Approaching Amber
Written in a self-ratching reciprocating lock scroll, in indigo ink on the cream surface.
Enroute back to Amber on the Bassilisk.
My father's ship, once a terror on the seas, now sails muzzled, the weapons all removed. It is still dangerous to pull any levers or push any candylike buttons, because his genius knows no bounds...including personal safety. Aside from the auto-repellers, the auto-swabbers and other devices designed to Improve the Quality of Life can be life-threatening under the wrong circumsatnces.
Still, it is a ship of wonders. I may consider renaming it, now that it is mine. It is no longer an oversized yacht become the Monster of the Seas, designed to Turn Men to Stone at a glance. Once more it is a pleasure craft, simply with oddly retrofitted rooms. A combination of Begman and Alhambran know-how.
I will have to get used to things being mine now, instead of my being just a caretaker for my father, since he is not allowed in Begma. I always knew I'd be Duchess one day, but I was not fond of the price of the title. Still, I suppose it could be worse...he could be dead, instead of mentally unsound. He could be unstable all the time, and not have periods of lucidity. He could have fought the transfer when he slipped back, and didn't.
Suprisingly drama free on that end. Then again, he does have someone he wants to meet.
The Mesh-Enabled Flexible Compression Bladder (Mark II) is ready. I think I'll put it in a DO NOT OPEN UNTIL NIGELMAS box for Master Glanworth.