The hull’s inside was a different world; the style stayed clean, yet the materials layered like bark over bone.

Runes on the walls and special conduits lay dim, like a night river at rest, because the ship hadn’t begun to move.

“A magic warship... so this is the main cannon’s core.”

Baili led the three deep into the cannon’s heart; at the center, a square device carved with runes linked to a huge pipe like a heart to an artery.

That great black pipe was the main gun, a dragon’s spine of iron; next door sat the ship’s control room, quiet as a nerve center.

The engine room lay further below, a furnace in the belly; after a circuit, Cerqin’s interest kindled like a small flame.

“This big thing really suits adding arcanotech pieces, huh,” she murmured, thoughts flocking like steel-feathered birds.

“You’ve got another idea?” Silver Luan’s tone teased, a breeze against silk.

Aileaf chuckled, soft as spring rain; different field or not, a researcher recognized that itch in Cerqin’s eyes.

“Mmh.” Cerqin hummed, a spark glowing, and nodded.

“Big tools take well to arcanotech refits. The Azuremist Empire’s famous for overhauling massive platforms, mountains moving on gears.”

“That tracks,” Baili agreed, like wind bending the grass.

Northfort’s arcanotech mining rigs and the smaller arcanotech wagons had flowed into the Holy Dragon Empire early, iron rivers beating trinkets to the gate.

Spring Tide had also told Cerqin that Azuremist had recently formed an airborne arcanotech corps, brass hawks riding the clouds.

“Come to think of it, Azuremist’s landlocked—no coast to taste the salt wind.”

“Doesn’t that mean they don’t refit ships much?” Silver Luan mused, few oars on their rivers.

River craft run small and simple; Azuremist, long-unified and famed for its Skywind units, keeps more wings than sails and few seagoing warships.

“Mm, seems so,” Baili answered first, excitement fizzing like soda since boarding.

“Miss Cerqin, are you thinking of building arcanotech warships in that niche?” Her eyes shone like bright lacquer.

“Uh...” Frustration pricked like sand; large arcanotech tools aren’t easy, or she wouldn’t be stuck on one arcanotech car.

“Mmh... we could try a retrofit. Do you have the Black Dragon Battleship’s schematics, those maps of a beast?”

“Got them, got them!” Baili beamed, the tide running in her favor. The Sea Dragon Clan doesn’t monopolize the designs; even with schematics, most factions can’t beat their costs.

Nor can they build a ship better than those scaled artisans; their work gleams like polished shell.

At that, Silver Luan’s interest stirred, a cat’s tail twitching in sunlight.

“This model’s a near-perfect standard for the Sea Dragon Clan—one of their bragging stones. Is there really room to modify, cut polished jade again?”

“In pure magic and structure—the inscriptions—I’m no expert,” Cerqin said, steady as a machinist’s hand. “But we can add arcanotech bits to optimize, maybe even lower costs.”

She meant the power system, the main gun’s tuning, and mana deployment; in efficiency, Arcanotechnology turns flame into steady light compared to old-school magic.

“Let’s study it after this run.”

When the knight squad fully took over the weapons, the core runes woke like dawn, and the Black Dragon Battleship surged to sea.

In the lounge beside the control room, the three sat in a circle, steam from fresh fragrant tea curling like white vines.

“Not a hint of sway...” Awe rose in Cerqin like a lifting tide. The Black Dragon Battleship had left port at full speed, yet the cabin stayed steady as stone.

Thanks to the arrays, even motion blurred, clouds sliding across a still lake.

“Feels steadier than a carriage,” Aileaf said, wheels whispering on silk.

“Well, look at its size,” Silver Luan snorted, a whale gliding under glass.

Cerqin rose to get some air; Silver Luan caught her, swift as a hooked fish.

“Where you heading, Cerqin?” Her voice lilted like a playful breeze.

“Ah? Just grabbing some air...” Cerqin’s tone was a drifting reed.

