Twenty minutes later, at an altitude of 1,500 meters above Post, the massive airship known as the Fearless was no longer crowded with guests and noisy chatter as it had been during the day.
Bathed in the bright moonlight, the metallic sheen of its animal hide shimmered like flowing silver.
The glowing red fire crystals resembled scattered fireflies, adding a touch of warmth to the cold, imposing magical airship.
Tonight, on December 31, 1729 of the human calendar, the airship was devoid of extra personnel, leaving only Astrid and her closest companions.
In the lounge, Amalia sat in Astrid's lap, her white-stockinged legs pressed tightly against Astrid's, the slight friction producing a soft sound.
"Amalia, how's the orange juice?"
"...It's good."
"It's too warm in here. Let me cool it down for you; it'll taste better."
Holding the glass, Astrid used her high affinity for ice magic to chill the drink. Soon, a few ice cubes floated in the glass.
