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Let's Play: Cataphrak's Dragoon Saga

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Guns 4.09
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    • [X] "In fact, I did."

    "Oh, I see." For a moment, Lady Katarina seems almost blindsided by your reply, though she certainly recovers her composure quickly enough.

    She turns in her chair to address her maids in a familiar imperious tone. "Marianne, bring in another chair and a table if you please. Louise, tea." With discreet curtsies and a murmured 'yes, ma'am,' the servants quickly withdraw.

    "You may trust them both," Lady Katarina mentions offhandedly as the tent flaps close behind the retreating servants. "They serve Royal Intelligence, just as I do."

    You nod. It is certainly a clever idea; to most less perceptive banebloods, household servants are practically furniture—interchangeable, invisible, and with no wills of their own. They would be the perfect agents of surveillance.

    The maids return within moments. One sets a chair beside you and a light folding table before you. The other maid quickly sets down two cups and a steaming pot of tea on the table with brisk, practised efficiency. Lady Katarina motions for you to sit down with one hand. "Make yourself comfortable, Sir Alaric, and tell me what you wish us to speak of?"

    "Should you not have returned to Tierra by now?"

    Lady Katarina replies with a genuine look of puzzlement. "Why would I return to Tierra?"

    "Is your work not finished here?"

    The young noblewoman smiles, her eyes sparkling with cold amusement. "Did you think I had been sent on Royal Intelligence's behalf, at great effort and expense, merely to deliver a few cannons? No, I am on permanent attachment to the Duke of Havenport's staff."

    You nod. So she is to remain with the army for some time. "What exactly is the nature of your work?"

    "I collate reports and pass on relevant information to my superiors in Aetoria or the Duke of Havenport's staff," Lady Katarina replies. "I handle confidential information and ensure that it remains as such."

    You cannot help but be puzzled by that. According to the young noblewoman's description, her job is little more than that of a glorified file clerk with no discretionary powers whatsoever. "Is that all you do?"

    The Royal Intelligence agent smiles and shakes her head. "No, it is not."

    "Might you tell me of your other duties, then?"

    Katarina's smile grows wider as she shakes her head again. So much for that line of questioning. "How did you come to work for Royal Intelligence?"

    "I was recruited, of course," the noblewoman replies between delicate sips of her tea. "It was not a particularly convoluted process."

    Your mind forms an image of Royal Intelligence agents in black cloaks riding up to some country manor in a sable-bodied phaeton in the dead of night and bundling the young Katarina off to some secret fortress to be trained as a spy. No, no, no. That would be ludicrous.

    "You were approached by Royal Intelligence to work for them?" You finally ask.

    "Yes, well, not so openly or directly, but that is the gist of it," Katarina replies. "I met their criteria, and I was offered employment."

    "Their criteria?" You ask, curious.

    The young lady nods. "Yes: literate, numerate, baneblooded, and entirely contrary to the expected image of a Royal Intelligence field agent."

    "My lady, you have just described a substantial portion of the Tierran aristocracy," you note. "Surely you are in possession of other qualities which made Royal Intelligence single you out for recruitment."

    Lady Katarina smiles cryptically. "Perhaps, but that is for the man who recruited me to say, not I."

    "Might I learn a little more about you?"

    Lady Katarina tilts her head to the side in a show of ignorance. "About me? What could you possibly want to know about me?"

    "I know very little of who you are, my lady," you reply. "Surely, I could know the basics of your life?"

    The young noblewoman shakes her head. "The basics of my life before entering the service do not make for interesting conversation, sir."

    From the young woman's tone, it seems clear that she will speak no more on the subject. "Must you be so maddeningly evasive in your answers?"

    Lady Katarina looks up from her tea, her eyebrow raised. "Why, whatever do you mean?"

    "It seems to me that you seem unwilling to provide any straightforward answer," you reply. "Your answers seem to serve only to replace one question with two."

    The young noblewoman smiles as she sets her saucer down. "I have secrets, sir. It is part of the nature of my work, my sex, and my station. If I seem to take a circuitous route to your answers, it is because I am skirting those secrets so that they might be safeguarded."

    "Safeguarded even from your allies?"

    Katarina nods, her gaze steady. "Especially from my allies."

    "That is all. I best be going."

    "Wait," Katarina says before you can stand to leave. "There is one more thing."

    The young noblewoman hesitates for a moment; whatever she is trying to say is not something that will come out easily.

    "Some counsel I solicited recently has compelled me to devote some thought to our interaction on the road from Noringia," Lady Katarina says, her voice still laden with an uncharacteristic timidity. "I have come to understand that my manner may have seemed overbearing. I must apologise, sir, and beg your forgiveness for second-guessing you before your men."

