Arc-4 Ch-05

The sea of clouds stretching across the entire field of vision resembles a pure white carpet unfurled across the sky—

or perhaps milk spilled across a floor.

Soft and ephemeral like cotton, the clouds shift form with every passing breeze, ever-changing and untouchable.

There is nothing in the sky to obstruct the path of an airship.

This boundless expanse, the wind brushing gently against one’s cheeks, evokes a deep stirring of the heart—a sense of freedom, as though one could fly anywhere on a whim.

I wonder... did my ancestors, the adventurers who founded the Holfort Kingdom, feel this same exhilaration?

Ariel presses her face against the glass, utterly absorbed by the view beyond.

She must have inherited that spirit of adventure.

With unrestrained curiosity, she dashes around the airship, hands and feet in constant motion—behavior hardly befitting a noble young lady.

“Lionel, don’t you want to look outside too?”

“No way!”

In stark contrast, Lionel refuses to leave my side.

At every shift in the scenery or unfamiliar sound, he shudders and clings tightly to me.

It’s natural for a child his age to be attached to a parent, yet the stark contrast between the twins never ceases to puzzle me.

Lionel is gentle and quiet but struggles with assertiveness. Ariel, on the other hand, is lively, willful, and tempestuous.

When the two quarrel, it is always Lionel who ends up in tears, while Ariel stands tall, never seeming to acknowledge fault.

Their personalities likely reflect us—their parents.

Though it’s a little embarrassing to admit, perhaps I do keep Leon under my thumb, just as Ariel does with her brother.

“What a spirited young lady. I wonder who she takes after?”

A soft murmur drifted from behind me, echoing my own thoughts.

Turning, I was greeted by a cascade of perfectly styled golden curls.

Deidere, clad in modest yet clearly expensive fabric, hid her mouth behind a wide fan. She stood out sharply among the mostly commoner passengers aboard the airship.

“Would you be satisfied if I admitted she takes after me?”

“Oh? So you’re aware of it.”

“When you become a mother, you begin to understand—children always take after their parents.”

“And that’s something to be happy about?”

“Of course it is. It’s proof of a genuine bond.”

That our children resemble us is a testament to the love that brought them into this world. Naturally, it fills me with joy.

Lionel, still clinging to me, tightened his grip at the sight of Deidere.

He seems to fear most women outside our family and the Bartfort household.

It’s likely because Ariel frequently brings him to tears.

Eventually, he’ll need to grow out of this, or it may affect the future of the Bartfort family.

“Don’t worry, Lionel. This lady isn’t as frightening as she seems.”

“L-L-Lady!? Did you just call me a lady!?”

“If my brother-in-law and Dorothea are formally engaged, then yes—that’s what you’ll be called.”

In the Holfort Kingdom, it’s customary for nobles to be engaged by the age of twenty.

Even before the war with the Fanoss Principality, early engagement was encouraged, especially for low-ranking nobles and knights who faced high mortality rates.

Producing heirs was expected of both men and women—husbands were duty-bound to embrace their wives, and wives were expected to bear children.

A man who shirks this responsibility fails as a noble, and a woman who cannot fulfill hers risks losing her place.

As Lionel rubs his face against my stomach, clinging close, my thoughts drift to the unborn child still growing within me.

Three children in four years of marriage may seem like a lot.

But with Leon—once retired—called back to war, I can’t help but feel grateful we didn’t wait.

The frontier is a place of endless conflict, and noblemen often die young.

The more children we have, the stronger our family’s future.

For a newly risen noble house like ours, each child also means a new opportunity—

another chance to forge ties through political marriage, and ensure the Bartfort name endures.

By no means am I some lascivious woman.

The Bartfort family simply has a vigorous lineage, and I—despite myself—cannot resist Leon’s incessant affection.

If Dorothea and my brother-in-law end up having many children, it will only confirm that this is a trait inherent to the Bartfort bloodline.

I’m not lascivious; it’s just that Leon and I are perfectly compatible.

Setting aside such foolish thoughts, I shift my gaze across the cabin.

