Aisha, the Imperial Princess
Aisha the princess stood watch from a makeshift crow's nest atop the mastless ship, scanning the horizon, when a watchman's tearing shout pierced the air.
"Massive island dead ahead!! Land ho!"
I locked eyes with Aila and we bolted up the stairs to the upper deck together. Pushing through the engine room's choking fumes, we reached the bow, where an unobstructed view revealed a colossal landmass silhouette rising boldly from the blue sea ahead—a jagged cut through the ocean.
The continent's top cotton producer, nestled right under the chin of the heretic empire: the pearl of the East. Our final destination.
"Kipro Island……."
Aila murmured in rapture, the sea breeze whipping her hair.
Exactly ten days since we'd left Masina Port on the Rom Peninsula. A ship from the old era would have waited months for seasonal winds, taking half a year to cross this deadly stretch of sea. But we'd conquered it aboard this iron behemoth belching black smoke.
"Alright, partner Aila."
I yanked hard on the wheelhouse whistle cord, grinning like a predator.
"Time to sweep up every last bale of Eastern cotton and cut off that old bastard Valerius's air supply."
The port of Kipro Island, dubbed the pearl of the East. A territory of the Osan Empire, worlds away from the sun-worshipping Rom Peninsula of the West—thick with the scent of exotic spices and strewn with vibrant rugs.
Atop a cliff overlooking the harbor stood the spacious terrace of the governor's marble palace, where a lone woman gazed out.
Aisha. First princess of the Osan Empire.
Under the blazing Eastern sun, her figure evoked the deadliest, most elegant bloom of a 16th-century royal court.
A ornate hellquig—a small traditional hat embroidered with gold thread and pearls—crowned her head. Beneath it, ebony-black hair cascaded like a waterfall, glossy and deep. A thin, translucent silk veil shrouded her lower face in mystery, but the crimson lips and aquiline nose gleaming through hinted at breathtaking beauty.
Her deep purple kaftan, encrusted with emeralds and sapphires that dazzled the eye, draped her sensual yet dignified curves with graceful poise. With every step, golden bells dangling from the silk hems chimed crisply, scattering the empire's signature intoxicating allure.
Especially those deep-set eyes beneath heavy lids—lake-like pools of profound, enigmatic gold—flashed with cold precision, proving she was no mere royal ornament.
Yet this empire's exquisite flower was trapped in bitter resignation and escape.
'Another galley inbound. First brother this time? Or third?'
Aisha gazed bitterly at the sea.
The Osan Empire's chronic affliction: whenever the aged emperor faltered, his grown princes carved up armies and territories in a blood-soaked war for the throne. Brothers slit throats; provincial governors picked sides, sabotaging each other and eroding national strength instead of cooperating.
Curse it all—Aisha held not a shred of power to end this horrific civil strife. She was merely a princess.
In the Osan Empire, a woman's authority was no better than a caged bird. No matter how noble the bloodline, she couldn't touch politics or govern fiefs.
As the succession war intensified, the princes eyed her as a political pawn—marrying her off to warlords or foreign royalty to bolster their factions.
'Or killing her if she couldn't be used.'
To flee those exhausting schemes and assassination threats, Aisha had made excuses and left the capital for this indefinite "vacation" on Kipro Island.
"As the empire rots, here I am, just staring at the sea."
Aisha sighed self-mockingly—right then.
Rooooar——!!!
A roar like the sky tearing open—rougher, more violent than any beast's—slammed into the waters off Kipro.
"……!!"
Aisha's golden eyes snapped wide.
Black smoke billowing from the horizon. Tearing through windless seas, a grotesque, mastless bulk charged the harbor at terrifying speed.
As imperial citizens and guards panicked—"The devil's ship!"—scrambling in chaos,
Aisha's gaze from the terrace held no fear, only shock and profound awe.
'That... that thing...!'
She pierced its essence in an instant.