“Don’t go outside at full speed. The deck’s a wild horse; you won’t keep your footing.”

“Alright...” Regret brushed her face like passing shadow.

“So, two days to the target, right? What do we do meantime? We can’t just sit here.” Time stretched like a rope between posts.

“What do you think we should do...” Silver Luan’s drawl slid like silk.

“Uh...” Cerqin cringed, words fluttering like shy moths, and stayed quiet.

“Look at you, spooked,” Silver Luan laughed, a fox grinning in moonlight.

“Mmph...” She hauled Cerqin into her arms, hands eager as tide over sand.

Just then, Baili pushed the door open, cool rain cutting the heat. “This room isn’t soundproof. And don’t cast in the cabin at full speed—it stresses the structure. If you want to play, use the crew quarters below. I had them prepped.”

“Oh... got it.” Silver Luan let Cerqin go, awkwardness blooming like a blush; Cerqin tossed her a sidelong look, sharp as a flicked fan.

Then Cerqin grabbed Aileaf’s hand and tugged her up from the sofa, plucking a reed from the bank.

“Little Aileaf, let’s hit the crew game room and play some cards,” she said, cards already fluttering like sparrows in her mind.

“Sure.” Aileaf nodded, easy as drifting leaves. Last night’s play in the water cell had been a bit too intense; she hadn’t fully recovered, and she wasn’t as hungry as Silver Luan.

But as she stood, Aileaf glanced at Silver Luan, uncertain words gathering like mist. “Silver Luan, want me to brew you some suppressants later?”

The Dragon Deity awakening’s aftereffects had grown obvious; the loudest was how clingy she got with Cerqin, honeyed vines tightening by the day.

That month Cerqin traveled with Spring Tide had left Silver Luan pent up, coiled like a spring under cloth.

“Normally it’s fine, but Cerqin’s abilities are a catalyst for those aftereffects,” Aileaf said, sparks itching toward dry grass. “Left unchecked, it could cause issues.”

“Uh...” Silver Luan blinked, understanding settling like dust on lacquer.

“Then after we get back. My Silver Dragon aura keeps leaking, subtly influencing things; a scent that stains isn’t great.”

The effect might just be extra excitement day to day, but suppressing silver-dragon mana within the scales is like corking a storm.

If it slips out later and someone gets caught unawares, it could brew trouble, a vial spilling into the river.

“Alright.”

“Alright, enough; let’s go play some cards,” Cerqin said, shuffling rain already in her hands.

“I’m coming too!” Silver Luan chirped, voice hopping like a sparrow.

“Baili, you coming?” Cerqin gently pushed Silver Luan back, her words floating toward Baili like a kite tugged by sun.

“Cards are more fun with more people,” she added, a table bright as a lantern fair.

“Mm... I’ll pass. You play; I’ll go check the compartments,” Baili said, making rounds like a watchman pacing the walls.

“Alright then...” Acceptance lapped like a soft wave.

“Have fun. I’ll tell the crew and knights not to head over,” she said, closing a gate with a wooden bar.

“Uh?” Cerqin blinked, a pebble plopping into her thoughts; cards would surely morph into something else, a fuse trailing into powder.

They’d toured on boarding, so they knew the layout like lines on a palm, no guide needed.

Their game was the Holy Dragon Empire’s most popular set; a game means wins and losses, fortune spinning like a coin.

As Cerqin feared, Silver Luan and Aileaf teamed up on her; from hand one, she didn’t win a single round, luck snuffed like a candle.

The stakes crept higher—face doodles, a flick to the forehead, then a piece of clothing, tide marks inching up the pier.

Eventually it shifted into do-what-you-want for a set span, a leash unhooked for an hour.

The Black Dragon Battleship’s game room was built for this; doors and walls bore soundproofing arrays, seals like frost on glass.

Beyond mini-games, it came stocked with portable blankets and mats, reassuring as warm fur; the floor even auto-cleaned spills, house spirits sweeping with invisible brooms.