Merchants overseeing cargo, beastmen hired for manual labor, an elderly couple likely on a healing pilgrimage, and young travelers here for sightseeing—people of all races and ages pass the time freely within this, the largest section of the ship.

There are fewer than thirty passengers in total, all presumably with some financial means.

In a corner of the cabin stands an unusual group.

A woman of refined beauty, whose noble air remains evident despite her simple dress, radiates poise and good breeding.

Beside her, two other women sit uncomfortably, visibly exhausted.

Surrounding them are four burly guards standing at attention.

This woman is Dorothea—the very reason we’ve gone to such lengths for this trip.

The escort, of course, was arranged by Earl Roseblade, anxious for his daughter’s safety.

“Don’t you want to join them?” I ask.

“My nerves aren’t thick enough to deal with a scene like that.”

Jenna and Finley continue their polite hospitality under the scrutiny of the stern guards, their expressions worn and weary, while Dorothea fidgets blissfully, utterly consumed by love.

Even for me, Dorothea’s single-minded obsession with my brother-in-law is draining.

Is this truly the same woman who once coolly rejected a parade of suitors in high society?

I find myself unable to reconcile this version of Dorothea with the one I remember.

“To think my sister could change so much. I’ve never seen such a dramatic example.”

“Love is a troublesome thing. Controlling the blaze of passion isn’t easy.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“Absolutely.”

I think back to the first time I realized I loved Leon. I was completely overwhelmed.

I feared being a burden to him. I worried he might grow to resent me. I even attempted to end things before that possibility could come true.

All my actions were self-defeating. Was I really so different back then?

Still, I’d like to believe I wasn’t quite as far gone as Dorothea is now.

“…You’ve really changed, haven’t you?”

“People who’ve known me a long time say that, but I don’t see it myself. I only hope it’s for the better.”

“Is that Lord Bartfort’s influence?”

“Perhaps.”

“He must be a remarkable man.”

“He’s mine. I have no intention of sharing.”

I’ve joked a few times about letting him take a concubine—my body can hardly keep up with his affection—but it’s never been anything more than that. I would never allow it in truth.

In this kingdom, it’s not uncommon for noble couples to fulfill their duty of producing heirs, then live separate lives—leaving the children to nursemaids while they pursue lovers.

Had my engagement to Prince Julius not been broken off and I become queen, I doubt I would feel the happiness I do now.

The prince likely would’ve sought companionship elsewhere, and I, buried in state affairs, would have quietly resigned myself to the distance between us.

Only recently have I come to understand—what sustains a marriage isn’t status or wealth, but mutual understanding.

I have no reason to reject Leon.

Right now, I am simply a woman and a mother, wishing for nothing more than the happiness of my husband and our children.

Perhaps that’s who I’ve truly been all along—an ordinary woman, blessed with the talent to be a queen.

As I gently stroke Lionel’s head, Ariel approaches. She always appears whenever she sees her twin brother receiving attention.

That possessiveness no doubt comes from me. It’s something that needs correcting before it causes problems later on.

“Mother.”

“What is it? Do you want a hug, Ariel?”

“That. I want that.”

She points toward a small kiosk inside the cabin, its shelves lined with colorful snacks and drinks.

It seems she remembers the pocket money Leon gave her. She doesn’t yet understand the value of money, but she knows that giving coins results in getting something.

Leon—or perhaps my father-in-law—must be sneaking them treats behind my back.

Spoiling them too much can be harmful, but growing up without affection can warp a child’s heart.

It’s only after becoming a parent myself that I realized children never grow up exactly as we wish.

I always followed my parents’ and tutors’ instructions without resistance, so I couldn’t understand those who cried and fretted when their own children didn’t do the same.

Even though my children came from my womb, they grow into people of their own—often defying expectations.

Perhaps that’s the nature of life: nothing ever goes exactly as planned.

Leon often laments that the children are harsh with him, but in truth, they’re far closer to him—the parent who spoils—than to me, the one who scolds.

They always ask for my permission before buying anything, afraid of upsetting me by sneaking behind my back.

“Alright, what do you want? Lionel, come too.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Yay!”

