“Oh. Right,” Handy said, blinking. His voice was hoarse. “A couple thousand feet off the ground... huh.” They had been traveling in his newly acquired airship, which he had yet to christen, for the past three days on the journey down to Firthengart. Overall, it was the faster option. Travel by chariot would have covered more ground quicker, true, but they’d need to stop for the night, and the train to Firthengart would have wound its way through the countryside. It’d take its sweet time. Airship travel meant they could cut through the bullshit, and it also meant Handy did not have to put up with fellow passengers freaking out over the human daring to enter the sleeping cabins to, you know, sleep.