Rewrite That Witch
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Chapter 1448: The Black Giant Bird

The telephone rang.

Roland spent several seconds excavating through the pile of equipment on his desk before finding the receiver and answering it. The label indicated the call was from the Aerial Knight Academy. He had added a second table to his office just to hold the growing number of telephone lines; his desk, once clear, had become an archipelago of machines.

“Really? I’ll be right there.”

He hung up and rose, pulling his coat from the back of the chair with a joyful efficiency that drew Nightingale’s attention.

“Was that Tilly?”

“The preparations for the large bomber are complete. They’re about to do the trial flight.”

The large bomber — the Design Bureau of Graycastle’s primary project, the four-engined strategic bomber — had become feasible faster than expected. When Roland learned there was a possibility of a mobile runway, he had immediately tracked down the relevant technical staff and asked about swapping out the engines. The answer was yes, with minor adjustments to the weight distribution — though modifying the Phoenix’s engines carried a real cost: longer takeoff runs, internal fuel capacity halved, flight time reduced to a third. The new bombers could not meet the original specifications for long-distance raids.

But immediate results were possible, which mattered now.

The Phoenix’s engine was an improved star-shaped model — a design Anna had fully mastered over a year ago, more mature and reliable than the engines designated for the larger planes. The Bureau had supplied detailed blueprints, but a prototype always required testing, and testing always took time. Under the original one-year plan, the bomber had already been an aggressive target. Even without surprises in development, production would have taken another half year beyond that.

Mask’s actions had changed everything. Learning that the Deity of Gods had a self-destruction capability — that destroying the core would not prevent the island’s fall, which could itself cause catastrophic damage — had forced a new calculation. With their own floating island now in hand, losing bombers was no longer the crisis it would have been.

Roland stepped through the tangle of phone cords and moved toward the door. “We should go watch. This may be history’s largest aircraft.”

He was halfway to the door when his sleeve caught the teapot on the mahogany table.

By the time he registered it, the teapot was already past the point of recovery.

A blur of motion — Nightingale’s figure vanishing for an instant — and still one step too late. The teapot tumbled in midair, struck something invisible, and shattered on the floor, boiled tea spreading across the boards.

Roland looked at the mess. “Your reflexes seem to have slowed. You’ve never missed something like that before.” He kept his voice light. “Have you been eating so many snacks you’ve gotten heavier?”

Nightingale did not retort.

She looked at her own hands.

“Leave it for the maids. Tilly is waiting.”

At the Aerial Knight Academy runway, a black aircraft larger than the Seagull was being towed from the hangar.

Its scale silenced the spectators before anything else could. Broad dual wings, four star-shaped engines mounted below, the whole frame painted deep black — it lay on the ground like something that had not yet been taught it could move. The star-shaped engines were thick and blunt, aesthetically mismatched with the plane’s lean fuselage, but no one seemed to care. Size swallowed every other consideration.

Compared to the Fire of Heaven’s agile silhouette, the bomber looked like a different order of creature entirely.

Good hadn’t taken his eyes off it since it came out of the hangar. He had personal experience flying the Fire of Heaven; without that, he wouldn’t have believed anything of that weight could leave the ground. Even with the experience, he felt the scale of it as a kind of awe — something Neverwinter had built in the year he’d been away, something that made him feel that everything he understood about the Queen’s capabilities might need to be revised upward.

Finkin had abandoned all other descriptions in favor of repeating the word “huge.”

“I’d guess only the most outstanding Aerial Knights will qualify to operate that,” Hinds said, staring. “In our class, Good might be the only one.”

“Not quite.” The voice that answered was Eagle Face’s — cold and uninvited, as always. The three cadets straightened on instinct. “According to what I know, the bomber’s pilots won’t be drawn from the current corps. Not because anyone is insufficiently skilled, but because Princess Tilly believes that maintaining aerial dominance is the Aerial Knights’ primary purpose. So long as the bomber is protected and any approaching enemy fighters are shot down, it does not matter if the large plane is operated by a crew of recruits.”

“Instructor—”

“At ease. I’m not here to reprimand you.” Eagle Face’s glance moved across them without warmth or displeasure, both expressions equally absent from his face. “You are the best of the best. Have more confidence in yourselves.”

“Yes!” All three saluted.

“Everyone will face the demons’ main force soon. Work hard.” Eagle Face turned, raised a hand in dismissal, and walked away.

Finkin exhaled very slowly. “Why do I feel that Instructor seems especially—”

“Gentle?” Hinds offered.

“Yeah.” Good shrugged. “But if that gets back to him, he’ll have you both on toilet duty for a week.”

Both cadets switched topics immediately.

At that moment, the bomber’s propellers began to turn.

The humming built quickly — a familiar cadence, pulsing and physical, the sound of controlled energy about to become motion. Good felt it in his chest. He had not heard that sound in a long time, and its return was immediate and total.

I really do love flying.

With the repeated percussion of its pistons driving it forward, the bomber rolled down the runway and gathered speed — the process longer than anything the Fire of Heaven required, the nose staying low and earthbound until the very end. Then, at the threshold of the runway, it lifted.

Gravity released its hold.

The black plane spread its wings against the damp sea breeze and climbed, carrying its weight into the sky as though weight had always been optional. After liftoff it adjusted course northwest of Neverwinter — and in that direction, against the open sky, the floating mass of North Slope Mountain stood distinct and impossible.

Good understood what the image meant.

The essential pieces were in place. The decisive battle was not approaching. It was here.

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