Led by Ariel’s hand, we head to the kiosk. The twins’ eyes sparkle as they explore the colorful offerings.

Since marrying into the Bartfort family, I’ve gained a more practical understanding of the world.

In the capital, tea parties and balls are just thinly veiled political stages—I can’t say I ever truly enjoyed them.

But when Leon took me to a festival in the frontier, it was the first time I felt the joy of simply being with someone I love—free of pretense or expectation.

At the same time, managing cash and learning the prices of everyday goods has proven invaluable for overseeing our territory.

As a duke’s daughter or potential queen, I was used to dealing with national finances—numbers on paper that represented sums far beyond anything tangible.

It’s strange to think I was once expected to manage expenses worth mountains of gold, yet I never once held a coin in my hand.

Spending enough in one evening to feed a commoner family for months—such extravagance used to be routine. Now, I find it frightening.

Understanding the realities of daily life is essential for anyone who governs. It’s a lesson I must pass on to my children, who will one day inherit Leon’s legacy.

“This! I want this one!”

“And I want that!”

Lionel chooses dried sweets shaped like animals and plants, while Ariel points at a large, colorful lollipop.

They hand over the coins Leon gave them and return to their seats, eager to dig in.

Lionel carefully plays with his sweets, examining each one. Ariel, meanwhile, licks her lollipop with enthusiasm, smearing sugar all around her mouth.

It’s remarkable—how two children born on the same day to the same parents can be so different.

With the twins seated on either side of me, I fall into thought.

What kind of personality will the child in my womb—due in a few months—have?

In a world where siblings often see each other as rivals, I can’t help but worry about the future. I don’t want my children to be torn apart by competition.

“Mmm.”

“Here.”

Ariel reaches out, and Lionel hands her one of his sweets without hesitation.

I sigh and gently take Ariel’s hand.

“Ariel, say thank you to Lionel.”

She pouts but eventually mumbles, “…Thank you.”

“Good girl.”

With my approval, she immediately pops the sweet into her mouth—likely fearing I might take it away.

What I had hoped for was a sincere word of thanks. But even this is a step.

Saying thank you isn’t a sign of weakness. Nobles, in particular, are sustained by the people beneath them.

That’s why they are responsible for nurturing their lands—and if they fail, they must atone, even with their lives.

Those who can’t accept this duty aren’t nobles; they’re just parasites feeding off the system and obstructing sound governance.

Ensuring my daughter never becomes such a person is also a mother’s love.

“Mother.”

“What is it?”

“Here.”

In Lionel’s tiny hand is a flower-shaped dried sweet.

Perhaps he’s trying to offer me comfort after witnessing the earlier tension between his sister and me.

This boy… He’s so kind—perhaps too kind.

There’s nothing wrong with nobles spending money. In fact, the healthy flow of wealth is vital to a thriving society.

If the aristocracy hoards their resources, the common people suffer and starve.

Moderation is key. Spending without waste, exercising restraint without stinginess—that is what makes a just ruler.

A lord who withholds rewards loses loyalty, while one who gives too freely risks being taken for granted.

It’s hard to believe that Lionel is truly thinking deeply whenever he shares with Ariel.

More likely, he’s simply offering sweets or toys to avoid her jealousy.

Ariel’s strong-willed nature can be troublesome—but on the other hand, Lionel’s excessive meekness is equally concerning.

What truly matters is balance.

Lacking strength invites exploitation, yet having too much can make one a target.

The ideal lies in possessing just enough strength to protect oneself, coupled with a gentleness that does not harm others.

Such equilibrium is the hardest to achieve.

“Eat it yourself, Lionel. That’s yours.”

“No, I want you and the baby to have it.”

Lionel’s kindness is certainly a virtue.

But for a noble—someone who must rise above others—kindness alone is insufficient.

At times, one must push others aside or even cut them down to move forward.

Still, I sincerely hope that Lionel’s kindness enriches his life, and that he meets people who will value it.

I place the dried sweet he gave me into my mouth.

Its taste should have been sweet—but instead, it leaves a bitter aftertaste.