True, she'd lived suppressed by imperial norms, but beneath that veil lurked a mind sharper than any Osan scholar—a technical engineering genius.
Imperial law barred women from forges or sciences, forcing her to hide it.
But secretly, she'd devoured Western physics texts, Arab geometry, and metallurgy like a madwoman—a true engineer.
'No sails. No rowing slaves. Yet that heavy hull defies the waves.'
The cause? Her brilliant mind seized the answer.
'Those black-smoke-belching cylinders! They're boiling water with fire, channeling the force to paddlewheels on both sides!'
She recalled a kettle lid lifting from steam pressure. In her head, the steam engine's power conversion mechanism flashed complete.
'Impossible. Western metallurgy enduring that insane thermal efficiency? If that ship goes commercial... our galleys, slaves to wind and currents, become scrap! Sea dominance flips entirely!'
Aisha's heart pounded wildly.
But the genius's eyes soon shifted from awe, spotting fatal "danger signals" in the hull and iron boiler.
"Wait. Crossed the ocean at that speed? Wooden hull and shafts couldn't handle wave drag and wheel torque intact. And that irregular white steam leaking from the stack...!"
Ignoring her shaking hellquig, Aisha whirled toward the terrace stairs.
"Clear the guards from the docks now! I'll go myself!"
Meanwhile, at Kipro Island's harbor.
"Drop anchor! Secure the lines!"
With a harsh scrape, the black steamship thudded against the dock.
I locked the helm valves and exhaled in relief.
Aila was already on deck, flashing an arrogant smile at the crowding heretic merchants and imperial guards come to gawk.
"Carnoble Guild from Western Peluah! Here to buy out your island's cotton—fetch your guildmasters now!"
The Osan merchants buzzed, parting before Aila's swagger and the jingling sacks of Masina gold.
I wiped engine grease in the boiler room and stepped out.
Pelua to Masina to Kipro. The extreme high-speed voyage succeeded, but unlike Earth's flawless ships, this world's wooden hull screamed in protest everywhere.
'As expected from a hasty retrofit of an old tub. Shaft fatigue is building up.'
I was mentally tallying repair costs when—
"Make way! Her Imperial Highness the First Princess approaches!"
The docks erupted; elite imperial guards—Janissaries with golden crescent shields—cleared a path.
And amid their escort emerged a woman that silenced even Aila's swaggering crew atop the ship.
'Whoa... what a stunner.'
Osan Empire's princess, kaftan swirling with emeralds and sapphires, golden eyes flashing mysteriously through her silk veil.
"Princess Aisha! Bow your heads and pay homage!"
"Enough. Outsider merchant, raise your head—I have words for you."
Her poise was leagues beyond Aila's—a pinnacle of imperial authority.
"Are you the one in charge of this ship?"
Princess Aisha strode up, fixing her gaze on me fresh from the bilge.
A typical noble would recoil from a filthy, reeking trader, but her eyes pierced past me to the ship.
"I am, Your Highness. Elpanso Carnoble of Peluah. But why would one as exalted as the empire's princess grace a mere merchant vessel...?"
I bowed politely, shifting to merchant mode—
But Aisha cut me off coldly.
"Shut down that furnace and vent every last bit of steam from that ship right now, or it explodes."
"……Pardon?"
Aila and I gaped in unison.
Hiking her skirts, ignoring the guards' protests, the princess approached and pointed at the paddlewheel's central shaft.
"I get it—you boil water to spin the wheels. But apparently, you didn't consider that when the ship rolls heavy with cargo over rough waves, the wheels submerge unevenly."
Her critique hit like lightning; my eyes widened.
"One wheel spins in air, the other slams a heavy wall of water. What happens to the thick iron shaft linking them? Uneven torque from both sides twists and grinds it from within."
Aisha's eyes gleamed predatorily through her veil.
"That's why the white steam from the stack's been puffing irregularly—shaft warping's thrown off the power rhythm. The lost force is churning backward in that massive boiler. Vent it now, or your precious ship rips apart!"