    [] "There is no need to apologise."
    [] "You are forgiven."
    [] "You will be forgiven when you prove to me that you have learned better."
     
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    • Guns 4.10
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    • [X] "There is no need to apologise."

    "I must insist, sir. The fault was mine," the Royal Intelligence agent replies.

    You shake your head. "The advice you gave was sound. No offence was taken, my lady."

    Lady Katarina smiles back, with more warmth than you have ever seen from her before. "Thank you, Castleton, and Saints go with you."

    You return to your own side of the siege camp, still unsure what to make of Lady Katarina. She is cryptic, prickly, and aloof; that is true. Then again, the young woman also has her own set of charms, not all of them physical. Still, taken all together, sharp mind, sharp tongue and all, you suppose you must take the whole into account whilst forming a definite opinion of her.

    What do you conclude?

    [] I would hope earnestly to gain her deep affection, perhaps even more.
    [] I hold her in high esteem as an acquaintance.
    [] Lady Katarina's quick mind makes her almost worth befriending.
    [] The young lady is a thoroughly unpleasant person, not worth my acquaintance.
    [] My personal opinion does not matter; I need an ally in Royal Intelligence.
     
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    • I feel like one of these fits, but it is locking our way in rather quickly either way:

    [] I would hope earnestly to gain her deep affection, perhaps even more.
    [] I hold her in high esteem as an acquaintance.
     
    The Laurent said:
    I feel like one of these fits, but it is locking our way in rather quickly either way:

    [] I would hope earnestly to gain her deep affection, perhaps even more.
    [] I hold her in high esteem as an acquaintance.
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    Choosing to express a romantic interest in Katarina won't necessarily lock you into her romance. It's entirely possible to go for another romance option later on.
     
    [X] I would hope earnestly to gain her deep affection, perhaps even more.

    ...actually this is almost sorta interesting.

    Alaric's Queerplatonic Friend, "I yearn, I pine, I suffer, I die for his friendship and write ballads to the complexity of my own emotions."

    Alaric's Crush, "She's really pretty and also very smart, oh no."
     
    [X] I would hope earnestly to gain her deep affection, perhaps even more.


    We already have Cazarosta as our war crime buddy, it's only natural we will also have his sister as our war crime waifu.
     
    Guns 4.11
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    • [X] I would hope earnestly to gain her deep affection, perhaps even more.

    You try to think upon the matter dispassionately, but all you can envision are her dark curls, her silky voice, the glint of devilish wit in her eyes, the smell of her perfume—

    Saints be damned, you think you might actually be falling in love.

    It has been a long time indeed since you have thought of courtship. After all, you have been at war for much of your adult life, and with most of the women around you either married, of improper blood or foreign, you have had little need to think on the topic.

    Now, however…

    You know Lady Katarina to be a baneblood at the very least and likely the scion of a noble family no less distinguished than yours. She might make a good match. Of course, the only question is whether she feels the same.

    No, that is a matter for some different time. For now, you must see to other things.

    -​

    The next morning, Marion greets you with fresh news: an announcement from the Duke of Havenport's headquarters.

    In six days, the Duke of Havenport's army is to assault the walls of Kharangia. To serve as an advance party, His Grace requires volunteers for a small force to lead the first wave and secure the breach in the walls before the main force of the assault can arrive: a Forlorn Hope.

    As far as you can tell, given your knowledge of warfare, there is no role in any siege or battle quite as risky, glorious, and almost invariably fatal as that of a Forlorn Hope.

    The term itself refers to a small party of men, usually led by an officer. To fulfill their task of leading the assault on a fortified city, they must brave the brunt of the defensive fire from the walls, charge up into the breach, and then guard that precarious fingerhold in the face of the assembled fury of the enemy's defences.

    Though such a party would only have to hold their position for a few minutes at most, they would have to do so outnumbered and nearly surrounded, and they would face every cunning trap and obstacle the enemy could throw at them. The history of warfare is replete with tales of such parties annihilated to the man.

    As a result, the Forlorn Hope itself is composed entirely of volunteers, and the rewards for prevailing as a part of such a force are commensurate with the risk; Havenport promises massive cash bonuses for each man and better yet, a free promotion for the officer commanding.

    You could not think of a greater reward. Not only would you be saved from paying for the cost of a promotion, but the normal seniority requirement would be waived as well. This, alongside the great harvest of glory which would come with a successful action, would be more than enough to give your career a substantial boost—if you survive.

    So, will you step forward? Or would you prefer to assault the city with the main force alongside the rest of your regiment?

    [] I'll volunteer for the Forlorn Hope; glory calls to me!
    [] I volunteer to lead the Forlorn Hope, for the reward, of course.
    [] I'll stay with the main force; rather safer that way.
    [] I'll not volunteer; give some other man a chance to win his glory.