The hum and faint vibration of the airship's engines lull me toward drowsiness.

Suppressing a yawn behind my hand, I turn to gaze out the window at the drifting sea of clouds.

This regular passenger airship is making its usual circuit through neighboring territories, slowly drawing closer to our domain.

Less than an hour remains until the next stop at the airport. After that, we’ll finally arrive at Bartfort territory.

The airship sets out early each morning, making stops across the region before returning just past noon.

There are direct flights from other territories, but most of those are cargo vessels.

Passenger airships like this one are rare.

Such is the reality for a newly elevated noble house.

No matter how promising Leon may be, or how he earned his title through numerous military feats, those are wartime achievements.

When it comes to peacetime governance, he has little experience.

Bartfort territory’s development thus far has been heavily reliant on the Redgrave family’s support.

As a result, Leon is still largely known only as “the duke’s son-in-law” or “the young upstart who rose through war.”

Unlike military success, which produces immediate, visible results, territorial administration is slow and demanding—its merits proven only over time.

To nobles who have inherited power through generations of lineage and tradition, a young man in his late teens newly granted land and title is practically heresy.

The Bartforts currently have little interaction with surrounding lords, and it’s only natural that they’re looked down upon.

Compared to more prosperous cities in the region, our frontier territory—known for little more than a hot spring—holds no appeal.

Even if the ducal house tried to force respect through intervention, it would only foster resentment.

There’s no other way forward but steady, incremental development.

It may take twenty years or more before the Bartfort family is recognized as a proper noble house.

Only in our children’s—or perhaps grandchildren’s—generation, after we’ve repaid our debt to the ducal house, will we truly stand on equal footing.

By then, I hope Leon can finally enjoy the peaceful retirement he longs for.

Surrounded by our children and grandchildren, tending to crops, soaking in the hot springs—that’s the life I want for him.

As I daydream, I glance over at the twins, still pressed to the window with wide-eyed fascination.

The ever-shifting clouds part and reform as the airship cuts through them, mesmerizing in their quiet motion.

“What is it? See something interesting?”

“That,” Ariel says, pointing.

“Looks like a ship,” Lionel adds.

Following their gaze, I spot a dark shape at the edge of my vision—small, black, and distant.

Another merchant ship, perhaps?

In the past, airships drifting too close to floating islands often caused accidents—tragically common ones.

With still-maturing communications technology and the ever-present obstacle of thick clouds, many lives were lost in non-combat incidents.

Even today, though technology has improved, such accidents still occur a few times each year.

Perhaps another airship has come into view as we near our next destination.

I move beside the twins and continue watching from the window.

Normally, when another vessel is spotted, standard procedure is to slow down and maintain a safe distance.

But this ship doesn’t change speed. If anything, it seems to be drawing closer.

No—its silhouette is slowly getting larger.

Suppressing the unease rising in my chest, I quietly take the twins’ hands and pull them away from the window.

Something isn’t right.

We should’ve landed at the last stop by now, but we haven’t.

Judging by the movement of the clouds outside, our ship is accelerating—yet the shadow behind us continues to close in.

In this boundless sea of clouds, an airship is no more than a grain of wheat in an endless ocean.

And we, aboard it, are as insignificant as grains of sand.

Passengers begin to stir, glancing at one another in confusion, their expressions laced with suspicion and growing concern.

I must speak with Dorothea’s group—quietly and calmly explain the situation.

“Is something wrong?” someone asks.

“I’m not sure. But a suspicious ship is approaching. Let’s stay calm and keep watch.”

“Could it be sky pirates?”

“Don’t even joke about that!”

But the possibility can’t be ignored.

The war with the Fanoss Principality ended less than a year ago.

Many soldiers were lost, and both the kingdom and its noble houses are still recovering, struggling to rebuild their armies and territories.

With their attention diverted, criminals who rely on violence have flourished.

This is the current state of the Holfort Kingdom.

Still, there hasn't been a single sky pirate incident near Bartfort territory.

The Bartforts, known as a martial house, earned their noble rank through military prowess.

Leon—who enlisted at a young age and built his reputation by quelling sky pirates—still commands respect.

