Aethosphere Chronicles: Winds of Duty

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of
the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is
purely coincidental.

Aethosphere Chronicles: Winds of Duty

By Jeremiah D Schmidt

Copyright © 2015 Jeremiah D Schmidt

Smashwords Edition

All Rights Reserved

Cover Illustration Copyright © 2015 by Jeremiah D
Schmidt

Cover Design by Jeremiah D Schmidt

Map of the Unified Kingdoms of Ascella Design by
Jeremiah D Schmidt

Layout of R.A. Chimera Design by Jeremiah D
Schmidt

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book
remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be
redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes.
If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download
their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you
for your support.

ISBN: 9781311049278

V1

Greetings, potential reader. I’d like to take this
opportunity to briefly explain to you what you’re about to
read.

As the title implies, this story is part of the
Aethosphere Chronicles
, which is a loose
assemblage of interrelated stories written not only to entertain,
but to enrich the storyline of the
Aethosphere
series of books. However, this shouldn’t
dissuade anyone unfamiliar with the main series from giving this
story a read, as it requires no prior knowledge of events or
characters from Aethosphere (or of the other Chronicles for that
matter). It has been crafted to stand on its own.

So please, think of this as an opportunity to vet the
series if you’ve never been exposed; or as a chance to enrich the
experience if you have.

Enjoy!

Map
of the Unified Kingdoms of Ascella

Prologue: The Admirals’ Inquiry

Chapter 1: Four Days Prior

Chapter 2: A Swing Towards Sinister

Chapter 3: Put to the Question

Chapter 4: Rumblings of Conflict

Chapter 5: Mounting Crisis

Chapter 6: Flashpoint

Chapter 7: Take Up Your Burden

Chapter 8: Ascent into Turmoil

Chapter 9: Descent into Madness

Chapter 10: The Engagement

Chapter 11: Unity Under Fire

Chapter 12: The Admirals’ Decision

Epilogue: The Terrible Truth

Discover

Connect

R.A. Chimera

“Do you know why we’ve ordered you here today, Ensign
Bartholomew Bazzon?” The voice rumbled with grave sobriety
throughout the vaulted chamber of the gothic hall; accusation
hidden in the emphasis on ‘why’ as it came rebounding off gray
sandstone walls carved from the same living rock as the rest of the
surrounding mountainside. At the room’s end, where a vein of pink
granite dominated the back wall like an open wound, Sky Marshal
Titan DeGanten leaned back, becoming just one of many foreboding
faces lingering beneath the hanging flag of the Unified Kingdoms of
Ascella. Bar glanced up to the flag, finding his attention caught
in its vibrant field of gold; in stark contrast to the rest of the
room’s ominous décor. Within the flag’s red borders reared the
crimson gryphon, the winged beast so representative of the ancient
nation’s strength and courage, though Bar couldn’t help but feel it
was poised against him now, looking more like an executioner than
an emblem to draw comfort from.

Guess we’re not here to praise my
‘victory’
, he mulled bitterly, fixing his weary gaze back on
the veritable cannonade of admirals sitting barricaded behind their
rocky dais; carved also from the same pink stone as the wall behind
it. The admirals each held the young aeronaut in their focused
sights as the officiating member of their ranks waited impatiently
for an answer. Ensign Bazzon shifted beneath their scrutiny in the
uncomfortable wooden chair they’d sentenced him to for the
proceedings. Looking up into Sky Marshal DeGanten’s age-chiseled
face he swallowed hard. Unknown in the seasoned man’s sandy-hued
eyes was any sort of compassion. It seemed the concept was just as
lost and foreign here as it was on the deck of the strata-frigate
Chimera,
no more than four days prior.

The marshal’s words rattled around in Bar’s
skull, elevating his sense of discomfort. Left to the cavernous
room’s center alone, Bar held no cover…no place to escape. Never
was it so apparent how out of his element he’d become then at that
very moment. Instead of open sky, there was only pressing rock.
Gone was the safety of his airship…his home.
Better, perhaps, I
had just taken the Chimera and fled…what remained of the crew would
never have tried to stop me…nay, most, in fact, would have welcomed
it.

The prepared speech and manufactured account
he’d so diligently practiced in the hours preceding this hearing
was now all but lost. His only thoughts resting on the stitches
fastened across his left cheek, where they’d begun to itch, and the
throbbing in his arm, where a shard of wood was still working its
way out. The new military dress jacket he’d been issued just for
this occasion was still stiff, and had twisted itself up; the thick
onyx canvas now digging mercilessly into the scabs, the burns, and
the bruises riddled all across his battered body. He attempted to
readjust, but the chair beneath him creaked in angry protest of the
man’s muscular build.

