Titan: A LitRPG Adventure (UnderVerse Book 4) by Jez Cajiao (beach books .txt) 📗

in the air, you understand? But it’s nowhere near finished; a year or more, at least, I’d think. They hammered it together just enough to escape the city, and that’s it. The main hold is where the majority of people are bunking, and these sections are off limits. There, at least, it’s secure, and while there’s not much space, between all the passengers and gear, there’s at least a lot of things to hold onto when the winds get bad. It was decided that it was best to give you a little distance from the majority of the people, plus, you know… they’re not Legion, so we can’t trust them,” he finished darkly.

“Ah, crap. Grizz, seriously, they’ll be sworn to me soon; that means you’ll have to trust them, you know?” I asked and he nodded hesitantly.

“Until then, though… anyway, a bunch of us got together with the shipyard workers and put the walls and door on the cabin for you. It was mainly to keep you as safe from any possible assassins as we could, that’s all.”

“Well, thank you, Grizz, and anyone else that helped. I definitely prefer a room to sharing…” I winked at Grizz when I caught his grin. “Shit.” My amusement immediately dampened as I peered through another open door that led out onto a small walkway above the clouds. “I kinda hoped it was better than this,” I admitted.

“Seriously, it’s amazing this thing flies at all, Jax,” Grizz said, grinning.

“You’re really not helping; you know, that right?” I asked.

“I owe you one, you know, for back in the Arena.” He shot me a grin, and I snorted, remembering getting everyone to cheer him. It’d been a shitty joke, just something to wind him up, but that had obviously started a competition.

We headed up a set of narrow stairs and turned right, passing deeper into the ship as we passed through larger, wider corridors. The walls were noticeably built with far more care, the feeling of imminent collapse vanishing as a sense of impressive solidity was conveyed instead.

Every ten meters or so was a recessed section in the roof, which I guessed were designed for holding magelights, and spaces had been marked out for banisters, presumably in case of rough weather or fighting. Instead of these fixtures, though, the spaces were occupied by piles of gear, thousands of planks of wood, ingots of metals, and the countless minor things that turned a ship into a home, never mind a platform of war. The items were piled as neatly as could be, strapped together, but here and there, the strapping had come loose. We clambered over materials that filled the corridors, while sailors and engineers swore and rushed about around us, carrying armfuls of parts, or metal or wood panels, obviously working to seal up as much of the ship as possible on the go.

Most had no idea who I was, but the few that did recognize me, or more likely, noted the escort and drew the correct conclusion, straightened up and saluted, frantically trying to avoid eye-contact.

“They’re afraid of us?” I asked Oracle quietly, not bothering to communicate through our mind-link.

“You’re a lord. They know what happens if they get a lord’s attention in the wrong way…” she replied sadly.

“Fuckers,” I growled under my breath, making a concentrated effort to smooth my features and smile at those we passed.

Tang led us along a winding route through the bowels of the ship before guiding us up a set of wide stairs choked with equipment. Nearly ten minutes after we’d left the cabin, we finally reached the ship’s bridge. A pair of Legionnaires on guard duty straightened, clapping fists to chest in salute as we approached.

Tang strode forward, opening the door without knocking, and ducked inside, then stepped to the side and straightened before formally announcing to the room at large:

“Lord Jax of Dravith, Scion of the Empire, Heir to the Imperial Throne!” For the first time in as long as I could remember, his voice was clear of the sardonic wit, the sarcasm, and general ‘I’ve seen it all before’ attitude. Instead, it was clear and proud, and as I stepped into the room, I saw the effect his words had on those gathered inside.

The room was filled with people who had clearly been managing the business of flying a ship that likely massed thousands of tons, maneuvering it safely through the air high above the sea. However, they’d dropped everything and were spinning to face the doorway, fists crashing to chests in salute. The ship started to list to one side, so the helmsman frantically spun and controlled the wheel again.

I noted the panic on his face as he tried to decide if letting the ship drift off course was worth ‘disrespecting a lord,’ and I couldn’t help but snort in amusement.

The bridge had been designed as a large semicircular room, flanked by stairs leading up to an exit at the back center of the room, with the arc flowing out of sight on the right and left. Clear glass filled in some of the windows covered the entire front wall, with boards hastily nailed in place over others.

I stopped, a handful of steps inside the door, clapped my hand to my chest in salute to them all, then called out in as clear a voice as I could.

“Relax, people; get back to whatever you were doing.”

With that, everyone seemed to breathe again, and the majority turned away, the helmsman sagging in relief.

The Legionnaires in the room strode forward to meet me as I started walking again, coming to a halt before me in the center of the bridge.

“Lord Jax.” An older Legionnaire, who stood in the center of the group, fell to one knee, and bowed his head, holding his sword out before him, pommel offered to me. “I am Romanus Dominai Perival, Legion Prefect of the Dravith Cohortes Praetoria. The Legion stands ready to obey.”

“Prefect Romanus,” I said in greeting, reaching down and grasping