."

"Why don't you?"

"I will. After." He stopped talking.

Neither Emmu nor him had told anyone about the trip they'd be taking in a few days' time. They didn't know how long they'd be gone, but they knew they might not return. After all, they were going a thousand gears into the past. Emmu's body might not be able to withstand it. And without him, Timothy would be stuck in that portal, forever floating somewhere beyond time.

It was a suicide mission, they both knew it.

"After what?" Alder asked again.

Timothy adopted a vaguer tone. "I don't like making plans too into the future. You never know."

"I think Eldon and you are the real deal." The man shrugged, putting his feet on the dashboard, making Timothy's inside cringe. "Life has a way of knowing. It may not always give us what we want, but it always hands us what we need. And how fortunate are you, that what you want and need is all in the same person. One of the greatest glories of life is staring into the eyes of love and seeing it looking right back."