CH1196 · Rewrite
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Chapter 1196: The Reason to Fly

A soldier started the engine and opened the valve. The aircraft shuddered at once — the engine roaring, the propeller spinning itself into a blur.

When the roar settled into a steady drone, Good eased the throttle forward. The plane pulled itself down the runway as though drawn by an invisible hand.

“Wow—” The crowd’s breath burst out of them in a single sound.

Good felt it flood through him: the shock that it had actually worked. He was flying this thing. This enormous steel beast, and he was flying it.

He glanced left. Princess Tilly sat on the wing, gray hair streaming behind her, a trace of amusement at the corner of her eyes. Good straightened. She was pleased with him — surely she was. The trial would go fine, provided he followed her instructions.

But the princess said nothing.

He looked at her again and again. She held her silence, that faint playful smile fixed in place. By the time the plane crossed the runway’s midpoint, the truth settled over him: no instructions were coming. Not one.

“Considering it’s your first time flying a plane, I’ll walk you through the process one step at a time.”

That promise was for students who had obeyed the rules. Not him.

The other students would get a second chance. He would not.

The excitement drained out of him like heat from a stone at dusk.

“If you don’t make me say anything, then it definitely would be your best performance.”

He understood now. If he could not fly alone, expulsion. If he proved himself, some value remained. The choice had already been made for him; he simply hadn’t known it.

Could he do this?

Two-thirds of the runway was gone. The patch of grass at the far end swam into view. Behind it, the wall that circled the airport — solid and absolute. Miss Nana could heal many things. A plane-shaped collision at full speed was not among them.

No time.

His hand moved toward the throttle to pull back, to brake, to stop — the only sensible thing.

Then a hand touched the top of his head.

“Do you like… flying?”

Rachel’s voice, just there, next to his ear.

Flying.

If he were a bird, he would not brake. He would go over.

He could still slow down. He could end it here, safe and failed.

It was one second that held eternity inside it. Good seized the lever and shoved it forward.

The engine screamed.

The wall rushed at him.

Ten meters from impact he wrenched the nose up. The aircraft bucked and shook, the runway dropping away beneath him, the grass sweeping past below. His stomach fell. The ground fell. He was weightless — rising — soaring — the earth falling and falling away.

Faster — a little faster—” He leaned into it, eyes wide, the wall’s top edge pressing close. He braced for the crash.

The crash never came.

The plane shot free. Every obstacle vanished. Below him the academy, the coastline, Neverwinter itself spun out in a vast wheel, and his mind went quiet and clear in a way it never had on the ground. He understood the plane now — understood it the way you understand something only when it is working through your hands.

He wanted to shout.

That human beings could fly. That this was real.


After he landed, Good knelt before Princess Tilly.

“Thank you for giving me this opportunity. I saw something that could only exist in my dream.”

The trial had run thirty minutes. He had managed climbs and hovering, imperfectly. There was nothing more to be done about his marks. But even if he had failed, this flight was already cut into him — whenever he closed his eyes from now on, it would be there.

“Why did you join the Aerial Knight Academy?”

Tilly’s voice came from above him.

He hesitated, then answered honestly. “Your Highness — at first I wanted the income. Then I wanted to be someone. Now I’ve fallen in love with flying.”

“I can give you money and fame, and a pilot’s post,” Tilly said coolly, “provided you promise to kill as many demons as you can. Fight for Graycastle. Kill every demon that enters your view. You will earn everything I give you with their blood. That is the duty of an aerial knight — the purpose of this school. If you can do that, report to Eagle Face.”

Good looked up. “Your Highness, do you mean—”

“You passed.” She turned without looking back.


The trial ended at five in the afternoon. Two of the sixteen were eliminated. Finkin and Hinds both passed.

After the students dispersed, the two of them seized Good by the arms and pulled him close.

“Are you insane?” Finkin said. “Princess Tilly told us we only needed a clean takeoff and landing. You nearly drove into the wall, then flew out over the sea. Were you not afraid you’d crash?”

“That was an accident,” Good thought, keeping his face neutral. Aloud: “Didn’t Her Highness say we should all do our best? I didn’t know a simple takeoff and landing was enough. I thought a few extra maneuvers would help my score.”

“You lucky dog,” Finkin said, shaking his head.

“You both did well, too,” Good said. “You took off so cleanly — without instructions.”

“What do you mean, ‘without instructions’? Didn’t Her Highness tell you when to pull the lever?”

“She gave us fewer cues than the others,” Hinds agreed. “Because we’re the rule-breakers.”

Good went still.

He had been the only one who received no instructions at all.

He was still turning that over when they reached the dormitory. Eagle Face was waiting, arms folded, face carved from something colder than granite.

The three of them flinched in unison. Whatever dread Princess Tilly inspired, Eagle Face was worse — his gaze felt like an inspection that never ended.

“S-sir…”

“Impressive,” Eagle Face said, surveying them with flat contempt. “I didn’t expect you could make trouble even on your day off. Princess Tilly has told me everything. You’re lucky not to be expelled. This isn’t under First Army jurisdiction, or things would have gone differently.”

“S-sir, we’re sorry!” All three at once, and earnest.

“Her Highness has already punished you, so I won’t add to it. However, if you become aerial knights, you become soldiers.” A cold smirk crossed his face. “To make certain this never happens again — washroom duty. The entire next month. Understood?”

Finkin and Hinds both grimaced.

Only Good snapped a salute.

“As you command, sir!”

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