Any bandit with a shred of common sense should know that raiding an airship under such a man’s protection is a death sentence.

BWOOM! BWOOM! BWOOM!

Suddenly, sirens blare throughout the ship. Emergency lights flicker ominously.

There’s no longer any doubt—this airship has been targeted by sky pirates.

Panic begins to ripple through the cabin. Passengers huddle together, voices hushed and fearful.

I feel someone clutch my leg and glance down, expecting Lionel—but it’s Ariel, on the verge of tears.

I quickly scan the area, searching for Lionel—only to spot him standing alone by the window.

He gazes outward, expression unreadable. Not frightened. Not dazed. Simply calm.

Too calm.

Rushing over, I pull him back and guide him to the others, where the escort knights have already realized the threat and are preparing with grim urgency.

“Attention all passengers,” comes a voice over the speaker, clipped and serious.

“This vessel is currently being pursued by an unidentified suspicious airship. Please gather in the cabin and follow the crew’s instructions. We repeat—attention all passengers…”

The emergency announcement echoed endlessly through the airship as passengers gathered in the main cabin.

This regular transport vessel was built to carry about a hundred passengers. Now, with roughly fifty people crowding into the central cabin, the space felt cramped and stifling.

Most of the passengers were dressed plainly—commoners, judging by their attire. Their wary glances toward us, clad in more refined clothing, were hard to ignore. Their suspicion stung like a silent accusation.

“…Something’s not right.”

“What do you mean?”

“If that suspicious ship really belongs to sky pirates, what’s their goal? Attacking a passenger vessel mostly filled with commoners makes no sense.”

“Maybe it’s just coincidence. They went after the first airship they came across.”

“Does it seem coincidental to you that they’re tailing a ship carrying a former duke’s daughter, an earl’s daughters, and a baronet’s children?”

If sky pirates were after money, they’d usually target private noble-owned airships or heavily-laden merchant vessels. Those tend to be equipped with defense mechs or light artillery.

A commercial passenger airship like this—with no cargo and barely any noble presence—wouldn’t be worth the risk for seasoned pirates.

Human trafficking might explain it, but organized traffickers usually avoid leaving obvious trails. Something didn’t add up.

As murmurs of unease spread among the passengers, the cabin door burst open. A middle-aged man rushed in, panting heavily.

“I’m the captain of this vessel! We’re initiating evasive maneuvers to escape the pursuing ship. Please remain calm and follow the crew’s instructions!”

His face was pale, his voice shaky. He clearly wasn’t used to handling situations like this.

Passengers, growing restless and fearful after missing their scheduled stop, began shouting at him—demanding answers, voicing their panic.

“Captain,” I said firmly, stepping forward. “Explain the situation clearly.”

He blinked in surprise. “Forgive me, but—who are you?”

“…I’m Viscountess Bartfort. My family and I happen to be aboard this vessel.”

A ripple of gasps swept through the cabin. The mention of the Bartfort name brought a moment of calm.

The captain quickly removed his cap, bowing in deference before wiping sweat from his brow.

“We’ve increased speed and transmitted a distress signal. However, it may take time for any rescue ships to arrive.”

“Does this airship have no means of defense?”

“We have three outdated mechs, but no seasoned pilots. A few firearms and an intimidation cannon mounted on each flank—that’s the extent of our armaments.”

“Not ideal. What’s our current heading?”

“We’re making for a nearby floating island under the jurisdiction of a lord with a military presence. Bartfort territory, in fact.”

“Do you think we’ll make it?”

“We’re trying our best, my lady—but I can’t guarantee anything.”

My jaw clenched as I weighed our options.

With this ship’s limited speed and poor armament, the odds of outrunning a determined pursuer were slim.

If things escalated, we might be forced to fight back—with untrained civilians caught in the middle.

“Can our escorts borrow the mechs?”

“Escorts?”

“They accompany Lady Dorothea, daughter of Earl Roseblade. Trained knights. They can buy us time, if need be.”

“…Are you certain?”

Deploying mechs meant accepting the possibility of death. There were no guarantees. Battles—real ones—didn’t spare the young or the noble.