    Volunteering for the Forlorn Hope gets us extra dialogue and won't necessarily lock us into storming the breach, so go ahead and choose the response you think suits Sir Alaric best.
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    • [X] I volunteer to lead the Forlorn Hope, for the reward, of course.

    After what we faced in the castle, pitched combat will never be glorious again. It is associated with bodies piled waist-high, bone-deep exhaustion, and the screams of dying men and horses.

    That said, someone has to do it, and Alaric is the best man for the job (Or he would be if his stats were higher). And even though we've got cash right now, a major's commission is a significant investment for someone in our situation.
     
    SeptimusMagisto said:
    [X] I volunteer to lead the Forlorn Hope, for the reward, of course.

    After what we faced in the castle, pitched combat will never be glorious again. It is associated with bodies piled waist-high, bone-deep exhaustion, and the screams of dying men and horses.

    That said, someone has to do it, and Alaric is the best man for the job (Or he would be if his stats were higher). And even though we've got cash right now, a major's commission is a significant investment for someone in our situation.
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    I mean, I wish there was "I volunteer to lead the Forlorn Hope because I think someone has to do it, and I can do it well." So I'm choosing Glory because "for the Reward" leaves me cold.
     
    The Laurent said:
    I mean, I wish there was "I volunteer to lead the Forlorn Hope because I think someone has to do it, and I can do it well." So I'm choosing Glory because "for the Reward" leaves me cold.
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    That's fair, though that's part and parcel of war for Tierrans. You buy your commission with cold, hard cash, and when you retire you sell it to the next guy. You hunt down enemy commanders and then you subdue them for the sake of the ransoms they bring. Way too often, you end up spending your own money on your troops' lodging and your horses' fodder. Coin is never far from an officer's mind.

    That's honestly one of the things I really like about Choice of Games - that you can have prosperity and success as guiding motivations without it devolving into "Receive money to do bad thing."
     
    Guns 4.12
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    • [X] I volunteer to lead the Forlorn Hope, for the reward, of course.

    You have no illusions regarding the matter. To lead a Forlorn Hope is a dangerous, perhaps even suicidal thing, but you cannot ignore the reward that would come with it. With little more than two years of seniority as a captain, leading a successful Forlorn Hope would see you promoted to major a year early without paying 800 crown for the privilege.

    Having weighed the costs and benefits, you put on your dress uniform, belt on your sabre, and head for the Duke of Havenport's pavilion. No reward without risk, after all.

    -​

    You step into the Duke of Havenport's command tent to find yourself before the sight of an argument between two nearly identical men. Both wear the burnt-orange coats of the Line Infantry, have the particoloured cloaks of the Kentauri Highlanders draped over their shoulders, and both have officers' swords hanging from their belts.

    Recognition comes quickly: it is the Duke of Havenport and his younger brother, Lord Marcus, though there seems to be little brotherly love betwixt them at the moment.

    "Do you doubt my ability, sir?" growls the younger man, his eyes glowering like coals beneath a mop of auburn hair. "Or is it my bravery that you question? I'm just as good a swordsman and shot as any man here. You'd know that better than any, brother."

    "Damn your eagerness, sir," the Duke replies, his Kentauri burr sharpened to icy steel. "I have already turned away three eager lieutenants who had no idea what they were getting into, and I expected more prudence from a lieutenant colonel. I'll not have such a senior officer throw away his life to prove his courage."

    "Then how am I to do it, brother?" Lord Marcus replies, his voice rising in anger. "I have not heard a single shot fired in anger in the five months I have been at war. You should know well enough that is no fact worthy of boast for a man of Clan Havenport."

    "The Highlanders will lead the main assault," the Duke replies, his tone soothing but his patience quite clearly wearing thin. "There shall be plenty of opportunity to show your mettle then - at the head of our ancestral regiment. They shall require your leadership and example to inspire them, and it would be easier for you to provide those things alive than with your guts strewn across the bloody walls."

    Havenport's voice hardens once more. "Your request to lead the Forlorn Hope is denied, Lieutenant-colonel," he declares, emphasising his brother's rank, both too high and too low for the task at hand. "I shall accept no further objection."

    Lord Marcus makes a disgusted grunt. "I'll not fight you then, brother," he replies, veins bulging from the effort of keeping his frustration in check. "Might I go, sir?"

    The younger Kentauri turns and leaves, almost before his elder brother can dismiss him. He all but pushes you aside as he makes his way out of the tent, defeated.

    Silence fills the tent. The Duke is clearly lost in his own thoughts now. It would hardly be politic for you to interrupt.

    "That rather simplifies the predicament," says a cold, even voice to your side, "wouldn't you say, Castleton?"