“I’m assuming it has to do with the
engagement,” he finally ventured, trying his best to keep his deep
voice steady and even, confident but not defiant. Bar Bazzon knew
better than anyone present that he was lucky not to have been shot
on sight after the
R.A. Chimera
put in at Ragnarok
Cloudfortress.

“Yes, the
engagement
, as you so
eloquently put it, Ensign,
is
at the heart of these
proceedings, but is not the matter with which we are most
concerned. The issue that has ultimately brought you here involves
the reports
preceding
this so-called battle with an imperial
hunter-killer.”

“We’ve brought you here to shed light on the
confusing amount of incongruities,” hollered a ghostly admiral,
whose face looked to be forged of the same dust and malice as the
surrounding walls.

“Indeed,” chimed another darkly, “like why
the
Royal Airship Chimera
chose to engage an imperial craft,
when its orders were specifically to the contrary. Even more
disturbing are the undertones surrounding the mysterious deaths of
so many crewmen, namely the ship’s captain,
and
enough of
her senior officers to warrant you, a junior-grade ensign, to
assume command on the
eve
of this ill-attempted combat
mission.”

‘
Even more disturbing are the undertones
surrounding the mysterious deaths of so many crewmen…’
As dire
as this statement was, it sounded all the more damning coming from
the stern lips of a highly-decorated admiral. No doubt each of
these noble King’s Isle elites held him as contemptible as the
lowest Glenfindale street thug.

“I was unaware—” started Bar, but a lump
filled his throat even as an emptiness took root in his stomach.
He’d just become infinitely aware of how blank the front of his own
uniform was—how void of insignias and medals and veteran accolades
as compared to the men arrayed before him.
He
was like the
Chimera
now, when her guns were simply too inadequate to
deal with the threat of an unstoppable war machine. Bar had nothing
to shield him from their scrutiny…just a pair of wings that hardly
classified him as anyone important. Even the brass ensign pin at
his collar was still freshly polished, gleaming with a newness that
only the recently promoted could possibly possess, and itself was
like a brilliant beacon to how unimportant he was. Worst of all, he
held no badge of nobility, which counted for everything in the
Royal Air Navy of Ascella. Before this stately assembly he was
nothing—worse than nothing.

He looked for some sort of ally in his
darkened surroundings—perhaps behind the ornate stone buttresses
supporting the vaulted roof—but conspicuously absent was Admiral
Lockney, and the one man Bar Bazzon
could
legitimately count
on as a friendly soul in these portentous proceedings. If anyone
could vouch for his character, perhaps offer justification, or at
least some insight—perhaps even a measure of sympathy—well, that
would have been old Bernard.

But where is he now? He’s a man of reason
and honor; loyal to the Unity…he’d never have gone along with the
kill order that started it all had he still been in command of the
ship. Did he express such an opinion and that’s why he’s not here?
Did they remove him? It wouldn’t surprise me; Lockney was from
Cloudvale. Godsdammit! It’s the Iron Empire that’s supposed to be
our enemy, not one another, or have they forgotten that?

He scanned those behind the granite dais,
hoping Lockney was mixed in their ranks—perhaps obscured within the
multitudes. He tried counting his way through the admirals present,
but lost his nerve once he reached nine. This Kinglander monopoly
was too imposing to look upon, like gazing at the sun. His eyes
stood dazzled by the richness of their snow-white overcoats, the
glimmering star-field of medals fixed upon their chests, nebulous
wrappings of belts and cummerbunds and draped gold
aiguillettes—enough trappings of office to string Bar up on high
from the Gods’ Bind of King’s Isle if they felt so inclined. At
this point he just didn’t want to give them a reason to do it, not
before the inquiry even started.

So how much do they already know of
the
incident
, he wondered. Though from the display
before him, he suspected it was enough. He suspected they might
already have found him guilty.
And they would be right to…
The simple fact of the matter was the truth had become a nest of
vipers, and Bar squirmed within its tangled mass.

“It is our understanding that reports of
this nature can become
muddled
—to an extent—given the high
emotion and stress of a combat encounter, but never have we been
witness to such flagrant inconsistencies as we’ve suffered through
here this day. We’ve talked with all the other surviving crewmen
and each has given a different sworn deposition in the very seat
you now occupy, and now we’re curious to see if you can shed some
light of
truth
on this incident…as the
commanding
officer.” Sky Marshal DeGanten smiled in sarcasm.