Only the victorious survived.

Asking knights to risk their lives to protect a love-struck noble girl was asking much. But doing nothing would only worsen the situation.

“Better to take the initiative than wait helplessly.”

I turned to the captain. “Prepare the mechs. Arm the crew. Move the furniture—set up a barricade here at the cabin entrance.”

“Y-Yes, ma’am!”

The captain snapped to action, calling for crew via intercom. The escorts bowed to us solemnly before hurrying off with crew members in tow.

Outside, the pursuing vessel loomed close enough to make out its full silhouette.

It flew no pirate flag—but its movements left no doubt.

It was targeting us.

I clutched my children’s sweaty palms tightly, offering a silent prayer.

If I were to die here, I could accept that. I’d lived as the wife of the man I loved. I’d borne his children and found happiness.

But I would never accept the death of those children.

There are lives I would give everything to protect.

Outside the window, the shadowed airship continued its methodical pursuit—hovering just behind and to the right of our ship, matching speed precisely.

A sharp maneuver or sudden change in altitude could cause a collision—mutual destruction.

But that wasn’t their plan.

They were slowly cornering us—wearing us down through fear and pressure.

BWOOM! BWOOM! BWOOM!

The warning siren rang again, and I instinctively flinched.

The captain, spittle flying, grabbed the intercom and shouted something into it. Then he turned toward us, his face brightening.

“A ship is approaching from the east! It’s responding to our distress call! Rescue is on its way!”

A wave of relief swept through the cabin. Cheers erupted. Some passengers sobbed. Even those who had tried to act composed slumped in their seats.

To those unaccustomed to danger, this situation had been utterly terrifying.

I glanced around—Deidere and the Roseblade sisters exhaled visibly, their shoulders loosening.

The twins, not fully grasping what had just transpired, looked bewildered, blinking in confusion.

Ariel, usually so brave and bold, now clung to me with trembling hands—a rare and fragile sight.

Leon would be surprised to see her like this.

Amid the rising joy, Lionel moved silently toward the window.

Curiously, he looked not at the pirate ship behind us—but toward the left.

That in itself was unusual.

“Mother,” he said, pointing.

“What is it?”

“That one.”

I followed his gaze. A black speck shimmered in the distant azure sky.

As it grew closer, its form became familiar: the standard military airship used throughout the kingdom.

The Bartfort family owned several of these.

Relief washed over me, and my legs nearly gave way. I sank into a nearby seat and beckoned Lionel over.

Normally, he would come immediately—always eager to be near his parents or grandparents. But now, he hesitated, transfixed by what he saw.

“No.”

“What’s wrong?”

“They’re not looking.”

He pointed again, more insistently this time.

I narrowed my eyes, focusing on the approaching airship.

It was indeed a kingdom military vessel—but something about it felt wrong.

Its hull color was off—darker, almost smoky.

Its design bristled with more gunports than standard models.

And no, it wasn’t from Bartfort territory.

That much I knew instinctively.

So whose ship was it?

And why was it flying in response to our distress signal?

In the cabin, laughter and cheers still echoed.

But I alone understood.

Lionel had sensed it first, even if he didn’t fully grasp it.

The danger wasn’t over.

In fact… it had just gotten worse.

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Authors Note

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It seems the women found themselves under attack by sky pirates just as the five were visiting. Because little is officially explained about airships in the Mobuseka world, I’ve filled in some blanks with creative liberty. (Mayday! civilian brain engaged)

The sharp observation and individuality of children—especially surprising to adults—was drawn from personal experience. The main body of this chapter was written in 2023. The next installment is scheduled for next year. I can hardly believe it’s been a year since I first shared this idea on a forum. My deepest thanks to all readers who continue to support this series, to the client, and to the illustrators.

Wishing you a warm and peaceful New Year.

Special Thanks:

At the client’s request, illustrations were provided by Fenao - Pixiv

 Christmas artwork by NiShiChi- Pixiv

 Lcron-  Pixiv

All feedback or impressions are welcome—they give me the motivation to keep writing.