    You turn to find yourself face-to-face with Sir Caius d'al Cazarosta. So enthralled had you been with the drama taking place before you that it seems you did not notice the deathborn officer standing by your side. "It is good to see you, Sir Caius."

    Cazarosta's expression does not change. "I wish I could say the same, Castleton," he answers, as detached as ever.

    "How do you mean, sir?" You reply, perhaps more forcefully than you had meant. "Have I given some offence?"

    You can think of no reason why Cazarosta might be so cold towards you all of a sudden. After all, your relationship has been nothing but cordial at the very least, for years now. Yet Cazarosta shakes his head. "You have not, sir. It is merely that you appear before me currently as something of an obstacle."

    The implication of the deathborn's words becomes obvious in your mind. "You seek to lead the Forlorn Hope."

    The other Dragoon nods. Well, that makes some sense, doesn't it? After all, the Forlorn Hope can only have one commander, which means one of you must leave Havenport's headquarters disappointed.

    "I am afraid I must ask you for a personal favour, Castleton," Cazarosta finally says. "I need you to withdraw your request to lead the Forlorn Hope."

    "Why do you want command of the Forlorn Hope so badly?"

    "I have no other chance of advancement," Cazarosta replies. "Colonel Keane will not sell me his major's commission. He has stated so. Thus, I must obtain a promotion in a manner that bypasses him immediately."

    You nod at Cazarosta's description of his sorry situation, one which you will never have to face; when you get your three years' seniority, you have no doubt that Lieutenant-colonel Keane would be nothing less than pleased to sell you his old major's rank, so long as you have the funds to purchase it. After all, you are a man of proven valour, tested ability, and above all, you are a proper baneblood of good family, something which allows you privilege and consideration which Cazarosta, for all of his prodigies of soldiering, shall never achieve.

    [] "Yes, I suppose I shall."
    [] "I am afraid I cannot do that, sir."
    [] "Could I not convince Havenport to allow us both to take part?"
     
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    • [X] "Could I not convince Havenport to allow us both to take part?"

    I guess we're actually doing this. Wish we had that runegun, though.

    Mind you, the other route is also worth seeing.
     
    The Laurent said:
    [X] "Could I not convince Havenport to allow us both to take part?"

    Listen, is there ANY doubt I was going to vote for this?
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    I'm surprised at how invested you are in Cazarosta. Does anything about him stand out to you as a character?

    SeptimusMagisto said:
    I guess we're actually doing this. Wish we had that runegun, though.

    Mind you, the other route is also worth seeing.
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    Eh, our best war crime buddy has our back. There's nothing the power of friendship(?) can't stop! Well, aside from banefire. And cannon fire. And a bunch of desperate Antari trying to fend off an invading army intent on murdering, pillaging, and burning everything in sight.

    Both versions of Guns' fifth chapter are some of my favorite Cataphrak things. The Forlorn Hope is arguably the Dragoon Officer's finest moment while participating in the main assault makes it abundantly clear that you are not the "good guys" in this war.
     
    Rogue Attican said:
    I'm surprised at how invested you are in Cazarosta. Does anything about him stand out to you as a character?


    Eh, our best war crime buddy has our back. There's nothing the power of friendship(?) can't stop! Well, aside from banefire. And cannon fire. And a bunch of desperate Antari trying to fend off an invading army intent on murdering, pillaging, and burning everything in sight.

    Both versions of Guns' fifth chapter are some of my favorite Cataphrak things. The Forlorn Hope is arguably the Dragoon Officer's finest moment while participating in the main assault makes it abundantly clear that you are not the "good guys" in this war.
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    He's just really interesting, a study in contradictions. A question, can you get any description more than "cordial"? I'm trying to figure out what Secret Numbers that means.
     
    The Laurent said:
    A question, can you get any description more than "cordial"? I'm trying to figure out what Secret Number that means.
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    Saints above. While I can't give you an exact number, your relationship with Cazarosta sits above 55 on a scale of 100. At that level, Cazarosta is comfortable enough to dispense with most of the pleasantries around you. Maybe he feels he can be honest with you, or perhaps he's just trying to manipulate you so he can better carry out what he feels to be the Saints' will.
     
    Rogue Attican said:
    Saints above. While I can't give you an exact number, your relationship with Cazarosta sits above 55 on a scale of 100. At that level, Cazarosta is comfortable enough to dispense with most of the pleasantries around you. Maybe he feels he can be honest with you, or perhaps he's just trying to manipulate you so he can better carry out what he feels to be the Saints' will.
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    Sorry. I can tone down the questions on stuff like that.

    Anyways, his mix of piety, brutality, and unconventionalness is part of it, I'd say.
     
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