Another few beats passed. It was just past fullbright before they had a chance to be called into the purser’s room. The purser emerged and pulled a group of platoonmates into his office. “Moseme, Tomel, Fayn, Yuesell, Moro; come on in.” The latch of the door clicked heavily as they shambled into the cabin. Inside, it was standing room only.

He flipped through a lectern on his holding a massive ledger. There were at least a dozen inkwells about, dry and featherless. Holding a small quill pen he made scratches over the paper, checking off the names he had completed from the prior round. This aging gentleman’s mind was clearly in a lag, filled with numbers and accounts.

“Fayn, Moro. You both will receive full pay for your Novice grade. 3,268 Karats for your six weeks of training, as well as an additional 422 for your provisional grade, totaling 3,690 Karats. Taxes have already been deducted from this amount.”

Both of them were accustomed to the military pay system of Argentis, but had never had this much money of their own at any given time. They were barely entering their adult lives. This pay was equal to; several thousand loaves of bread, or three grads rent for a single-family home of four bedrooms in the capital, or a gradly lease for a two-masted aeroship of their own.

The accountant weighed out the necessary gema to make up 3,690 carats of weight on a scale, removed the weights, and then equaled the scale to make two piles; one for Albe, and the other for Temora. The remaining three people in the room were now aware that the two of them were carrying a substantial wealth on their person. The military did have a locker system for them in the storage hold, but that too had its risks.

Once the actuary was finished, he placed the assorted-sized gemin into their relative sacks. They were not at all a burden, but were heavy for money. Like a small sack of dry rice or beans. Both of the fresh soldiers bowed to the man to thank them for the payment, and stood back to allow the others to approach.

“Tomel, Yuesell. You both will receive sixty percent pay for your grade of Novice. That would be... 1,960 Karats for your six weeks.” Both of them looked at each other. Price Tomel’s eyes were lost in the scales as the stones were being measured out. Seemed like he was surprised to see money from this process at all. Mr. Yuesell was decades older compared to the rest of the platoon and was married. He respectably accepted the payment as if it was a gift. For him, the opportunity to be here meant a great deal.

“Moseme. You... hmmm... Hold on.” That certainly wasn’t a good sign. Cole already knew what was coming. The fact that his pay was being discussed at all was more news to him than he expected. “It looks like you have over eighty-five percent in garnishments on your record. Let me take a look at this.” Cocole pressed his thumbs into his brow, squatting down toward the floor. Not out of distress, but rather embarrassment. Nobody needed to know about this other than him.

“Let me make a deal with you Mr. Moseme.”

“Okay, I’ll hear it out... what can I do.”

“One of your garnishments is for asylum fees, which compared to your other debts are negligible. That can be stuck off today. You have a tax levy from your first year here which I’m not even sure is legal for them to try to collect. I’ll take that off too. That will bring the garnishment down to eighty percent... best I can do.” He pursed his lips tightly as he made the arrangements.

“I... uh... thank you. I don’t know what to say.”

“Just try not to incur any further debts Mr. Moseme. With an eighty percent garnishment, you get 652 Karats for six weeks.” Cocole was elated to see there be any value given at all. “If you stay in the military for four years, your debts will be entirely cleared. After two years your taxes will be paid, and you’ll have the option to restructure payments. You’a be making better pay anyway.” Cocole’s debt was in excess of a quarter million Karats.

“Four years.” Temora mouthed in a whisper audible to everyone in the small room.

“I did not imagine his debt be to that extent.” Albe too was surprised to hear it from the record.

Cocole extended his reach to claim his well-earned parcel. It wasn’t much, but with his food and lodging covered; he had nothing basic needs to spend it on. However, Cocole had plans for the money regardless. “This I think might be enough if I find the right place. Think I could take out a small loan from you, friend.” He met Albe eye to eye, with the purser glaring him down.

“We can discuss it when we get lodged. I don’t even know where we are going to sleep.” Albe smiled in the way that was unique to his bloodline. His father made the same high-lipped, toothy expression.

The purser excused the five soldiers from the room, while simultaneously cycling in five more bodies. Price and Mr. Yuesell quickly broke off to find their bunks leaving the three of them outside with the remaining soldiers from the platoon.

“We should go find a good place to set up. I hear nobody wants to be on the lower deck. Probably good on us to check there first.” Albe approached the steep stairs and ascended a single flight, followed by Cole, then Temora.

This was an astute observation made by the experienced soldiers onboard. The most likely deck of the ship to be hit by cannon fire was the leapover deck, as it contained a majority of the aeroship’s operational capacity; including the magazines which give it the ability to return fire. Below that was the hold. While the hold was an easy target, it had a bulk of the hull structure which armored it well. Also, crewmen were not permitted to sleep there even if they wanted to.

The upper and middle gun decks were protected primarily by the ship’s nacelle struts and steel back plate. These nacelles were specifically engineered to counteract fire from main guns, and had glacis-angled metal armor designed to redirect cannonball impacts around the ship. Aside from this, countering an enemy’s capacity to return fire was secondary to disabling the ship’s ability to maneuver or remain aloft.

Strategically speaking, the most likely place that a soldier had permission to sleep that was going to be targeted by main guns, was the lower gun deck. Interestingly, the officers were housed in the least likely place to take fire. Atop the quarter-deck, in the grand cabin.

Albe directed them toward the middle third of the ship, close to the wedges holding in the middle mast. “I gave it mind while we were waiting. We should bunk here.” Albe was already making himself at home in the bunks here, and unpacking his belongings.

“This is dangerous for us though right?” Cocole was far from cowardly, but he saw the writing on the rafters, so to speak. Temora similarly questioned his eagerness to settle on a choice before getting any feedback, and stood steering him down in an inquisitive posture; deserving of an explanation.

“At dead stern, we have the lavatories which would make us all miserable. Before brightset, all of the upper decks were packed.” Expanding his arms he gestured around himself widely. There were a total of seven bodies in the lower gun deck. “We put ourselves next to the mast. We have this tree to protect us.” He slapped the barkless former trunk that was now the middle mast.

“We have a bit of a walk to the top deck sure, but we’re close enough to the steward to get our rations first. In exchange, we are slightly more likely to die during an attack.”